Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery) (11 page)

C
HAPTER
N
INE

Natalie grabbed Jordan’s arm and nudged her toward Georgette Calabrese and the man she was arguing with. Jordan had just enough time to tell Carlita she’d be back later for the recipe.

“What about my story?” Carlita asked.

“As soon as I get the recipe, I’ll write a review of you and your cake pops with the interview. Then I’ll follow-up next week with the recipe, but I do need it now,” she said right before Natalie propelled her away from the booth. There was no way Carlita was getting her name in the Kitchen Kupboard without giving up that recipe.

“I should’ve known Emilio would go for someone like this,” Natalie said as they approached the two people who were obviously still in a heated discussion.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Frankie. Now’s the perfect chance to show him you can step up and take charge if something happens to him. Convince him you’re not a screw-up.” The woman stopped talking when she noticed Natalie and Jordan closing in. The irritated look on her face left no doubt she wasn’t happy about being interrupted.

“Can I help you?” she asked, not even attempting to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Jordan held out her hand. “I’m Jordan McAllister from the
Ranchero Globe
, and this is Natalie Moreland.”

At the mention of Natalie’s name, Georgette jerked her head around to make eye contact before focusing back on Jordan and shaking her hand. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here today, Ms. McAllister, but I have no desire to be interviewed. I have a lot of work to do before the festival opens, so if you’ll excuse me.” She dismissed the two women and turned back to the young man beside her.

“I’m not here just to interview you, Mrs. Calabrese,” Jordan said, a little louder than before. “I was told I’d have access to the planners the week before the festival opens. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll let my editor know his information was incorrect.” Jordan paused to see if Georgette was buying her story.

The old ‘if looks could kill’ adage popped into Jordan’s head as the woman glared at her. “I misunderstood. I have a lot of people vying for my attention today, most of them reporters. I just spoke to someone else from your newspaper—a Loretta something or other.”

Jordan mentally kicked herself for letting Loretta get one step ahead of her. “I’d like to report on what it takes to pull off a big event like this. I’ve been told you play a big part in it, and—”

“Who told you that, Ms. McAllister?” Georgette interrupted.

“Please call me Jordan. And I’ve already interviewed several other people who indicated that you’re the one I needed to speak with about what goes on behind the scene leading up to opening day.”

Just then a delivery man walked over and stood behind the younger man who had been arguing with Georgette, tapping a pen on a clipboard until she noticed him. When he announced he had a large shipment of game prizes and concession supplies waiting to be offloaded, she turned to the man beside her. “Frankie, go with him and make sure everything arrived in good condition.”

Waving a hand in the air—one that sported a diamond the size of a cherry—Georgette barked out a few more commands to both the delivery man and the one she called Frankie. Jordan used that short time to check out the woman Emilio Calabrese had married after Natalie had rejected him.

Wearing a pale green sundress that showed off a tiny waist and a perfect tan, Georgette Calabrese had pulled her long blond hair off her face into a ponytail, making her appear to be in her late thirties. Jordan stole a glance Natalie’s way and saw that she was also giving the tall, well-built woman who’d married her old lover the once-over.

When the two men walked away, Georgette finally turned to Jordan. “Sorry about that. You asked how this event goes off without hitches.” She pointed to the delivery truck by the entrance. “It isn’t easy. Everything has to be right on schedule, or it throws things off. We’re still waiting on a liquor shipment that was supposed to get here a few days ago. That means a lot of people will have to hustle to make up for lost time when it does arrive. My job is to find out why that happened, and I’ll start by having a long talk with the distributor to make sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s the kind of thing I need to stay on top of daily.”

Natalie moved forward and asked the question before Jordan could. “And who is the distributor?”

Jordan remembered that Emilio had asked Marco about the liquor at the party and that Marco had assured him it would arrive on time. And Alex had mentioned that Marco was the owner of the company supplying all the liquor for the festival. Obviously, Marco couldn’t take the heat for the late shipment, so who was Georgette going to “have a long talk” with?

“The Petrone Brothers.”

“Marco had a brother?” Jordan asked.

At the mention of Marco’s name, a flash of sadness registered in Georgette’s eyes before she quickly glanced away. “Yes. Bernardo,” she said finally. “Their company is based out of New York City.”

Finding out that Marco had a brother gave Jordan another avenue to pursue. Maybe there was sibling rivalry between the brothers or a long-standing family feud. That would definitely throw a little reasonable doubt Kate’s way if they could prove it.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Marco last night,” Jordan began, thinking it was the perfect opening to see if Georgette could shed any light on his death. “I’ve heard you and he were close.”

Anger lit up Georgette’s eyes. “Of course I was close to Marco. He and my husband were business partners, and he was about to marry my stepdaughter.”

“Tina is your stepdaughter?” Natalie asked.

Georgia bit her lip before replying. “Emilio’s first wife died of breast cancer when the child was five. I’ve raised her since then and love her as if she were my own daughter. Everything I do has been for her.”

Including test-driving her fiancé before the wedding?

Jordan stopped herself before blurting that out. What was the point in making this woman angry? They still needed information.

“Was Bernardo at the party last night?” Natalie asked.

Georgette narrowed her eyes. “Yes, he was, as were most of the people involved in the planning of the festival. Unfortunately, I had a business meeting in New York City that couldn’t be postponed and missed it. I only arrived in Dallas this morning.”

“And did Bernardo have a beef with his brother?” Natalie asked.

Georgette took a menacing step toward her. “They were brothers. Of course, they fought. Marco had a way about him that didn’t sit well with a lot of people. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it your daughter who was having an illicit affair with Marco and pushed him off the balcony last night?”

Jordan reached out to keep Natalie from making contact with the younger woman.

“For your information, my daughter had no idea the man was engaged. So no, there was no illicit affair on her part. Although I can’t say the same about you, since you were the one he sampled and tossed aside. I guess not everything you’ve done has been for Tina.” Natalie’s eyes turned defiant as she waited to see how Georgette would react to that remark.

“We’re done here,” Jordan said, grabbing Natalie’s arm and turning her around. “I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Calabrese,” she said over her shoulder as she pushed Alex’s mother in the opposite direction from the irate Georgette, who looked like she was close to committing murder herself.

* * * * *

On the way back to Alex’s house, Natalie begged Jordan not to tell her son about the encounter with Georgette Calabrese. She was afraid if Alex decided to have a chat with her, Georgette might bring up the fact that Natalie was once engaged to Emilio—assuming she even knew about that. It didn’t take much persuasion to get Jordan to agree. Telling Alex would also be confessing they’d been snooping around, and he’d pitch a fit. Both she and Natalie would have to listen to a long lecture about leaving police business to the police.

It was after four when Jordan dropped Natalie off and made it back to her apartment. There was no news about Marco’s death, and Alex and Kate were meeting with Hamilton later that evening to discuss what to do next.

Alex had invited her to stay and have dinner with them, but she’d excused herself, saying she needed to get her notes straight so she could begin her article for Thursday’s Kitchen Kupboard. She was anxious to see what Loretta Moseley had to say in Tuesday’s column, secretly hoping the woman bombed. As much as she wished for a job in the sports department, the culinary reporter gig had proven to be a great second choice for her.

And she would do whatever it took to keep the job, although being related to the editor did give Loretta a huge advantage. Jordan would just have to work harder. She grinned, thinking she had a few tricks up her sleeve, too. She couldn’t wait to see the readers’ reaction to the Italian Cream Cake Pops recipe.

Crap!
She’d left so quickly after Natalie and Georgette had verbally attacked each other that she’d forgotten to go back for Carlita’s recipe. Even though she’d promised not to print it until the festival was over, she wanted it in her hands in case Carlita changed her mind about giving it up. Her plan was to write about all the food and tease the readers with the hint that Carlita’s fantastic recipe would be coming out in her column the following week.

There was no way Egan could can her if she had the good people of Ranchero clamoring for her next column.

Halfway home, she decided now was as good a time as any to get the recipe, and she headed over to the fairgrounds. Maybe she’d even get another sample of the sugary treat as a bonus.

Just thinking about the pops made her stomach growl, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since before noon when Alex surprised her with the meatball hoagie. Carlita had mentioned that her sister was famous for her chicken cacciatore and pizza bread. It might be possible to mooch a free sample of that, too. With a little luck, she’d get enough to count as dinner, and she wouldn’t have to stop at Taco Castle on the way home. After splurging on the dress and heels for the party, she shouldn’t spend the extra money.

It was just after six when Jordan pulled into the parking lot for the second time that day. She found a spot closer to the entrance and assumed most of the worker bees had already gone back to their hotel rooms. She hoped Carlita wasn’t one of them. She got out of the car and walked toward the entrance, noticing that the Italian flag balloon flying above the entrance was now flapping at a good clip. At least the wind had cooled things down since her earlier visit, and the breeze felt good.

As luck would have it, she spotted Carlita as soon as she walked through the gate. Waving, she approached the booth.

“There you are. I wondered why you’d run off so quickly,” Carlita said, wiping her hands on the same dirty towel she’d used earlier. “I still have a lot to tell you about my life for the article.”

Oh, great!

Jordan forced herself to smile. “Good. I came back for that as well as the recipe.” She giggled. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have another taste?”

Carlita’s face lit up. “Of course. I want you to rave about them.” She reached under the counter and brought out the tupperware container. “Have two.”

Jordan reached with both hands for the cake pops. It only took one bite for her to know that even if she didn’t get the recipe right then, these little goodies were worth the trip back. After she devoured both of them, she declined Carlita’s offer to wipe her hands on the towel and dragged her hands down the sides of her shorts.

“I wanted to tell you about how I came up with this recipe,” Carlita began. “One day I was making my favorite Italian cream cake, and it didn’t turn out so well.” She frowned. “My oven was on the fritz, and the middle of the cake caved in. There was no way I could ice it that way, so I decided to crumble it up and make a dessert out of it. That’s when I got the idea to turn it into cake balls. It was almost worth the money I had to put out for a new oven to get this recipe perfected.” She patted the tupperware, making Jordan wish for one more pop.

“That’s a terrific story,” Jordan said. “I’ll make sure I use it.”

Carlita reached under the counter and pulled out a notepad. She opened it up, tore out a page, and handed it to Jordan. “Here. I wrote it down as soon as you walked away. I thought for sure you’d come back for it.”

Jordan snatched the paper from her hand as if it were made of gold. “My friend got an important phone call, and we had to leave right away,” she lied. “That’s why I decided to come back and talk with you tonight. The more I know about you, the better the article will be. I’d also like to include a small piece about your sister.” She paused to scan the booths close by but didn’t see another woman who looked like Carlita. “And you said she also has a booth?”

Carlita pointed to an empty stand across the fairway. “Hers is over there with the other food vendors. But she went back to the hotel already. Said she had a headache from the heat.”

Jordan tried to hide her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to tasting the famous pizza bread. “Too bad. I would have liked to have chatted with her, too. It will make for great reading if I can showcase both of you in my column.”

“Ginny will be back tomorrow morning if you want to come by. But you’d better make it early. Like I said, she doesn’t do well in the heat.”