Chicken Caccia-Killer Part 6

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Alex and Kate showed up at the house a little after noon with meatball hoagies from Guido's, one of Jordan's all-time favorite restaurants. She caught Alex's eye and smiled, thinking the dark circles and concern she saw there belied his attempt to appear unfazed by what he'd just watched his sister go through.

"I told you I'd make it up to you," he said, trying to smile back.

"Alex?"

He turned to his mother whose forehead was creased with worry lines. "Come have something to eat, Mom. These hoagies are better than Uncle Undo's. Let's eat them while they're still a little warm. Then we'll tell you all about this morning." He directed her toward the kitchen table. "It's not bad news. I promise. It's just complicated right now," he added in an attempt to erase those lines.

"Unlike the TV shows, it may take weeks for the DNA samples to come back," Kate said. "Without that, the only thing Captain Darnell could do was ask me a few more questions."

Natalie's face lit up with renewed hope. "Maybe they won't find Marcus's DNA under your-"

"Yes, Mother, they will," Kate interrupted. "And when that happens, the police will pull off their kid gloves and come after me. But for now I don't want to think about it. I'm exhausted, and I'm starving." She sat down opposite Natalie at the table and unwrapped one of the sandwiches. "What do you have to drink, Alex?" she asked cutting off any further questions from her mother.

After they'd devoured the sandwiches, Jordan cleared the table, gently rebuffing Kate's attempt to help. "You've had a horrific night. Why don't you lie down and try to catch a nap?"

"That's a great idea," Natalie echoed, taking Kate's arm and guiding her out of the kitchen.

To everyone's surprise, Kate allowed her mother to lead her to the bedroom. As soon as Natalie closed the door behind Kate, she turned to Alex. "You should get some rest, too, son. I'm counting on you to get Kate through this, and I need you at the top of your game."

"You're probably right, but it's not my A game we need, it's Hamilton's." He chuckled. "A few times during the questions this morning I thought Captain Darnell might actually throttle him. As a cop I can tell you that lawyers are not our favorite people, especially ones who know their stuff. But as the brother of someone being interrogated, I felt d.a.m.n lucky to have him in the room and on our side."

"Emilio wouldn't send a lackey," Natalie said, shooting a quick glance Jordan's way as a reminder that their conversation the night before was not to be shared.

Alex yawned before turning to Jordan. "What are your plans for today?"

Jordan knew better than to tell him she intended to snoop around over at the Plainville fairgrounds. He'd be all over that like a colony of ants on a discarded doughnut, insisting she keep her nose out of it. "I thought I'd run over and interview some of the vendors at the festival for my column," she said instead.

Okay, that part wasn't a lie.

"Good idea," Natalie chimed in, rescuing her from Alex's searing gaze-one she knew meant he was trying to decide if she was telling the truth.

She cursed the fact that he could read her so well.

"Would you mind if I tagged along? That way the house will be quiet for these two, and they can get a good rest," Natalie said.

c.r.a.p. It would be hard to do a little investigating with Alex's mother tagging along, but how could she say no without fessing up about her intentions? Besides, Alex was now grinning at his mother, probably thinking there was no way she could get in trouble with his mother around.

"I'd like that," Jordan said. "I don't plan on staying long, and I can have you back in a few hours, unless you want to run by the mall after that."

Natalie shook her head. "We'll see how I feel after traipsing around in the Texas sun all day, but there's really nothing I need at the mall. I'll probably be ready for a nap myself after we leave the fairgrounds."

"My mother is saying no to shopping?" Alex whistled, bending down to kiss Natalie on the forehead. "Somebody needs to check her temperature," he teased before kissing Jordan's cheek. "It's settled then. I'm heading to bed, and I'll see two of my favorite girls tonight." He winked at them both before making his way to the bedroom.

"Come on," Natalie said, pulling Jordan toward the door. "I can't stand sitting around watching my daughter go through this without doing something-anything. Talking to the vendors with you might be the perfect opportunity to find out what goes on behind the scenes. Trust me when I tell you that the worker bees know all the really good gossip. Maybe somebody out there has some dirt on Marco that will help my daughter, and you're just the pretty face that it will take to dig it out." She gave Jordan the once-over before saying, "Put some lipstick on and get ready to bat those beautiful eyelashes of yours. We need information."

Jordan stared at Alex's mother, positive the woman had read her mind. Like an obedient child, she retrieved the new coral lip-gloss from her purse and smeared it on her lips. Looping her arm through Natalie's, she said, "Come on, Miss Marple, we have some sleuthing to do."

By the time Jordan pulled her Camry into the fairground's parking lot, she and Natalie had forged a fast friendship. On the twenty-minute ride over, Jordan had discovered so many new things about Alex she hadn't known, including his refusal to leave the family pet alone when the old yellow Lab was dying. According to Natalie, they'd had to pry his little body away from the animal long after the dog had taken its last breath.

Then there was the time during his soph.o.m.ore year when Kate had begged him to play Mrs. Doubtfire in the school play. No other guy would do it, and according to Natalie, Alex had taken a lot of flak from his football buddies. But he adored his older sister, so he'd made the most of it. Wearing a fat suit and a wig, he'd turned in a memorable and hilarious performance. Was it any wonder that Kate adored him back?

Jordan had always known that Alex and his sister were tight, but it was fun finding out how he'd managed to grow up surrounded by all that estrogen and still turn out so macho.

"How should we work this? Do you want to take the lead, or do you want me to?" Natalie asked, sliding out of the pa.s.senger side of the Toyota.

Jordan thought about it for a moment before responding. "Let's just play it by ear. Some of these folks may respond to you better because you're Italian, and others may open up to me if they think there's a chance of getting some free publicity out of it." She giggled. "They don't have to know I only write the culinary column."

She locked the car and the two of them headed toward the fairgrounds which had been turned into a ma.s.s of tents, booths, and trailers. Scattered among the melee was a motley crew of men and women with leathery looking skin from too much sun, setting up the rides.

For a second Jordan was reminded of the Texas State Fair, held at Fair Park in downtown Dallas each autumn. A ginormous figure known as Big Tex was suspended above the entrance and bellowed a Texas-sized welcome to the fairgoers as they came through the gate. Unfortunately, the big guy had electrical problems and had gone up in smoke the year before. A replacement now stood in his place.

Here, instead of Big Tex, a huge balloon shaped like an Italian flag flew high in the sky above the entrance.

The fairgrounds were set on ten acres of farmland on the outskirts of Plainville and were the site of a monthly huge flea market. In between, many big corporations held their annual company picnics there and usually offered horseback riding and hayrides. Off to the right Jordan spotted a fenced-in area that she'd bet would house those very same horses.

As they got closer to the actual area where the vendors were setting up, Jordan recognized a few faces she'd seen at the party in Marco's suite the night before.

She was determined to do everything in her power for information, and she nudged Natalie forward. "Okay, let's see if we're any good at this."

She followed a step behind as Natalie walked up to the first booth where a fortyish woman with jet black hair pulled back into a bun was busy setting up.

"Hi," Natalie began. "Can you spare us a few moments of your time? We have some questions we'd like to ask."

The woman stopped long enough to make eye contact with Natalie and to brush at a stray lock of hair that had escaped from the tight bun. "Sorry. It's already ninety-four degrees and supposed to hit triple digits today. I want to finish up before I melt."

Natalie stepped back and motioned with her hand for Jordan to give it a try. Like the other half of a wrestling tag team, Jordan inched forward.

The lady gave her a fleeting glance before turning around to hang a sign on the back wall of the booth. CARLITA'S ITALIAN CREAM CAKE b.a.l.l.s. Jordan had no idea what an Italian Cream Cake Ball was, but just the thought of a sugar treat right now had her mouth watering like Pavlov's dog.

Although she had no intentions of taking notes, she pulled out a pad and a pen from her purse for show. "I'm Jordan McAllister from the Ranchero Globe, and I'll be here all week interviewing vendors like you for my column." When the lady's head shot up, she felt Natalie squeeze her arm. But before she asked the important questions, her curiosity got the best of her. "What's an Italian Cream Cake Ball, anyway?"

"You're from the newspaper?"

Jordan flashed her press pa.s.s. "And I a.s.sume you're Carlita?"

The woman dried her hands on a rag she pulled from under the counter, moving closer to them. "That would be me. Carlita Bruno. I'm from New Jersey, and my sister and I've been coming to the festival for a lot of years. I try to bring something new and different to sell every year." She pointed across the way where a much younger woman who resembled her was busy setting up a booth. "Ginny's Chicken Cacciatore usually sells out on the first day, even though she brings more every year. And her pepperoni bread doesn't even make it that long." She reached back under the counter and brought out a tupperware bowl. "This is my latest concoction." After opening the bowl she took out two sticks with what looked like a huge chocolate bonbon on the end of each.

Both Jordan and Natalie took a step closer to get a better look.

"Go ahead and try it," Carlita prompted after handing each one a stick.

Needing no encouragement, Jordan bit into hers. She loved the Italian cream cake they served at Guido's, but she wasn't prepared for Carlita's pastry. It was a moist cake covered with dark chocolate that melted in her mouth. What was not to like?

She decided this little number could easily take the place of her beloved Ho Hos in an emotional crisis. After finishing the treat, she threw the stick into the trash can on the side of the booth.

"That was awesome. I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but I print recipes, too. I'd love to include this one in the column. Of course, I'd give you full credit." So much for pretending she was more than a culinary reporter. But she could already imagine her readers going crazy over this dessert. Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped Carlita would agree.

The woman beamed. "Can you do a write-up on me before the festival opens and then post the recipe after it closes?" Jordan looked confused. "I wouldn't want people to think they can go home and make these themselves. At least not until I've had a chance to sell out." She shrugged. "These booths aren't cheap, you know."

"Oh, of course. I get that. A girl's got to make a living, right? That's why I'm out here in this unrelenting Texas sun today." Jordan wiped her brow for emphasis before she leaned in and lowered her voice. She was going to have to warm this woman up if she hoped to get any useful information out of her-a.s.suming Carlita knew anything at all that might help them. The fastest way to do that was to get her talking about herself. Who could resist that? "So, Carlita, tell us how you got started with the Italian Festival."

For the next ten minutes, they listened to the woman relate her entire life history as a river of sweat rolled down Jordan's back. Just when she thought the only thing she'd walk away with today was a great tasting treat and a recipe for her column, Carlita took a swig of water from a dirty-looking gla.s.s and lowered her voice.

"Guess you heard about the guy who was pushed off the balcony of his hotel room last night, right?"

Natalie pulled a tissue from her purse and swiped at the layer of sweat on her brow. She moved up as close to the counter as she could without falling over it. "Someone fell off a balcony last night?"

Carlita nailed Jordan with her eyes. "And you're going to write about me before the festival opens?"

Jordan would have agreed to just about anything now that the woman had brought up Marco's death the night before. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. "Of course. I think the locals would love to hear how you grew up. But first, I'd like to hear more about the guy falling off the balcony." She stole a glance toward Natalie who was out of Carlita's view and was now rolling her eyes.

"I didn't actually see it, mind you," Carlita began. "But my sister is on the planning committee this year and was at a big party at some sw.a.n.ky hotel last night. She said one of the bigwigs from the festival took a nosedive off the balcony and landed smack in the middle of the hotel entrance."

When she paused, Jordan plodded her. "Go on. Did your sister say who did it?"

"Some young home wrecker who was having an affair with him even though he was engaged to be married to..." She lowered her voice. "Emilio Calabrese's daughter."

Jordan saw Natalie's body stiffen but knew it was important to keep going. A respected journalism teacher at the University of Texas had always preached that when you had a person talking about controversial stuff, you should go in for the kill and ask the important questions to catch them off guard.

"Really. Why do you think that woman would want to harm the dead guy?"

"Why else? They had a lovers' quarrel in front of G.o.d and the entire room full of people, according to Ginny. She didn't get home until well after midnight because the cops kept them there asking questions. Everyone saw the two of them arguing and then later saw the woman screaming from the man's bedroom. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what happened in that room."

"Did you know the guy who was killed?" Natalie asked, finally recovering enough from the home wrecker reference about her daughter to jump into the conversation.

"Who didn't? Marco Petrone was the biggest womanizer on the planet." She huffed. "Why, I've heard he had a harem of women in almost every country." She stopped to swipe her forehead with the same rag she'd dried her hands with earlier. "I'm not saying the man deserved to die, but it does seem like poetic justice that one of his Jezebels did him in."

This time Natalie gasped so loud that Carlita stopped talking and turned to her. "You all right? Here." She handed her the water from the countertop.

Natalie waved her off, scrunching her nose at the dirty gla.s.s. "I just choked on my own saliva," she explained, swallowing hard before continuing, "So are you saying there were a lot of women who might have wanted to see Marco dead?"

Jordan saw the hope light up in Natalie's eyes when Carlita nodded. "They didn't call him the Italian Stallion for nothing, if you get my drift. He went through women like a kid in a candy store, grabbing whatever he wanted and spitting them out after he'd had a taste."

Just then a commotion broke out behind them, and they all turned to see a middle-aged woman dressed in a short dress and heels arguing with a much younger man.

"Between you and me, that woman right there had a pretty good reason to off Marco Petrone herself," Carlita said, clucking her tongue.

Jordan caught Natalie's eye and bit her lip to hide the smile before turning back to Carlita. If there were other women out there with a motive for killing Marco, chances were one or two of them had been at the party. That would mean there might be reasonable doubt that Kate had been the one to push him over the ledge.

Natalie pointed to the couple who were still in a heated discussion not far from them. "Who is that?"

Carlita narrowed her eyes, tilting her head that way.

"Georgette Calabrese. She's married to Emilio and is the mother of Petrone's fiancee." She lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. "Rumor has it she was one of Marco's throwaways."

CHAPTER NINE.

Natalie grabbed Jordan's arm and nudged her toward Georgette Calabrese and the man she was arguing with. Jordan had just enough time to tell Carlita she'd be back later for the recipe.

"What about my story?" Carlita asked.

"As soon as I get the recipe, I'll write a review of you and your cake pops with the interview. Then I'll follow-up next week with the recipe, but I do need it now," she said right before Natalie propelled her away from the booth. There was no way Carlita was getting her name in the Kitchen Kupboard without giving up that recipe.

"I should've known Emilio would go for someone like this," Natalie said as they approached the two people who were obviously still in a heated discussion.

"You need to stand up for yourself, Frankie. Now's the perfect chance to show him you can step up and take charge if something happens to him. Convince him you're not a screw-up." The woman stopped talking when she noticed Natalie and Jordan closing in. The irritated look on her face left no doubt she wasn't happy about being interrupted.

"Can I help you?" she asked, not even attempting to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Jordan held out her hand. "I'm Jordan McAllister from the Ranchero Globe, and this is Natalie Moreland."

At the mention of Natalie's name, Georgette jerked her head around to make eye contact before focusing back on Jordan and shaking her hand. "I'm sorry you came all the way out here today, Ms. McAllister, but I have no desire to be interviewed. I have a lot of work to do before the festival opens, so if you'll excuse me." She dismissed the two women and turned back to the young man beside her.

"I'm not here just to interview you, Mrs. Calabrese," Jordan said, a little louder than before. "I was told I'd have access to the planners the week before the festival opens. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll let my editor know his information was incorrect." Jordan paused to see if Georgette was buying her story.

The old 'if looks could kill' adage popped into Jordan's head as the woman glared at her. "I misunderstood. I have a lot of people vying for my attention today, most of them reporters. I just spoke to someone else from your newspaper-a Loretta something or other."

Jordan mentally kicked herself for letting Loretta get one step ahead of her. "I'd like to report on what it takes to pull off a big event like this. I've been told you play a big part in it, and-"

"Who told you that, Ms. McAllister?" Georgette interrupted.

"Please call me Jordan. And I've already interviewed several other people who indicated that you're the one I needed to speak with about what goes on behind the scene leading up to opening day."

Just then a delivery man walked over and stood behind the younger man who had been arguing with Georgette, tapping a pen on a clipboard until she noticed him. When he announced he had a large shipment of game prizes and concession supplies waiting to be offloaded, she turned to the man beside her. "Frankie, go with him and make sure everything arrived in good condition."

Waving a hand in the air-one that sported a diamond the size of a cherry-Georgette barked out a few more commands to both the delivery man and the one she called Frankie. Jordan used that short time to check out the woman Emilio Calabrese had married after Natalie had rejected him.

Wearing a pale green sundress that showed off a tiny waist and a perfect tan, Georgette Calabrese had pulled her long blond hair off her face into a ponytail, making her appear to be in her late thirties. Jordan stole a glance Natalie's way and saw that she was also giving the tall, well-built woman who'd married her old lover the once-over.

When the two men walked away, Georgette finally turned to Jordan. "Sorry about that. You asked how this event goes off without hitches." She pointed to the delivery truck by the entrance. "It isn't easy. Everything has to be right on schedule, or it throws things off. We're still waiting on a liquor shipment that was supposed to get here a few days ago. That means a lot of people will have to hustle to make up for lost time when it does arrive. My job is to find out why that happened, and I'll start by having a long talk with the distributor to make sure it doesn't happen again. That's the kind of thing I need to stay on top of daily."