Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1) (13 page)

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I asked my companion.

“Not a chance,” she shot back. “I haven’t been out in a mix of people like this in a long time. Life at my house has been so quiet. Everyone talking in hushed tones until I could scream. I know they mean to be kind, but I’m getting tired of being treated like glass. I won’t break. And this is just what I need. Thank you.”

“Okay, let’s put our orders in then.”

Soon, we wove our way past the throng of people waiting to put their turn at the counter. “I hope we can find a table,” Cordelia said over the din around us.

I cast a quick glance around the room. “Over there.” I pointed at a small table near the windows. We put our heads down and picked up our pace before someone could head us off.

“There,” Cordelia said, placing her tray on the table. “We’ve done it. She wore a smile on her face that made every sound in the place worth putting up with. Adding to all that, a clap of thunder immediately rumbled over our heads.

“Looks like that storm they’ve been promising us is about to arrive,” she said.

Although I’d looked forward to the break the storm would allow me, I would have wished for sunnier weather for my friend. Few things, in my book, pick up sagging spirits like bright sunshine. But Cordelia didn’t look to be bothered by the darkening skies in the least. Behind us, an infant apparently responding to the thunder let out a frightened cry.

“Oh goodness, I’ve missed this,” Cordelia said, letting her gaze sweep around her to take everything in.

I picked up my burger. “You mean the onions or the pickles?”

She slapped my hand. “Come on. You know what I meant.”

I did and I was delighted to hear some joyous words coming from Cordelia’s mouth. I knew she had a lot of healing ahead of her yet, but for the first time since Gary’s death I saw a genuine look of pleasure on my dear friend’s face.

With her burger halfway to her lips, she asked, “How’s Ginger?”

“You haven’t heard from her?”

“Not much. Not since she tangled with Gossford. Do you have any feel for how that’s going?”

I longed to share what Ginger and I were up to. But I knew Cordelia would insist we back off our efforts. Like Dad, Cordelia would fear for our safety.

“Ginger’s fine,” I rushed on. “Gossford can’t really suspect her in Gary’s death.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“There’s no evidence. And he can’t convict anyone without evidence. True, the call to Gary came from Ginger’s phone. But there’s no proof Ginger made the call. She says her phone was stolen at rehearsal dinner.”

Cordelia put her sandwich down. “Wait. You’re telling me someone called Gary and enticed him out of the church to his death?”

“You didn’t know this? I thought for sure your father or uncle would fill you in.”

“Not one word. They told me Gossford had let Ginger go, but no one said why. And believe me, I asked.”

“They probably didn’t want to upset you.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean about my family treating me like glass.” She shook her head and grabbed a French fry. “So how is the investigation going? I haven’t found much news about the case in the Gazette.”

“That’s because there apparently aren’t any new developments, I guess. I can tell you Dad’s going nuts without fresh information coming his way to write up. But if Gossford is making progress, he’s keeping the details to himself.”

“Hmm, I suppose he sees some reason to do that?”

“Beats me. Or the other alternative is that the investigation has stalled.”

“Cordelia stared at the curtain of rain pouring down the window beside us. “I wouldn’t like that,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “I want Gary’s killer found.”

Again I
felt tempted to tell her of the efforts of her dear friends to track the killer, but I again decided against sharing a report. Ginger played as much of a role in this hunt as I did. I would need Ginger’s approval to feel comfortable letting anyone else in on our game.

A
fter returning Cordelia to her house, I headed home. Our place was dark and quiet. “Dad?” I called out. He hadn’t mentioned that he had anything planned for today. I decided he’d probably headed up to the office for a while. That was not an unusual move for him on a quiet Saturday afternoon.

I slapped my keys onto the kitchen counter and pulled a soda from the fridge. Taffy padded over. I pulled a piece of lunchmeat out. Her tail wagged her excitement, and she sat, and then sat up to beg. She caught the offered and swallowed.

“No back to your bed.”

I poured myself some coffee and settled in at the table. I grabbed the Herald Times and made a quick review of it. After reassuring myself that our competitor had nothing in their pages that needed covering in ours, I folded the paper back up.

Leaning back in my seat, I considered the rest of my day. Josh was due in town. He intended to pick me up at six tonight to take me to dinner. Dad had been forewarned. That probably explained his absence. No sense fussing if he was dining alone. Perhaps he was even celebrating his new-found freedom.

I finished the coffee, deposited the cup in the dishwasher and headed for my bedroom. If I wanted to stay awake during my date, I decided a quick nap would be helpful.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, I reviewed my morning efforts. I couldn’t help thinking about Cordelia’s displeasure with Gossford’s progress on the case. Unfortunately, I felt the same way about the time I’d spent. Bella hadn’t given me any insight into the bachelor party, while Larkin had practically tossed me out of his car. Without his help we had no hope of tracing Treadway’s movements on the day of the wedding.

I tossed my purse onto the bed and dove in after it.

But if Treadway hadn’t come to kill Gary, I thought, what was he doing in Cloverton on that particular weekend? Or had he come down blindly, not knowing it was Cordelia’s wedding day?

This idea made no sense, either. He had a subscription to the Gazette. He’d have read the wedding announcement. He must have been aware of the date of Cordelia’s wedding.

Yet following Cordelia around had been a favorite activity for Treadway in high school. Perhaps all that high-priced education at all those big-name universities still hadn’t smartened him up? And he’d come to Cloverton so he could torment himself at the sight of the newly married couple.

I rolled over onto my back and tossed an arm over my eyes. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day and offer solutions to the questions that were haunting me today.

***

That night Josh showed up on cue. His handsome face appeared on our front porch at precisely seven. I felt myself grinning like a silly schoolgirl as I opened the door for him. He wore dark dress slacks with a button down shirt and a tie. I’d opted for the ever popular little black dress with the kind of shoes Dad claimed were only worn by hookers. But what did he know?

Better yet, Josh’s grin matched mine.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded and stepped out beside him. “How was the drive down?”

“Great. In fact, it felt so good, I just might make it a regular habit on weekends from now on.”

At hearing those words, I thought my smile was going to split my face apart.

He took my arm and ushered me to his SUV, where he opened the door for me. I slid into the car and settled back in the seat.

Then, I watched as he circled the front of the car and then popped the driver’s side door open and climbed into the seat. “We have dinner reservations at the Feed Bag,” he announced.

“Sounds perfect.”

The Feed Bag, as the place was fondly called by locals. was a popular restaurant about a twenty-minute drive from Cloverton. I’d never eaten there, but I’d heard excellent reviews of the place. The eatery was also located in a city large enough to offer a multi-screen movie theater. Josh and I be sure to find a film we could enjoy there. Although I wasn’t sure how much the quality of the film mattered. The point was spending time together, after all.

After inserting his key in the lock, he shot me a smile drove us off into the gathering twilight.

When we reached the restaurant, I learned the place deserved its rave reviews. The interior was light and modern with white and shimmering-gold touches. Tables were covered with fine linen. Napkins were elegantly folded and stuffed into long-stemmed goblets, and candlelight flickered from the tables where diners were already enjoying their meals.

Our dishes were perfect. The steak was well seasoned. My salad crisp. The soup, light and clear. And the elaborate death-by-chocolate ending was beyond description.

Father would enjoy eating here, I thought as I returned my napkin to the table and stood. He rarely treated himself to dinner out. No wonder I was such a nose-to-the-grindstone person. I’d been raised in my father’s image.

“So,” Josh said, escorting me from the restaurant a short time later, “about Stepich.”

“Stepich?” What did he have to do with this excellent meal, I wondered.

“Yes. I contacted my pals in New York City. Would you believe one of them happened to know something about the Stepich family business.”

I hoped Ginger would be delighted to hear this news. “Oh, tell me. What have you learned?”

“My friend says the family has a healthy operation. It’s rumored to be grossing a annual profit to the tune of several millions. Stories making their way among the financial community mention possible mob ties, but no one has ever been able to chase those tales to ground.”

“Huh.” I’d never suspected mob ties. Shows how clued in I am. “Do they suspect drugs are part of the operation?”

“Yes. But again it’s merely rumors. Nothing has ever been proved against the firm.”

Stepich, the son of a latter-day Don Corleone? Ginger wouldn’t be smiling when I delivered this news.

The rest of my evening was delightful. The movie was silly. But I enjoyed the closeness Josh and I shared with his arm wrapped about me in the dim theater. And his lingering kiss when he returned me to my door that night beat death-by-chocolate hands down.

As our lips met, my heartbeat accelerated. A lovely warmth spread through me. I felt as though I could spend the rest of my life locked in his arms.

“Breakfast?” Josh asked when we finally came up for air.

“I’ll look forward to it,” I answered, placing my hand dead center of his chest.

But the next day saw me slathering on an extra layer of makeup in order to make myself presentable to my new friend. That’s because my restless mind had kept me up most of the night with thoughts of drugs, and murder, and Stepich.

***

The next day Josh wanted to spend what time he had left in Cloverton with me. So, after breakfast, we drove around and talked and laughed the rest of the morning. At one that afternoon, he tossed his carryall into the back of the SUV and, after delivering another of his sensational kisses, he returned me to my father’s care.

I stood on the sidewalk waving Josh off. “Have a safe trip,” I called out as he pulled away from our house.

Heaving a sigh, I turned and made my way to our front door.

“Ginger’s been asking for you,” Dad said when I stepped inside.

I gave myself an internal palm to forehead. I’d forgotten to call Ginger and change our appointment. Add that slip up to the news on Stepich I felt duty bound to share with her, and I’d be lucky if she didn’t scalp me when we finally met up.

“Thanks,” I told Dad, scurrying through the living room and heading for my bedroom. Up there, I could close my bedroom door and prevent Dad from overhearing our conversation. Although, I suspected if he’d known a way to tap my cell phone, he would have done so by now.

“Ginger?” I asked hesitantly when she answered.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Josh came down. I can’t believe I forgot about him when we set our lunchtime session up.”

“Oh sure, toss me aside without a thought when a handsome man shows up.”

“You’re not too mad then?”

“I guess I can expect this whenever Josh in town?”

“Probably.”

“That’s fine. Just let me know ahead of time.”

“Listen, could we get together now? If so, I’m free.”

There was a bit of a pause. “Twenty minutes, at my place,” Ginger barked at me before disconnecting.

A short time later, Dad gave me a disbelieving look as I rushed out the door.

The day was sweet and lovely outside, but, as suspected, there were storm clouds inside Ginger’s kitchen. My suspicions were confirmed as soon as I caught sight of her face.

“I’m handling this mix up, okay? But just so you know, next time you blow me off, we’re finished. You got that?”

“You’ve never missed an appointment?”

“My business lives and dies on appointments. They’re the most important part of my world.”

“For Pete’s sake, it’s Sunday,” I argued. “You’re shop isn’t even open today.”

Ginger folded her arms across her chest. Her right foot beat out a rapid cadence on the linoleum floor. “I don’t happen to live with my dad or have a housekeeper who does my laundry or waxes the kitchen floor. Okay? On Sunday’s I’m little busy with home maintenance.”

You could afford to hire a helper around the house, I thought – perhaps a bit uncharitably. Heaven knew she made a lot more money than I did.

From where Ginger sat, she probably thought I had it made. But there were downsides to living with one’s father.

“You know,” she now said, pointing me toward the kitchen table where I obligingly sat. “I never could figure why you moved back to Cloverton after your college sweetheart dumped you. You had a college degree. You could have worked anywhere you wanted.”

“But I’d always intended to return to Cloverton. I want to take over the Gazette when Dad retires.”

“That’s not much of a prize if you ask me.”

“Ginger, this newspaper has been in my family for generations. I’m not going to be the one that lets it be taken out of our hands. I have a family tradition to uphold. Wouldn’t you like to have an heir to take over your shop when you retire?”

“Truthfully, I’ve never given the idea a moment’s thought. I’m not even married, yet.”

“Why didn’t you move away then? You’re just a mobile as you think I am. You’re successful. You could have opened a beauty shop wherever you please.”

She shook her head. “Not so. My customers are people I’ve known all my life. They’re relatives and friends. I’d never have those kinds of connections if I opened up a shop – say in New York City.”

Stepich again, I thought and flinched internally. She was going to dislike my news on that front.

“And don’t look at me like that,” Ginger snapped. “Why do you think I throw myself at every new man who turns up here?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t a clue.”

“Because there aren’t many available men in this town. And if they do exist, there’s usually a darn good reason they’re still single. No, if I want to find my guy, that one love who I’m destined to spend my life with, then I’ve gotta take chances.”

“You’re kidding, right. You don’t really believe in true love?”

“Of course I do. I want to find a man who when I look into his eyes makes me regret every moment I spend away from him. And let me tell you, if you don’t really believe in love, then I feel sorry for Josh, because I think he does.”

It was a sobering thought. One I’d not considered before. Josh was married to his job. Just like my college boyfriend. Josh, too, would expect me to give up my life in Cloverton to accommodate his dreams.

Dang. Why was love so complex? And why did I think Josh might prove to be a problem on that front?