Coffee & Crime (26 page)

Ted caught hold of my arm. "You don’t think what you’re doing could affect us? Scotti, you could get hurt. Seriously hurt. You think that wouldn't matter to me?"

I waved a hand at him. "I'm not going to get hurt."

He grimaced and sighed. "You don't think you are. But you don't know what you're stirring up." He pointed to the gate. "I slipped right onto your property, and you didn't see me until I wanted you to see me. If I could do that, so could somebody else." He grasped my other arm. "This isn't a game, Scotti. Your friend is already dead. I don't want you to be next. Is there something wrong with that line of thinking?"

I pulled away and crossed my arms over my chest. "Quit trying to scare me. I'm not going to stop. Or change my mind. You aren't going to talk me out of this."

He threw up his hands and started pacing. "So, I'm supposed stand by and hope for the best?"

My voice started hitting the glass shattering octave range. "No! You’re supposed to stop over-reacting. It’s not like I’m in this alone. I have Zelda, Joe, and Eric. Joe used to be a homicide cop. He knows what he's doing. He wouldn't let us do anything dangerous."

Ted stopped and spun toward me. "So I
am
supposed to stand by and hope for the best then?"

Beyond frustrated I buried my hands in my hair. "What am I supposed to say to that?" I jabbed a finger at him. "Look, it's your choice. If you want to walk away because you can't deal with this, that's up to you."

He laughed bitterly. "Now you're blowing me off?" He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up to the sky. "I sure know how to pick them, don't I?"

"I'm not blowing you off. And I don't want you to leave. I'm just asking you to back off – a little." I was shivering so hard I couldn’t stand still. I was so exhausted my eyeballs itched. I didn’t want to fight, I wanted to go inside where it was warm. Make some dinner, snuggle and watch a movie. I took his hand and squeezed it. "Can't we just go on the way we were?"

He gave me a snarky grin. "Sure, that’ll work great. You go off fighting crime with Zelda and company, and squeeze in a couple of dinner dates a week with me? And if there's a break in the case
—
I'll just have to understand when you disappear for days at a time? Is that what you're thinking?"

I shook my fists at him. "Why are you making this so hard? If you hadn't been in the diner when Lily showed up, you wouldn't know anything about it. But you overhear a little bit of a conversation and now it's this life and death situation? And now all of sudden, I have to choose between you and my diner?"

He shook his head. "I'm not asking you to choose. I'm offering you another way and you're rejecting it. And for the record, I came into the diner because you were avoiding me."

"Fine," I threw up my hands in surrender. "Have it your way. I'm a shifty, lying bitch. I give up. You win."

I started for the house but he grabbed my hand. "Scotti, don't do this."

I yanked my hand away. "It's already done. We don’t need to fight for another two hours to figure that out, do we?" I looked into his eyes for a second, hoping he'd let it go but it was clear he wouldn't. "Good bye, Ted."

I hurried into the house and closed the door because I didn’t want him to see me cry. For a few minutes I leaned against the door, praying he'd come after me. But he didn't.

Zelda frowned at me from the dining room. She walked to the window and looked out. When she turned back, she shook her head.

I pushed away from the door. "I guess that's the end of that."

Zelda followed me into the kitchen. "You broke up?"

I opened the fridge. "Crap, we don't have anything to eat and I don't feel like cooking." I closed the fridge. "Let's order Chinese."

"No."

"Pizza?"

Zelda stared at me like I was crazy. "Scotti, what happened?"

I shrugged. "We broke up." I opened the freezer and took out a pint of double-chocolate fudge brownie ice cream
—
the good stuff that costs seven dollars a pint. I grabbed a spoon then carried my dinner to the butcher-block and sat down. "Okay, ice cream it is."

Zelda grabbed a spoon too and sat across from me at the butcher-block. "Why? What did he say?"

She tried to dip her spoon into the ice cream container but I held it away from her. "This is my dinner."

Zelda put her spoon down on the countertop. "Why did you break up?"

I ran my spoon across the top of the ice cream and made a mouth-sized scoop, then watched it melt. "Does it matter?" I glanced up from my melting ice cream. "Why should he be any different from any other guy I've dated?"

"Because he's not a jerk."

I laughed and pointed my spoon at her. "I knew you secretly liked him." Tears bloomed in my eyes. "I knew it."

Zelda slid off her stool and came to my side. "He'll be back when he cools off." She put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed
—
Zelda's version of a hug. "He's crazy about you – any idiot can see that."

I lay my head on her shoulder and cried. "No Zee, he's not coming back. I fucked it up, just like I always do. I don't deserve a guy like that anyway."

"Yes, you do. He just needs to cool off. You know how guys are." I clung to her and cried. "Don’t worry Scotti, he'll be back. It'll all be okay."

But after three days of radio silence, I knew it was over between us. I comforted myself with the fact that I hadn't been stupid enough to sleep with him. It was better that it ended quickly, and I hadn't invested months in a man who’d leave me anyway — just like every guy before him.

Without Ted to distract me, I threw myself into the investigation full-bore — sleeping little and eating less. Working to the point of exhaustion seemed the only way I could sleep. After a long and terrible day at the diner, I convinced Zelda that the night was still young and we should pay a visit to Tina Serrata. Hers was the last appointment noted in George's calendar and I wanted to know why they met the day before he died.

The sun had dropped below the mountains, and a light rain fell as Zelda navigated the winding streets that led to Tina's office. But when we pulled up to the address, we found a corner lot ranch house, not an office building. Big trees, sparse lighting and a starless sky gave the street a gloomy feel and made me hesitant to knock on her door. The patter of rain on the jeep's roof picked up suddenly like an urgent finger poking me to get my attention. I frowned. "This is her house."

Zelda opened her door and the rain drummed louder on the pavement. "Everybody works from home these days." She squinted at me. "And I didn't drive all the way up here to turn around and leave. We're here, so let's do it and get it over with."

Reluctantly, I pulled up my hood and stepped out of the jeep. We dashed to Tina's front door and Zelda asked, "What's our cover story?"

I shrugged and rang the bell.

Curtains fluttered at the side window. "Who's there?"

"Scotti Fitzgerald."

After a short pause, the deadbolt turned and Tina Serrata opened the door. She was a striking brunette in her mid-forties, with inquisitive hazel eyes. Her simple black sweater and Capri's looked elegant as only designer clothes can. I pulled my raincoat tighter

around my waitress togs. Tina held onto the door and sheltered behind it. "May I help you?"

"Hi, sorry to disturb you at home but this was listed as your office address."

Tina relaxed and gave a half-smile. "No, that's right. Though I don't usually have clients come to me." She brightened at the idea of a couple of design prospects. "Did someone refer you?"

I nodded. "In a way. Do you have a few minutes?” I pointed to the street. "If you'd rather, we could meet you down the hill somewhere."

Tina shook her head, apparently satisfied that we offered no threat. "No reason to go down the hill when you're already here." She pointed to her left. "My office is around the side, over the garage and up the steps. I'll meet you there in a sec."

Tina closed the door and we slogged around to the side of the house. As the rain soaked into my sneakers, I wished I'd worn boots. We dashed up the steps and met Tina at the landing then she motioned us inside.

The small office had the elegant touches you'd expect from a designer
—
comfy club chairs with a velvety upholstery, a desk and credenza so pretty they looked like artwork, and that hidden mysterious lighting that made everyone look great.

Tina motioned to the chairs. "Please, make yourselves comfortable." She sat behind her desk and uncapped an ivory and gold fountain pen. "Let's talk about the space and the changes you'd like to make."

I threw Zelda a look, but she threw it right back to me. Clearing my throat I said, "I think there's been a misunderstanding
—
we're not here because of a design problem."

Tina's petite frame tensed. "Oh?" She re-capped her pen and waited for an explanation. I reached across her desk and gave her an Enders Investigations business card. Tina read the card and arched an expertly waxed eyebrow. "Private investigator? Please explain."

"George."

Tina looked down and smoothed an already smooth desk blotter. "George who?"

"George Manston."

Her hazel eyes were guarded but curious too. "Yes, I know George. What about him?"

I was too wet and weary to try to play her so I went with blunt. "We're looking into his death. We know you and George met twice a week over the last several months
—
can you tell us why?"

Tina gave me a haughty over the shoulder look. "He hired me to decorate his offices."

I chuckled because Tina thought she'd play me. "That’s a lot of appointments to discuss fabric samples and paint chips."

Tina rocked back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Looking into his death? My understanding is that it was an accident."

Her answers were the butterfly and my questions the net trying to catch it. "Not everyone believes that."

"The police certainly do."

"We're not from the police," I said.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth. "No, you're not, are you?" She propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her hands. "What is it you think I can tell you?"

I was cranky and in no mood to hide it. I snapped at her, "I don't know. Maybe nothing. But you're obviously curious or you'd have kicked us out by now." I held up my hands in response to her raised eyebrows. "Look, it's been a long day, so forgive my bluntness, but I don't think you don't believe George's death was an accident either."

Tina shook her head. "No, I don't."

I leaned forward in my seat. "May I ask why?"

"I have my reasons." Tina studied me, trying to size me up. "How do I know she didn't send you here?"

"Who?"

Tina pointed her fancy pen at me. "You can tell Maggie Manston I said she should fuck off." She rolled back her chair and stood up. "Now…"

"Maggie Manston?"

Tina scoffed. "I'm not an idiot. Nobody's looking into George's death. But why she'd bother trying to prove the affair now that he's dead is beyond me." She pointed to the door. "Tell Maggie her twisted little game didn't work."

I jumped to my feet and threw up my hands. "Why does everybody think I'm some agent of Maggie Manston's? I'm not here for that woman. And I don't give a damn about your affair with George. I'm here for me." My voice cracked and I sucked in my lips so I wouldn’t cry. "George was my friend. And I want to know what happened to him, okay?"

Tina sat on the edge of the credenza, still unsure of me. "Or you're a very good liar."

Short on patience and now used to explaining myself to strangers, I gave Tina the cliff notes on how I fit into the configuration of George's life. Leaving out the details of my vested interests.

She tossed her pen on the desk and sat down. "All right. Ask your questions."

Feeling surly and not caring if it showed, I let it rip. "You met the night before he died, why? Was he upset?"

Tina nodded slowly. "Yes, we met." She shook her head. "Upset, no. Resolved, yes. He said he was leaving Maggie." She flicked me a look. "Apparently George wasn't the only one having an affair."

She expected me to be surprised but I wasn't
—
nothing Maggie Manston did surprised me.

Tina nodded. "That's right. The woman George was so guilt ridden about cheating on was cheating on him. That was the final straw, and he was ready to walk away." She fell back in her chair and hugged herself. "But that decision came too late."

The rain tapped at the windowpanes, like an impatient child trying to get inside. I couldn't conceal my skepticism. "George was leaving Maggie for you?"

Tina nodded. "Is that so hard to believe? George never loved Maggie. George loved me."

"Then why did it take Maggie having an affair for him to leave her?" Tina glared at me but I shrugged. "No offense but married men often make promises like that."

Tina sighed. "He kept promising to leave her, but there was always an emergency or excuse to put it off. When Lily suddenly appeared in his life, it got worse."