Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam (3 page)

“
Please have a seat at one of the tables,” Paula said with a sweeping gesture outward, indicating the room full of empty tables. I silently blessed her for keeping her calm while I was stricken dumb…and I mean that in both definitions of the word. “Someone will be with you in a moment,” she continued.

Okay, maybe she
wasn’t completely rational either. More like acting out of habit. When someone came in the door, she told them to be seated and took their order. But at least she was doing something. That was more than I could say about myself. I was in total shock. Sure, I knew Rick had lied to me about his family. All the contradictory stories couldn’t be true, so after a while I’d put the whole thing out of my mind. His family didn’t exist.

These three people certainly existed in a larger-than-life way.

Paula hurried across the room to put up the “Closed” sign. I hoped she didn’t lock the door in case I needed to escape quickly.

“
I wish we didn’t have to meet under such sad circumstances,” Rick’s new-found mother said.

I licked my dry lips.
“Let’s, uh, sit down and, uh, get acquainted.” I gestured toward the room of tables and chairs. I wasn’t coming out from around that counter until they moved. I didn’t want to risk being grabbed.

“
Yes,” Paula said, returning to my side. “Everybody sit down, and I’ll bring you something to drink and some of Lindsay’s famous chocolate desserts.” Still acting the part of the perfect waitress.

The boys ambled toward the closest table and sat.
“I’d like coffee, if you got some made,” one of them said.

“
Me too, with cream,” the other one said.

Mama remained at the counter, smiling and waiting. She reminded me of a tarantula
who’d spotted her prey and wasn’t going to let it get away.

I sidled around the counter, plotting a circuitous path toward the table where the boys sat. It was a futile attempt.
I’d barely made it around the counter when Mama grabbed me, wrapping me in a stranglehold embrace of such intensity I thought she must work out at one of Bryan’s gyms. Her perfume was even stronger than her embrace. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be strangled or suffocated.

“
I know just how you feel,” she said, patting my back and dragging me toward the table. I refrained from saying I seriously doubted she had any idea how I felt unless she’d been accosted by a boa constrictor who smelled like a service station bathroom. “I lost Rick’s father when he was a baby.” She looked sad or something remotely resembling sad. “That was bad enough, but at least he wasn’t murdered like our poor Rick.”

I flopped into a chair and drew in a deep breath, grateful to escape from
Mama’s tentacles.

She took my hand between both of hers. I was afraid to try to move it, afraid
I’d slice off a finger on one of her inch-long red nails.

Paula appeared with three coffees, one Coke and assorted chocolate goodies.

Mama had to let go of me to pick up her cup. “This is excellent coffee,” she said, leaving a huge red lipstick print on the cup and smiling up at Paula. Between Bryan and this group, there sure was a lot of artificial smiling going on around the place that day.

I motioned with my eyes for Paula to join us. Well,
that’s what I tried to do. At first she looked a little confused, even concerned, as if my eye rolling meant I was having a seizure of some sort. Finally she caught on, pulled over a chair and sat down between me and the brothers.

“I’m
Paula Roberts,” she said. “I don’t believe I caught your names.”

Mama fluttered a hand at her throat.
“How rude of me. I just felt so much like family as soon as I saw my darling Lindsay, I completely forgot we’d never actually met. I’m Marissa Malone.” She looked at me and reached for me again. I grabbed a Coke with one hand and a cookie with the other so she could only pat my arm. “But you can call me Mother.” Big smile.

“
I, uh…”

“
Nice to meet you, Marissa,” Paula said.

“
These are Rick’s brothers, Clint and Brad.” She indicated the boys.

“
Clint and Brad…Kramer or Malone?” Paula asked.

Marissa smiled.
“Clint West and Brad Parker.”

The boys nodded politely. And smiled, of course.

My mind was spinning, trying to take it all in. “So you’re Rick’s half-brothers. You have different fathers?” All three of them looked enough like Rick that I didn’t for one minute doubt her story of their relationship. Blue eyes, dark blond hair with streaks of lighter blond, strong nose, arrogant expression. I was actually surprised to find the boys were only half-siblings.

Marissa smiled and dipped her eyelashes.
“Same father. We all just decided to take new names after their daddy left. Get rid of bad memories.”

I resisted the impulse to ask if that was the same father who died when Rick was a baby. At least I could see where Rick got his trait of making up family history.

“I understand about bad memories,” I said. Like the ones we were making at that very moment.

“
These are good cookies,” Clint said.

“
Yeah,” Brad agreed. “You’re a good cook.”

“
Thank you.” At least they were telling the truth about that.

“
So you heard about Rick’s death?” Paula asked.

“
Yes.” Marissa set down her cup. I leaned backward in Paula’s direction, away from Marissa, clutching Coke and cookies and trying to avoid the possibility of more grabbing or patting. “As soon as we heard about Rick’s terrible death, we made plans to get here and help out with whatever we can.” She gave me another sorrowful look, and I scooted farther away.

Somehow I doubted
Marissa’s assertion that they’d come to help. Maybe to help themselves to Rick’s possessions. Missouri’s a community property state so I was entitled to half of everything Rick and I owned, but unless he left a Will, since he had no offspring his heirs-at-law were entitled to the other half of his estate. Well, they were welcome to it. Obviously Rick had been dodging them for years so he probably wouldn’t want them to have it, and that made the deal even sweeter. It would give me a great deal of pleasure to hand over his prized possessions to people he didn’t like.

“
I just can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt my son.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her dry eyes.

I could think of at least seven or twelve reasons why someone would want to hurt Rick, but I decided to let that one go.
“Where do you all live?” I asked. They had to be fairly close or they wouldn’t have heard about Rick’s death. I was pretty sure he didn’t make the national news.

Marissa’s
expression grew a little vague for a moment then cleared as she said, “St. Louis.”

“
Wow. So you’ve been living four hours away all these years, and you never visited before?”

Marissa lowered her gaze, fluttering her long lashes that absolutely did not grow out of her eyelids.
“We had a silly little fight.” She lifted her gaze to mine again. “And you know how stubborn Rick can be.”

“
Yes,” I said, “I do know that.” Missouri-mule stubborn, determined, obstinate. Almost as stubborn as I am.

She shook her head.
“I always thought we’d reconcile and be together as a family some time. It never occurred to me that he might…” She paused to choke out a half-sob as phony as her eyelashes. “I never thought he might die. He was so young.”

“
It was tragic,” Paula said. I looked at her, and she gave a slight shrug. I just wanted to be sure she didn’t really believe what she said.

“
Well,” I said, “it was really nice to meet you all. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“
Of course you will. We’re family, and we’re here to help arrange for my son’s funeral.”

Something else they were welcome to, his funeral. I had no desire to participate in that little festivity.
“Okay. I’ll call the police department and have them ship the remains to you instead of to me. Where are you staying?”

“
Oh, dear,” Marissa said. “I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem.” Her features settled into lines of distress and she wrung her hands. I’d never seen anybody wring their hands before. Even my mother, with her penchant for dramatics, had never wrung her hands.

“
Why is that going to be a problem?” I asked, though I had a bad feeling I could guess the answer.

“
We planned to stay in my son’s house.”

I rather liked that image,
Rick’s estranged family in his house, his mother sleeping where his bimbos had slept, his brothers putting their dirty shoes on the expensive sofa. He’d had that house professionally decorated when we moved in and was very proud of it.

“
But we drove by there, and the police have it roped off with that awful yellow tape.”

“
Oh, yes, the awful yellow tape. I’m sure it’ll be down in a day or two.”

Marissa lifted a manicured hand to her throat and smiled.
“Oh, thank goodness! And until we can get into Rick’s house, you don’t mind if we stay with you, do you?”

Of course I minded! I did not want those people anywhere near my house.

“I have a very small place,” I said, trying to wiggle out of that awful possibility without being blunt and rude.

Marissa frowned.
“You do? But your family’s rich.”

Okay, that was weird.
“My family’s not rich,” I assured her, “and it wouldn’t matter if they were. I have a small house.”

“
Your daddy’s a lawyer.”

Where did she get this information? Obviously s
he’d been checking up on me. “Yeah, but he’s not rich, and what does that have to do with me anyway?” I liked these people less and less with every word out of that woman’s mouth.

“Rick’s
house has five bedrooms.”

She certainly had her facts in order.
“Yes, it does, and that has nothing to do with me. I have just enough room for me and my cat, and he sheds a lot. Even people without allergies to cats are allergic to my cat. You wouldn’t be comfortable there. Just give it a couple of days and you’ll be able to get into Rick’s house with its five bedrooms, plush carpeting, no cats, no dogs.”
If you don’t mind a few bits and pieces of Rick hanging around in the flower beds.
“I know someone on the police department. Let me call and see how long they plan to keep his place roped off.”

Marissa’s
eyes widened. “You know a cop?”

I decided that probably
wasn’t the right time to tell her that her son’s death meant I was officially dating that cop.

“
Excuse me. I’ll go make that call.” I stood then looked back at Paula. I didn’t want to leave her alone with Mama and the boys. “Can you come help me?” I asked.

She frowned but rose and followed me to the kitchen.
“Help you what?” she whispered. “Have you forgotten how to make a phone call?”

“
I didn’t think you’d want to be out there alone with them,” I said, closing the kitchen door behind us.

She shrugged.
“I can handle it. I’d better go back. I’d hate for them to steal the tables and chairs when we weren’t looking.”

I nodded.
“They might. They are Rick’s family.”

“
Yes.”

She went back out, and I called Trent on my cell phone. He
wasn’t in, of course. Probably out there somewhere giving tickets to innocent speeders. I did get hold of Lawson, however. “When are you taking down that awful yellow tape?” I asked. “Rick’s mother is here, and she wants to stay in his house, but if she can’t, she wants to stay in mine!”

He was silent for a moment. Anybody else would have asked me to elaborate, but Lawson just mulled it over until he got a handle on my rantings.
“We should be finished in another day or two.”

“
A day or two? No, I need you to be more precise. In fact, I need you to take down that tape right now and let these people in there. What’s the big deal, anyway? The crime happened in the driveway, not in the house. There aren’t going to be any body parts in the house.”

“
But there may be evidence.”

“You’
ve had twenty-four hours to get that evidence out of there. Why is it taking so long to fingerprint a few glasses and check for sex videos? It never takes that long on television.”

“
This isn’t television.”

“
If you don’t get that tape down so these people can stay there, I’m going to drop them off on your front porch.”

It was, of course, an empty threat. I did
n’t even know where Lawson lived.