Chapter 18
Detective Tingey dropped me back in front of my bakery two hours after he picked me up. I still hadn’t eaten breakfast. Painkillers and a long, hot soak in the tub to calm my aches and bruises were in order. I was not amused to enter my little courtyard and find Bronson standing at the door to my apartment, apparently willing to wait until I either came home or stepped outside to deal with him. He did look surprised to see me approaching from the parking lot, though, so I had that small grain of enjoyment.
I pulled out my keys. “If you don’t get out of here and leave me alone, I’m going to apply for that restraining order Jack mentioned.”
“I don’t have that long here before I have to go back to work.” He walked over, lifting a hand as if to push the hair back from my face—something he’d started doing as soon as we’d begun dating. I shifted away and he dropped his hand instead. “Come on, Tess, have a heart. I don’t want you to be alone after the attack, and now you’ve got graffiti on your front window—have you seen it?” When I nodded, he continued, “I’m worried about your safety. You know I love you.”
I didn’t know any such thing, but my options at the moment were to let him in or to shut him out, knowing he’d probably still be there when I left again in three hours. “Fine, be my guest. Just stay in the living room, and keep your feet off the furniture.”
“I’ve never put my feet on the furniture,” he protested as he followed me in.
“You keep acting as though this town makes you nervous, like you think it’s going to wear off on you and you’ll lose some of your city polish. I wanted to let you know what’s off limits, in case you’ve forgotten.” I moved to the kitchen, ignoring his continuing arguments.
The doorbell rang and I groaned. It better be Honey, I thought. If it wasn’t, I might strangle whomever was bothering me when I was tired, hungry and in pain. Or maybe I’d recruit them to help me kill Bronson. Then I could be prosecuted for a murder I did commit.
It wasn’t Honey. Instead, Shawn’s voice was the one questioning Bronson’s presence in my home.
I rubbed my face and stepped back in the living room in time to hear Bronson’s response. “She’s my fiancé, and I love her. What else do you expect me to do when she’s been attacked?”
“Attacked?” Shawn’s eyes zeroed in on me. “What happened?”
When Bronson started answering for me and Shawn turned to listen, I decided my presence was unnecessary and returned to the kitchen to do something about breakfast—a few hours late.
“Hey, where are you going?” Bronson asked.
I ground my teeth, but made an effort at pleasantness. “You didn’t seem to need me, as you’ve already decided you know how I am—even though we haven’t discussed it this morning. I thought I’d leave you to the explanations.”
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Don’t get like that.” He came up behind me, placing a hand on my back and rubbing it.
I shifted away, wincing as he rubbed over my sore spot. If he was trying to give comfort, he was failing. Irritation, on the other hand . . . “Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me. We’re not engaged anymore.” He reached toward me, and I winced again as pain lanced through my shoulder when I brushed his hand back. Determined not to give into it, I opened my fridge. “Are either of you hungry?” As long as I was cooking, I might as well feed them. As much as I’d rather not, good manners dictated that I ask. I really wanted to curl up in a ball and block everyone and everything out until I felt better.
“You know me, I can always eat,” Bronson said. “Especially if you’re cooking.”
“I thought we were going out for lunch,” Shawn reminded me as he approached.
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I forgot, I’ve had so much going on since I saw you last. Forgive me?” Now I was acting like a jerk.
“Of course.” He brushed a kiss over the bruise on my forehead in a possessive move. “I’m sorry you had such a rough night. Tell me what happened.” He looked into my eyes, studying my face.
The doorbell rang again and made me want to cry. This time it had better be Honey or I might be the one leaving this apartment. How long did it take her to respond to an SOS text anyway? Thankfully, it was Honey, and she’d brought her adorable toddler, Zoey. I’d been told that at two, Zoey wasn’t considered a baby anymore, but it was close enough in my book.
I called Honey back into the kitchen to chat. The testosterone circling around me was stifling. Bronson had made it clear he had no intention of being faithful to me and Shawn would go home in a few days, so why were they both flexing their man muscles?
“What happened to your face?” Honey asked as soon as she saw me.
“I was attacked last night.” I filled her and Shawn in on what happened.
Shawn swore low under his breath and Honey covered Zoey’s ears so she wouldn’t hear, but her eyes said if the child hadn’t been there, she would have vented as well. “Are you okay? You should have called me,” she said as she brushed the hair back from my forehead to get a better look at the bruise.
“You should have called me,” Shawn said. “I can’t believe someone wants to hurt you.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Bronson was there.” When he gave a superior look, I added with a scowl, “Whether I wanted him to be or not.” I returned my gaze to Shawn and Honey. “It was late and there was nothing either of you could do. I figured I’d fill you in today.”
“Next time, call me.” Honey gave me a hard-eyed stare. “That’s what best friends are for.”
I chuckled. “I hope there isn’t a next time. The last thing I need is to be attacked again.” I took her darling brown-haired girl, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, and changed the subject. “I can’t get over how much this little one looks like you.” I leaned in, nose to nose with Zoey, and crooned. “Yeah, you have your mommy’s eyes. And where did this cute little button nose come from?” I touched the nose in question and she giggled and grabbed my finger. I used my other hand to feather over the tight dark curls on her head. She would probably hate her hair all of her life, but I thought it was adorable.
“According to pictures, the nose came from Great-aunt Martha,” Honey said.
I turned and gave her a questioning look. “Great-aunt Martha?”
“Yes, sorry. Chance’s class has been studying family trees at school and they’ve talked about how heredity works. He thought it was so cool, he’s been analyzing everyone’s features against family photos. He’s decided to turn it into his science project, so he’ll probably hit you up for photos from your family soon.” She pulled a hair elastic from the front pocket of her jeans and used it to pull back her cornrows.
“That sounds like fun. Tell him I’d be happy to help him out.” I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk, shooing the guys back to the kitchen doorway. The room was too small for four of us. “I’m working on a recipe for cheese blintzes. Care for some?”
The guys both agreed with alacrity.
“Are you kidding?” Honey asked. “Have you seen my hips? Do you think I ever say no to good food? Of course I want some! Who could turn down your blintzes?”
I eyed said hips and ignored her comment. She was so not fat, it wasn’t even funny. She was well formed, curvy like a real woman. I didn’t get the whole fascination people had with being so skinny you looked like a twelve-year-old boy, and that had never been a problem for her anyway. “This version is somewhat less fattening than many recipes, but they’re still delicious.”
“Do you ever make anything that isn’t delicious?” She opened cupboards and pulled out flour, salt, sugar and the butter from the fridge. “I’m assuming we start with your famous crepes.”
“We sure do.” I shifted the baby to one hip and retrieved the rest of the ingredients, checking in my personal recipe file to verify that my memory was correct.
“We miss having your recipes around,” Bronson said.
“That’s too bad. I’m sure your new pastry chef will have his or her own recipes to share with you.”
Again, he slid into the voice that had always given me pleasant goose bumps. “It would be easier if you came back to us.”
“Not happening.” He was starting to sound like a broken record, and since he was almost never this persistent about anything, I had to wonder why he had chosen now to start. Could he really feel that bad about what happened? The image of him kissing Karen flashed through my mind again, and I sloughed off the thought of his remorse. “Honey, you said you had a chat with Caroline yesterday?” I passed over the baby and cracked the eggs into my mixer the poured in the milk and oil.
“Yeah. She came into the store to pick up a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and we stopped to talk for a bit. She mentioned the big fight Jeff and Valerie had on Friday. One of the hotel staff told her they were worried they’d have to break it up because they were in each other’s faces about their work.” She dug into the cupboard and pulled out a half-empty box of crackers. “Apparently, Jeff accused Valerie of tampering with evidence, and she denied it. Then he questioned whether her amorous pursuits had extended into the judicial realm. He said he wouldn’t let her ruin any more cases for him.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? He accused her of sleeping with the judge?”
Honey shrugged. “Who knows if the story is accurate? It’s possible the staff member misunderstood or filled in the blanks. Or Caroline might have heard the bits the staff remembered and figured out the rest. According to Analesa, her mother-in-law has never been a big fan of Valerie’s.”
I added flour, salt and baking soda to the bowl, and the mixer whipped them in. “I can vouch for that. Caroline came into the reception room on Saturday morning looking for Valerie, wondering what happened to her. She made a comment about what a better choice Millie would have been as maid of honor.” I used a rubber spatula to scrape the sides of my bowl, and mixed the crepe batter a moment longer before setting it aside.
“I’ve heard her mention it several times—and that was while I was still in Nogales, so she definitely wasn’t keeping it a secret,” Shawn said, standing beside Bronson at the kitchen door.
I pulled out the cream cheese, cottage cheese, sour cream, and put them in a second mixing bowl. “I wonder if Caroline or the staff member at the hotel bothered to share this info with Detective Tingey.” Not that he wasn’t aware there was an issue between Valerie and Jeff, but the argument might provide some extra clues.
“I could put a bug in his ear,” Shawn suggested. “I’ve known Tingey for years. It would be no problem. I gotta tell you, though—Jeff doesn’t seem like the type to kill a competitor. He’s pretty straight and narrow when it comes to his job. Tad says he doesn’t play dirty, even if he does dig for loopholes.”
“Well, maybe it’s time we found out a little more about Jeff, asked a few more people who’ve worked with or against him and see if you’re right.” I tested the pan on the stove to see if it was hot enough, added a swirl of butter to the bottom. When it bubbled, I poured a thin layer of crepe batter into it.
“No way,” Bronson said, stepping into the kitchen again. “The officer last night told you to leave the investigation to the police.”
I sent him a poisonous look that didn’t make him back off at all. “Yes, and this morning not only did I wake up to a threatening message on my window, but Detective Tingey took me in for questioning. He has my fingerprints on the murder weapon, Bronson. I could go to prison for something I didn’t do, and I’m not going to back down.”
“After what happened to you last night, Tingey thinks you’re involved?” Shawn looked incredulous.
I shrugged, though I agreed the suspicion was ridiculous. “He talked like he believed me, but he brought me in for questioning, so what does that tell you?”
“I think Bronson’s right,” Shawn said. He reached out, grabbing a small lock of my hair and tugging lightly. “Your safety is important.”
“So says the gun-toting lawman.” I didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but neither did I pull away as I had when Bronson had tried to touch my hair.
“Yeah, I am that, and I know how dangerous this can get.” His finger brushed my jaw. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You should stay out of it.”
I lifted a brow. “You don’t have useful information about the suspects that might help? No changes or relationship stuff?”
He sighed and released my hair, then leaned back against the cupboards. “Fine. I asked questions yesterday, naturally. I am a cop. It seems you’ve learned everything relevant that I’ve found out on my own. There’s nothing much to add unless you think it’s important that Ana was whining because Tad wants to arrange visits with Dahlia to give Lidia a break. Ana doesn’t want to be a mom yet, and though she and Valerie were best friends, she doesn’t want to take responsibility for someone else’s kid—not even part time.”
“I can’t blame her,” I said. Everyone gave me curious looks.
I was going to continue, but Bronson piped up first. “I thought you wanted kids. We talked about it, about you scaling back so we could start a family. Was that a lie?”
“No, it wasn’t a lie, but we talked about waiting a year or two to have some time alone, then starting with a baby, not with someone else’s half-grown, traumatized little girl.” I held up my hands when they all continued to stare at me. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t take in a close friend’s kid if I was the best choice—I’m saying there is another option here. Lidia seems to love Dahlia, and she’s family, so it’s not like Dahlia’s going to end up in foster care or something.” When that comment seemed to calm their scandalized feelings, I turned back to the pan. “I admit, I was surprised at how close Dahlia and Tad are. They’re very comfortable with each other.”
“That’s the thing,” Shawn said. “Lidia lives in California, so she’s rarely seen Dahlia—a few times per year at most. On the other hand, Tad and Ana have spent a lot of time with Valerie and her daughter, so she does know them a lot better than her own aunt. It’s kind of sad, but it doesn’t change anything.”
Sad didn’t even begin to describe it. But what did I know? I didn’t have any siblings, so I may have felt that stronger than most people. Growing up, I always wished for a brother or sister.
“Where were you this morning?” Bronson asked. “I sat here for over an hour. I thought you were just ignoring me. I was about to call the police, afraid something bad had happened because of the concussion.”
“I’m fine.” I decided not to mention that ignoring him would have been my first choice.
“You need to take it easy, sweetie,” Bronson said. “Someone has it in for you.”
Shawn elbowed Bronson, who had come to stand at his side. They crowded into the space, stealing my air. Shawn put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. His hand touched my cheek, tipped my head up to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay? A concussion can have effects that last for months.”
I covered his hand on my cheek, both out of appreciation for his gentle concern and to spear Bronson’s ego. I’m not ashamed that I can give into pettiness. Besides, his touch was sweet and comforting—something I appreciated after everything I’d been through. “I’m fine. Thanks. A little bruised, but I’ll survive.” I studied his face. “You hadn’t heard about the attack before you came today?”
“I drove by and saw the vandalism. I knew the front window would upset you and thought I’d check to make sure you were okay, even though I was a little early for our date.”
Bronson crossed his arms over his chest, all but tapping his toe in irritation. The kitchen was feeling very crowded. “What date? And will you stop touching her?”
I glared at him. “I thought we decided that I’m the one who gets to decide who touches me.” And because I was irritated with Bronson, I turned and laid a kiss on Shawn, which he reciprocated without hesitation.
When Bronson growled and stomped into the other room, I backed away. “See how you like it,” I called out at the top of my lungs.
Shawn dropped his hands and crossed his arms over his wide chest, his muscles bunching. “I like you, Tess, don’t get me wrong, and the kiss was great, but I don’t like being used as a pawn.”
I felt my stomach lurch. Had I done that? Oh yes, I had. But so had he, I realized. “You’re one to talk. Like you haven’t been trying to establish your territory.”
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded as if to say I had a point.
“Besides,” Honey said as she slid another crepe out of the pan, “I didn’t see you putting up a fight when she kissed you. In fact, you looked pretty in to the whole thing.”
“What can I say? I enjoy kissing a pretty woman.” He brushed his hand down my arm. “But maybe from here on out, we can not use each other as weapons.”
“I suppose I might be able to do that.” I did feel a little guilt, but not enough to apologize.
“And that goes double for me,” Bronson called from the living room.
“Trust me,” I muttered under my breath as I started filling the crepes, “I’m more than happy to oblige in your case.”
“I don’t even know why you’re talking to him,” Bronson shot back. “You know we belong together.”
“Oh, yes, and when Karen said the two of you had been seeing each other for a while, and it was about time the truth came out, that was because you love me so much.” I dropped the spatula into the bowl of cheese filling and walked over, drilling my finger into his chest. “Well, guess what? I’m not some weak-willed idiot who’s okay with letting you play around behind my back. I don’t even know why you bothered to come here.”
He stepped back, probably so I would stop bruising him with my finger. “What happened with Karen wasn’t important, Tess. It was a mistake.”
“Oh, yes, it was a mistake, but I’m not so stupid that I’d take you back.” I felt tears rise behind my eyes and whirled away so he couldn’t see them, only to almost run into Shawn. “Get out, Bronson. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But, Tess—”
“You heard her,” Shawn said, staring Bronson down.
“You don’t think I’m afraid of you, do you? You can’t move in on my girl like this.”
I laughed, though there was no mirth in it. “Don’t make me laugh; Shawn would break you in half. Get out. Maybe I’ll be ready to talk later.” Like in three years.
A glance over my shoulder told me that Shawn stood between us, intractable. Bronson huffed, but apparently decided I was right about Shawn and exited with a few expletives and a promise to call me later.
Honey drew me back to the stove, sliding an arm around my shoulders as the first tear fell. “Hey, he’s a jerk. Don’t worry about it.” With her free hand, she picked up the strawberry sauce and poured some over a couple of crepes. “Have some of this. It’s bound to make you feel better.”
I gave her a quick hug and wiped the tears away before Shawn could see them. “Thanks. You finish the crepes while I fill a few more.” I passed the plate to Shawn, who looked uncertain about what to do after that scene.
I grinned at him, patting his cheek. “Thanks. Now take a seat and enjoy those. We’ll join you in a minute.”
He smiled at me. “You’re some strong kind of woman, Tempest.”
“You better believe it.” I winked at him, then turned back to the stove. I needed a minute to finish pulling myself together. The day had already been long, and it was barely lunchtime. I reached inside for a little of that strength and decided I could hang on until I had time alone. Tonight when I was in bed with the light out would be soon enough to break down.
Cheese Blintzes
Crepe batter
2 Tbsp melted margarine
1 Tbsp sugar
2 eggs
2 C milk
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ tsp vanilla
1 ½ C flour
Mix butter, sugar, eggs and milk, then add baking powder, salt and vanilla until well mixed. Add the flour and mix. Should make a thin batter. Preheat a frying pan on medium or medium-low. Use a dab of butter, or spray oil between each batch to make it simple to remove. Pour a thin layer of batter (about 2 tablespoons) into the bottom of the hot pan and swirl it around. When the sides begin to curl away, turn it over and lightly fry on the other side for only a few seconds, then place on a plate. Repeat until all of the batter is used up.
Filling recipe
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 egg
2 Cups cottage cheese
3-4 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon grated lemon peel (or ½ tsp lemon juice)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
extra-virgin olive oil (or other vegetable oil) for frying
Mix filling ingredients together. Put 2-3 teaspoons in each blintz on the more-fried side (depending upon size), fold the sides in and roll up like an envelope. Before serving: Fry the prepared blintzes very carefully in butter or spread melted butter on top and heat in oven. Top with any of the following: a dollop of sour cream, powder sugar, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, fresh fruit, or drizzled jam melted in the microwave.
Honey’s kids don’t like the cottage cheese filling, so they ask for pudding or a little jam instead.