Murder Al Dente: A Southern Pasta Shop Mystery (Southern Pasta Shop Mysteries Book 1) (20 page)

I looked up into the puppy dog brown eyes of the man I
'd once thought I'd spend my life with. There was nothing there anymore, no anger or regret over the path not taken. Just a familiar face from long ago. "I know you can't discuss it with me, but do I need a lawyer?"

"
You don't, no." Kyle's gaze slid to Jones. Though we already spoke in hushed tones, he lowered his voice even further. "Do yourself a favor and stay away from him."

"
You don't get to tell me what to do," I said sweetly.

"
I mean it, Andy. He's trouble."

"
That trouble is about to be your brother-in-law." I folded my arms under my breasts and held my ground. "You can't arrest him for murder just because he's new in town."

"
You know I'm not like that. Besides, it's not my investigation—the police force is running the show. Detective Brown will get to the bottom of it. Even if he's not a killer, he attracts trouble."

"
Nana use to say the same thing about you. Should I officially change my name to trouble?"

Kyle made an exasperated sound.
"I heard about the car accident. Someone tampered with his brakes, and probably that same someone is trying really hard to make it look like Jones was involved with the murder. The man is dangerous. I don't want to see you hurt again. Not like you were after—"

"
Kyle," Lizzy's voice was borderline shrill, and she made an effort to soften it. "You ready, Sugar Bear?"

Gack. That nickname was even worse than Little Bit. I was still grateful for the interruption because I didn
't want to venture any further down memory lane with Kyle.

"
Yeah. Think it through, Andy." Kyle clapped his hat on his head, took Lizzy's arm, and escorted her out.

"
Well, that could have been less awkward," I said as the door shut behind them and I turned to Jones. He looked tired and sore, a rainbow of bruises and dark circles beneath his pretty eyes. It was obvious he was still suffering the aftereffects of the car accident, and I softened my tone. "Have you eaten?"

One sardonic eyebrow went up.
"Are you offering to cook for me, Andrea?"

"
Maybe I just want to play in your fabulous kitchen." I shrugged and turned my face away so he wouldn't see me blush. "Besides, you look a little pathetic."

"
Flattery will get you nowhere." Jones smiled. "And yes, I would love if you cooked in my kitchen."

That sounded suggestive as all get-out. I didn
't know what to do with my warring emotions, so I did what I did best and set to making a meal.

The fridge was well stocked, lots of fresh veggies and herbs. The pantry was full to bursting. Jones settled himself on a barstool, obviously content to watch. I took a few minutes snooping through cabinets, assessing the equipment I had to work with. All of it was top of the line, no expenses spared. Must be nice. I filled a pot with water, add
ed sea salt, and set it on the gas stove to boil.

"
Do you cook?" I asked as I opened a can of crushed tomatoes.

"
Now and again. When you live alone there isn't much point."

He was right about that. I cooked out of habit more than for the pleasure of it. Good food was meant to be shared. I focused on my sauce for a spell, chopping mushrooms, onions
, and garlic. "You seem very settled here."

"
That's because of Lizzy," he said with a smile. "She got the house ready for me, hoping it would encourage me to stay."

"
Are you planning to stay here in Beaverton?" I poured him a glass of wine, a bold red, then added some to my sauce.

"
That depends," Jones said, sipping his wine.

Was he trying to play coy?
"On?"

"
Several things."

Some hair fell in
to my eyes as I added pasta to the boiling water. "Are you trying to drive me nuts?"

"
Short trip," he grinned at me, obviously teasing. "That smells divine."

"
Stop changing the subject." I brandished my pasta fork like a weapon. "You're cagey, you know that?"

"
I've been called worse."

I took my frustration out on the sauce, stirring it ferociously. Soon enough it was done
, and I drained the water from the pasta, loaded it into a bowl, topped it with the sauce, and set it before Jones with a little more force than necessary.

There was mischief in his eyes as he looked at my flushed face.
"You're cute when you're irritated."

"
You would know." I poured my own glass of wine and set up a much smaller bowl of pasta for myself.

"
This is magnificent," he said after swallowing his first mouthful.

"
It would be better with fresh pasta." I scooted several mushrooms to one side. I liked the flavor they added to certain dishes but had never been a fan of the texture.

"
Why can't you just take a compliment?" Jones cleaned his plate in about five minutes flat, then rose stiffly and went back for seconds.

I shrugged.
"Never had practice with it. Aunt Cecily doesn't exactly exude praise in the kitchen. Nana was more encouraging, but if I ever did get a compliment out of Aunt Cecily, it was like I'd moved a mountain."

"
She's a perfectionist?"

I snorted.
"I'm pretty sure they put her picture in the dictionary next to the word."

Jones tried to refill my wine glass
, but I waved him off. "I have to drive home still."

I helped clean up, storing the leftovers in the fridge and washing dishes. Jones walked me to the door.
"I'm glad you stopped by."

How long had it been since somebody said that to me?
"Because I cooked for you?"

"
That too." He leaned down and kissed me, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away. It was soft and sweet, a promise of more good things to come.

"
I'll have the information on Chef Farnsworth for you tomorrow. Should I bring it by the pasta shop?"

I
'd be an idiot to get involved with him, to let him bully his way past my defenses. Cripes, I knew better. I did.

"
That'd be great," I said. "See you then."

* * *

Donna called when I was halfway home. Luckily I had my phone hooked up to the Bluetooth and didn't have to pull over to tell her the latest. "I'm an idiot."

"
You're just figuring this out?" she teased.

"
Laugh all you want, but that man makes sexy a superpower."

A pause.
"Andy…" Her tone was chiding. "What happened to using him for his resources?"

I blew out a breath.
"Now I want to use him for his resources and his body. Not necessarily in that order."

"
Is he on board with that plan?"

"
Donna, he's practically
insisting
." I summed up my visit to Jones's house and added, "You should see his photographs. They're a life changing experience."

"
Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"
Shut up. Besides, Kyle and Lizzy were there for most of it."

"
Are you serious?" The incredulity was clear even with a spotty connection. "What does Lizzy think about you just popping by her house like that?"

"
Her
house?"

"
Bought and paid for. Didn't you get my text?"

"
No." I hadn't checked my phone.

"
Yeah, it seems that Malcolm Jones is only a temporary resident. The property was deeded to Lizzy by their father, and she had the house built for her and Kyle. My guess is they intend to move in after the wedding."

"
And be right up the hill from her parents." It explained why there weren't boxes everywhere even though Jones had just arrived. Lizzy was letting her brother crash at her place, until she moved in fulltime.

"
You know, you should totally have sex with him in her bed."

"
Donna!" I screeched.

"
What? It would drive Lizzy bonkers. She'd probably light fire to the mattress. And it would give you a good excuse to do what you want to do anyway."

"
You mean get naked with Jones?"

"
Andy when was the last time you had a real relationship? And don't say Kyle, or I'm going to beat my head against the wall."

"
Have you been drinking?"

"
No." A pause. "Well, not too much. Seriously though, how long?"

"
I've been busy. You know, becoming a celebrity chef, then crashing and burning—it was all time consuming." Not to mention mood annihilating.

"
How long?" Donna pushed.

I blew out a sigh.
"Too long." "Right. For the record, I knew this whole use him and lose him plan wasn't going to work."

"
You were right." Music to any woman's ears. "So, what do I do now, oh wise one?"

"
I told you—"

"
I'm vetoing the sex in Lizzy's bed scheme. We're not teenagers, for the love of grief."

"
Have it your way."

I turned onto
Grove Street. "Listen, I just got home. Are we going out tomorrow to look at potential houses?"

"
That doesn't sound quiet so appealing when I know you aren't in the market."

"
Commission-whore," I teased.

"
And proud of it. Mama needs a new pair of shoes. Night."

I put the Town Car in park and disconnected the call. The lights were on in Pop
's bedroom. It was barely eight o'clock, weird that he would be in bed already, especially since Aunt Cecily had been there. Maybe Aunt Cecily got a lift back to the pasta shop?

Wait, that wasn
't the steady thrum of a lamp, more like the flicker of firelight. Oh cripes, had something caught fire?

I bolted up the steps, tripping over Roofus in my haste and sprawl
ing onto the floor in an undignified heap. The dog cast me a sardonic glower, then resumed his nap. I pushed myself to my feet and checked the living room. All the curtains were drawn. "Pops? Aunt Cecily?"

"
Andy?" Pops voice sounded strained. Oh no, it was coming from his bedroom. Maybe he'd fallen.

"
Are you hurt?" I shouted. My heart raced as a million scenarios played out in about half a second. Where was my phone? Should I call 911 now or wait to see what had happened.

"
I'm all right." He didn't sound it. I heard the stress in his voice. Proud old goat didn't want to worry me.

I scurried down the hallway
, threw open the door to his bedroom, and froze.

A dozen candles lit the room, which accounted for the flickering. The cheery little lights danced at the force of the door hitting the back wall and then steadied themselves. Definitely scented candles, honeysuckle by the smell of it. Sinatra crooned from Pops
' ancient record player. There was plenty of light to see by, more than I really wanted at that particular moment.

Pops and Aunt Cecily were in bed together. Naked, or at least I assumed they were beneath the hastily tugged-up sheet. It took me a minute to wrap my head around that fact because imagining them naked was bad enough. Add the mood lighting and the music
, and I was assaulted by a very clear picture of what had been going on before I crashed the party. Pop's face mirrored my shock, but Aunt Cecily offered her trademarked glower.

"
Don't just stand there girl, shut the door."

"
Sorry," I managed to choke out. "I'm going to bed."

"
Andy girl," Pops looked like he was about to get out of bed, which was the last thing I wanted to see.

"
It's okay, Pops. I'm just glad you're all right. Really, I'm good."

"
Then go," Aunt Cecily ordered, obviously impatient to get back to business.

I went.

Chunky Tomato Mushroom Sauce

What you
'll need:

3 tablespoons extra-virgin garlic-infused olive oil

2 medium
yellow or white onions, diced

1 teaspoo
n sea salt