Pudding Up With Murder Page 9

  “She misses her family. And I have yet to meet them, despite the fact that I married their daughter and sister.”

  “You met one brother, right? Carlo.”

  “Yes. And Carlo has kindly vouched for me to the family. But obviously I need to meet them and prove that I am a worthy husband for the beautiful Serafina.”

  “She really is beautiful,” I admitted. “And very nice. So nice that she made you get off your duff and call your sister.”

  “Yes.” Now he sounded bored.

  “Anyway, Jay’s social calendar is really filling up. He has dinner on Friday and a gallery opening on Saturday, assuming he can make both of those. So maybe something on Sunday? Brunch or something?”

  “Sounds good. We’ll pencil you in,” joked my brother. I could hear Serafina in the background, saying something in her luxurious Italian.

  “Serafina says you guys should come here. She says I’ll cook,” Cam said dryly. Serafina was a terrible chef, but Cam, when prodded, could produce good food.

  I laughed. “Okay. I’ll let you know if we can’t do it. I’ll talk to Parker tonight.”

  “See you later, then. Say hi to Jay.”

  Cam rang off and I got in the car and found my favorite oldies radio station, where I was pleased to hear Three Dog Night singing “Shambala.” Bouncing to the music, I drove away from Frazer Street and back to Main, the heart of Pine Haven’s downtown district. I was close to Cardelini’s, the restaurant where Ross had proposed to Jenny, when I saw Angelo Cardelini himself, sauntering down the sidewalk to his place of business. Angelo. Once I had been desperately in love with him. Now he was merely one of my employers, since I had a Friday feature on his television show, Cooking with Angelo.

  On a sudden whim I pulled up next to a parking meter and jumped out of the car. “Angelo!” I called.

  He stopped just short of the entrance to Cardelini’s, squinting at me with his lovely brown eyes; his brown-black curls seemed to glint in the sun. “Lilah,” he said. “You are beautiful today! Your hair is like—”

  “Hey,” I said, stopping him before he could launch into one of his flowery metaphors. “I was talking to Jay, and he said that Cooking with Angelo is playing in New York.”

  Angelo put his hands on his hips and treated me to his glamorous smile. “Ah yes, yes. They have been breaking into that market, so. We wait to see how it goes.”

  “Angelo! You need to tell me these things!”

  He moved closer to me while he pulled a phone from his pocket and glanced at it. He tossed it back into his pocket and said, “Lilah mia, you become so nervous. Remember the first time on my show? You almost fainted. Why would I complicate the ease you now feel?”

  “That’s beside the point. I was unaware that my face was appearing in New York.”

  “Are you wanted by the police in that state?” Angelo joked. This was rare for Angelo; he normally wasn’t sarcastic, and clearly he was delighted with his own comment. He grinned at me.

  “Hilarious.”

  “You have signed a contract, Lilah, and the contract says that the show may eventually appear in cities besides Chicago.”

  “Well, still. It would be nice to get a heads-up.”

  He feigned solemnity. “From now on I will mention things of this nature.”

  A woman stopped next to us. “Oh my gosh! It’s Angelo.” She poked her companion. “It’s Angelo from Cooking with Angelo! And you’re Lilah!” She pointed at me.

  This had probably happened to Angelo before, but it had never happened to me. He shook the woman’s hand. “Yes, I am Angelo, and this is my restaurant, Cardelini’s. You have eaten here, no?”

  The woman gibbered on for a moment about how much she liked the food, and Angelo pointed at me. “And Lilah does a wonderful job, yes?”

  “Oh, you do!” the woman said, now facing me with her gushing enthusiasm. I could feel the blush rising on my face, and it grew hotter when she said, “Can I have your autograph?”

  She produced a little notebook, and I wrote, “Cook with love,” which was Angelo’s sign-off phrase, and then my name. It felt surreal to be signing an autograph for a stranger while confronting an ex-lover on the sidewalk about being on television in New York.

  Angelo signed for her, too, and then gave her a kiss on the cheek, which had her howling with joy, and then he signed an autograph for her friend, and posed for a picture with them, and then yanked me against him so that they could photograph us together.

  Finally I pulled away and said, “I have to run, Angelo.” And I did actually run back to my car and drive away before the starstruck ladies could jot down my license number.

  When I finally reached the safety of my own driveway, I found a text from Jay Parker. I’m thinking of you, too. Give me a call.

  With a sigh of relief I went into my house, set down my books, and let out Mick, who had been cooped up for far too long and, despite a brief noon escape courtesy of Britt, was still quite eager to go outside.

  I let Mick back in and fed him some dinner, then made myself a sandwich and grabbed a little bag of deli chips, which I took to my counter table along with a can of Diet Coke. “Ah,” I said.

  My phone rang, and I grabbed it from the counter without getting up. “Hello?”

  “Hi—Lilah Drake, please.”

  “This is Lilah.”

  “Oh, hi. You left a message on my machine about a photo session? This is Wade Glenning.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. First off, I have to ask—what would you charge for, say, a half-hour session? I’m interested in taking some nice, romantic pictures for my boyfriend.”

  “You mean boudoir photos?”

  My face grew hot. Even over the phone people could make me blush. “No, not those. Just—you know—tasteful, pretty, romantic shots that he’ll enjoy looking at. We both work and we’re apart a lot, so—”

  “I get you. I can do that, no problem. Do you want this done in your home, or did you want to come to my studio?”

  “Uh—in my home.”

  “That would cost two hundred, but that includes a file with all the retouched digital photos and an eight-by-ten, a five-by-seven, and three sheets of wallets—you choose the shots.”

  “Um.” I hadn’t expected it to cost quite so much, but I had some money stowed away, thanks to the two jobs I’d been working since Christmas. “Okay, I’d like to do it. When can we shoot?”

  He rustled some paper. “I have openings on Thursday and Friday. Do you have a time in mind?”

  “I work weekdays until two,” I said.

  We went back and forth until we decided on Thursday at four. “Choose at least three different outfits,” he said. “And make one of them sexy. Something low-cut.”

  “Uh—?”

  “It will look very tasteful in the photo. You said romantic, but guys find sexy romantic. And if I know guys, which I do, you should wear your hair down. No fancy buns or ponytails.”

  “Okay,” I said, blushing again because I’d been planning to pin my hair up.

  “See you then, Lilah.”

  I thanked him and hung up the phone, only to have my doorbell ring. I felt nervous every time someone rang my bell, because my house was off the beaten path, so it wasn’t visible to every solicitor who wandered by.

  I peered around my kitchen wall to see a familiar head of blond curls. To my vast surprise, it was Will, the culinary student from Haven who spent most of the day arguing with Gabby. Will and I were merely work associates, and I had never told him where I lived. I hesitated, tempted to pretend I wasn’t home, but a part of me was extremely curious about why Will would come to my house.

  Curiosity won out, and I strode through the living room with Mick at my heels to open the door. “Hey, Lilah,” Will said, looking a bit nervous. He was holding a large navy blue book.

 
“Hey.”

  He must have seen a question in my face, because he said, “I know this is weird, but I looked you up in the online white pages. I figured you should see this, I guess.” He held up the book.

  “Come on in,” I said.

  He followed me, looking around. “I should probably show this to Jay, too. Is he here?” He bent to scratch Mick’s head, but I could still see the hopeful expression on his face. He had some serious Jay Parker hero worship.

  “Not right now. What’s this all about?” I pointed to a chair in my living room, and he sat down.

  “Remember this morning, you were talking about that whole new investigation Jay had? And I said I remembered that kid Cash Cantwell from high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I guess I was just curious; I went back to my senior yearbook to see what Cash wrote in it. We had a couple classes together, so we were pretty friendly that whole year. You know how it is with high school friendships. They feel so permanent, and then you graduate and never see that person again.”

  “That’s true, mostly.”

  “Anyway, I found what he wrote. Open the back cover and look on the flyleaf.”

  I took his book, which was called The Pine Haven Papyrus. The theme for the year was “Beyond Our Wildest Dreams,” and the front cover bore an etching of a ladder going into the clouds. I flipped to the back page and said, “Oh my.”

  “Yeah, sorry about all the swearing. Kids who sign it just think you’re going to read the stuff, not—other people.”

  I navigated through all the bawdy suggestions and f-words until I spied the name “Cash.” His handwriting was surprisingly neat and precise compared with some of the barely legible scrawls on the page. He had written, “Hey, Will. Let’s be sure to open that bar in Jamaica just like we planned. You get your mom to donate her awesome car, and I’ll poison my dad for my inheritance.”

  He had signed it with his name and a little picture of a beer bottle with a fancy umbrella in it.

  I stared hard at the page. He had been a teenager, and he was joking around. Right? Except that he had said poison. Did that bear further scrutiny? Was it just a coincidence that Cantwell’s son had joked about poisoning him, and two years later Cantwell was dead by poison?

  “You’re right,” I said. “This is a big deal. And we need to tell Jay.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We called Parker, who said he was too busy to come out but that we could stop by the station with whatever it was we wanted him to see.

  I told this to Will, who was clearly tempted by a chance to access Parker’s domain. “Aw man. I can’t—I have a class in half an hour. But tell him hi for me. I’ll leave the book with you, and you can give it back to me tomorrow, unless they end up using it as police evidence or something.”

  “Okay. Thanks for bringing this by, Will. I’m sure it’s nothing, and yet it does seem—odd.”

  “Yeah, my feelings exactly. But Cash was always a cool kid, so I feel kind of like a traitor bringing this here. Still, man. That’s a pretty weird coincidence.”

  “Yes,” I said. I walked him to the door, and he looked around without disguising his curiosity.

  “This is a pretty cool place.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I almost didn’t find it; your number is 2157, but that big place in front of you is 2155, and the one next door is 2159, and I was like—how did it jump from 7 to 9?”

  “Yeah, I’m sort of tucked away here.”

  “It’s awesome. I would never even think of looking at a place like this to rent out. It’s way better than renting in some big apartment house.”

  “Yes, it is. I am very lucky.”

  Will tucked some of his blond hair behind his ear and hovered in my doorway. I was tempted to start inching the door closed in the hope that he would get the hint.

  “Hey, one quick thing,” he said, attempting a casual look but achieving a young and vulnerable one instead. “What’s your take on Gabby? Do you think she’s going out with anyone?”

  “Finally,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I’m glad you’re finally admitting that you like her.”

  “What? I didn’t say that!” he said, clearly thunderstruck.

  “Will. Don’t be a jerk. You have liked her since you started working at Haven, and what’s more, she likes you. Although if you confronted her she’d probably be like you and deny it, so do me a favor and just pull her into a corner somewhere and kiss her and be done with it.”

  “What?” he asked, with a dumb little smile.

  I sighed. “Everyone sees it but you two. You are attracted to each other. Ask her on a date, and she will probably say yes, after her initial surprise.”

  “Wow. Okay, well—okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “Just do it, Will.”

  “Okay. See you, Lilah.”

  He moved down the walk, and I saw for the first time that he was driving a little white Smart Car. He climbed into it and backed down the driveway. From a distance, his abundant hair looked like a halo.

  • • •

  THE PINE HAVEN Police Department was housed in an ivy-covered building in the center of town. Today the parking lot was almost full, and I wondered how many vehicles belonged to visitors, and what they all needed from the police on a Monday evening.

  Parker had instructed me to go through the lobby, where I should say his name to the security guard and then proceed to the elevator and up to the third floor. I did this, and the doors opened to reveal a spacious room with offices at the outer perimeter and about a dozen desks in the center. Directly in front of the elevator was a large reception desk, at which sat a dark-haired woman wearing a crisp white blouse and a phone headset. She held up a finger to me to indicate that I should wait, then said, “Pine Haven Police, Homicide and Investigations, how may I help you?” She listened with a patient expression, then said, “I’ll transfer you to that department. Thank you,” and punched some buttons on her phone. Then she hung up and said, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Jay Parker,” I said. “He’s expec—”

  “Are you Lilah?” she asked, her face brightening into friendliness.

  “Uh—yes.”

  She stood up and offered her hand. “Oh my gosh, you made that delicious dessert casserole that Jay brought a couple months ago! We’re all still remembering it very fondly. I’m Penny.”

  “Hi,” I said. “I can make more anytime.”

  “That would be awesome.” She pointed to a far corner. “Jay’s office is back there by the water fountain. He might be in Maria’s office, though, or maybe with the chief. Hang on.”

  She clicked a button on her phone, and in a moment I heard her voice on an intercom. “Jay Parker, please call the front desk. Jay Parker.”

  She winked at me. “I don’t usually do that, but I thought just this once.”

  It had the desired effect; Parker poked his head out of an office, his brows raised. Then he spied me and waved. “Lilah, come on back,” he said.

  I had never been in Parker’s professional environment. I had stopped by the station once when I was still harboring a big crush on him; he had given me his jacket, and I went to the PD to return it, hoping to get some time with him and see where he worked. Instead, Maria had claimed the jacket and I hadn’t gotten farther than the lobby.

  Now I studied the large room with its old, dignified chandeliers and surprisingly bright work space, even in the light of the setting sun. I walked past several cubicles where people at desks made no secret of their curiosity, to the point that I was blushing intensely by the time I reached Parker, who looked a bit harried but gave me a peck on the cheek while everyone watched. He grinned, then said, “Let me introduce you to some people. You know Maria, right?”

  Maria had come striding out
of an office, studying a file, and now she looked up and said, “Hey, Lilah!”

  “Hi. Good to see you,” I told her, feeling shy. I was distracted as always by Parker’s good looks; today he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was tucked neatly into a pair of black pants, and he wore a blue-and-black silk tie that was slightly askew. His tanned forearms made a handsome contrast with the whiteness of his shirt, and my gaze kept traveling to them and the hint of muscle visible when he moved.

  “Let me introduce you to our boss,” Parker said, clasping my arm and pulling me toward a corner office.

  I looked back over my shoulder at Maria and said, “Hang on—you’re going to want to see this, too.”

  She gave me a thumbs-up and moved gracefully over to the drinking fountain.

  Parker led me into an office where a white-haired man sat talking on the phone. While Pine Haven PD seemed to have a diverse workforce in its main room, that didn’t seem to be the case when one moved up the ladder.

  The man ended his call and said, “What’s up, Jay?”

  “Sir, this is my girlfriend, Lilah Drake. Lilah, this is our captain, Zane Harris.”

  Parker had never introduced me as his girlfriend before, and my smile was probably stupid as I shook the captain’s hand. He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Lilah. We’ve all heard a great deal about you. I guess we can’t overwork Jay as much as we did in the past, now that he has a special someone in his life. He might even want to take some of his vacation time.”

  I laughed, and Parker put an affectionate arm around me.

  “What brings you here today, Lilah?” asked Harris.

  “Oh—uh—someone came to me with something they thought might be pertinent to Jay’s case. That is, the murder of Mr. Cantwell.”

  Harris’s face was shrewd. “I understand you were there when that happened.”

  “When he collapsed, yes. The drink was delivered before I got there.”

  The captain’s phone rang, and Jay said, “I’ll check in later, Zane,” and the captain waved as he picked up the receiver.

  Jay still had his arm around me, and he steered me to his office, a fairly large room with a desk and a window that overlooked Paris Park. “This is nice, Jay!” Distracted from my task, I darted away from him to study the knickknacks on his desk and walls. On the wall facing the desk he had a nature calendar and a framed picture of the Chicago skyline. There was a tall bookcase against the wall behind his desk, on which he had some impressive stone lion bookends and a statue of a knight in armor. Grouped around these were lots and lots of books about law and policing. “Have you read all these?” I asked.