A High-End Finish(23)
Even though he didn’t have an Italian bone in his body, Uncle Pete was always shouting out Italian phrases and mild swearwords, much to the delight of his customers. My family was 100 percent Irish, but nobody seemed to notice at Bella Rossa.
Uncle Pete greeted us with hugs and big kisses before taking us to our table. Jane and I ordered a half bottle of a good Sonoma Pinot Noir, an antipasto appetizer, and pasta pomodoro for the main course. A busboy brought a basket of crunchy sourdough bread and a crock of butter, along with water glasses and a bowl of briny olives.
As soon as he left the table, Jane demanded answers. “When I saw you Friday morning at the tea shop, you were traumatized by Jerry’s attack. The next thing I hear a day later is that he’s dead. What happened?”
“How should I know?” I popped an olive into my mouth. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because you always know everything.”
I leaned in and whispered, “If you’re asking whether I killed him or not, I didn’t.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you even say that?”
“Because there are people who think I did.”
“Well, they’re insane.”
I glanced around the restaurant, hoping nobody could hear us. “The police chief is one of them.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, laughing. “Eric would never think that about you. He’s a sweetie pie.”
A sweetie pie? “So you’ve met him.”
“Of course I have,” Jane said, smiling. “We’re neighbors. He couldn’t be nicer.”
“Sounds like you know him pretty well.”
“He’s been living here for two months. And he’s kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
The waitress brought our wine and we both took hearty sips before continuing the conversation.
“What did you mean by that?” Jane whispered once the waitress was gone.
“By what?”
“You said, unfortunately.”
“He hates me.” It hurt to admit that. I set my glass down and took a slow breath. “I was interrogated for hours the other night, plus some more today. In case you haven’t heard, I’m the perfect suspect.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s not. Will you do me a favor and tell Chief Jensen how wonderful I am?”
“I will,” she promised. “Oh. He just walked in.” She jumped up, and before I could grab her she dashed over to greet the chief. When he saw her, he smiled broadly and gave her a friendly hug. Apparently, Thor did have a warmer, friendlier side—I just hadn’t been privy to it.
I turned away so I wasn’t watching and slugged down a long drink of cold water. I was taken aback, to say the least. I’d never seen him smile so easily. But who wouldn’t smile at Jane, my tall, blond, beautiful, easygoing friend?
Seeing him smile like that was a revelation. Tonight he wore a thick fisherman’s sweater, casual jeans with faded boots, and a scarred leather jacket. The look was so appealing that it caused a little tempest of nerves and excitement to swirl around inside me.
I shifted in my chair to watch them. Jensen continued to smile as Jane gestured with her hands and talked animatedly. But then his forehead furrowed. He leaned to his left and stared beyond her, right at me, meeting my gaze with a frown.
Great. So she’d mentioned my name to him and he’d instantly morphed from smiling guy to grouchy bear. So much for him being a sweetie pie.
We managed to nod at each other. Jane glanced over her shoulder at me and I signaled for her to come back. She said good-bye to the chief. And when she got to our table, I said, “See? I told you he hates me.”
She wore a thoughtful look as she sat down and reached for her wineglass. “I don’t think he hates you, Shannon.”
“No, he just suspects me of murder,” I said, and dolefully lifted my wineglass. “Cheers.”
Chapter Five
Over thick, buttered bread and tangy antipasti, I told Jane everything that had happened since I saw her Friday morning until now. I replayed my adventures in the grim darkness of the Boyers’ basement and then later in the interrogation room at police headquarters.
When I was finished, I was a little winded and my throat was so dry, I had to drink down half a glass of water.
“I still say he likes you,” Jane said as she casually chewed on a breadstick.
I almost choked on the water. “Did you hear a word I just said?” I hissed. “He interrogated me for more than two hours. For good reason, too. I threatened the dead guy with murder and then tripped over his body. That makes me look really suspicious. One of these days I expect Chief Jensen to show up at my house with a search warrant.”
She smiled softly. “I expect him to show up with flowers and candy.”
“Oh, Jane.” I shook my head. “Poor, sweet Jane.” Jane was a big romance-novel reader and I’ll admit she shared them with me occasionally. I found them enjoyable, especially the endings when the guy had to grovel to get the girl. But Jane took it to a whole new level. She was totally in love with the idea of finding one’s own great romantic love, and yet I was pretty certain she’d never actually been there. High school crushes didn’t count.