Yappy Hour (6 page)

He didn't answer my question, though, just repeated his. “Did you talk to anyone last night? From your house?”

I hadn't talked to anyone. I'd stayed up late, cooked a frozen pizza, and watched a cheesy Hallmark movie where the man and woman fell in love and were torn apart when her past came to haunt her. Only I was too embarrassed to tell Officer Brooks that I was a sucker for romance plots. So I lied and said, “My uncle, we chatted last night.”

I made a mental note to tell Grunkly to cover for me. I crossed to the kitchen. I was sure Rachel had something in her kitchen that might take the edge off. Why was I so nervous talking to this man? There were several boxes stacked in a corner of Rachel's kitchen.

I grabbed a kitchen knife and sliced into the first cardboard box. Officer Brooks watched me without saying a word.

Ah! The Wine and Bark towels.

“One mystery solved,” I sang out, then immediately regretted it upon seeing the serious expression on Brooks's face.

Moving the box aside, I sliced into the next, a case of Stoli. It must have been for the bar. I picked out a colored tumbler from Rachel's cabinet and filled it with ice. “It's not too late to change your mind,” I said.

“I'm still on duty.”

“After I give you my statement, will you be off duty?” I asked.

He shook his head stoically.

I poured a healthy dose of vodka into my tumbler. “Okay, what else do you want to know?”

“Did you know Dan?”

“No, I knew of him. I know he and Rach dated for a bit.”

He nodded. “How did it end? Was she angry with him?”

“No!” I said, suddenly defensive for my little sister again. “They just dated and then they ended it. Rachel was busy with the bar. She didn't want to get too serious with anyone.”

“But now she's married. Very suddenly, I might add.”

Yes, that did seem like a big fat inconsistency.

I shrugged. “I didn't know about it until Abigail told me just now. I have to verify it.”

“Are you saying it might not be true?”

I sipped my vodka. “Well, I'm not calling Abigail a liar or anything. It's just strange that my own sister didn't mention it to me.”

“Maybe she thought you wouldn't approve of the guy,” Brooks said.

“Do I look like the type of person who judges other people's relationships?” I asked.

He shrugged. “From the little I know about your sister, your opinion is very important to her.”

I twirled the tumbler in my hand and thought about it a moment. Yes, it did seem strange that Rachel would elope without even a word to me about it.

It smelled of trouble.

Like she was hiding something.

I only hoped the something she was hiding didn't have anything to do with poor Dan.

“How about today? Can you take me through your steps please?” he asked.

“This morning I went to the beach, then shopped at The Meat and Greet, before getting a text from Rach about helping out at the bar.” I finished my vodka and poured another. “You should talk to Yolanda, though. She's the one who found Dan, you know. She was at the bar before I was.”

He nodded. “All right, one more thing. Why did you steal the fund-raiser flyer out of my pocket?”

I reddened, embarrassed about being caught, but relieved that it hadn't been a copy of the letter from Dan.

“I didn't want you to go as Yolanda's date,” I said.

He chuckled. “I thought maybe you wanted a first crack at the pets that would be up for adoption,” he said.

I laughed. “No.”

We stared at each other for a moment, suddenly silent. A nervous energy fluttered in my belly as I held his gaze.

“Can I get a rain check?” he asked.

“Rain check?”

“On the drink?”

I nodded dumbly. He made his way to the door. “I have to talk to the people at DelVecchio's tonight. And I work tomorrow as well, but I'm off on Sunday.”

Was he asking me out on a date?

My heart began to race.

“Sunday works,” I said, before realizing that I'd probably have to tend Rachel's bar on Sunday. With any luck, maybe the bar would have to be closed until Rachel returned from her trip.

Officer Brooks had his hand on the doorknob, and as if reading my thoughts turned and said, “My crime scene team is still working at The Wine and Bark. I'll let you know when you can reopen.”

“No rush,” I said.

He chuckled, then wiggled his fingers at me as he waved good-bye.

 

Chapter Seven

First thing I did when Officer Hottie-Pants left was down my vodka, then I tried Rachel's cell phone again. It went to voice mail immediately, which told me she had either turned it off or it was out of battery. I left her a message to call me ASAP, then sent her an e-mail in case she had access somehow to that account.

I poured myself another drink and then searched the kitchen, each cabinet and cupboard, even the sugar bowl for evidence of what she'd been up to.

When I came up dry, I decided to scour the rest of her apartment, including the desk she kept in her bedroom that held a laptop computer. The laptop was password-protected, but I tried my hand at hacking my way into it. It wasn't as difficult as I thought. Her password for everything was Wineandbark. I'd have to talk to her about Internet security. She was ripe for identity theft.

I found cached searches on her computer for “disorderly house,” which was the violation Dan had referenced in his letter. So, it seemed that Rachel had been aware that Dan was threatening to file a complaint.

But I didn't, however, find another copy of the letter, so as far as I could tell, she'd either heard about the threat from him or someone else at DelVecchio's.

Additional poking around yielded me some online chats between Rachel and a Mr. Chuck. It seemed that Mr. Chuck was a computer engineer. Really? That was a first. Rachel never went for the nerds.

How could she have eloped with the guy?

I searched her computer cache for anything related to elopement: bridal dresses, floral bouquets, or wedding cakes—and found nothing. I glanced around her room; there were no photos, no evidence of a new relationship. I walked to her closet and examined the clothes. All were hers; there was no man's anything anywhere. It was hard to believe that she was in a relationship with this Mr. Chuck at all, much less a relationship serious enough to elope.

Sadness bore down on me. Why would she not confide in me? After all, if she didn't trust me enough to tell me she was getting serious with a guy, how likely would it be for her to reach out to me if she was in trouble?

I went to pour myself another drink and was shocked to see the dent I'd put in the bottle. How many drinks had I guzzled? All right, it wasn't every day you found a dead guy, but still, I didn't need a hangover in the morning.

I put the bottle away, disgusted with myself, and staggered to Rachel's door. It was late now, time to go home. Tomorrow would be another day. I'd start with a fresh slate, bright eyed and bushy tailed, determined to locate my sister.

My stomach rumbled and I remembered with a sigh the way the evening was supposed to have gone down: a nice steak dinner at Grunkly's. Now, I'd kill for a steak.

Did Pacific Cove do takeout? There were some things about New York I'd never get over missing.

Why had I even left? I sighed as I pulled open the front door and stepped out into the darkened hallway. Before my vision could adjust, I heard a rustling. A chill zipped up my spine, my senses going on high alert.

Who was here?

I froze, pressing myself against Rachel's apartment door, feeling vulnerable. There'd already been one murder tonight. What if …

Heavy footsteps sounded on the floor and my blood pressure skyrocketed. I was a sitting duck! What would I do if this person attacked me?

Then the inevitable happened.

My stomach growled.

A man's voice called out. “Rachel?”

The voice was deep, low, and very manly indeed.

I was silent, speechless.

Suddenly the man approached. “I can't see. Who's there?”

I cleared my throat. “Not Rachel.”

The man fussed with something. “Sorry, it's dark.”

“I'm Rachel's sister,” I said.

The man was upon me. He had a cell phone in his hand and waved the light at me. “Ah! Rachel's sister?”

I couldn't make out his face. Only his form. Tall and imposing. He wore dark clothes. Was this the man who watched me from the doorway of DelVecchio's? Goose bumps rose on my skin and I shivered.

Was I in danger?

Could this man be the murderer?

The vodka was making the hallway spin. Why had I drunk so much?

I couldn't think of anything to say, but my stomach rumbled again.

“You hungry? I always cook for Rachel after the bar closes. You must be hungry now, too.” He took hold of my arm and pulled me toward his apartment. “How about veal piccata?”

I staggered along the corridor, leaning a little too much on him. “Whoa,” was all I could muster.

He chuckled and steadied me by grabbing my arm. “Did you have a few too many greyhounds tonight?”

I suddenly giggled uncontrollably. “Sorry, I … I've had a rough night.”

“Me too,” he said. “I just closed the restaurant, but I have a good bottle of Chianti here. It goes nicely with the veal. You'll love it.”

Some part of my mind was warning me off. I didn't even know this guy; why in the world was I following him into his apartment? And yet, the lure of food was too great. Veal and Chianti, no less?

Bring it!

“I'm Gus, by the way. Gus DelVecchio.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

“I'm Maggie.”

His hand was warm in mine and I realized he wasn't letting go.

“What about Rachel?” he asked. “Is she hungry?”

“Uh … no…”

He let go of my hand and pulled a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I walked into his apartment.

The apartment was the mirror image of Rachel's, only his was tidy and masculine, the décor a sexy red and brown with leather chairs and glass tables. There were a few framed art pieces on the wall: still lifes with fruit, ham, cheese, and wine.

My empty belly was about to howl out a complaint, so I clamped my hand over it and pressed.

Gus looked over at me with a curious look on his face. “Are you okay?”

I gave him a tight smile.

“What happened at the bar tonight?” he asked. “There were police there and it was closed for Yappy Hour.”

He didn't know.

I was still sworn to secrecy, wasn't I? I wasn't supposed to say anything until next of kin had been notified. Had Brooks already done that?

“I'm not supposed to talk about it,” I said.

Gus immediately uncorked a bottle of wine. “Don't talk about it, then.” He smiled, a disarmingly charming smile. “I don't want you to talk anyway. Just eat.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

He poured the wine and walked to the kitchen. I followed him, sipping on the fragrant full-bodied wine.

The kitchen was set up for a professional chef, complete with a commercial oven and a million steel-bottom pots and pans hanging overhead.

Gus pulled the meat, a couple of eggs, a lemon, a jar of capers, and a fresh bunch of parsley from the fridge.

“Can I help?” I asked.

He put a large sauté pan over medium heat and added some olive oil. “Can you cook?”

I smiled. “Do frozen dinners count?”

A horrified expression crossed his face. “No. Have a seat.” He pulled out a kitchen chair for me and proceeded to coat the veal cutlets in flour and egg. They sizzled when he popped them into the pan. In no time, the kitchen was filled with the heavenly scent of frying meat.

He whipped up the sauce, then plated the food and topped off my wine. “Eat,” he instructed.

I didn't exactly do as I was told, I more or less
inhaled
the food.

He chatted as I chewed, telling me about his stint at the Culinary Academy in San Francisco. After a bit, he asked, “Where's Rachel?”

“I'm not sure,” I confided.

Gus got a wicked little glint in his eye. “You know, my business partner, Dan, didn't show up for work today. Maybe they're together.”

I almost choked on the veal. “Uh…”

“You know they were dating, right? I thought they broke up a couple weeks ago. At least that's what Dan said. And he sure moped around enough about it. But today, when he didn't show at work, I figured maybe they—”

“No!”

“What?”

I bit my lip. “Uh…” What now? I knew I wasn't supposed to say anything and yet …

When I hesitated, Gus repeated, “Well, anyway, I figure they were probably together tonight—”

I thumped the table with my hand. “No!”

Gus lurched back, startled. “What is it? Is something wrong with the food?”

Suddenly my hands were shaking. I couldn't go on letting this man think that his partner was alive.

“Dan is dead,” I blurted out.

Gus's eyes grew to the size of saucers. “What do you mean?”

“This afternoon. That's why the police were at the bar.”

Gus stared at me, one hand clasped over his mouth.

“Dan was killed inside the bar. I found him. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. The police asked me not to say anything. They wanted to notify the next of kin before—”

Gus shook his head. “Are you sure? It can't be. Do you even know Dan? Maybe it wasn't him.”

“Yolanda identified him. Officer Brooks confirmed…” I reached for Gus's hand, but he stood, pulling away from me.