Don't Forget Me (25 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Docia looked very tired the next morning and, unless Nando missed his guess, very hung over. She offered him a cup of coffee as she slumped into a chair at her kitchen table. Cal Toleffson wandered around behind her, fixing breakfast while he bounced their baby son on his shoulder. The kid was already the size of the average two-year-old, and he wasn’t even walking yet. Apparently, when both parents topped six feet, they produced babies who resembled Paul Bunyan.

“It all happened so fast,” Docia groaned. “We heard you yelling in the street and we heard someone running. I guess I just automatically opened the door without even wondering if it might be dangerous.”

Behind her back, Cal looked as if he’d tasted something sour, but he said nothing.

“Did you get a look at him as he ran by?” Nando asked.

Docia started to shake her head, then paused. “I guess I did, in a way. I mean, he was right there. But he was moving so fast and we didn’t know what was happening exactly.”

“Tell me what you can remember about him.”

She massaged her forehead. “He was tall. Not Toleffson tall exactly—” she threw a quick glance at her six-foot-six husband, “—but tall by normal standards, around my height. He had on dark clothes. I didn’t see his face when he ran by: he turned away his head away when we stepped out.”

“Hair color?”

She shook her head. “He had on a baseball cap. I couldn’t see.”

“Was he a young guy? Older? How did he strike you?”

Docia sighed again. “I don’t know. He wasn’t a teenager, but more than that I couldn’t say.”

Nando managed to keep his frustration to himself. It wasn’t like he’d expected anything more from her.

“He seemed…” She paused for a moment, massaging her forehead again.

“Seemed?”

“Familiar.” She grimaced. “I don’t know what I mean by that exactly. I didn’t recognize him but I felt like I’d seen him before. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe.” Nando leaned back in his chair. “Did he maybe remind you of somebody?”

Docia shook her head. “I don’t know. It was just this fleeting impression. That he was someone I knew. Or used to know.” She blew out a breath. “That’s all. And I know it’s not much help. Sorry.”

He flipped his notebook closed. “That’s okay. I didn’t think any of you were able to see much. But if you do think of anything more…”

“I’ll let you know,” Docia finished for him. “So was that the guy who smashed up my store?”

He shrugged. It wasn’t like it was any secret. “Probably. He managed to do some damage to Margaret Hastings’ place before I got to him. Not as much as what he’d done to your place or Allie’s, fortunately.”

“Margaret Hastings?” Cal said. “I didn’t know she was involved in this.”

“Her store was. That’s where the guy was when I found him.”

“That’s…strange.” Cal frowned. “Docia and now Margaret.”

Nando flipped a new page in his notebook. “Strange how?”

“Well, they were both involved in the Brody thing, Docia and Margaret.”

“But Allie wasn’t involved with Brody at all,” Docia said slowly. “What could these burglaries have to do with Brody anyway? We’re all members of the Merchants Association too, Allie and Margaret and me. It’s just as likely to be something that happened there. Hell we might all have had the same nutball customer who went off the deep end.”

Cal shrugged. “Probably coincidence.”

“Probably.” Docia rubbed her forehead again. “I’m sorry, Nando. That’s really all I can remember.”

“That’s okay.” He flipped his notebook closed. “Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah.” Docia gave him a dry smile. “I might have been even more help if I’d stayed inside the Lucky Lady instead of walking out into the middle of your chase last night.”

Nando gave her a tight smile. She was absolutely right, of course. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll catch him.” Now all he had to do was make that statement come true.

Kit figured Allie was lucky to have an assistant who could do the morning baking for her as well as open the café. Allie herself looked like she’d rather spend the day in bed in a darkened room with cotton in her ears to keep the noise down.

“Why did you let me have that much champagne?” she croaked after inhaling a cup of coffee. Wonder cut her a piece of coffeecake that she regarded with distaste.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Kit checked her watch. She needed to get to the Woodrose early enough to satisfy Mabel.

“Have the police been around?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I don’t know what I could tell them anyway. I didn’t see more than a blur.”

“Me neither. Exciting finish for the evening, though.”

“It was that,” Kit agreed.

Allie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, did anybody think to get the dresses? Did we leave them in the store after all that commotion? Will Janie’s mom remember whose is whose?”

Kit sighed. “Allie, your dress is hanging in your closet where I put it when we got home last night. Everybody else’s dresses went home with them too. Trust me, we’re good to go.” She checked her watch again. “Speaking of going, I’ve got to get out to the Woodrose before Mabel decides to dock my pay.”

Allie frowned. “We need to get you a better job someplace else—you’re way too good to be working for that screw-up. I’ll ask around and see if anyone else is hiring.”

Kit felt an odd pang. Could she actually feel some loyalty to Mabel? She blew out a breath. Not Mabel, but surprisingly enough, she found she felt a lot of loyalty to the Rose. Her restaurant, for better or worse. “It’s not such a bad place, Allie.”

The lunch crowd at the Rose was no better or worse than usual. Lots of women in tennis outfits, and men who looked like they’d either spent time on the golf course or wanted people to think that they had. They were drawing more and more groups of shoppers who were having a day in the Hill Country and had come to the Woodrose to have a bowl of Joe’s shrimp bisque and the Cobb salad he’d added after heavy pressure from Mabel. Of course, since it was Joe’s Cobb salad, it featured local goat cheese and toasted pecans. Kit only hoped the shoppers had someone to drive them back to wherever they’d come from since they probably wouldn’t be in any shape to do it themselves, judging from the number of wine bottles she was opening.

Mabel came to the hostess station around one thirty, when the rush was beginning to die down and the late stragglers had slowed to a trickle. “Did you get the scheduling software straightened out this morning, Kit dear? I need to start entering information.”

“It’s almost ready. Just a few more tweaks in the settings.” Settings that Mabel could probably have figured out for herself if she’d taken the time. Kit gritted her teeth—at least she was now square with Mabel after taking time off for the shower.

“You can go work on it now,” Mabel said briskly. “I need it ASAP.”

“But we’ve still got a few people coming in for lunch.”

Mabel waved a vague hand. “Oh, I can handle the hostess station. The software is more important, believe me.”

That was, of course, a matter of opinion, but Kit wasn’t really sorry to spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in front of a computer. Her arches had already begun to ache.

After Elaine had dropped off a third order, without a single one from Phillip, Joe stepped out into the dining room to see what the hell was going on. As he’d suspected, he found Elaine’s station was almost full, while Philip leaned against the wall, muttering, probably about the empty tables that surrounded him.

Mabel Morgenstern was standing at the hostess station. As far as Joe could tell, she was spending more time on her BlackBerry than on taking care of anything in the dining room. Elaine was trying desperately to keep water and iced tea flowing.

“Where’s Kit?” he snapped. He’d found that Mabel responded more promptly to bluntness, which was fine with him since she pissed him off so thoroughly most of the time that it was hard not to snarl at her.

Mabel patted her smooth chignon. “She’s doing some work for me on the scheduling software. Why? Do you need her for something?”

Joe gritted his teeth. “I need her to manage the damn restaurant. I thought that was her job.”

“I’m the one who decides what her job is, and today I needed her to fix the software.” Mabel gave him the usual sunny smile that didn’t extend any farther than her lips.

“And you’re taking over as the restaurant hostess?”

Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Why would you have a problem with that?”

“I don’t, in general. Only the part about you screwing the seating up, which is, in fact, most of the goddamn job. You’ve got all the customers on one station. The most experienced waiter is just standing around while the novice is being run off her feet.”

Mabel shrugged. “I put the people at the tables by the windows so they could have the view. You can just tell the waiters to split the tables up. Seems simple enough.”

“That’s why we have the damn stations, Mabel. They’re supposed to divide up the work so the waiters can take care of all the customers. It only seems simple to you because don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Mabel’s mouth tightened to a thin line. “Listen, Joseph, I don’t care how wonderful a chef you think you are, you can still be fired. Just like anybody else. At my discretion.”

Joe gave her his best lazy grin. “You gonna try to fire me, Mabel? Even though you didn’t hire me in the first place? Even though you aren’t my boss in any way except technically? You want to try explaining to Mauritz why you felt it necessary to fire the chef who got them back their four-star rating because I didn’t work and play well with you? Good luck, darlin’. But if I was you, I wouldn’t push it.”

Mabel’s eyes burned bright as diamonds. For a moment, he thought she might actually let loose with a few obscenities, which would have suited his mood exactly. Instead she blew out a breath in an exaggerated sigh. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “But if anybody else comes in, send them over to the empty section. I don’t want to have to deal with a waiter rebellion when lunch is over.”

She gave him a blood-chilling look. “I’ll consider it.”

“You do that, darlin’.” He started to head back to the kitchen, then decided not to. In his current mood he was liable to pick a fight with one of his line cooks, and he needed to keep them happy. Maybe he’d see if he could find Kit. He’d been planning to ask her out again anyway and doing it now would definitely improve his mood.

Unfortunately, his mood took another turn south when he saw the cop from the Faro walk in the front door of the inn as he crossed the lobby. Joe paused, folding his arms across his chest. Maybe he could pick a fight with him instead of the cooks. That might be entertaining. Of course, it might also be painful. “Can I help you?”

Apparently, judging by his narrowed eyes and his tightened jaw, the cop recognized him too. “I’m looking for Kit Maldonado.”

Joe allowed himself a slightly curved lip. “Well now. Don’t tell me the beauteous Ms. Maldonado is in trouble with the law. I’d hate to lose one of the few competent employees the Woodrose has.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed still further. “Ms. Maldonado isn’t in any trouble, and I need to talk to her. Can you tell me where she is, or should I start opening doors at random?”

Joe grinned in spite of himself. “Nice one. If Mabel was out here on duty, she’d probably be cowering.” He stuck out his hand. “Don’t believe we’ve met formally. I’m Joe LeBlanc. I work with Kit.”

The cop looked like he was considering whether he wanted to shake hands or not, but apparently his mama had raised him with the same set of manners Mama LeBlanc had used on her nearest and dearest. He gave Joe’s hand a half-hearted shake. “Fernando Avrogado. Now where’s Kit?”

For a moment, Joe considered jerking him around a little more since it was the most fun he’d had all day. On the other hand, a dustup in the lobby would give Mabel an actual reason to fire him, one that would probably stand up with Bert Mauritz, the head of Resorts Consolidated’s U.S. branch. “She’s in the manager’s office.” He pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

Avrogado nodded curtly. “Thanks.” He walked past him toward the door.

Joe felt like sighing all of a sudden. The chances of hooking up with Kit Maldonado were looking more and more remote. Which made this the capper on an already shitty day.

He decided to head back to the kitchen. Hell, there had to be something in there that needed chopping.

When Kit heard the door open behind her, she assumed it was Mabel. She’d already been back to check on her progress three times. Of course being checked on every fifteen minutes hadn’t made the work go any more quickly, but that apparently didn’t bother Mabel as much as it did Kit.

“Look, Mabel, I’m almost done,” she muttered. “I’ll call you when it’s finished.”

“Fine by me,” a masculine voice rumbled behind her. “Of course, I don’t exactly know what you’re talking about.”

Kit swiveled the desk chair around with a frantic squeak. Nando stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” she blurted.