For Love and Cheesecake Page 4

  “Where the hell is he?” This time Jameson roared instead of growled.

  I played dumb to buy some time. “Who?”

  But then he advanced on me.

  I tried to scramble back, only to come in immediate contact with the long hardwood counter. Oops.

  “You know exactly who I’m talking about. If you don’t tell me where he went, I will be showing up at your house tonight and doing a lot more than calling you because you didn’t close shop at six.” He leaned over me in an ominous (good word, inappropriate timing) fashion.

  I cringed. “Are you threatening me?”

  And this was when Debbie stepped in, literally. I didn’t think there was enough room between me and Jameson for Bartley, but there apparently was, because she was totally in my face two seconds later. “If he’s not, then I am.”

  Where was Charlie to get his woman out of my face? I was so not good with confrontation, and this was way out of my comfort zone. So far out as to be in a whole different hemisphere. Ack!

  I spotted him and made frantic hand motions for him to come over and help me.

  Of course, he totally ignored me.

  “Um.” I cleared my throat after that one inspired word. “Yes, well, I, um, don’t appreciate being threatened in my own shop. I would like it very much if you would step back.” I was afraid the last part came out as a kind of squeak. Okay, a total and complete squeak, probably in the range where only dogs could hear me.

  But surprisingly, it got the job done. Or so I thought until I saw Ben standing in the doorway, and realized he was the reason everyone had stopped crowding me and went to crowd him instead.

  Charlie waved his cell phone at me, then pointed it at Ben and smiled. So the message I was getting here was that Charlie had called Ben, who had come running back to be my knight in shining armor. Nice, but some actual interference from Charlie would have been more welcome.

  The questions were flying fast and furious as Ben led the detectives back out through the front door and onto the sidewalk. Well, actually he let them go out before him, then darted back inside and shut and locked the door from the inside. Uh-oh.

  Apparently he thought it was funny. He was laughing before he turned all the way around. Leaning back against the door, he continued to laugh as Bartley and Jameson banged on the door and yelled to be let in. Ben, being the cheeky monkey he is, flipped the open sign to closed and pulled down the shade I’d recently installed on the glass insert to keep out prying eyes.

  Talk about trouble.

  Now, I might have had a problem with confrontation, but that fault certainly did not extend to my beloved. “That has to be the stupidest thing you have ever done. What in the living hell is wrong with you?”

  “Oh, Ivy, you should have seen your face. Absolutely priceless. Their faces were not to be missed, either. Did you see the way they kept on talking, thinking I was going to walk out with them? Classic.”

  Even that got a snicker out of Charlie. His cell phone rang some weird jazzy number, and he jumped before pulling it out of his pocket. After looking at the display, he lost the smile, shaking his head. “I should take this even though I know she is most definitely going to yell at me.”

  In fact, I could hear her yelling at him in two different ways: through the outside door and from his phone. She was loud, louder than I’d ever heard before. Man, oh, man, he would probably be sleeping on the couch tonight, or at least back at his own apartment.

  I did have to admire the way he calmly took it, then talked to her in a low, smooth way while telling her she was wrong to think he wasn’t loyal to her. He even told her their relationship was a separate life from his career, and she would either deal with it, or not.

  I guess I had always had this picture in my head of Charlie being a very wishy-washy, swishy kind of pushover. After all, he had done all kinds of things for his mother that no sane person would have attempted. But this was a very different side of my Charlie. A decisive, manly, rational side that was oddly attractive. Either that or I was totally hormonal.

  At this point I thought it could have gone either way.

  He hung up the phone, then turned to me with one hand on his hip. “Well, it looks like I’m going to be sleeping at my house this evening.”

  I felt horrible. “You know, you don’t have to go through all this for me.”

  He was shaking his head before I even got all the words out. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not doing it for you at all. Surprisingly, I’m doing it for me.”

  My puzzled thoughts must have translated onto my face because he patted my arm.

  “Let’s just say I spent way too many years with a woman who could not handle one step out of line. I’m certainly not going to set myself up for that whole thing again when I can nip it in the bud from the very beginning.”

  “That makes sense.” And it did, surprisingly.

  “Of course it does.” He laughed. “I got the idea from you, after all.” And then he walked away whistling, swinging his ringing cell phone in his hand.

  Well, yay, to be an inspiration to someone, but what the hell did I do and how was it going to affect Ben’s investigation? I had seen women on rampages before—it happened every time I got a new shipment of body grease in—but I couldn’t imagine Bartley on a tear with her pepper spray, gun, and billy club. And I certainly didn’t want to be the target of her ire.

  Like I needed any more turmoil in my life at this point. It was enough for the police to threaten to come rearrange my working parts if I didn’t cooperate in letting them get at Ben at our house.

  Chapter Five

  I realized later that evening, after a very satisfying meal of pasta primavera with fresh, fancy vegetables, I should have worried a little more about the detective’s threat. Ben had picked the veggies up on the way home from meeting with his new client. He was now master of the grocery store and loved doing the shopping. One less thing I had to do. And let me tell you, it was very nice. Especially since he never forgot the important things like junk food for yours truly.

  Anyway, I was doing the dishes, since Ben cooked, when the doorbell rang. I yelled for Ben to answer it, getting a muffled response I assumed was agreement in the positive. But then the doorbell rang again not twenty seconds later, and I still didn’t hear any footsteps coming down the hall from the back bedroom where Ben had set up a home office.

  I quickly rinsed and dried my hands when it became apparent I was going to be the one who had to open the door. My dad and Martha weren’t due over for another thirty minutes for our weekly game of Yahtzee, but sometimes they came early if they had dessert.

  With that in mind, I whipped open the door, only to get unceremoniously shoved aside while Detectives Bartley and Jameson strolled right in as if they owned the place. I opened my mouth with the vague thought of yelling, “Hey!” but immediately shut it when Debbie shot me her death-ray look. I swallowed the word and stepped back.

  “Ben, are you here?” Jameson called out.

  I heard a door slam from the rear of the house, making me wonder if he had run out on me through the back door. Nice way to leave me hanging here, Ben.

  But then he came strolling out into the living room and met the detectives head on.

  Debbie backed up near me while Ben and Jameson squared off. You could see their chests expanding, the stance of their legs widening as their feet were planted firmly on the floor. Ben’s arms were crossed over his chest; Jameson was holding one wrist with the other hand in front of his crotch, with his shoulders squared. Honestly, I was afraid they were about to start trying to see who could piss the farthest.

  So I did what I do best. I stuck my foot right in my mouth to lessen some of the tension. “Anybody hungry? I have some leftover pasta and vegetables. Ben made it, and boy, was it delicious.” I stepped into Jameson’s space to pat his belly. “You look like you could use a good meal. Why don’t you come into the kitchen? I’ll heat up the leftovers. We’ll talk like regu
lar human beings and figure this all out without any threats or bloodshed.” My big smile popped out, straining at the seams.

  Jameson only turned his head, giving me a look of absolute disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” He looked back at Ben. “Is she kidding me?”

  Ben shook his head slightly. “No, we really do have some good pasta primavera left in the kitchen, and I know she knows how to use the microwave, so I’m sure she could zap it right up for you. Right, honey?”

  Jameson growled low in his throat.

  “Will you calm down, Jameson?” Ben said, grabbing the other man’s arm and tugging him into the kitchen to my table. “I can’t find Heather anywhere. She didn’t make it to our meeting, and I have no client forms signed. When I checked my messages, she had left me a voicemail saying she didn’t need my help anymore.” Ben took a seat at the table while motioning Jameson and Debbie to do the same. Surprisingly, they both did.

  Which I was pretty sure was my cue to start whipping out my mad skills as a microwave artist. And after I had just cleaned all the damn dishes. Yay.

  I grabbed the still slightly warm containers from the refrigerator, then popped open the door on the microwave. I threw the bowl of veggies into the microwave and used my magic fingers to dial the right time. See, I can still cook, even if Ben made it out to sound like he was the only one.

  But with me at the counter keeping vigilance on my delicacies, the three at the table could speak freely and hopefully forget I was there. Not that I really wanted to be involved in the conversation, but I did want to know what was going on. I had a feeling I would need the information.

  Because as much as the police department seemed to be getting smarter, they still might end up needing me. And if I was already up to date on what was going on, so much the better. Plus, I hadn’t been very keen on finding out Ben had taken on this Heather as a client without letting me know.

  Of course, he didn’t always tell me all the cases he took, but this was a big one, as far as I knew. Honestly, this murder, more than the others before it, hadn’t been sitting well with me since I’d first heard about it at lunchtime. Jeez, was that only noon today?

  “So, I don’t know what happened to her,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair as I served Bartley and Jameson the pasta and seared veggies.

  “Were you supposed to meet her tonight?” Jameson gave me a nod when I placed his plate in front of him, then grabbed a fork in one meaty hand. I was glad I had reheated all the leftovers because I had a feeling I might be giving the man seconds. The feeling was intensified when he started shoveling food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Debbie picked at her food while staring off into space, maybe deep in thought. Or maybe she was trying to come up with a way to kill me for making her relationship harder. She’d have to make it seem like an accident. Find a place to hide my body. Or leave a note telling everyone I’d decided I didn’t really fit into the little town of Martha’s Point so I went off to greener pastures, maybe to find myself in Northern California.

  And I was making myself a little nervous with that kind of thinking.

  After chewing and swallowing, Debbie said, “Well, first things first, this is fabulous pasta, Ben. Ivy is a lucky woman.” She glanced at me and smiled, showing a few too many teeth for my comfort.

  I mouthed the word “sorry,” but she probably had no real idea what I was talking about. Then again, was it my fault Charlie wanted an equal relationship where he didn’t have to bow and scrape to a woman who would walk all over him? What kind of relationship would that be? I couldn’t imagine being with someone with so little self worth that they couldn’t stand up for themselves, ever. Thank God I had gotten over that myself, or I would wonder why Ben was with me. Not that I still didn’t wonder, some days, but that was simply me being a ninny. I knew it and kept it to myself.

  “Second,” Debbie continued, “we need to find this woman. Personally, I want to look at her a little more closely. This is only between us, but there was a substantial inheritance coming their way from their grandparents. I always suspect someone who has financial gain first.”

  When she looked at me again, I wondered if she was thinking about how I had inherited my shop from Great-Aunt Gertie. Well, as far as I knew, the older woman had died under normal circumstances. I hadn’t talked to her for years before she’d left me all her worldly possessions in her will.

  I made a dash for the living room to remove myself from Debbie’s line of vision. I didn’t know if I could handle any more pointed looks, and I could hear equally as well from the next room as when right in with them. I wouldn’t be able to see facial expressions and body language, but I thought it would probably be okay. Ben and I could discuss it later, too, if he deemed it necessary to share with me, the way he hadn’t earlier. Take his next statement, for instance, which threw me for a loop, to be honest.

  “I have no idea what she’s doing, but I already met with her three times over the last two weeks. One of the things she wanted me to look into was the legitimacy of her brother’s claim to the largest chunk of the money from the deceased. They have another brother, too, but it seems he’s not a big part of things, keeps mostly to himself. When I went to see him for background information, he barely said two words to me.”

  “Isn’t he the one who went recluse about two years ago, after Heather came back from a vacation pregnant?”

  What was this? A recluse in Martha’s Point? I didn’t think that was possible, since everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. There was no way you could actually hide out in this small a town.

  I picked up some magazines from the coffee table and moved closer to the doorway into the kitchen. Eavesdropping in my own house—who knew I could sink so low?

  But it certainly wasn’t going to stop me.

  “We talked about that, actually,” Ben said. A thump was followed by the sounds of him pacing back and forth. I wanted to peek around the corner to see him moving. It was almost indecent how much he still fascinated me, but I hoped it would always be this way.

  “And…?” Jameson said, sounding impatient. “You might as well share everything with us, Ben. We’ll find it out eventually. It would make our jobs easier if we actually had the majority of the information up front instead of everyone doing the job two and three times.”

  While that might have been mostly true, I remembered several times when they’d had no clue. Then again, I had withheld some stuff from them during their investigations that probably could have helped them solve it before I did.

  Which made me pause to think for a moment. I didn’t really want any more unexplained deaths in town, but wouldn’t it be nice if I had nothing to do with it if another occurred? The last one had been a little too scary for my liking, and I’d been in far more danger than normal. I didn’t want things to keep escalating. Then again, if people would stop being batshit nuts in the caves, no one would have to do anything. I could just go about my happy little life with my lover and the future we were making together.

  I had tuned out, while I had that little epiphany, and came back to hear Ben say, “After she lost the baby, she went a little psycho for a while, from what I understand, then decided she would open a cake shop to fill her time because she was never going to have sex ever again.”

  A masculine snicker preceded Jameson’s next words. “And did she tell you whether or not she’s managed to keep her promise to herself?”

  “I get all the psychos.” Ben laughed, too. “I can’t tell you what an uncomfortable conversation that was, when she wanted to know if I offered any other services.”

  That got me back into the kitchen and out of simply eavesdropping. “What!”

  Jameson shoved the last of the pasta into his mouth while Debbie got out of her chair and smirked. “I guess we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone now,” she said.

  “Yeah, good idea.” That was me, surprisingly, staring at Ben, who was now seated in one of the chairs. “Be
n and I have a few things to talk about, and then I have to go find this hussy and beat the living shit out of her.” Wow, that was me, too.

  All I got from the detectives were a couple of smirks and a chuckle. They probably didn’t think I was really going to go out and do bodily violence, but at this point I wasn’t so sure of that myself. Proposition my boyfriend, would she? We’d have to see about that.

  The detectives saw themselves out, since I wasn’t moving and Ben had yet to get out of his chair. Good luck to him if he tried. He wouldn’t have made it out of the kitchen, since I had moved to block the door once Bartley and Jameson left.

  “So where is Heather? Or were you telling the truth when you said you hadn’t seen her?” I wouldn’t have put it past Ben to be crafty enough to lie to the police until he could figure out what was going on. Hell, I’d done it myself before. I could see him doing it, too.

  He slouched down in his chair, looking relaxed as he crossed his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles. “What do you think?”

  “I think you better answer me, because I’m not playing games with you right now. I’m feeling a little unstable, and you don’t want to witness that. Again.” And then I did a completely embarrassing thing. I burst into tears.

  Chapter Six

  Ben was quick to stand and come to me. He put his arms around my bulky form, hugging me to him. “What is going on with you lately?” he asked, sounding truly bewildered.

  Well, he wasn’t alone, because I didn’t know what was going on either. But it could have something to do with all the turmoil of deciding whether or not to follow my dad’s advice and marry Ben right now. And Bella was planning a huge party that she kept tapping me for help with, to celebrate her new marriage. And then there was the worry about what I had done to Charlie’s relationship.

  And listing it all out like that made it sound really stupid.

  I wiped my tears with my sleeve, sniffling back the snot threatening to run out of my nose. Grabbing a napkin, I sat down and stuck my elbows on the table. “I think I feel a little overwhelmed. Dad told me today that all the sisters and their families are going to be here in about ten days, and I’m supposed to host some of them. Then I got the lecture about when am I going to start providing him with grandchildren so he can have some right here near him instead of scattered all over the place, and if you would just propose to me and make me see the light—as you should, being the male in this relationship—then I could start making those babies legitimately instead of having a baby in sin. And I still have the sniffles, and my stomach still hurts like it did the other night when we had dinner. And now I find out you’re getting hit on and you don’t even tell me.” By this time I was standing facing him, and I was seriously rambling.