Yappy Hour Page 11

  “I’m picking up a few steaks for my dinner with my great-uncle,” I said.

  “Ah! Steaks huh? That’s a little more complicated than a frozen meal.” I must have blushed, because he hurried to say, “What I meant, was … maybe I can cook for both of you.”

  My mouth salivated at the thought. “I couldn’t impose—”

  “It’s no imposition! I love to cook. It’s what I do. I’d love to grill some steaks for you and your uncle.”

  It hardly seemed fair to prevent Grunkly from having the opportunity to savor the exquisite culinary talent of Gus DelVecchio.

  “I’m sure Grunkly would love that,” I said.

  Gus studied me. “How about you, though, Maggie?” He stepped closer to me and I could feel the heat wafting off his body.

  Good God, what was up with my hormones?

  “Would you like if I cooked for you both tonight?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  Even though I’m confused as hell about you and Officer Brooks. But how could I deny the rush that it gave me just to stand next to him?

  Norma returned from the back room. “Gus, what can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Norma, I came to review this week’s order.” He grew solemn, and I knew he was thinking of Dan.

  I browsed the greeting cards while Norma and Gus sat down to review the order for DelVecchio’s.

  From the snippets of conversation I heard, it seemed Dan ordinarily put in the meat orders. What was it about him that Norma hadn’t liked? I’d have to ask her later.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On the way to Grunkly’s, Gus and I chatted about my interview at Soleado. He chuckled when I told him about the watercooler. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll hire you. We don’t get your kind of talent in the cove very often.”

  “My kind of talent?”

  “New York! That’s serious street cred.”

  I couldn’t tell him I’d been an utter failure in New York. At least, it felt that way. After my breakup with Hank and the downturn in the economy, I’d slowly lost most of my clients, until I was forced out of business.

  Gus maneuvered us around the town fountain. We took a small side alley I hadn’t been down before. A delicious aroma of fresh baked goods wafted through the air.

  “I figure we can stop by Piece of Cake and pick up a baguette to go with dinner,” he said.

  Oh man, I was getting weak-kneed just thinking about Gus in his element. Fresh steak, fresh bread. It was going to be one hell of a meal. We entered the bakery and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Tray after tray of éclairs, cannoli, cream puffs, sugar-covered beignets, croissants, and cupcakes lined the right of the store, while racks of homemade bread in every variety imaginable lined the left side of the store. A heavily pregnant woman wearing a mint green apron greeted us.

  “Hi, Gus, are you here to put in your order?” she asked.

  Gus shook his head. “DelVecchio’s is closed for the week…”

  She glanced from him to me. “Oh … right. Of course it is. I’m so sorry. I heard about Dan. I’m so sorry.” She nervously smoothed her hands around the front of her apron, her palms coming to rest on her extended belly.

  We selected a sourdough baguette, then a few small tarts for dessert. Gus and I wound our way toward The Wine and Bark to pick up a bottle of pinot for dinner.

  “I’d take you to the farmers market to buy some fresh vegetables, but they’re closed today,” he said.

  I stopped walking and looked him square in the eye. “Gus, I have to level with you about something.”

  His eyes darkened and he suddenly became serious. “What is it, Maggie?”

  “Grunkly’s house is a mess. I’m nervous that you won’t be able to cook anything over there at all.…”

  He waved a hand around. “Don’t worry! The mark of a good chef is to make a nice meal no matter the circumstances!”

  I laughed. “Okay, you might be in for more than you bargained for, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  * * *

  Grunkly eyed Gus suspiciously. “A cook?” He didn’t exactly say cooking was women’s work, but his expression more or less said it.

  Gus chuckled. “I prefer the word chef.”

  Gus and I entered Grunkly’s house. The scent of cigarette smoke lingered.

  “Have you been smoking again?” I asked Grunkly.

  “No, no. You know I’m not supposed to smoke, honey.”

  Gus hid a smirk, but I narrowed my eyes at Grunkly. “If I find a pack of Lucky Strikes here, you’re not getting dessert.”

  “There’s dessert?” Grunkly asked hopefully.

  I showed Gus to the kitchen, maneuvering around the graveyard of electronics and stepping over three stacks of papers. Gus, to his credit, said nothing about the mess. If possible, the kitchen was even more of a disaster than the rest of the house. Grunkly normally ate off paper plates, so locating the real dishes along with utensils was a challenge.

  Gus and I tackled the kitchen together. I found the glassware while he wiped the counters. I had a strange, comfortable, and homey feeling working next to him. He filled the sink with suds and sang in Italian while he rinsed dust off the dishes.

  “I never wash them by hand anymore, with the dishwasher and all, but I love it. Isn’t it a nice feeling to put in a dirty plate and see it come out clean from your own labor?”

  I laughed. “I guess you can look at it that way. Or you can see it all as one messy, greasy operation.”

  He frowned, seemingly at a loss to understand how anyone could see washing dishes as a chore.

  “Besides,” I said, “Grunkly has a dishwasher. It’s just on the back porch.”

  “What?”

  I giggled. “You heard me.” He followed me over to the back porch and I swung open the door for him. Outside was a dishwasher circa 1981. Gus laughed so hard tears sprang to his eyes.

  “Why does he have it on the porch? Does it work?”

  “Of course it works!” Grunkly said, peering at us from the kitchen door. “I don’t keep anything around that doesn’t work. The rinse cycle is just a little off, so I use it for other things.”

  Gus tried to keep a straight face. “Other things?”

  “Well, I couldn’t get the plumbing to work right out there, either. I didn’t want Maggie or her sister tripping on any pipes, so I just store herbs in there.”

  A look of horror crossed Gus’s face.

  I wondered why I’d allowed him to talk me into his coming over here. Surely he’d see the ridiculousness of trying to cook at Grunkly’s, and that would run him right out of the house and away from me.

  I realized how much I was enjoying working in the kitchen with Gus; then a strange feeling swept through me, almost as if I felt guilty for feeling good. As if I was betraying Brad somehow by enjoying Gus’s company. But that was silly. Brad and I had only shared a simple dinner date. Who knew if there was even any future for us? It wasn’t as though I had promised either guy anything serious.

  While Gus laid out the steaks and seasoned them, Grunkly leaned in to me and said, “Can I have a word with you, Maggie?”

  Gus smiled at me as if to encourage us to have our conversation in private. He said, “I’ll uncork the wine.”

  Grunkly and I left the kitchen to the relative privacy of his living room. Grunkly pressed a message into my hand. “Rachel called.”

  “She did!” A zip similar to that of an electrical current danced up my back. “Where is she?” I demanded.

  A guilty expression crossed Grunkly’s face and he admitted, “I forgot to ask her.”

  “What?” I stuttered.

  Anger ripped through me and I fought the urge to throttle my dear, elderly great-uncle. After all, it wasn’t his fault Rachel was so irresponsible.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is it important?”

  “Of course it is! She’s a lead suspect for Dan’s murder!”

  “That’s ridiculo
us. That child couldn’t hurt anyone!”

  “What else did she say? When is she coming back? Has she eloped or what?”

  Grunkly’s eyes darted back and forth and I knew he’d not asked her any relevant questions. “Uh…” he said, “she said she didn’t want to call you because she thought you were mad at her.”

  “Of course I’m mad at her. She’s disappeared, off gallivanting somewhere, and I’m stuck here in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  Grunkly worked his lower lip. “Do you have any idea who could have killed him?”

  I told Grunkly about my conversation with Norma and what she’d said about Dan and Max.

  Grunkly grimaced. “Do you think Max could have bumped him off?”

  “I don’t know. He was very nice to me, helping me with the bar and all.”

  Grunkly gripped my arm. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, Maggie. It could all be a ploy to get your guard down.”

  A shiver danced up my spine. Was Gus also being nice to me to throw me off his trail?

  “Who else are the police looking into?” Grunkly asked.

  I motioned toward the kitchen with my chin.

  “He can’t hear us,” Grunkly said.

  “No—I mean him. They’re looking into him.”

  Grunkly looked shocked. “You’ve brought a suspected murderer into my house!”

  “Grunk—”

  “And he’s cooking for us! What if he poisons us?”

  “He won’t. He’s already cooked for me and I’m still alive. Believe me, you would have killed me if I’d denied you what you’re about to taste for dinner.”

  Grunkly looked unconvinced, but the smell of olive oil and garlic wafting in from the kitchen was enough for him to say, “Let’s make him eat first.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Although Gus had prepared a spectacular dinner for me and Grunkly, I had another fitful night and awoke yearning for the normalcy of a routine. Getting a job would help, but at the moment the only normal felt like finding Rachel and investigating the Dan mystery. I jumped out of bed and decided on a trip to the coffee shop before returning to the Meat and Greet. I wanted to talk to Norma without Gus around, but first I needed some caffeine.

  I walked the short distance to Magic Read, the bookstore/café in town that hosted a magic shop. The young clerk had a spiked green Mohawk and a frightening snake tattoo that covered the length of his arm. I could barely understand him due to the piercing in his tongue, but somehow got a nod from him when my order was ready.

  I handed him a five-dollar bill and he thrust a pen through it. He held up the bill to show me the pen had penetrated it, then immediately pulled out the pen and showed me that the bill was intact.

  I laughed. Suddenly, he coughed up my change in coins and said, perfectly clearly, “Here you go!” I marveled that he had no piercing in his tongue at all.

  “Nice trick,” I said. “Keep the change.”

  He chuckled and placed the coins into an overflowing tip jar. “Works every time.”

  Walking across the cobblestone path, I could tell the day was setting out to be another scorcher. It was still early, but already the sun lasered onto the stone path, reflecting back an almost blinding light. I made it over to the Meat and Greet and pushed open the front door with my hip, juggling the two coffees in my hand. The bell tinkled overhead as I walked in, and Norma looked up from mopping the floor.

  “Maggie, you’re here early. Everything okay with the filets last night?”

  “Oh, yes, delicious. It’s just that I wanted to talk to you about something.” I handed her one of the coffees.

  She smiled and asked, “Are you a mind reader?” She took the lid off the coffee and let the steam release into the air. The smell of coffee alone seemed to wake her up.

  “No, but maybe the clerk who made the coffee is; at the very least he’s a magician.”

  “Did he cough up your change?”

  “Yup.”

  “How does he do that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to. I’d be coughing myself some rent money, a down payment for a car—”

  Norma laughed. “Right. We could pay off all our bills.”

  I sipped my coffee as Norma put away her mop bucket. “So, I wanted to ask you about Dan. You said something yesterday about him being difficult to deal with. I was hoping you could tell me more about him.”

  “Ah. Poor Dan. Well, let’s see. He was kind of a stick-in-the-mud. He wasn’t from here, you know. He met Gus in San Francisco at the culinary academy. Gus was always a whiz at cooking, but Dan not so much. He sure understood the business matters though. He was always negotiating a tough margin. A few times, I lost money with him, and I was getting ready to cancel their account.”

  “Cancel the DelVecchio restaurant account?”

  “Yeah, I told Dan I didn’t want to do business with him anymore, but that I’d work with Gus. He’s a sweetheart, huh? And what a hunk.”

  I looked away and felt myself blush. I didn’t really want to get into a conversation about Gus, but it was difficult to avoid since he and Dan had been so close. I tried to focus on the question at hand, and not on what a hunk Gus was. I cleared my throat. “Did Gus know you were getting ready to cancel the account?”

  Norma shrugged. “I don’t know if Dan told him or not. I imagine he would have—or he should have, at any rate. But Gus hasn’t said anything to me.”

  An unsettling feeling zinged across my scalp. If Gus knew Dan was endangering his business, was that motive for murder? I couldn’t imagine Gus hurting anyone, but was I being naïve?

  I wandered over to the small rack of greeting cards and spun the carousel. The artist Coral was so talented that I was drawn to the cards, wanting to study each and every one of them. A postcard of one of the cruise ships departing from the dock caught my eye. I fingered the card, thinking of Rachel.

  “Norma, I wanted to ask you about Max.”

  Norma rearranged the collection of gourmet cheeses and chutneys in her front counter. “Oh? What about him?”

  “Yesterday you said he had it out with Dan, but what did you mean? Like a fight?”

  “Well, an argument or something,” Norma said. “I saw them exchanging words right here in front of the store. It didn’t come to blows, but Max sure was angry about something.”

  Well, that was something.

  Maybe there was more motive in the town than met the eye.

  After chatting with Norma, I decided it was time to pay Max a visit. I strolled down the Main Street, past the Soleado Cruise Line offices, moving as fast as I could, even holding my breath as I walked past. I didn’t want to run into Jan, because I didn’t want her to think I was stalking the place and, worse, I certainly didn’t want to run into Sue, the agent, because she just might hex me.

  I turned the corner in front of Designer Duds. The little chicken handbag was still in the window, along with the navy-blue jacket with white anchors embroidered on it. The store didn’t open until the afternoon; at some point I’d have to come back and buy the jacket.

  The sun was beginning to heat up and warm the air. It was still early, but the Dreamery Creamery was opening its doors. I stood behind a little girl with freckles and copper-colored hair. She wore a blue pinstriped dress and sandals. She smiled when I got behind her in line.

  “The waffle cones are the best,” she said.

  “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “Mint chocolate chip.” She grinned and I could see that some of her teeth were missing.

  The girl working behind the counter had dyed burgundy hair and a long severe face. She reminded me of Evie Xtreme, the singer in the Howling Hounds. The girl said, “Hi, Coral, let me guess: mint chip on a waffle cone.”

  “Mint chocolate chip,” Coral corrected.

  “That’s right,” the girl with the burgundy hair said.

  Coral?

  My heart stopped.

  As in, the artist?
<
br />   No, it couldn’t be. She was just a child!

  “Um, Coral, do you paint by any chance?” I asked.

  Coral grinned at me. “Oh yeah! I paint the greeting cards and postcards that my mom sells at the Meat and Greet.”

  “Norma is your mom?”

  Coral nodded happily. “We’re business partners. She’s the Meat, I’m the Greet!”

  I laughed. “I love your cards, I bought some the other day. I’d love to learn to paint like you.”

  Coral’s eyes grew wide, first at my compliment and next at the huge cone that the girl with burgundy hair was handing her.

  “Make mine chocolate,” I said to the girl.

  “After my cone, I’m going down the coves, to paint some more.” Coral indicated a small tote she was holding. “I usually like to go to the beach, but it’s been too crowded since the cruise line came to town.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “They converted that stretch of beach into a port,” the cashier said. “So while the cruise line is great for business, it leaves us with less beach.”

  I paid for my ice cream, and Coral’s, too.

  “You don’t have to pay for mine,” Coral said. “I have my own money from my card sales.”

  “I want to pay for it! Maybe you can give me a few painting pointers,” I said.

  She smiled wide. “You like to paint?”

  “More like I’d like to paint, but I don’t. Math is my strong suit.”

  Coral giggled. “I’ll trade you painting pointers for a few math tips. Mom says I have to do math exercises all summer, otherwise I’m going to end up with a tutor.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face as if having a tutor stunk.

  “Done,” I said. “I got you covered on the math.”

  We sat at a small table near the front window and licked our ice cream. It was divine, creamy and rich, and felt like it was going straight to my hips.

  “It’s all in the eye,” Coral said. “I think all good painters need a good eye.”

  “I’ve heard that before, but unless it’s a slipped zero, I don’t know that I have a good eye.”

  “I do,” Coral said. “Like, even if my mom hadn’t told me you were Rachel’s sister, I’d know.”