Tempest In The Tea Leaves Part 7

A calm settled over me, and I knew in my gut that Morty was fine. He was home, I was sure of it. He didn't want to have a physical, and that was that. End of discussion, and end of vet appointment, apparently. "Thanks, Sherry. I think I know where he is."

"Do you want to reschedule his appointment, then? I could make an exception and come to your house if you think it would be easier on him."

"Morty's not afraid, he's stubborn. Can I get back to you on the whole house call thing?"

"Sure. No problem, just give me a call."

I disconnected and climbed into the detective's car.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Everything is fine. Where to, boss?"

"Now you call me boss?" He shook his head. "How about lunch?"

"Good, I'm starving."

"I know the perfect place." He fired up the car and pulled away from the curb. "Care for a little Greek?"

I rubbed my hands together. "You read my mind exactly."

Papas was pretty busy when we entered at noon, not a free table in sight. Detective Stone asked to speak to the owner, and we were treated to her own personal table in the back.

Once we'd all ordered, Mrs. Papas said, "Nice to see you again, Miss Meadows. Did you and your parents enjoy your dinner with Dr. Wilc.o.x last night?"

Mitch choked on his hamburger, took a swig of water, and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You didn't tell me you had dinner with the doc." He stared at me accusingly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know we were sharing information. I thought I was just an a.s.sistant." I looked up at him all innocent-like and sipped my iced tea.

He studied me for a full minute. "What else are you hiding?"

I tossed up my hands and sat back. "Nothing, okay? It was just dinner, and my dad wanted to meet a fellow doctor, that's all."

"Riiight."

"As much as I enjoy the entertainment, you two, I know this isn't a social call," Mrs. Papas said. "What do you want to know?"

The detective set down his fork and took another drink of water, then he wiped his mouth. "For starters, where were you on the night of Ms. Robbins's murder?"

Mrs. Papas threw back her head and laughed. "Running my restaurant, of course."

"Your husband never takes a turn?" I asked.

The smile left her face. "My husband takes a lot of things, but taking a turn at work is not one of them. I run the restaurant while he keeps the books. I work my fingers to the bone while he goes to the gym . . . or so he says. Do you know what my name stands for?"

I shook my head no.

"Callista means 'most beautiful.' My husband's name, Damon, means 'constant and loyal.' It didn't seem quite so ironic when I married him. Why doesn't he see he has the most beautiful woman already? I never should have married the lying cheater."

"Did you visit Ms. Robbins the morning of her death?" Mitch asked.

"I cater the library's author readings and book talks. I needed to speak to Amanda about the menu."

"Her neighbor heard you two argue," I added.

"Was poisoning her on the menu as well?" the detective added.

"Oh, please." Mrs. Papas thumped her fist down on the table. "That little tramp was having an affair with my husband. I knew her allergy wouldn't kill her. She deserved far more than a slight reaction to some nuts. I was simply warning her to stay away."

"Maybe your husband was about to leave you for the librarian, so you killed her," the detective said point-blank.

Her face hardened. "Nonsense. We have been trying to start a family for years. If my husband leaves me for another woman, he knows I will castrate him myself. He knows I want children, but he has been unable to give them to me, so now I make his life a living h.e.l.l in return. Maybe I should seek elsewhere for that as well, no?" She leaned forward, looked Mitch over, and licked her lips. "Having children is my pa.s.sion."

He loosened his collar, eyeing her uncomfortably.

"Why not divorce?" I asked, saving his b.u.t.t from her unwanted advances. Why, I had no clue. If I were smart, I'd let him squirm.

"We don't believe in it." She blew out a heap of air. "No, we made our choice, and now we have to live with it." She stabbed a finger in our direction. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy on him."

"What size shoe does your husband wear?" I asked as a thought occurred to me.

"My husband has very small feet. Why?"

"Just wondering." I struggled not to be a blabbermouth, but my eyes spoke volumes as I stared at Mitch and winked several times.

"Honey, you should have that twitch looked at," Mrs. Papas said to me.

"I know, it's really irritating, but no matter what I do, I can't seem to make it go away." I refused to look at Mitch, but I felt his gaze sizzle in my direction.

"Speaking of the doctor. You should talk to him. The whole town knows he had it bad for Ms. Robbins."

"We already did. He says they were only friends," I said.

"Yeah, but a lot of people heard him argue with her that day when she came in to see him about the nut reaction. He treated her and then asked her to marry him, saying he would take care of her in her time of need-whatever that meant. She turned him down flat, and he threatened her. Said one day she'd be sorry and regret turning him down."

"Can't be the doctor. He has an airtight alibi," Mitch said.

"He might . . . but does his nurse?"

"His nurse? Why her?" I asked, realizing she had access to digoxin as well.

"Word around town is she was jealous over all the attention he gave to Amanda. You look a little hot under the collar, Detective. Maybe it's time you had your temperature checked." Mrs. Papas winked at Mitch.

Mitch kept his emotionless cop face firmly in place and then stood. "Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Papas, here's-"

"My card," I finished, and handed her the business cards I'd had made for Sunny's Sanctuary. It was all I had, but at least it had my contact information on it. "If you hear anything at all, please don't hesitate to call. . . . Oh yeah, day or night." I beamed at Mitch, starting to feel like I was getting the hang of this.

He handed over his card as well. "Ma'am." He saluted the Greek woman and then turned to me. "Let's go, Tink, we're still on the clock, and I've got a whopper of a headache."

"I know just who to go to for some aspirin."

7.

"What are you doing?" I asked Mitch as he dropped me off at home after lunch.

"Taking care of my headache."

"Ha-ha, very funny. I thought we were going to talk to Nurse Doolittle?"

"We aren't doing anything. You are staying here while I talk to the nurse."

"But I thought Captain Walker said we were to work together."

"Just because we work together doesn't mean we have to be together 24/7, Tink." He brushed a hand over his face and then stabbed a finger at me. "You give me a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a pain in my head."

I plopped my hands on my hips. "Ditto, buster. But what exactly am I supposed to do?" My mouth fell open as I glared at him.

"Close your mouth, for one. I can see your tonsils, Tink."

I snapped my jaw shut and ground my molars so hard my ears tingled. But I couldn't stay quiet. "No, seriously, what should I do?"

His lips twitched once, and then he grew stern. "h.e.l.l, I don't know. Take up knitting? I really don't care so long as it doesn't involve you s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my case. Play around on the Internet, make notes, whatever. . . . Just quit interfering with my leads. You're messing up my system, and I don't like it."

"Well, I don't like you." I poked him in the chest.

"Good. Then we're even." He poked me back, and I gasped. He had some nerve. I wriggled my nose as if conjuring a spell, but he just smirked and then turned around to march out to his car.

Morty dropped from a tree and landed right in front of him on all four paws with hackles raised.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Mitch bellowed, and stumbled back, reaching for his gun. "I thought that, that . . . thing was at the vet's." He gave Morty a wide berth, weapon drawn and held tight in his hands but pointed down at the snow-covered ground.

Morty blinked at him, stretched, and then flicked his tail, which had Mitch flinching. Then the cat walked inside Vicky's open door with what sounded suspiciously like hissing laughter.

I had never loved him more.

Mitch cursed softly under his breath, sheathed his gun, and then stabbed a finger in my direction. "Stay out of trouble, Tink. That's an order."

Staying out of trouble didn't mean I had to stay home.

Back in the city I never went to the gym. I was blessed with good genes and happy about my size, thank G.o.d, because physical exertion wasn't really my thing. Walking or riding my bike through Central Park I could handle. Climbing on equipment more complex to operate than my father's medical devices or my mother's BlackBerry, not so much.

"You'd better be worth it, Damon Papas," I grumbled to myself as I changed into Tweety Bird sweatpants and a white tank top.

"Bye, Morty, wherever you are. You don't have to hide anymore. I get it, no more vet. Pray I come back in one piece," I hollered, and grabbed an oversized canary yellow hooded sweatshirt instead of my bulky winter coat. Snagging my keys, I headed out the door.

I locked up Vicky and then drove down my street, past Smokey Jo's, and around the corner to Wally's World. Five minutes later I stood inside, second-guessing my decision to call and make an appointment with a personal trainer.

Wally was a ma.s.sive man. At least six foot eight inches of creamy milk chocolate, not a speck of hair on his big beautiful body, and features more exotic than any I'd ever seen on a man or a woman.

"You must be Sunny. Welcome to my world," he said in a deep, rich voice, and then stretched his lips wide, revealing blazing white teeth. "Ready to get Wallysized?"

"I, well, um . . . oh my. That depends on what's involved," I answered in a shaky voice, scanning the inside of the gym.

I knew I probably wouldn't see Mr. Papas since his wife had told us he usually worked out at night, but I thought maybe I would meet some people who might know him. Find out more about him since I had no clue where else he hung out or anything else about him. And I couldn't sit home and do nothing, no matter what Detective Stone had ordered me to do. I wouldn't interfere in any more of his leads. . . . I'd simply find my own.

Wally tipped his head back, and laughter boomed from the depths of his chest out his wide mouth. "I'll be gentle. Promise."

"Don't listen to him, la.s.s. There's nothing gentle about the beast. I'm afraid if he gets ahold of you, he'll break your wee little body." Sean O'Malley winked at me, his blue eyes twinkling and adorable dimples sinking deep. "Besides, Big Bertha just got here, and she insists on only working with her hunka hunka burnin' love." He turned to Wally. "Her words not mine, boss."

"You're not fooling anyone, son. You just want this breath of fresh air for yourself." Wally grinned right back at Sean. "If I weren't short-handed, I'd fire your behind and send you packing."

"I'm too good, and you know it."

"You're too something, all right." Wally eyed me up and down. "Watch your heart around this one. You blink your eyes, and he'll steal it for sure." Wally walked off and gave Bertha a huge bear hug, and then he dragged her unceremoniously into the gym. She didn't kick or scream once. In fact, she looked like she was in heaven.

"Wow," was all I said, peeking up at Sean. "Thank you, I think."

"Ah, no worries. You're in good hands, love."

"That's what I'm worried about." I giggled and pointed my finger at him. "Behave yourself."

"Or what?" Sean leaned close and whispered in my ear, "You'll spank me?"

"Wal-"

He clapped a hand over my mouth and chuckled. "Touche." He crossed his bare arms over his spandex-covered chest and pulled his lips into a devilish grin. "So, tell me. What are you really doing here?"

"Getting into shape . . . really."

"I like your shape." He looked me over. "What I can remember of it. Can't see a blasted thing beneath that crazy workout getup."

"That's the point." I adjusted my sweatshirt. "What about you? I thought you were a bartender at Smokey Jo's?"

"That's my night gig. This is my day job. What can I say?" He lifted one finely toned shoulder. "I'm surrounded by all kinds of people at both jobs. Keeps things interesting. I'm just lucky, I guess."

"I agree with Wally, you're something all right." I punched him on that same shoulder.

He snagged my wrist. "You're about to find out exactly what I am as I whip your adorable hind end into shape." His blue eyes took on a mischievous glitter. "A little weights, a lot of cardio, some Zumba."

"Some whata?"

"Just the latest craze in exercising and one of my favorites. Can't wait to show you the Booty."