Liver Let Die (29 page)

“That slimeball,” Rosie said before turning to Jordan. “You know he tipped off the cops that you had a knife missing, don’t you?”

“I suspected as much. He got there two minutes after the police showed up.”

“The jerk let it slip the other night, then tried to say he only did it because he wanted to impress me when he got the charges against you dropped.” Rosie sighed. “I was such a damn fool.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Even though I never warmed up to the man, he did make you happy.”

Rosie huffed. “Don’t lose any sleep over it, Jordan. I was about to dump him, anyway. His idea of romance was a sixpack and a smack on my butt on the way to the bedroom.”

“Do we need to stop at Wal-Mart today?” Jordan joked before mouthing
I love you
when Rosie looked her way.

“Me too, kiddo,” Rosie said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I’m good on the battery front, thank you.”

“Geez! I’m invoking the ‘too much information’ rule, ladies,” Victor said over the laughter of the others.

Alex raised his eyebrows comically. “I suppose I don’t really want to know what that’s about, do I, Rosie?”

“Trust me, you don’t,” Lola said. “Hey, Alex, did Trevelli say why he killed J. T.?”

“The kid was apparently going to tell Jordan about the point-fixing scam Derrick and his coach were involved in with Dozerly.”

“Point fixing?”

“It’s a way to make a bundle on the odds even when a really good team plays a team they’re expected to beat.” When Lola still looked confused, Alex continued, “Let’s say a great team like Grayson County plays Waco Christian, a team far inferior to them. The oddsmakers will slap a spread on the game, for example, giving Waco a thirteenpoint advantage. That means Grayson County would have to win by more than thirteen points for the people who bet on them to collect.”

Lola moved closer to the bed. “How did Derrick fit into the scam?”

Ray took over. “A lot of people would bet on Grayson County even with the big point advantage because they’re so potent on offense and should clean up on a team like Waco. Trevelli would get his quarterback to flub a pass or two so that the final score was, let’s say, twenty to fourteen. Although the Cougars would actually win the game and keep their first-place standing in the conference, they wouldn’t beat the spread. That means everyone who bet on them would lose money.”

“According to the spreadsheets they picked up in the back room of the laundry when they served the warrant, sometimes that amount hit six figures,” Alex interjected.

“Is that why Dozerly sent his thugs after Trevelli with a can of whup-ass?” Michael asked.

“Exactly,” Jordan said. “Derrick was supposed to screw up the last play at one of the games, and at the last second, he threw a touchdown pass instead. Both Trevelli and Dozerly lost a bucket load of money. Probably the mob guys, too.” She sighed. “I think that’s what Derrick was going to tell me.”

“That’s right,” Alex said. “Trevelli admitted he and the kid had a blowup earlier that day, and he followed him to the locker room to talk him out of leaving school. When he heard him on the phone with you, he knew something was up. He figured he had no choice but to kill him and pin it on you.”

Seeing Jordan yawn, Alex turned to her friends. “Would you all mind if I talk to Jordan alone for a minute?”

“You got it,” Ray said, huddling the group and nudging them toward the door. He turned and winked at Jordan before he closed the door.

Left alone, Alex bent down and kissed her tenderly. Not an I-want-to-jump-your-bones kind of kiss but more like an I’m-so-glad-you’re-still-alive one.

“You’re still leaving Ranchero tomorrow, aren’t you?” she asked when the kiss ended.

“Have to. They want my partner and me working on our cover as soon as we get there,” he replied, his eyes solemn. “I was going to talk about it over lasagna tonight.”

She looked up at him, her eyes drooping. She struggled to stay awake with the heavy drugs now working their magic. “The one time I get an offer for a home-cooked meal, and I have to go and darn near get killed.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t joke about that, Jordan. I hate to think what might have happened if Victor and the others hadn’t shown up when they did.”

“Shh.” She touched her finger to his lips. “I make jokes when I’m nervous.”

The beginning of a smile tipped his lips. “I make you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, because I’m like a quivering idiot around you. I was really looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Who says you can’t?”

“I leave for El Paso at o’dark thirty tomorrow morning.”

“I love El Paso. Maybe I can hop on a—”

He silenced her with his lips, and this time it was a bone-jumping one. After a moment he pulled back and smiled.

“Hold that thought.”

“She’s not coming back? Ever?”

Dwayne Egan shifted in the chair and leaned forward to put his elbows on the desk. “Nope. Ran off with her physical therapist. Heard she was in Vegas, walker and all, spending that wad of cash she’s already collected on the first installment of her settlement from the personal watercraft manufacturer.”

Jordan glared at her editor, not sure she totally comprehended what he meant. “So, are you saying my job writing the Kitchen Kupboard is now permanent?”

“Yup.” Egan leaned back and propped his feet on the desk. “There would be a pay increase, of course.”

“How much?”

He rubbed his head before meeting her glare. “You do realize the economy is in a slump, right?” Seeing her nod, he continued, “Newspapers are getting hit pretty hard with all the online readers canceling their paid subscriptions.”

“Get to the point, please. I’ve got an inbox full of e-mails to answer.”

“That is my point. You’ve become an icon in Ranchero because of the column.”

“Don’t kid a kidder, Mr. Egan.” Jordan shrugged. “How much?”

“An extra hundred a week.”

She bit back a snippy remark and settled for, “I’m sure Loretta Mosley got more than that.”

“She did, but that’s because her mama and the man who signs your paycheck are siblings. You have an extra perk with the job that she didn’t. This gig gave you a fan base Loretta never even came close to having.”

Jordan sighed. Though she hated to admit it, Egan was right. People were starting to recognize her on the street, wanting to chat about recipes. Truth be told, she was proud of the way she’d pulled it off so far, given her undeniable lack of culinary talent. She’d tried one of her own recipes the other day, thinking she would surprise Alex when he was able to sneak away from El Paso. She cringed remembering how miserably she’d failed. Writing about food was way easier than actually cooking it.

“Okay,” she said, finally. She hated that she’d caved so easily, wishing she could have held out for another fifty bucks, but the lure of extra income was too strong to turn down. “Then it’s settled. I’ll write exclusively for the Kitchen Kupboard now.”

She saw the tips of his ears pink up.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly?”

He cleared his throat. “I can’t afford to pay someone else to write the personals.”

She mulled that around in her head, fixing her gaze on a picture of downtown Ranchero behind Egan’s desk.

“What if I sweeten the offer?” he asked, apparently taking her silence for a negative response.

“I’m listening.”

“What if you keep on writing both the culinary column and the personals, and I arrange for you to sit in the press box with Jim Westerville for a couple of the Cougar games next season?”

Even memories of her nearly fatal escapade the last time she’d been in the press box couldn’t dampen her excitement over this opportunity. She stared at Egan, trying to pull off a pensive look. In reality, he had her with the extra hundred bucks.

“You’ve got a deal.” She stood. “Unless there’s something else, I have a column to write.”

A column I should have finished last night,
she thought, instead of spending two hours on the phone with Alex. His new assignment had him in deep cover, and it was the first time he’d found more than ten minutes at a time to call her in the three weeks since he’d left Ranchero.

“There is one more thing, Jordan,” Egan said, motioning for her to sit back down. “Ever hear of Lucas Santana?”

She shook her head, slowly lowering herself into the seat. She had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like this. Why else would he save it until after she’d agreed to his terms?

“He owns Santana Circle Ranch, the biggest beefproducing property in the area and one that spends a lot of advertising dollars at the
Globe
. Anyway, he called yesterday. Seems it’s time for the annual Cattlemen’s Ball at the Pavilion Hotel in downtown Fort Worth. He thought it would be good for business if you went this year and talked it up in your column. Thinks it might boost the beef market and be a good incentive for people who are watching their budgets and eating less steak right now.”

“Mr. Egan, I’ve never been to Fort Worth in my life. There’s no way I can drive there by myself at night.”

The editor’s eyes twinkled. “Already on top of that. His ranch foreman, who I’ve been told is not only very handsome but also very single, will take you there.”

“You’re hooking me up with a date?”

“Not really a date per se. Let’s call Rusty Morales an escort.” He smiled. “It never hurts to be seen with a good-looking cowboy, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” she said, thinking about her nonexistent social life. “Is this mandatory for my job?”

“If you want to look at it that way, then yes. I prefer to think of it as an opportunity to mix with the social upper crust in the county. And don’t forget, this yearly hullabaloo raises a lot of money for cancer research.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you just make that up to guilt me into going?”

He laughed out loud. “Hell no, but it’s good to know you can be guilted.” He shook his finger in her direction, reminding her of her high school English teacher Sister Catherine when she was about to blow a gasket. “Trust me when I tell you the Cattlemen’s Association is the biggest supporter of the American Cancer Society in the entire country, and most of the research money stays in Dallas at Southwestern.”

When he saw her wavering, he continued, “What do you have to lose except a few hours spent dining and dancing? Despite your recent penchant for getting into trouble, how dangerous could it be to have a steak dinner with a bunch of beefcakes wearing spurs?”

She blew out a breath. She didn’t even want to imagine.

RECIPES

LONGHORN PRIME RIB’S STRAWBERRY-MANDARIN SALAD

Yields 4–6 servings

SALAD

1 bunch of red-leaf lettuce, rinsed and torn
1 cup sliced strawberries
1 can (11 ounces) mandarin oranges, drained
1 cup red onion, sliced in strips
½ cup slivered almonds, toasted
3 crisp bacon strips, crumbled

DRESSING

⅓
cup sugar (can use sweetner)
⅓
cup red wine vinegar
⅓
cup extra-virgin olive oil

To make the salad, place all of the salad ingredients in a large bowl. To make the dressing, in a small bowl whisk the sugar in vinegar and oil until the sugar is dissolved. Allow this to sit at room temperature for several hours. You can use sweetener instead of sugar. Drizzle salad with dressing. Toss the salad gently to coat before serving.

ROSIE’S PORK CHOP CASSEROLE

Côte de Porc á la Cocotte

Yields 6 servings

1 tablespoon cooking oil
1 16-ounce package frozen grated (not the chunks) hash
browns, thawed
1 can (10 ¾ ounces) cream of mushroom soup
½ cup milk
6 thin boneless pork chops, fat trimmed
2½ cups grated cheddar cheese
1 can (2.8 ounces) French-fried onions