Chapter 19
At the sound of my cell ringing in the kitchen, I swiped my eyes, closed the bedroom door tight to protect Birdy's feet from the glass, and dashed into the kitchen. I could clean up the mess later. The caller ID said A
BRAHAM
O'N
EILL
.
After I said hello, Abe greeted me.
“Abe, I can't thank you enough for installing the glass in the door for me. You went way above and beyond.” I tried to quietly sniff back my tears.
“It was no problem. Installing glass is as easy as sliding off a greased log backwards, you know.”
A laugh bubbled up in me. “I know. What wasn't easy for me today was finding the time, so I really appreciate it.”
“It looked all right?”
“It was perfect. How did the lunch rush go?” I asked.
“Also perfect. A good steady stream of customers. Nothing broke. We didn't burn anything. And Danna's a hoot to work with.”
“She's awesome and so are you. I can't thank you enough for filling in and then also fixing my door. Are you sure I can't pay you?”
He made a scoffing noise. “Of course not.”
“Well, your next week's worth of meals is on the house. Totally.”
“You could let me take you to dinner sometime.” The smile in his voice was obvious.
“You're not going to give up on dinner, are you?” I asked.
“Nope. You take care now.”
“You, too. See you around.” I disconnected.
What a great guy.
Steam emerged from the Dutch oven, and it was ten before six all of a sudden. I didn't have a second to think about Mom's note. If I got a chance, I'd tell Adele. But the note had waited seventeen years. It could wait another day or two.
I spun into high gear. I flung a tablecloth on the kitchen table, which was all I had for a dining room. I hastily unwrapped a round of Brie and a log of goat cheese onto a wooden plate, threw crackers in a basket, and uncorked a bottle of Merlot and another bottle of chilled Chardonnay. I set them on the table along with three glasses as I heard a knock at the back door. I hurried over and unlocked the door when I saw Adele through the glass.
“Anybody home?” Adele bustled in, Samuel right behind her. “Lordy, it smells good in here,” she said after kissing my cheek.
“
Mmm-hmm
, it surely does.” Samuel drew me in for a one-armed hug, then brought a bunch of flowers out from behind his back.
“Thank you, Samuel.” I stuck my nose in for a sniff. “They smell so good, too.” Baby white roses mixed with red carnations and pink alstroemeria, with the obligatory baby's breath and fern fronds also in the bunch. “And look at your tie. It matches the flowers.”
He smoothed down his silk tie, which featured an abstract design with swirls of pinks and reds. Adele pulled out a chair and sat.
“Have a seat, Samuel,” I said. “Help yourselves to wine, and to cheese and crackers while I cook. I'm afraid I'm running a little behind. Happy birthday, Adele.” I lifted my nearly empty glass toward her.
“Thank you, honey. Kinda thought you'd forgotten.” She winked at me.
Samuel sat, too. After he poured red for Adele and himself, he beckoned for my glass and filled it, too. They both raised their glasses and the three of us clinked.
“Here's to many more years.” I smiled.
“My thoughts exactly,” Samuel said. He leaned over and planted a kiss on Adele's lips. “I plan to share every single one of them with you.”
She covered her heart with her hand, then blew him a kiss off her fingertips.
I stirred the pot and made sure it was on the very lowest flame before covering it again.
“Who's the other glass for?” Adele asked.
I glanced over at Adele. “Jim is going to join us, too. That's okay, right?”
“Any beau of yours is a friend of mine,” Adele said.
I turned back to the counter, and began to finely chop fresh thyme, parsley, and chives. Yes, he was my beau. Which someone once told me translated to
good looking
. My good looking. He was that, for sure. But did I also want him to be my love?
* * *
By six forty Jim still hadn't arrived. I'd pureed the bisque base and stirred in the heavy cream and herbs. The baguette was heated up and sliced, we'd set the table with napkins and Mom's silver, and the cheese plate now held only a smear of chévre and a memory of the Brie.
“I guess I'd better call him,” I said. I'd just pressed his number when Jim flung open the door and hurried in, bringing a wave of fresh cold air into the almost overheated kitchen, his knee-length coat flapping open.
“I'm so sorry, Robbie. I got hijacked at the reception by a friend of the Berrys who wants to put his house on the market.” Jim spoke fast, like he'd had too many cups of coffee. His hair was more unruly than usual and his breath smelled of mint. “He chewed my ear off for way too long, and then insisted we go look at his house together. Glen asked me to do it as a favor to him. I kept telling the guy he should be talking to a real-estate agent, not a real-estate lawyer.” He shook his head and finally glanced around the room.
“Adele, happy birthday.” He took two steps and leaned down to give her a hug, then shook Samuel's hand. “I apologize for being late to the party.” He turned to me and kissed my cheek. “Forgive me? I even come empty-handed. I wanted to bring wine or something, but . . .” He shook his head.
I sniffed and caught a whiff of something a little sweet. Jim didn't usually wear aftershave or cologne, and men's scents weren't usually sweet, anyway. It must be something from the Berrys' house, maybe a perfumed soap.
Or perfume?
A mean little thought popped up in my brain, saying maybe Jim was lying about the guy and his house. Maybe he'd been renewing his acquaintance with Octavia instead. He still hadn't told me the details of his past with her, other than that they had dated. My girl-sense told me it was more than that. I slapped the thought down like a pesky mosquito. I'd never known Jim to lie about anything. He was a straight arrow and a kind one.
“Don't worry,” I said with a mustered smile. “Sit down and have some wine while I cook the shrimp. I didn't want them to overcook.” I emptied the bag of shrimp into a sauté pan and stirred as I checked the time. “They'll only take a couple of minutes.”
Adele poured for Jim. Samuel asked him how his work was going. I let the three of them chat while I readied the dishes. Five minutes later I distributed the shrimp into four wide, shallow bowls and ladled bisque over them, adding a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkle of chopped chives and thyme on top. I set each bowl on a salad plate and handed them to the table one by one. “Jim, would you light the candles?” I handed him a box of matches before switching off the overhead light. I kept the lights on under the cabinets. Jim struck a match and lit the tapers on the table.
Sighing, I sank into the remaining chair. “Well, dig in.” I picked up my soup spoon.
“I'd like to say a blessing if you don't mind, Robbie,” Samuel said.
Oops.
“Please do, Samuel.” I set the utensil down and folded my hands.
“Dear God, please bless this wonderful meal our dear Robbie has made. We thank you for your abundance and your grace. Please keep us, your children, safe from harm and assist the police in finding the troubled soul who took young Erica's life from her. May that person be well and find his path to you, Lord. In Jesus's name, Amen.”
A murmured chorus of “Amen” followed. I sure hoped the police would find that troubled soul soon, whether assisted by God or not. A murderer wandering free on the streets of town was not what any of us wanted.
I lifted my glass. “And a toast to the birthday girl. To a great year ahead, Adele, and many, many more.”
“I second the motion,” Jim said.
Samuel simply beamed at Adele with a smile capable of powering a village as we all clinked glasses.
“I thank you all most kindly,” Adele said. “Now let's eat.” She lifted a spoonful of the thick, creamy soup to her lips and savored it. “My, my, Robbie, you've outdone yourself.”
“Heavy cream makes anything taste great, doesn't it?” A birthday dinner was no place for a diet, to my way of thinking, which was why I'd also pulled out the Irish butter. I spread a thick layer of it on a slice of bread and savored the rich, creamy flavor, imagining happy, frolicking, grass-fed Irish cows.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, with only the clink of silver on china and the sounds of quiet chewing as accompaniment. I glanced at Jim. He met my gaze and then looked quickly away. Something was definitely up with him.
“You weren't even in this apartment a year ago, Robbie,” Adele said after a sip of wine. “Just look at all you've accomplished.”
Samuel nodded. “You're a real go-getter. And the best cook in the county, to boot.”
“No way,” I said, feeling a blush rise up my neck. “I simply enjoy making food that makes people happy. Now, who's ready for seconds?”
* * *
Adele inhaled deeply before blowing out all nine candles an hour later, and we clapped to the brief smell of smoldering wicks. I handed her the box from Tiffany's store.
Her eyes widened. “You didn't have to get me a present, honey.”
“Just open it,” I said. I brought small plates, dessert forks, and a knife to the table.
Her face when she drew the angel out of the box made the purchase price worth every penny.
“How did you know I love these?” She held it by the string and watched the kite flyer spin, dancing in air.
“An angel told me.” I cut four generous portions of cheesecake and passed them around. “Coffee or decaf, anybody?”
“No, thank you,” Samuel said.
Adele and Jim shook their heads, too.
“A spot of whiskey? I have a nice one, made right over the border in Kentucky.”
“Four Roses Bourbon?” Adele waggled her eyebrows. “Thought you'd never ask. You're driving, right, Samuel?”
“I am,” Samuel said. “So you go right on ahead, sweetie.”
After Jim and Samuel both declined, I poured two shots, sprinkling a few drops of water into each glass.
“What did you think of Erica's funeral?” Samuel asked.
Adele looked expectantly at Jim and me even as she swallowed a forkful of dessert. “
Mmm
, this is good,” she murmured.
“I was glad to hear the priest say some nice things about Erica,” Jim said.
“Me, too,” I added. “But I was surprised at how empty the church was. Or maybe not, considering how she rubbed most folks the wrong way.”
“Darn tooting she did.” Adele snorted, then cast a quick glance at Samuel. “May she rest in peace.”
“Robbie heard something very disturbing about Erica from Danna this morning,” Jim said with knit brows.
“Oh?” Adele said.
“Danna told me she'd discovered a Chicago-area investigative reporter looking at a corrupt police officer up there,” I said. I chased a bite of cheesecake with a small sip of bourbon. “The reporter suggested the officer might have been having an affair with Erica, and that Jim's brother's death might have been murder, not suicide.”
“Lands sakes alive, that's some suggestion.” Adele narrowed her eyes. “Murder by this officer, or by Erica?”
“No way of knowing from here,” Jim said. “Unless they were in it together, because Erica couldn't do the honest thing and just leave Jon.” His eyes dragged down at the edges, and his mouth matched. He took a deep breath and let it out.
“I had the same thought earlier, Jim.” I covered his hand with mine, but after only a moment he slid his out and laid it in his lap.
“And if there's corruption in the police, this reporter can't very well go to them to find out, then, can he?” Adele asked.
Jim shook his head slowly. “They're not all corrupt, I'm sure, but it might be hard for the reporter to figure out who is and who isn't.”
“Jim, will it be a solace to you if you learn your dear brother did not take his own life?” Samuel's somber gaze focused on Jim.
Jim, sitting slumped, returned the gaze. “Yes. It would be a comfort, odd as it sounds.”
“We sure can't ask Erica about it now, though.” Adele swiped the last smear of cheesecake off her plate with her fork.
“No, we can't. There has to be a way to dig deeper into this thing,” I said. I tapped my fork on the edge of my plate.
“My nephew William lives in Chicago, on the South Side,” Samuel said. “You know, Adele, my brother's boy? Retired army, he is. And he happens to be a private investigator.”
Jim sat straight up. “He is?”
“Yes, indeed.” Samuel tapped his glass with one finger. “I bet he could help this reporter fella look into the matter more deeply.”
“I'll pay whatever it takes to get the truth about Jon.” Hope played on Jim's face now, and determination.
“I had one more thought while I was cooking,” I said. “It's probably a long shot, but what if the officer came down here and killed Erica? Maybe she was blackmailing him about Jon's death.”
“Goodness, all these ideas. All these evil people.” Adele pursed her lips.
“They are children of God, sweetie, every one of them, and surely they are troubled souls,” Samuel said.
I caught the smallest rolling of eyes from Adele.
“You're absolutely right, Samuel,” she said. She tossed back the rest of her whiskey and stood. “Now I've got to get these seventy-one-year-old bones home and into bed. Thanks for the perfect birthday party, sugar.” Adele pulled me in for a hug.