Goddess, Guilted Read online

  “Why would Neil think both of them would kill to protect Tamara? That seems like a stretch to me. I’ve worked for lots of people and not one of them would I be willing to kill for, not to mention men I’ve dated. I wouldn’t even kill for my husband.”

  Josie and CeCe’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not that he ever asked me to. Of course, he didn’t.”

  Josie turned and stretched her legs out in the booth. “Deangelo and Tamara have been dating for a few months now. Mostly, I think she’s just leading him on, but he’s in it to win it.”

  “And Angelica works for Tamara. What does she do for her?” CeCe’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember what she’d heard.

  “She handles her social media and some other promotional stuff. It’s a part-time job while she’s in school. Angel interned at the same hospital where Tamara taught yoga and she became one of her ‘followers’.” Josie made air quotes around “followers.” “Then she got hired.”

  I recalled Tamara’s reaction to satya and wondered. “But why would Angelica and Deangelo think Tamara would need protecting?”

  Josie went quiet. CeCe kept spinning the wine glass.

  “Ladies?” I looked back and forth between the two. “Is there something in particular you’d like to share with me?”

  They looked at each other and shrugged.

  “It’s really just gossip,” CeCe said.

  “Really old gossip,” Josie added, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Before she was the ‘goddess,’ Tamara and her family visited here in the summers, like she mentioned the other night. Then when Tamara was about fourteen--“

  “About fourteen, fifteen years ago.” CeCe added to the story.

  Josie nodded, then continued. “Her family left abruptly right in the middle of the summer. They packed up and were gone overnight.”

  “Did they say why?”

  Josie shook her head. “It was very hush-hush, but-- .”

  “What I heard was that Jerry had assaulted Tamara at the store,” CeCe finished for Josie.

  My heart sank. How awful for a teen-age girl to experience such brutality.

  “Her family never came back here, but rumor has it that Jerry and Sandy paid them a quarter million dollars to make the whole thing go away.”

  We all sat back, digesting the information as well as dinner.

  “This is the first time Tamara has been back?” I looked from Josie to CeCe, who, even though she had only been here five years longer than I had, seemed particularly plugged in to this story.

  They both nodded. I continued with my train of thought.

  “If Tamara was fourteen when this allegedly happened, wouldn’t that have been the same summer she was dating Deangelo?”

  “I think ‘dating’ is a stretch. They were fourteen years old.” If the expression on Josie’s face revealed her feelings, she clearly didn’t think much of the “summer romance” story.

  I turned toward her, surprised at her reaction. “Josie, you have five little brothers and sisters. You couldn’t possibly keep up with all of them at once. Besides, you’re five or six years older than Deangelo. Weren’t you away at college when this was going on?”

  Josie shook her head, then paused. “Not in the summer. Oh, wait. That must have been the summer I worked for the Forest Service. I was out in the field for days at a time.”

  Josie breathed in relief. As the eldest sibling in her family, she had helped to raise the others. I could tell it bothered her that she hadn’t remembered this important relationship for her kid brother.

  “Whatever it was, did Deangelo know about it? Would she have told him?” I wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or I really expected someone to answer it.

  Josie shrugged. “He never mentioned it to me.”

  “Neil thinks Angelica or Deangelo killed Jerry out of revenge for Tamara for something that happened fifteen years ago?”

  They nodded again.

  That seemed unlikely. I did some neck rolls to relax, my attention drawn back to the television. Bev had turned down the sound, but I could still see the kicks and punches. I flinched when one boxer hit the other hard in the jaw. The other guy dropped to the mat.

  I shuddered. “How can people do such violence to each other?”

  Josie’s face puckered. “Mariah, we’re here discussing a murder, so this fake fighting on TV is not even in the same category.”

  “You really think it’s fake? I’m not sure. He looked like he really got hurt there. Oh!” I flinched again, then dragged my attention away to find Josie and CeCe staring at me. “It’s hard to look away.”

  “Focus, Mariah.”

  I took a breath and looked at the nearly empty pad of paper in front of me. My reporter training had kicked in as we discussed the evidence. I took a deep breath. “Josie, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it has to be said. It has to be in the open.”

  As if she knew what I was about to say, Josie crossed her arms and stared boldly at me. “Then say it.”

  I looked at CeCe for help. Her eyes were big.

  “You haven’t been around either Angelica or Deangelo for several years. They were really kids when you knew them well. What if they’ve changed in L.A.?”

  The silence was palpable. Josie slowly shook her head and began to uncross her arms. “We were raised in the same house. I just can’t see it. They are not perfect people, but they’re not killers.” She cracked a small smile. “Besides, they know if they did it, my mom would kill them.”

  We all laughed in relief, then I looked at each of them in turn.

  “If it’s not them, who is it?”

  Chapter 9

  I took the initiative and wrote down Sandy in the column on my paper under the word “suspects.” Then I looked back up at my friends. “We have to write down the spouse. That’s common practice.”

  Josie burst into laughter. If it hadn’t been aimed toward me, I would have been happy to see her smile. “Mariah, don’t you think Neil already thought of that? He questioned her extensively right after Jerry died.”

  “And?”

  “And she has an alibi for the time of the murder. She was stocking shelves at the store. Her part-time cashier – what’s his name, Sammy? – was working the front counter and said she was there the whole time.”

  I made a face and drew a line through her name.

  CeCe tapped the notebook in front of me. “Put Tamara on the list.”

  I jotted her name beneath Sandy’s. “It does seem suspicious that Jerry was killed just when Tamara came to town for the first time in years.”

  “Right. And she seems so fake.” Josie pointed at the list with her straw. “There’s a lot we don’t know about her. Where has she been for the past fifteen years? Why did she come back now?”

  “Um, Josie? She came back because I invited her to do a workshop at The Yoga Mat.”

  Josie’s face fell. “Right. I knew that. I just got carried away.”

  Josie wanted the murderer to be someone we didn’t know well. Me, too. It’s hard to believe someone you know would kill another person.

  “Okay, who else?”

  We stared around the table at each other, then looked at the ceiling and the floor.

  “This might sound strange, but what about Lou Alveretti?” My gaze bounced between CeCe and Josie.

  “Lou who owns Luigi’s Pizzeria?” CeCe pulled away and looked at me, her expression one of comical disbelief.

  I told them about the looks that had passed between Sandy and Lou the other night at the pizzeria. “It just seemed like something else was going on with them.”

  Josie and CeCe sat quickly, both nodding their heads as they mulled over this new information.

  “Maybe.”

  “I could see it.”

  “I’ve always felt sorry for Sandy, having to make a go of the store with little to no help from Jerry.” CeCe spoke from experience, having had to take over the coffee shop after her e
x-husband bailed on her.

  “She could have divorced him,” I protested. I hated it when people verbally make victims of others. “She would’ve had a good case.”

  Josie vigorously shook her head. “Mariah, people in relationships with addicts and alcoholics often get really confused and stay longer than they might otherwise.”

  “Okay, who else?”

  I paused and tapped my chin with the pencil. “Here’s another strange one. What about Jennifer Parks?”

  CeCe laughed out loud. “The Safety Blanket lady? Why would she kill Jerry McIntyre?”

  I shrugged, then told them what I had seen at the Corner Mercantile the morning Jerry died. When I finished, CeCe tapped the notebook again.

  “Write her down. After the way she acted today in the shop, maybe I could see it.”

  As I dutifully added Jennifer’s name to the list, Josie sat back in the booth, a puzzled expression on her face. “Mariah, how is it that you notice all of these things? First, Lou and Sandy and now Jennifer and Jerry? I’ve lived here all my life, I’m a deputy, and I totally missed all that.”

  I sat back and shrugged. “Probably just my reporter experience. My newspaper friends and I used to quiz each other to see what we noticed. If we walked into a restaurant, they might ask me ‘how many people were sitting at the bar?’, that kind of thing. I guess I still just notice stuff.”

  “Thank goodness. I figured it had to do with all the yoga and I was going to have to do more of it.” She grinned at me. “And we both know that wouldn’t end well.”

  Just then the bell dinged over the front door. I glanced up to see Sheriff’s Detective Neil Samuelson walk through. He gave me a nod, then headed straight to the counter to order food to go.

  As he waited, he wandered over to our table, grabbing a chair from nearby, spinning it around and sitting backward on it next to us.

  He looked at me fondly. I tried not to sparkle back.

  “What are we chatting about tonight, ladies?”

  Oops. There was an awkward moment as we looked at each other, then shrugged.

  “Not much,” CeCe finally said. “Girl stuff.”

  Neil looked at each of us in turn, finally landing on me. “You wouldn’t be talking about the Jerry McIntyre murder, would you?”

  I averted my eyes, then sat up a little straighter and turned back to him. “Of course, we’re talking about Jerry’s murder. It’s the biggest thing that’s happened in town since, well, since I was accused of killing a student.”

  I looked at him pointedly.

  Neil’s mouth fell open and he leaned away from me. “You have seriously got to give me a break on that. I was just doing my job.”

  “I was just doing my job.” Yes, I mocked him. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself.

  “Order up!” Bev barked from behind the counter.

  Neil stood up, and roughly shoved the chair back under the neighboring table. He strode to the counter and took his bag of food from Bev. Pausing at our table, he looked me in the eye. “Just remember, Mariah, you almost got yourself killed playing detective last time. Leave the investigation to the Sheriff’s Department.”

  He turned and strode from the diner.

  We sat silently, then started to giggle.

  “We’re going to talk to Lou Alveretti tomorrow, right?” CeCe looked at me as she started gathering her things.

  “Definitely.”

  Chapter 10

  CeCe pulled my arm before I could open the door. “Are you sure we need to do this?” she hissed as she looked down the street. I followed her gaze.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “No one, you dope.” She swatted me on the arm. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

  My shoulders dropped and I crossed my arms over my chest. “We promised Josie we’d help Angelica and find some more suspects.” Now it was my turn to look around. “Clearly Lou is a suspect.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think you might have been reading more into a situation than what was there.”

  I stopped with one hand on the door and one on my hip. “We have to talk to him now before he gets busy with the lunch crowd.” I took a whiff of the air. “Besides, I’m hungry and pizza sounds good.”

  I bolted through the door before CeCe could stop me. It’s not that I disagreed with her. I just wanted to follow through on my promise to Josie. Sometimes, throwing myself bodily into a room was the best way to make the rest of me follow.

  I stopped so suddenly that CeCe slammed into my back, her elbow nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  Lou stood just outside the kitchen door, his back to us, his voice raised to a yell at someone inside.

  “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to follow my directions – exactly as I give them. Don’t improvise. Don’t change anything. It’s the way it is for a reason. You have already destroyed hundreds of dollars’ worth of ingredients doing things your own way. This is your last chance, and then you’re out on your ear, I don’t care who your parents are.”

  He threw down a dish towel on the counter and spun toward us so suddenly I jerked back toward CeCe. I don’t know about CeCe, but my mouth fell open in disbelief. In all the times I had been in the restaurant, I had never seen this side of Lou.

  Lou jerked to a halt, his face red from exertion. “Um, welcome, ladies.” He glanced back to the kitchen, then moved toward us, motioning us into the just-opened restaurant. No other customers were inside yet. He motioned to a table. “Come in and have a seat.”

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” CeCe hissed in my ear.

  “We can’t.” I tried to talk out of the side of my mouth to her, but it apparently didn’t work because Lou looked at us with a puzzled expression on his face, then he went to fetch menus and glasses.

  CeCe and I sat gingerly in our chairs with the red plastic covers and studied Lou. He looked to be pushing fifty but still had a full head of hair and only a slight paunch at his stomach. Frankly, he seemed in surprisingly good shape for someone who worked – and, I assumed, ate – pizza and pasta every day.

  Lou set down menus and glasses at our table. He waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Sorry you had to see that. New kitchen help. Thinks his mom’s pizza recipes are better than mine and my dad’s.” He smiled sheepishly as he quickly filled the glasses with ice water.

  I picked up a menu and passed another to CeCe. “Is it hard to get decent help these days?”

  Lou shrugged. “It ebbs and flows. Right now, it’s kind of a down time for hiring. It will pick up again.”

  Lou walked back toward the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” CeCe held her menu in front of us and whispered to me behind it.

  I peeked over the menu to make sure no one was listening, then I whispered back. “I’m trying to make small talk and maybe bond with him as small-business owners, you know, lull him into a false sense of security before we pounce.”

  CeCe rolled her eyes, then put them back on the menu, still held up in front of our faces.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said, a little too loudly. “And, by the way, cliché.”

  “Not the menu, I hope.” Lou’s voice came from just the other side of the wall we had made with our menus.

  CeCe blushed and peeked over the top, lowering hers down and guiding mine to the table as well. “No, no, not at all. My partner in crime here sometimes has ridiculous ideas about things.”

  Lou turned toward me and smiled. “I’ve heard great things about Mariah’s ideas from customers who go to her classes.”

  I turned toward CeCe and preened, then remembered why we were there.

  “So, Lou,” I set down my menu and—

  “Do you serve fake chicken here? Mariah doesn’t eat meat.”

  Lou leaned back as CeCe interrupted me. I turned and glared at her.

  “You mean like soy products?” He shook his head. “I don’t carry them because most are heavily processed and not in hug
e demand.”

  “See, I told you.” CeCe looked at me and smiled triumphantly. “You really should stick to more whole foods, Mariah.”

  Lou looked back and forth between us. “Perhaps I’ll come back in a minute to take your order.” He stepped quickly away, then stopped at the door to the kitchen to throw us a puzzled glance.

  CeCe and I glared at each other.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed at her. “I was going to ask him about his alibi.”

  “Before we’ve ordered? Do you want him to spit on our pizza?”

  “Shhh, he’s right there.”

  We glanced toward the kitchen, where Lou was working, then lifted our menus up in front of our faces again.

  “He is not going to spit on our pizza.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Right now, I would spit on your pizza. I cannot believe we are having this conversation.”

  “Because you’re about to get us in big trouble,” CeCe hissed. “We can’t just go around accusing fellow Main Street business owners of murder. There’s got to be some kind of professional code that bars that.”

  “There’s no code, CeCe.” I breathed deeply, then set down the menu and looked squarely at CeCe. “Let’s compromise. We will order and pay for our pizzas, and I get to ask as many questions as I want while we wait just so long as I don’t accuse him of murder. That way, Lou will be here with us and we will know he is not in the kitchen spitting on our pizza.”

  CeCe made a face that looked like she’d just swallowed a centipede. “How is that a compromise?”

  My mouth opened as I started to speak, then I quickly closed it. “Don’t look now, but look who just floated in.”

  CeCe’s face puckered like she’d like to spit the centipede at me. “How can I look if I’m not supposed to look?”

  Too late. Deangelo and Tamara saw us and waved, then walked toward us.

  “Mind if we join you?”

  We looked at each other and shrugged.

  Tamara picked up on our tentativeness. “Unless you’re having a girl-talk lunch. Then we can eat over there.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”