Wendy Delaney - Working Stiffs 02 - Sex, Lies, and Snickerdoodles Page 19

  As Lucille headed back inside, I turned to see Steve at the base of the steps.

  “I’m driving Joyce home.” He handed me his keys. “You drive the truck.”

  Cool. “You’ve never let me drive your truck before. This day has just been one surprise after another.” I looked up to the sky. “Are we having a full moon or something?”

  He reclaimed his keys. “On second thought, I’ll drive her in my truck. You can follow us in her car.”

  Me and my big mouth.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes after we arrived back at Steve’s house, I was standing in front of my bedroom closet after trading my sausage suit for a black henley and a comfy pair of blue jeans when I received his text.

  Got a call. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Sorry about dinner.

  So much for the two T-bones we bought to grill on his barbeque. And since the steaks were in his refrigerator instead of downstairs in Gram’s and my stomach was growling, I was even more sorry about the dinner I wouldn’t be eating tonight.

  “Oh, Chahmaine,” Marietta said, standing in the doorway. She clutched her Kimono-style silk robe, her alabaster skin glowing from the shower I’d heard her taking while I was changing clothes. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”

  “I was just hanging up my suit.” Since it was still a little damp I pushed it to the end of the closet to put it in isolation like an infectious patient, away from the pristine designer wardrobe she’d brought with her. “I’m done.”

  I started for the door, but she didn’t move to let me pass. Instead she looked down at my bare feet. “What are your plans for tonight? Staying in?”

  “Maybe.” Since Gram had headed over to Angela Doolittle’s house for an evening of mahjong, I wanted to hear about my mother’s plans before I committed myself to anything that sounded like interminable hours of mother/daughter bonding. “Are you getting ready for dinner with Barry?”

  She sat on the bed. “I thought I was. Turns out his son is in town for the weekend. Barry wanted some alone time with him prior to telling him about our engagement.”

  He had a son? That was news to me. “Was he married before?”

  “Years ago. Like me, he married too young—”

  “Yeah, just like you and dear old Dad.” The assistant director who already had a wife and family stashed well away from where they had been filming in Paris.

  She waved a manicured hand at me. “Okay, maybe not exactly like me, but the end result is the same.” The look she gave me was as soft as warm butter. “He had a child that he loved very much, that he would have done anything for …”

  Anything? The woman who hadn’t managed to squeeze in a visit home for even one of my school plays seemed intent on rewriting our family history tonight—all the more reason for me to get out of the house for a few hours.

  “… so they stayed together until Jason went off to college. That was a quite few years ago since he’s now a teacher like his dad. Some high school north of Seattle, near where his mother lives.” Her glossy lips rounded into a pretty pout as she fluffed her damp hair. “I expect I’ll meet him tomorrow.”

  I shot her a smile as I headed toward the door to make my escape. “I’m sure you will.”

  “You never really answered me. Do you have dinner plans for tonight? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

  Oh, sure. Dangle a pizza in front of me like a carrot on a stick. In my case, a really fattening carrot that should forever be on my banned food group list.

  I stopped in my tracks, wracking my brain for something she wouldn’t do, such as traipsing around in the rain.

  “Actually, I have some work I need to get done. You know, follow up on a lead I got today at the funeral.” Not that I’d thought anything on that sheet of paper Lucille gave me qualified as a lead, but my mother didn’t need to know that.

  Marietta’s eyes widened. “At the courthouse? I’d love to see where you work.”

  “No, I have some … canvassing to do. At least a couple of hours of going door-to-door.” I pointed at my rain-splattered bedroom window to paint her a complete and very soggy picture.

  “In the rain?”

  “If I waited for perfect weather around here, I might not get anything done.”

  “What a wise daughter I have,” she said, bounding up from the bed. “My hair is already wet and I haven’t done my face, so what do I care about a little rain?”

  What? Since when didn’t she care?

  She grabbed a pair of rhinestone-studded jeans from the closet. “Give me five minutes to get dressed and swish on some mascara, and I’ll go with you.”

  Goody.

  I didn’t want to risk the chance of my mother needing another potty break along the shore of Merritt Bay, so I insisted that she hit the bathroom one more time while I sliced a couple of apples for us to snack on.

  “You don’t have to treat me like a child,” she protested as she climbed into the passenger seat of my car. “I’m still capable of exercising some control over my bodily functions.”

  I handed her the plastic bag containing our apple slices. “Good, because I’m not planning on doing any breaking and entering tonight.”

  Marietta heaved a dramatic sigh.

  Let the fun-filled evening of mother/daughter bonding begin.

  As I took the turn on the corner of G and 5th, she opened the plastic bag and passed it to me. “Want one?”

  I shook my head. I’d already fortified myself with one of the chocolate fudge macadamia cookies that Gram had baked in her quest to beat Alice, Joyce, and Beverly out of a blue ribbon. It was so not on my diet, and the fat cells in my ass needed more butter like I needed to walk barefoot on hot coals to make my headache feel better, but if Marietta and I both intended to get through the next few hours alive, I needed a damned cookie. Okay, two.

  “Where to first?” she asked, nibbling on an apple slice.

  “I thought we’d start at the marina and work our way south.” Since it was almost five-thirty, the early bird special at Duke’s would wrap up in a few minutes, sending many of the Merritt Bay shoreline residents, who had ventured out on this rainy Saturday, back home to spend their evening in front of their television sets. Better yet, in front of their bayfront picture windows, where I hoped someone would tell me they’d spent their early morning one week ago.

  “What are we looking for at the marina?”

  “A witness to something that I think might have happened last week.”

  “Hmmm.” Marietta zipped up the bag of apples and tossed it in the back seat. A second later she started singing, “Can I get a witness …” She snapped her fingers, swaying to some beat only she could hear. “Can I get a witness … yeah, yeah, yeah …”

  I looked over at her as I turned onto Main. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Singing Grand Funk Railroad’s Some Kind of Wonderful. It’s a classic.”

  “Doesn’t mean that we need a sing-along.”

  “Don’t be such a grump. Your grandfather used to sing along with that song every time it came on the radio.”

  “Did not.” The only radio station I’d ever heard him listen to was news radio.

  “Hey, he even liked Grand Funk well enough to take me to their concert.”

  “No way,” I said, pulling into the marina parking lot. “When was this?”

  “Early seventies. I couldn’t drive yet, so he took me. I remember that we made a day of it in Seattle. We got off the ferry and went to the Public Market, then headed up to the Seattle Center and took in the Exhibition Hall before the concert.”

  I couldn’t imagine Gramps having that much energy. He certainly didn’t when I was a teenager.

  When I parked the car, Marietta patted me on the thigh. “We should do that.”

  “Go to a concert?” The only place she’d ever wanted to go with me before was to one of her movie premieres.

  “Make a day of it in Seattle. Just the two of us.”

>   “Uh … sure. It would be fun.” And it was never going to happen.

  Someone was getting carried away with all this bonding crapola, I thought, climbing out of the car. But my mother seemed to be having a good time and I didn’t relish the idea of going door-to-door by myself, so I cut her some slack.

  With the wind gusts from the bay pelting us with drizzle, I zipped up my hooded raincoat and handed Marietta my umbrella. I pointed toward the marina office to our right. “I’m going to see if I can get a list of the liveaboards to save us a little time.”

  Unfortunately, as we soon found out, the office closed at noon on Saturdays.

  “Fine.” I knew from experience with Russell’s boat that Dock A was used for short-term moorage. Since the cabin cruiser and sailboat currently tied up to that dock weren’t there last Saturday morning, I could start one row over.

  “I’m gonna see if anyone’s home on Dock B,” I said, leading the way with Marietta right behind me.

  I heard the heavy thunk, thunk, thunk of her heels as we walked down the steps to the dock and I looked over my shoulder. “Are you wearing boots?”

  “What’s the matter with my boots? All right, maybe they’re a little noisy, but I didn’t think we were going to try to sneak up on anybody.”

  “It’s not about the noise and they’re perfectly nice—”

  “You said we’d be canvassing the shoreline, and I thought it might get muddy with all the rain.”

  It wasn’t like I’d be taking her on a hike on the water’s edge. “Just watch your step. The dock might be slick from all this rain.”

  “Oh, my,” my mother said without a trace of her fake accent as she tiptoed tentatively down the dock. “I see what you mean.”

  Criminy. If she broke a hip I’d never get my bed back. “Hold my hand,” I said, extending it to her.

  She gripped it like I’d offered her a lifeline.

  I saw movement on a sailboat tied up in front of another one that was cinched up tight with a faded blue tarp. “Stay here. I’m going to ask this guy a couple of questions and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  Hunkered under the umbrella, Marietta nodded.

  Leaning over the railing, I rapped on the sailboat’s side window. “Hello?”

  The hunk of a doctor I’d met at the hospital last month opened the door and my heart did a little flutter—the same ridiculous reaction I’d had to my ex the first time I laid eyes on him.

  Thankfully, I’d parked my mother out of visual range. The last thing I needed was for her to get a load of the swarthy Italian with the chiseled lips smiling up at me.

  “Charmaine? What are you doing here?” Kyle Cardinale asked.

  I needed to be careful with my answer in case it got back to Steve or Frankie. “I’m looking into an incident that happened not far from here.”

  Not bad. Certainly plenty vague and since he already knew I worked for the Coroner, it should have been believable.

  The smile vanished. “The drowning.”

  “Yes,” I admitted as water dripped from my hood.

  “Want to come in and get out of the rain?” Kyle thumbed toward his galley. “I was just making a pot of coffee.”

  Just as I opened my mouth to reply, I heard heavy footfalls behind me.

  “Oh, we’d love to!” Marietta said, extending her hand to him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In my hierarchy of needs, watching Kyle Cardinale turn into fan boy and regale my mother with a litany of his favorite moments from her old TV show ranked just behind extending an invitation to Heather to join Steve and me for dinner.

  Since Kyle had been working at the hospital early last Saturday morning and could provide me with little more than a caffeine recharge and some yummy eye candy, it was time for this mini-fan convention to come to an end.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Kyle.” I turned to my mother. “We should be going.”

  “So soon?” he said, on the edge of his seat, his dark eyes fixed on Marietta like he wanted to eat her up with a spoon. “I was hoping I could tempt you to tell me about working with Aldo Vinchetti. According to my father, he’s a second cousin.”

  I stifled a groan. I didn’t have time to play the Italian version of Six Degrees of Separation.

  She smiled brightly enough to illuminate the cabin of his liveaboard sailboat. “What a small world! Oh, the stories I could tell you about that man.” She slanted her gaze my way. “Assuming we can intrude on Dr. Cardinale’s hospitality for a few more minutes.”

  She could tell him as many stories about her glory days as he wanted to hear so long as I didn’t have to listen to them for the umpteenth time. “Tell you what. I’m going to see who else is around who might have seen something last week, and then I’ll meet you back here.”

  Marietta handed me the umbrella. “Take your time.”

  Right. I looked at Kyle. “I won’t be long.”

  “We’ll be just fine,” he said with an earnestness that should have been reassuring, but it plucked at my heartstrings.

  Dang! What was it with me and Italian men? I had a most inconvenient soft spot for them—much in the same way my dieting resolve turned to mush around butter. I knew it was very, very bad for me, but what I could do with it was so sinfully good.

  Since no other boats were occupied on Dock B, I made my way over to C, where I spoke to a couple who had taken their Bayliner out Friday afternoon and anchored in Millen’s Harbor, a sheltered area across the bay that many recreational boaters used for day trips and weekend getaways. They had been too far away to see Russell’s boat, so I thanked them for their time and moved on.

  I had barely cleared their line tied to the forward mooring cleat when I noticed a dreamcatcher hanging inside the rear cabin of the forty-foot cruiser occupying the slip in front of the Bayliner. Watching the cobalt blue feathers suspended from the hoop sway as waves gently rocked the boat, I remembered seeing a similar one on the Lucky Charm.

  I turned back to the man on the Bayliner. “Do you know who owns …” I read the name painted in block letters on the stern. “… Boneweaver?”

  He thought for a moment. “Darned if I can remember his name. I know he’s a doctor. Operated on my brother’s hip last year.”

  It was probably a coincidence that two men with boats at this marina would have similar taste in Native American handicrafts, but I wanted a name in case this doctor had any connection to Russell Falco.

  After making my way up and down each of the docks and finding no one amongst the eight people I spoke with that had seen the Lucky Charm early Saturday morning, I returned to collect my mother.

  As I stood on his rear deck under my umbrella, Kyle opened his door. “That didn’t take long,” he said with a welcoming smile.

  “I think the weather kept a lot of people home today. I did want to follow up with one boat owner though.” I pointed at the cruiser with the dreamcatcher. “Do you know who owns Boneweaver?”

  Leaning toward me, Kyle poked his head out and looked over at the cruiser. “Sure. Dave Donovan, probably one of the better orthopedic guys in town.”

  Kelsey’s father? Maybe. Seemed to me I remembered her telling me back in high school that her dad was a doctor.

  “But I don’t think he’d be able to help you,” Kyle said, ducking back under cover. “I heard from one of the nurses that he was vacationing in Hawaii.”

  I shook the rain drops from my umbrella and followed him inside where my mother sat expectantly, her eyes focused on me. I motioned with my thumb that story time with Dr. Cardinale was a wrap. “Must be nice.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, makes me think I should have gone into orthopedics instead of internal medicine. You might check with his daughter though. At least I assume that was his daughter who took the boat out last Friday. You know … the one who works at that artsy gift shop across from Hot Shots.”

  “Kelsey?” Marietta asked, meeting my gaze.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Cute, thirty-ish, wear
s a lot of silver jewelry.”

  My breath caught in my throat. There was no maybe about it. He’d just described Kelsey Donovan. “Do you remember what time it was Friday?”

  He raked his fingers through his spiky dark hair, giving him a roguishly appealing just-rolled-out-of-bed look. “Probably around eight-thirty. I remember being a little envious that she was going to enjoy an evening on the water while I was getting ready to go to work.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “I only saw her for a minute.” He nodded. “But yeah, I didn’t see anyone with her.”

  “Any idea when she came back to the marina?” I tried to make the question sound casual, but from the way Marietta was staring intently at me I knew it was wasted effort.

  “All I know is that the boat was back by the time I got home Saturday morning at a little after ten.” A frown creased his brow. “You don’t think that she—”

  “I’m just gathering background information for Frankie,” I said, trying to inject a palatable level of disinterest. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” I turned to Marietta. “We need to go.” Immediately.

  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Cardinale. I so appreciated this delightful respite from the rain.”

  He took her hand in his. “Kyle, please. And the pleasure was all mine. I know my dad is going to get a big kick when I tell him your Aldo stories.”

  Whatever. I put up my hood and handed my mother the umbrella. “I’m sure he will.” Let’s go.

  As I reached for the door handle Kyle’s fingers grazed mine. “Maybe we can do this again sometime,” he said with a lingering smile that betrayed his carnal interest.

  Whoa. My imagination was already spinning like a hamster on a wheel from everything he’d told me about Kelsey taking out her dad’s boat. I didn’t need this olive-skinned Adonis to tease my overheated brain with anything else to obsess about—probably not ever and definitely not tonight.

  “Mmmmm …” Marietta smiled knowingly at me. “Maybe we can.”

  I stepped up onto the dock first and offered her my hand. “Don’t make anything out of that,” I whispered after Kyle closed his door.

  “Honey, I don’t need to. There’s obviously a little spark between the two of you.”