Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (30 page)

I threw up my hands. "I’ve waited almost thirty years, and I’m the one who has to be patient?" I was angry with Jennifer all over again. "Bullshit. She’s going to tell me."

Ted cocked his head. "Tell you what?"

I punched a throw pillow. "Everything damn it! What happened the night I was taken. Why she never looked for me. What happened to Rose." I jabbed a finger in the air. "And she knows plenty. I could see it in her eyes."

Ted frowned. "Honey, I know this is important to you and that you want answers. And nobody could blame you for that. But you can’t force people to tell you what they don’t want to say."

I smirked at him. "Says the man who knows all the tricks of interrogation."

Ted held up his hands. "Your aunt hardly qualifies as a terrorist." He tweaked my nose. "And if you think I’m going to teach you some tricks of the trade, you’re dreaming."

I shook my head and smirked. "I don’t need your tricks — I have tricks of my own."

Ted grunted a laugh. "Is that a fact? You take some paramilitary training I don’t know about?"

"No Captain America, I did my internship with foster bullies. Not as good as your training, but I learned a few things." I nodded my head. "I’ll make her talk."

The nursery looked just as I’d imagined — the only thing missing was my kids. I wound the mobiles, and they played tinkly music as rain pattered against the windows. The elephant lamps cast soft pools of light over white furniture. And all my framed and matted family photos hung on the wall over the crib. A kind of family gallery there to watch over the babies and make them feel loved.

Satisfied, I sat in a rocking chair and draped a yellow and lavender throw over my lap. The drawing of Rose that hung on the wall smiled at me. "What do you think, Mom?" I think she approved. I cradled my belly. "Well babies, your room is ready for you, whenever you’re ready for it. Okay?" I got a one-two, one-two, one-two, in response. "Oh, you like that, huh?"

Anxious to see, the troops scratched at the door. "Come in." The door opened, and Ted stood at the head of the pack. "No shoes." Ted stared at me. "This is a nursery not a locker room. If you want to come in, you have to take off your shoes."

Grumbles sounded and shoes thudded outside the door, then everybody barged in. Ted looked around proudly, then took a seat in the rocking chair next to mine and held my hand. "You did a great job honey."

Melinda was drawn to the gallery wall above the crib. "Are these from the night when the babies starting kicking?"

"Yup. And a few others of everybody. We'll add as we go along."

"It’s wonderful."

Zelda frowned. "No pictures of Aunt Zelda."

I pointed to a silver framed photo on the table between the rocking chairs. It was an old picture of me and Zelda — two smiling ten-year-olds, arms slung over each others shoulders and heads bent together. "Are you kidding? You get the primo real estate. They’ll have a good view of you at all times."

Zelda puffed up her chest and nodded. "That’s more like it."

After lots of hugs and thank you’s, the troops filed out and left us alone, taking the noise with them. We sat in our rockers, holding hands and listening to the rain gently tap against the windows. The world outside that room didn’t exist, and I closed my eyes and sighed. "I think I could sit here for the rest of my life." Then the doorbell rang. I opened my eyes and looked at Ted. "That’s what I get for saying it out loud."

Ted kissed my cheek. "You stay here, and I’ll get rid of them. Probably one of my lame brothers anyway."

His footsteps thudded down the stairs, the door opened, then muffled voices, then silence. Whoever it was, Ted had gotten rid of them and was probably making me a cup of tea.

Then footsteps on the stairs and Ted appeared in the doorway. "Honey?"

I smiled. "Yes, darling husband?"

"There’s someone here to see you."

I stopped rocking. "You promised to get rid of them." Ted looked serious. "Who is it?"

"He says he’s your cousin."

<<>>

He had the long limbs of a swimmer and the quick smile of a nervous teenager. When I entered the living room, he stood and extended his hand. "Hello, I’m Jason Scarpello"

I stared at him openly — though he had Jennifer’s dark eyes and hair, he had Rose’s features. So much so that he could’ve been mistaken for my younger brother. Still staring, I shook his hand. "Scotti Fitzgerald."

Clearly he was as astounded by the resemblance as I. People who grow up with siblings probably think nothing of seeing someone who looks like them. It’s an ordinary thing that they take for granted. Ted and his five brothers share features and mannerisms, and I doubt they even think about it. But I’d never met anyone who resembled me the way Jason did.

Jason chuckled. "It’s a little strange isn’t it?"

I nodded and pointed to a chair. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

Jason sat in one of the club chairs and shook his head. "No, I’m good. Sit. Please." I perched on the sofa, waiting to discover if he was friend or foe. "You’re wondering why I’m here?" He laughed at himself. "Of course you are because why wouldn’t you?"

Like me, Jason made fun of himself when he was nervous and that made me like him. "You came to see for yourself, right? Because you were curious? Because you don’t have brothers or sisters? Just you and your mom?"

Jason’s cheeks colored, and he chuckled. "You’re sharp."

I sighed. "I’m guessing though, that’s not the only reason." He squirmed in his seat. "Seeing me upset Jennifer?"

Jason smiled. "She loved the cookies." He chuckled and said, "So did I."

I laughed. "Everybody loves my cookies." I sighed. "But…"

Jason finished my sentence, "You want to know about Rose?"

I nodded. "Wouldn’t you, if you were me?" Quietly I said, "I don’t want to upset your mom, but I can’t just walk away."

He shook his head and took in an audible breath. "No, and I wouldn’t expect you to." Then he lifted a small box from the floor and placed it on the coffee table. "Maybe this will help? It’s a few of Rose’s things."

Speechless, I stared at the box.

Jason patted the lid lightly. "Mom doesn’t know I took them, and she’ll probably have a fit when she realizes they’re gone. But Rose was your mom. It seems to me, they belong to you."

I stared at the box, still unable to speak.

Jason took a card from his pocket and lay it on top of the box. "I know this doesn’t make up for what you’ve been through." He made a face. "And I won’t pretend that I know what it was like for you. But if you want to talk, call me. I’ll be around."

I raised my tearful eyes to his. "I don’t know what to say."

He put an awkward hand on my shoulder. "It’s okay Scotti, you don’t have to say anything." He withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. "Okay then, thanks for seeing me." He raised his eyebrows, "Maybe, we’ll see each other again?" He grinned. "I kind of like the idea of having a sister, sort of, well you know what I mean?"

I nodded. "Thank you." He hesitated for a minute as though he wanted to say more, then changed his mind and headed for the door. "Jason?" He turned back and raised his brows. "I kind of like the idea of having a sort of brother too."

He nodded and smiled, then let himself out.

I sat on the sofa with my hands resting on the top of the box. It made me sad that Rose’s life could be reduced to one little box. But I couldn’t lift the lid. I wanted to know so much but was afraid there was little to learn. I read Jason’s card and chuckled when I saw he was a financial adviser. Maybe I’d gotten my talent for crunching numbers from the family gene pool. I put the card back on top of the box and sighed. Then I raised my hand over my head, and Ted took it in his. "You okay?"

I tilted back my head to look at him. "You eavesdropped?"

"I wouldn’t say eavesdrop."

I laughed. "I would. What do you think?"

He sat next to me and cupped my face with his hands. "I think you’ve got somebody who wants you to be a part of his family. Who wants to help you. That’s a step in the right direction, right babe?"

I leaned against Ted and stared at the box. "Will you put that in my room for me?"

Ted cocked his head. "You’re not going to tear into now?"

"Not yet."

On New Year’s Eve, Matt came over thinking he was going to have another baking lesson, but I had something else in mind. Zelda and I sat him down at my dining table for a chat. Matt’s deep green eyes looked from me to Zelda, then back again. "Crap man, what did I do? Did I ef something up?"

Zelda said, "You didn’t do anything. Chill, bro."

Matt frowned. "Then why are you two looking at me like that?"

Zelda sighed. "If you’ll shut your yap, you’ll find out." She raised her eyebrows at me and said, "Get to it roomie, before this one has a litter of kittens."

Matt started to say something, but I put my hand on his arm and said, "Look, this is hard enough for me to say without you two going back and forth, so can you just listen for a minute?" Matt sucked in his lips and nodded. I cleared my throat and said, "Okay, here’s the thing. I’m pregnant. Yes, we all know that, but I’m ready to face facts. It’s getting too hard for me to work the truck. And every day I’m getting bigger and more tired and that’s just how it is…"

Zelda cranked a hand. "Come on Scotti, get to it."

I zipped my finger across my lips and scowled at her. Then I looked at Matt. "Long and short is that we want to hire you."

Matt let out a yelp. "Seriously dude?" He raked his hands through his shaggy hair. "Man, I thought you were going to tell me we were done." He smiled. "Really? Hire me?"

Zelda cackled. "Are you kidding? You’re stuck with us for life."

Then they were both laughing and fist bumping and making up food trucking songs. I rolled my eyes and raised my voice. "So we want to make you an offer…"

Matt bongoed the table top. "Hell yes, dude, I accept your offer."

I frowned. "But you haven’t even heard the offer."

He flapped a hand at me. "I don’t care what you pay me. Pay me in cupcakes if you want to dude." His green eyes danced. "I love the truck. I’d work for free if you wanted me to." He shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his backpack from the floor. "Okay dudettes, see you on pie day then?"

"But we should finish discussing the details. And you have to finish school too. I don’t want Melinda coming after me with a tomahawk."

He nodded. "Yeah, it’s cool. We’ll work it out. On Sunday." He chuckled and tugged my braid. "Scotti man, it’s New Year’s Eve."

I couldn’t quite believe it was that easy. "So, you’re in?"

"Happy New Year." And he was out the door.

I gaped at Zelda. "That went well."

She hunched a shoulder and cackled. "Did you think he’d say no? What college kid spends his Christmas break taking baking lessons if he doesn’t want to bake?" She stood and put on her jacket. "And in case you haven’t noticed, it is New Year’s Eve." She hugged me and said, "Happy New Year partner. See you Sunday for the pie-palooza."

Then it was just me and Boomer all alone in the big house. Helluva New Year’s Eve, no husband, no parties, no friends. Just another Wednesday night at home. Alone. I made a turkey, cranberry and stuffing sandwich and poured a glass of milk. Ted texted me saying he wouldn’t be home until after midnight with a frowny face. I raised my glass of milk to Boomer. "Happy New Year."

After dinner, I fired up the laptop and found two hundred and seven emails waiting in my inbox. Most of them were inquiries about when the food truck was back on the road. I sent a mass email to my entire mailing list announcing we were back on January 5
th
and included a coupon for a free piece of pie a la mode. People love free stuff, especially if it includes ice cream.

Then I answered my personal emails, watched a couple of videos posted on my social media feeds and glanced at the news headlines. Despite my failure to stay connected, I hadn’t missed much — the world was still going to hell and everybody was pissed off about something. As I was about to log off, the online chat box popped up with a message from Bgirl257.
‘Happy New Year, Scotti.’

I didn’t recognize the Internet handle, but it could’ve been a customer, so I didn’t blow them off.
‘Who is this?’

‘How are the babies? You’re really showing now. Not a secret anymore, right?’

Except for Daniels, none of my customers knew I was pregnant — and I kept my personal business offline. Although, an observant customer might’ve guessed I was pregnant.
‘Do I know you?’

‘How does Ted like having a fat-assed wife? Is he having buyer’s remorse? Sleeping in the guest room yet?’

Little pin pricks of fear stung the back of my neck
‘Who is this?’
No response. My hands trembled as I typed.
‘Who the hell is this? What do you want?’

Then a message box popped up saying that Bgirl257 was no longer online. My first instinct was to change my settings and block Bgirl257 from messaging me again, but I refused to be cyber-bullied. I also knew an excellent hacker who might be able to track down Bgirl257’s real identity. I saved the chat, left the program running and called Eric.