Read A Season for Killing Blondes Online

Authors: Joanne Guidoccio

Tags: #cozy, #myster, #romance, #murder

A Season for Killing Blondes (12 page)

BOOK: A Season for Killing Blondes
10.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

As I drove toward the ReCareering
office, my heart started beating faster, and my hands gripped the steering wheel. I could drive right by, but if I put it off today it would be so much easier not to go in on Monday. When I arrived at the plaza, I took several deep breaths and sat quietly in the car. I grabbed the extra handouts and then entered the office. I was greeted by Sofia at the reception desk and the tantalizing aroma of roasting chicken.

“It’s nice to see you smile like that again,” Sofia said.

My eyes traveled around the room. Sofia’s desk was clear with two neatly arranged piles of messages. Chairs and tables had been moved back and all signs of the open house had disappeared. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I would have taken care of—”

“It’s my job, remember. And I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about not spending time with you. This Autumn Tea is a lot of work.” She sighed. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

“You can take Monday off if you want.”

“I can’t leave you alone on your first day!” Sofia’s eyes widened. “I’ll be fine once I get a good night’s sleep, which I intend to do on Sunday.”

“What time did you get in last night? Not that I’m checking up on you, but it seems like you’ve been putting in a lot of late nights.” Having never organized a tea, I had no concept of the work involved. I couldn’t imagine the other women in the CWL putting in those late hours. And that suited Sofia to a tee. From what my mother had told me, the Autumn Tea attracted women from as far away as North Bay. Afterward, Sofia received and enjoyed all the accolades.

Sofia shrugged. “I tried not to make too much noise.”

“I didn’t hear a sound,” I said. “It must have been past midnight.”

“After I packed the cakes into the boxes, Maria insisted on making another dessert. She gave me two generous pieces. We’ll have it later.”

“Thanks for making dinner, but I didn’t want you to go to any trouble. You’re my guest, and I should be cooking, not the other way around.”

“I love cooking. You don’t. End of story.”

The door opened, and Karen Anderson stepped inside. “Welcome back. Roast chicken. What a lovely aroma! I may just drop by Swiss Chalet on my way home.” She spoke directly to me. “I’m glad I caught you. Aaron and I are thinking of driving out to the cottage tomorrow.”

I rummaged through my purse and found the key. “Sometime next week, I would like to meet with you and your Realtor.”

“Take your time,” Karen said. “You’re just opening up here, and you’ve had a lot on your plate lately.” She added, “Feel free to spend some more weekends out there. After this weekend, we won’t be going again.”

I was grateful for the reprieve. I didn’t want to leave her hanging, but I also wanted to do more research on cottage prices and get Sofia’s opinion about the renovations.

“I’m glad to see you back. When are you planning…?” Karen didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Stay out of my life, bitch!” A blast of cool air accompanied a loud, vaguely familiar voice.

Jean Taylor stood in the doorway, clutching a pair of scissors in her hands. The normally well-groomed yogini wore baggy gray sweats. Her blonde hair hung in disarray and looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. I heard Karen gasp and saw Sofia move toward the door. Jean’s angry eyes surveyed the room, and then she walked briskly toward the lucky bamboo plant she had given me last week. She savagely cut the stalks and threw them on the floor. “May you have decades of bad luck.” She slammed the door and ran out.

“Unbelievable!” Karen curled her lips in disapproval. “I’m so glad Mrs. Godfrey is not alive to see this shocking display. That young woman needs help. I have half a mind to call her husband.” Karen addressed me. “Do you want to get the police involved?”

“I don’t know.” Somehow, she must have heard about my call to Carlo.

“Why don’t we think about this for a while?” Sofia said. “Let’s give Jean time to cool off.”

Karen frowned. “Fine, but if you don’t feel comfortable phoning Carlo, I don’t mind doing it.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to get back. Have a good weekend. See you next week.”

Every cell in my body buzzed in alarm. I now feared the gentle yogini who had taught me how to meditate. “What’s Jean’s problem? All she has to do is answer a few questions.”

“Jean doesn’t have a poker face. I’m sure Carlo could catch her in a lie.” Sofia shook her head. “I still can’t believe she’s been practicing yoga for what ten…fifteen years.”

I exhaled as a dreadful realization came over me. “Do you think she had anything to do with the murders?”

“Maybe not directly. But she might know who did.”

“I wonder where her husband was when Melly Grace was killed?”

“They went to her aunt’s cottage in North Bay,” Sofia said. “I heard it at Curves this morning. He spent several days in North Bay and then came back to Sudbury late Tuesday night. Jean got back yesterday. Her aunt corroborated the story.”

None of this made any sense. If Jean and Michael had alibis, there was no need for all this drama. Unless the aunt was covering for them. Knowing Jean, she could not handle the subterfuge. Everything about her life was an open book. She had no secrets, and she refused to keep them for others.

The oven timer rang, and Sofia headed toward the kitchen. She called out, “I’ll finish making the salad and setting the table. You might want to check through the messages and call the ones I’ve highlighted. They sound keen.”

I checked through the smaller pile of messages and zeroed in on the interested clients. I called and left messages on their machines. Thankfully, no one was home. I wasn’t in career counselor mode.

I decided to clean up the mess that Jean had left. As I made my way to the utility closet, I overheard Sofia whispering to someone on her cell phone. “No, I told you I can’t leave her! You should be able to deal with it yourself…I don’t know why you need me there…No, and that’s final.”

I was tempted to tell Sofia to go to the church, but I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

I got the broom and went back and swept the area clean. I dropped the stalks in the garbage can. Jean had not destroyed the pretty glass container filled with stones. The glass would have stuck to the carpet and made it difficult to clean. I took it over to Sofia. “Do you want this glass container?”

“I have no use for it, but one of the other CWL ladies might want it. Leave it near the front. I’ll put it in my car when we leave.” She pointed to the table and bowed. “Dinner is served, madam.”

The table was set with a royal blue damask tablecloth, cloth napkins and white dishes. As I took in the large casserole dish with roast chicken and potatoes, I realized how I hungry I was.

We sat down and ate companionably. After we finished eating the chicken and salad, Sofia produced two small bowls filled with apple crisp and topped with scoops of vanilla frozen yogurt.

“When did Maria start making apple crisp?” I thought of the lovable, but grossly overweight, woman who could eat half a cake in one sitting. It wasn’t like her to bake with oats and other healthy foods.

“Her granddaughter is visiting for a while,” Sofia said. “She decided to take a year off before starting her master’s program. Belinda’s put Maria on a strict diet and won’t allow her to cook or bake any fattening foods.”

It would be easier to tame a tiger than put an older Italian woman on a diet. I did not envy Belinda that monumental task. “How’s that working for them?”

Sofia laughed. “Maria goes over to Rosa’s and indulges her sweet tooth before each meal. She’s hidden some chocolates at the back of her closet. Belinda hasn’t caught on yet.”

I tried to picture Belinda, but I hadn’t seen her in years. And I found it hard to believe that she would want to live in her grandmother’s traditional Italian home after being on her own for four years. “What’s Belinda doing with herself these days?”

“She broke up with her boyfriend in St. Catharines and decided to spend some time away from him. She needs a job.” Sofia put her cup down. “And that’s where you come in.”

“She can drop by on Monday for an appointment.”

“She doesn’t need counseling. She wants—or Maria wants—you to offer her a job.”

“What on earth would she do?” While I understood Maria’s need to get Belinda out of her kitchen, I didn’t think her granddaughter would enjoy any make-work projects I gave her.

“She could do my job,” Sofia said softly and averted her face. “I hadn’t planned on staying more than a month, but I wouldn’t mind leaving sooner than that.”

“How much sooner?”

“It would take me a day or two to train Belinda,” Sofia said. “She’s better qualified for the job. She’s got that degree in psychology.”

I had known from the beginning that Sofia didn’t want to do reception work, but I figured she would want to stay and help out for a while. Part of me wanted to pry further, but I decided to let it go. “I’ll give Belinda a call tomorrow.”

I helped Sofia load the dishwasher and clean the small kitchen. In no time at all, we were on the road and driving to see
Ides of March
.

Chapter 14

Saturday, October 29, 2011

“Do you always dress up to work out by yourself in the exercise room?” Sofia asked as I came out of my bedroom.

Last week, I had splurged and bought myself a Lululemon yoga outfit. A bit pricy, but worth every penny. And now I knew what to buy Sofia for her next birthday. “How was Curves this morning?”

“A bit boring. There weren’t too many of the regulars around.”

“No more news or interesting tidbits from the police department.”

“No. Should there be?” Sofia sounded annoyed.

I wondered at her change of mood. Last night, we had enjoyed the movie, and afterward we had come home and chatted until midnight. It had felt normal, well almost normal after the incident with Jean yesterday. “Is everything all right. You sound a bit off?”

She forced a smile. “Just some last minute jitters.”

“You’ve been organizing these teas for years.”

“Yeah, well I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping too well.” She changed the subject. “I’m glad we’re going to the spa this afternoon. I’ll meet you there at one fifteen. I have several errands to run.” She got up and headed for the door.

“See you later,” I called out, but I doubted she heard me. When Sofia was on a mission, she put on her blinders and ignored everything and everyone around her.

I went down to the exercise room and inserted a yoga DVD. I spent the next ninety minutes stretching and meditating. Afterward, I swam in the pool and chatted with a few of the younger neighbors who used the facility on weekends. It was good to connect with normal people who had no interest in or experience with murders.

I took a long, luxurious bath and then dressed and drove over to the Lodge, Sudbury’s newest spa. The other night, Mirella and her friends had raved about the different spa therapies and packages offered. Sofia and I decided to have manicures and pedicures today. We would leave the hydrotherapy, reflexology, and more exotic treatments for another day.

I found Sofia waiting in the large foyer. It was annoying to always find her waiting or arriving early. How could such a positive trait become so undesirable and unwanted? I took a deep breath and resolved not to apologize for keeping her waiting. “Hi, I guess you got everything done and decided to come here early.”

“I didn’t realize I was that early.” She glanced at her watch and continued, “Had I known, I could have completed another errand. There’s so much to do before tomorrow’s tea.”

“And of course you have to do it all. Let someone else take over for a change. It doesn’t always have to be done perfectly and by you.”

“I enjoy doing it.” Her lips formed a tight red line of anger. “I know it’s hard for you to understand because you think all creative and domestic tasks are chores.”

“You got that right. You’re the domestic one.”

“And you are the dynamic one.” Sofia’s voice had an edge to it.

“Where did that come from?”

“From nowhere. From everywhere.”

I needed some kind of distraction or Sofia would pick at this all afternoon. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I picked up the latest
People
magazine and started reading it. Sofia sat there, saying nothing and watching the entrance.

I barely got the first page of the Brangelina story read.

“Hello, and welcome to the Lodge. My name is Natalia Gorsky, and I am the owner.” A tall, blonde woman dressed in head-to-toe ivory and beige tones stood before us. She shook both our hands and smiled at me. “Please excuse me for staring. Have we met before?”

I still wasn’t used to all the attention that had been generated by my lottery win, and I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up with new acquaintances. In this case, I had a convenient backup. “I attended last month’s Chamber of Commerce breakfast. I enjoyed listening to your story.” I added, “My name is Gilda Greco, and this is my cousin Sofia DiMatteo.

Natalia nodded and moved on to speak to other clients.

Sofia shook her head. “I don’t think you satisfied her curiosity. She’ll make a point of finding out all about your illustrious past. Once she finds out about the lottery win, she’ll lay it on extra thick.”

“How do you know so much about Natalia? Don’t answer…Curves
,
right?”

Sofia laughed. The mood had passed. “No, she’s been around for a while, five or six years.”

“I thought she left Russia about ten years ago or so. I’m certain she mentioned that in her speech.”

“She made a pit stop in the Parry Sound area for about three or four years. She likes to gloss over those details and not call too much attention to her marriage of convenience.”

My gaze followed the tall, graceful figure that walked confidently through the foyer. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Let me give you the unedited version of Natalia Gorsky’s life,” Sofia said. “About ten years ago, a widower from the Parry Sound area was searching for a younger bride. Someone suggested he import a Russian woman. He responded to an ad in the
Toronto Sun
and started a correspondence with Natalia. At the time, Natalia was in her late twenties and very plain looking. She hadn’t been able to find a husband in Russia and was desperate to leave for Canada, the United States or any other country that would take her.”

BOOK: A Season for Killing Blondes
10.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Dear Nobody by Gillian McCain
The Ale Boy's Feast by Jeffrey Overstreet
Holiday Hotel Hookup by Jeff Adams
Infernal Sky by Dafydd ab Hugh
Sound of Butterflies, The by King, Rachael
Fenris, El elfo by Laura Gallego García
Killing Weeds by Joyce, Jim Lavene
Everyone is Watching by Megan Bradbury
Under the Bridge by Cooper, R.