It'd only been a month, I told myself. A month. Seemed like a lifetime.
Maybe I did need to start dating again. Not MacKenna, because he was married and I refused to cross those lines, but someone else. Flash Leonard was starting to look good.
"Are you Verona Frye?" he asked, turning his gaze to her.
Eyes wide, Verona said, "Yes. Did you come here to see me, Mr. Quinn?"
Kevin reached for his badge. "Detective Quinn."
Roz purred again.
I wanted to kick her. Kevin must have sensed it, because he stepped in between us.
"Detective?" Verona folded her arms across her chest. "I don't understand."
I didn't either. What on earth would bring him here?
He looked at me. "Maybe you should go."
"You're blocking me in."
"Why aren't you two wearing rings?"
I peered around Kevin at Roz. She was buff, I'd give her that. But I had a month's worth of tension in me and probably fifteen pounds on her. She didn't stand a chance. I smiled sweetly. "We don't believe in material things to show our love." I looped my arm around him. "Do we, honey?"
When he looked down at me, I saw that his eyes clouded with something that looked suspiciously like desire. Gulp!
I stood frozen as he tipped my chin up. "Not at all, sweetheart." Then he kissed me.
Kissed. Me.
Not just any old "Hey, how ya doin' " kiss. It was a want-to-swallow-you-whole kind of kiss.
And go back for seconds.
I quickly came to my senses. All right, all right. It took me a minute or two. So sue me.
I pinched him and he pulled away, smiling. Oooh! I pinched him again for sheer pleasure.
He looked at me like he was going to kiss me again. I took two steps away.
"I'm sorry," he said to Roz and Verona. "That wasn't very professional."
Roz sniffed. "I should say not."
Verona smiled. "I think it's rather romantic."
I wanted to wipe my lips off. More than that, I really wanted to take a cold shower. Damn, I hated the effect he had on me!
Kevin lowered his dark lashes. "Mrs. Frye, I'm afraid I have bad news."
I straightened. Bad news?
"It's about your sister," he said to Verona.
Roz sucked in a breath.
Sister? Sister? What sister?
"I'm sorry to tell you this," Kevin said, "but Claire Battiste is dead."
"Nee-nah, make it stop!" Maria whined.
My parents were due any minute. Ana and Aunt Rosa too. I was busy putting the finishing touches on supper. "Make what stop?"
"The rat!"
"Her name is Gracie." Ears lowered, Gracie wagged her tiny black tail.
"She follows me everywhere."
I set a plate of dog food on the floor, and Gracie gobbled it down in two seconds flat. I'd never seen a dog eat as much as she did, and I'd yet to find something she wouldn't eat. "She likes you," I said.
Maria tipped her head to the side and studied Gracie. "She is kind of cute in an ugly ratlike way."
I opened my mouth to argue, but snapped it closed. Maria had a point.
Maria settled onto a stool, leaving Gracie on the floor whining. I wondered if the dog had somehow picked that up from her.
My stomach twisted. I still needed to tell Maria about my afternoon, but I hadn't been able to digest it yet.
Claire and Verona were sisters. But Roz wasn't Claire's mother. From the pieces I picked out of Kevin's questioning, I learned that Claire was Alfred Phineus's love child. But he hadn't learned of his oldest daughter until right before his death.
On his deathbed, Alfred had made Verona promise to take care of Claire by giving her a job at the Kalypso, which, it turns out, had been partly owned by Alfred Phineus. Kevin also confirmed to me—privately—that it apparently had been Claire who broke into Maria's condo. The autopsy confirmed the damage done by the hair spray. As I looked at Maria, I debated telling her that Claire was the one who'd broken in. She hadn't put it together yet, and I definitely didn't want her to know about those pictures Nate had sent me.
After a minute of deliberation, I decided I'd wait and let Kevin do my dirty work. Unfortunately, in my hurry to leave the Fryes' house that afternoon I hadn't given the package to Kevin. I'd have to track him down and hand it over to him after dinner. I didn't want anything to do with it anymore.
Maria sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"
I checked the pot of rice I'd made and found that most of it had stuck to the bottom of the pot. I groaned. Never in my life had I been able to make a decent pot of rice. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, not looking me in the eye. She scrunched her nose.
Rolling my eyes, I braced myself. Maria only scrunched her nose when she was trying to look cute so I wouldn't be mad at her.
"I kinda-sorta didn't have a chance to tell Mom and Dad about Nate," she said.
"What?!"
She shrugged. "It didn't come up."
"How can it not come up?"
She scrunched again. "I kinda-sorta didn't want to tell them."
"You have to tell them."
"And what do I say? He's gone but I don't know where? That I thought he'd run off with his boss, but she was found dead in my backyard?"
I bit my lip. My mother would freak if she knew all that. It might actually give her the heart attack she's been faking all these years. "You have to tell them something. Something to explain why he hasn't been around. And the news is bound to pick up on Claire's death sooner or later."
Maria sighed. "I'll think of something."
"Soon. I think they'll be wondering where your groom is on your wedding day."
"I think maybe Nate and I should elope," she said, completely ignorant to the fact that there might not be a wedding. Rummaging in the freezer, I pulled out my emergency bottle of vodka. I'm not a big drinker, but this was definitely an emergency in my opinion. I twisted the cap off and chugged from the bottle.
I shuddered as the ice cold liquid slid down my throat. Almost immediately, I felt a little woozy. Alcohol and I didn't get along.
After wiping my mouth with my hand, I put the bottle back in the freezer and turned to Maria. She said, "You don't think eloping is a good idea?"
I smiled through clenched teeth and said, "It's a fabulous idea. I highly recommend it."
Maria clapped, oblivious to my sarcasm. "I'm so glad you think so."
When the doorbell rang, she bounded out of the room, Gracie at her heels.
I hung my head, wishing there was a noose around it.
"Eeee!" I heard from the living room, followed by my mother screeching, "Is that a rat!?"
My gaze jumped to the laundry room. Did I have enough time to sneak out the backdoor?
My father poked his head in the arched doorway. "Nina?"
Sighing, I pushed escaping out of my mind. "Hi, Daddy." I kissed his cheek.
"Did you know on this day in 1755 Nathan Hale was born?"
"Uh-uh." I didn't want to mention to him that I had no idea who Nathan Hale was. If I did, I'd get a two-hour lecture. "Or that in 1971 this was the day the last Ed Sullivan Show aired?"
I shook my head. "Nope." Dad was a former history professor and a Trivial Pursuit guru. We all humored him for the most part. "But that's good to know."
"Smells good in here," he said, poking at the stir-fry with the spatula.
"Thanks."
"Where's Riley?"
"Work. He should be home soon."
Since my father rarely came into the kitchen other than to eat, I knew he was definitely fishing. He looked like a balding bulldog, all olive-colored wrinkled skin and big bulging eyes. He looked worried too, like he knew there was something up.
My mother's voice drifted into the kitchen. "Are you sure it's not a rat?" she asked Maria.
Dad sidled up to me. "So what's this dinner all about?"
"Eating?" I suggested hopefully.
br /> "You don't say." His dark green eyes crinkled. "You're being awfully evasive."
That's me. Nina Colette Evasive Ceceri Quinn.
"Really? You think so?"
"Out with it, kid."
I sighed. "Aunt Rosa's coming."
He didn't say anything, but he crossed over to the butcher block and started removing knives and putting them into drawers. I helped him.
My mother came into the kitchen. Dad and I froze.
"Nina, chérie. Aren't you going to say hello?"
"Hi Mom." Behind my back, I slid a drawer closed.
I went over to her, and she kissed both my cheeks.
"When did you get a dog?"
"Yesterday," I said.
"Don't you think you're a little busy to have a dog?"
"I, um, hadn't thought about it."
She looked at Maria. "Where's Nate?"
I waggled my eyebrows at Maria in a "tell her" kind of way. Maria shrugged. "Working," she said. "Getting ahead so he doesn't have to worry about the office while we're on our honeymoon."
I groaned.
My mother lifted the top off the rice, stirred it. "Looks good," she said.
"It's burned," Maria chimed in behind her.
"Posh. It just adds flavoring."
I couldn't help comparing her to Roz. Even if my mother had hated what I'd made, she'd eat it with a smile. She looked around. "Who else is coming?"
A drawer closed behind me. "What do you mean?" my father asked.
"The table. It's set for eight."
Maria blinked. "Why is it set for eight?"
The doorbell rang. I longed to hide out in Mr. Cabrera's gazebo.
Gracie yipped and yipped, and when I pulled open the door, she peed on the floor. I sighed.
"Mrs. Krauss, come on in. I'm glad you could make it," I said, steering her around the puddle and into the kitchen where everyone had gathered. Gracie followed us, sniffing Brickhouse's ankles as we walked.
This, in my humble opinion, was a stroke of genius. There's no way my mother would kill Aunt Rosa if there were nonrelatives present. I'd called Mrs. Krauss on my way home from Verona Frye's. Luckily, both she and Mr. Cabrera had agreed to an impromptu dinner party. "Ach. Well. I miss him." She squinted. "Is that a rat?"
Maria said, "I told you so."
Introductions were being made when the doorbell rang again. I darted for the door, grabbing some paper towels to clean up after Gracie on the way. I let out a deep breath when I saw Mr. Cabrera on the front porch.
"Is she here?" he asked, peeking around me.
I nodded. "In the kitchen."
He kissed my cheek. "You're a peach, Miz Quinn. A peach!" he said, hurrying through the kitchen doorway. I looked out into the darkening night. Where was Ana? Aunt Rosa?
I closed the door, leaned against it. So far, so good. No bloodshed. How long would it last, though?
With Gracie's mess cleaned, I went back into the kitchen. After washing up, I dumped the rice into a glass bowl and set it on the table. I transferred the stir-fry from the wok into a teak salad bowl—the only thing I had that was big enough. Out of the fridge, I grabbed fresh pineapple slices that I'd gotten already cut at the grocery store and put them on the table. I'm not a cook. Far from it. But even I was happy with the way the dinner had turned out, rice and all.
The doorbell rang. Everyone looked at me. "I'll, um, get that."
My aunt Rosa was on the porch, and I hugged her tight. She looked a lot like my grandma Ceceri—except with boobs. Her long black hair was streaked with silver and cut into a stylish shag. She looked great.
"Where's Ana?" I asked, leading her inside.
"I don't know. She called and told me to meet her here." I bit my lip. I hope she wasn't bailing on me, the coward!
"Well, come on, we might as well get this over with."
She chuckled. "It's okay, Nina Bo-bina."
"Not the Bo-bina. Please." It was a childhood nickname given to me by my brother, and every so often it reared its ugly head to torment me.
"Everyone," I said, entering the kitchen, sounding like a perky morning TV show host, "Aunt Rosa's here!" My mother's gaze shot to the butcher block. Thank God it was empty. My father put his arm around her. To hold her down, I was sure.
Brickhouse and Mr. Cabrera introduced themselves, and Maria gave her a big hug and kiss. My father looked like he wanted to, but didn't want to let go of my mother.
My mother who was staring at me. Ack.
"What is this about, chérie?"
I pulled out the chair across from my father for Aunt Rosa. "A nice dinner."
"Celeste," Aunt Rosa said. "You're looking well."
"Rosetta," my mother said to her sister-in-law. "You're looking well."
"Let's eat!" I urged. The sooner they ate, the sooner they would leave.
I'd just doused my stir-fry with soy sauce when the doorbell rang. I jumped up. "That's gotta be Ana!"
"I should have known she was in this with you!" my mother said under her breath.
Aunt Rosa pointed a fork at her. "Don't you say anything bad about my Analise!"
My mother looked innocently at my father. "Did I say something bad?"
Like a tortured man, he said, "Celeste . . ."
"Is something wrong?" Brickhouse asked. "I feel tension." As I scooted out of the room, I heard Mr. Cabrera say, "Rosetta is Tonio's sister. She and Celeste have a longstanding feud . . ."
I didn't even want to know how he knew that.
I pulled open the door. "Thank God you're—"
"I knew you missed me," Kevin said.
He leaned against the doorjamb, a folder in his hands.
Ana stepped out from behind him, looking contrite.
I let them both in, shot a nervous glance toward the kitchen. "Maybe you shouldn't come in," I said to Kevin. "My parents are here, and you're not exactly on their list of favorite people right now. There's no telling what my dad might do to you."
Kevin looked over my head, toward the doorway. Loud voices filtered out as my mother and Aunt Rosa bickered. Grimly, Kevin said, "I'll have to take my chances. This is important."
"Oh?" I said. Ana wouldn't look at me. Uh-oh. "What's going on?"
Kevin tapped his chin. Dark stubble covered his jaw, his cheeks. "Funny thing happened today."
I noticed he'd lowered his voice. A good idea. My father knew where the knives were hidden.
"What's that?" I asked.
"John Orlenke paid me a visit."
My gaze slid to Ana. A while back she dated John Orlenke, a rookie patrol officer. Ana had to feel my glare, but she apparently found something interesting in the carpet and wouldn't look up. "Oh?" I said.
"Let's say," Kevin gestured, "hypothetically, an old friend of his came in and asked him for a favor."
"Oh?" I said again.
"Not a big deal." He tapped the folder against his palm. "Just to run some prints. See what comes up."
"I'd say that would be nice of him." I needed to sit. The arm of the couch seemed like a good spot.
The arguing from the other room escalated. Maybe this was the best thing for Mom and Aunt Rosetta. Get things out in the open.
"Yeah, it would be. And let's say he does it, thinking maybe he'd do this favor and the old friend would offer him a favor or two."
Ana's head snapped up. I couldn't tell if she was appalled or excited.
Kevin continued. "Imagine John's shock when the FBI calls him. Wants to know how he obtained a certain pair of prints."
Gulp.
"Scared, he comes to me. See, I know his friend quite well, and he wants me to take care of this for him." Something crashed in the kitchen and Gracie came bolting out. She bumped into the chair and darted under the couch.
Ana jumped, lifting her feet up onto the chair. "What the hell was that?"
I rubbed my temples. "Gracie."
Kevin glared at me. "You got a dog?"
He'd always wanted a dog, but I'd
argued we weren't home enough.
"It's not a dog," I said. "It's a rat."
He narrowed his green eyes.
"Can we just get to it, please? World War Three is raging in my kitchen."
"Do you know her?" he asked me, pulling a picture from the file.
I took it, examined the face. The hair was definitely different, and she looked somehow younger, but it was Stella Zamora, the blue-haired lady from the Kalypso. I told Kevin about my run-in with her. He just kept nodding.
"Is that Chinese I smell?" Ana broke in. "I'm hungry. Haven't eaten since Mom got here. She never stops long enough to. And sleep? Hah! She was up all night on the computer. Tappity-tap-tap. It's driving me nuts." She eyed the couch. "This pulls out, right?"