Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(96)

“There is no way I can drive to Albany a second time without stopping to see my parents,” she said. “On the bright side, you will love my parents, and there will be food.”

“But your mother won’t be prepared for dinner guests.”

“I have two brothers and a sister. When I was growing up, friends ate at my house all the time. My mother’s cooking is legendary. Even though my parents moved into this senior community a few years ago, my mother has never adjusted to cooking for two. She is always prepared for dinner guests. There will be enough food for at least ten people. Do you have family?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was an only child, and my parents have been gone for more than ten years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but it’s been a long time.” He followed her up a cracked concrete walkway to cracked concrete steps.

She opened the door and walked inside without knocking, calling, “Mami! Papi!”

“Olivia!” Her mother was short and trim, with a head of curls dyed dark brown. She greeted her daughter with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Releasing her, Mrs. Cruz eyed Sharp. “And who is this?”

“Lincoln Sharp.” Olivia hesitated. “An associate.”

Her mother raised a drawn-on eyebrow at associate.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cruz.” Sharp offered his hand.

Mrs. Cruz used it to pull him closer and kiss his cheek. Afterward, she didn’t let go but tugged him down a short hallway. “Come in. Come in. You’re in luck. I’ve been cooking all day.”

Olivia leaned over Sharp’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “She cooks all day every day.”

The kitchen was small but modern. Black granite counters topped white cabinets. Baking pans sat steaming on the stovetop.

An older man drank beer from a tall glass at the head of a table set for two. He stood when they entered the room. He was lean and dark, with gray hair shorn close to his head. Olivia introduced them. “Papi, this is Lincoln Sharp.”

Mrs. Cruz released Sharp, allowing him to shake hands. Then she steered him to a chair. “Sit.”

Mr. Cruz lifted his bottle. “Beer?”

“No, thank you,” Sharp said.

Olivia set two extra places and brought Sharp a glass of water.

“You’re so thin.” Mrs. Cruz heaped food on his plate: black beans and rice, some sort of shredded meat, and a couple of fried items. “Ham croquetas, and the empanadas are filled with chicken.”

“I thought you were a vegetarian?” Sharp whispered to Olivia.

“I love seafood, so I’m more of a pescatarian. But at Mami’s house, I eat what I’m told.” Olivia flashed him a wry grin. “I have interviewed drug dealers, gang leaders, and convicted murderers, but I am not brave enough to refuse my mother’s cooking.”

“What brings you home?” Mr. Cruz asked his daughter.

“We’re here to do an interview.” Olivia passed a platter of shredded beef and onions. “Lincoln is an investigator.”

Mr. Cruz nodded.

They ate, and Mrs. Cruz caught Olivia up on the activities of what seemed to be dozens of nieces, nephews, and cousins. Sharp worked hard not to overstuff himself, which wasn’t easy with Mrs. Cruz continually refilling his plate. He had no idea what he ate, but it was all good.

“Coffee?” Mrs. Cruz asked.

“No, thank you,” Sharp said. “I don’t drink coffee, and I’m stuffed.”

“You haven’t had dessert,” Mrs. Cruz said as if that were a crime.

“I couldn’t possibly eat any more. Thank you for dinner.” Sharp shook Mr. Cruz’s hand and accepted a kiss on the cheek from Mrs. Cruz. He followed Olivia down the hall toward the front door.

“Wait!” Mrs. Cruz’s call was not a request but a demand that brought Sharp and Olivia both to a halt.

Her mother hurried into the hallway with a white bakery box. “I made pastelitos yesterday. You will take some with you.”

“Gracias, Mami.” Olivia took the box.

The sun slanted over the tightly packed houses as they walked to the cars parked at the curb.

“What’s in the box?” Sharp tapped the lid.

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” The way the Spanish rolled off Olivia’s tongue was hot. “Pastries filled with cream cheese and guava.”

“Well, that sounds low in calories.”

“Are you watching your weight?” Olivia took her sunglasses from her purse and set them on her face. “You need to lighten up and enjoy yourself a little, Lincoln, and you could use a couple of pounds. Life is short.”

Sharp had been recently reminded that life could be cut even shorter at any time. “I haven’t eaten that much meat in ten years.”

Olivia raised her sunglasses and eyed him. “Your color looks better.” She held the box in front of his face and waved it tauntingly. The pastries smelled amazing. “If you come to my house for brunch tomorrow, I’ll share these with you.”

“All right.” He rubbed his gut, which ironically did seem happy with the high-fat, carnivorous meal.

“And I’ll know you survived the meeting with Joe.” Her words were light, but she didn’t smile. “Be careful tonight.”