With Private Eyes Part 11

"Good grief. I thought I had a big family. Are you sure you aren't Italian?"

"That's one of the few things I'm not. Irish and English on my father's side, but my mother was a real Heinz 57-Welsh, Swedish, Scottish, Austrian, German, and her great-great-grandmother on her mother's side was supposedly half Apache, half African. Family legend says that her father was an escaped slave," he added, "but my aunt Violet-she's into genealogy-has never been able to find any records to confirm that. Frustrates the h.e.l.l out of her."

"My goodness. You're a walking melting pot."

"Now, there's a s.e.xy image."

She was still smiling as they pulled to a stop in front of a small frame house flanked by overgrown evergreens. Two cement steps led to a cement stoop, where a yellow porch light glowed by the door. "I can see why you haven't remarried, then, if you're looking for someone from a similar background. There can't be too many Welsh-Irish-Swedish-English-Austrian-German-African-Apache people around."

"You left out Scottish. And that's not what I meant." He turned off the engine and opened his door.

She climbed out, too. "Oh, by background, do you mean social standing? Or money? Maybe that's what you think you should have in common with a woman. You want her to come from the same financial background. So do you just guess about that, or do you ask your dates how much money their parents have?"

He joined her on the sidewalk. "I have them fill out a questionnaire. If things get serious I ask for old tax returns, just to be sure. You think we could stop talking about my personal life now? We need to set some rules for this interview."

"You mean you want to set some rules."

He grinned and took her elbow. "Think of it like dancing, honey. I lead, you follow."

Five.

T wo hours later, Ethan was buckling up again and thinking about supper. By the time he dropped Claudia off and reached his own apartment, it would be too late to cook. Which meant fast food. Again.

Maybe he didn't have to drop her off, though. Maybe she'd like to talk about the case over-whoa. Even if she didn't get the wrong idea, his libido would. It already had. Ever since he saw her b.r.e.a.s.t.s...

He started the car's engine and tried to tamp down his own.

Claudia announced, "I'm going with you tomorrow."

"How did I know you'd say that?" Ethan shook his head in amazement. "I'm developing powers. Quick, pick a number between one and ten."

"Two thousand."

"You did say you weren't good at following instructions."

Claudia hadn't been the pain in the b.u.t.t he'd expected. She had good instincts about when to prompt, when to sit back and listen and-most surprising-when to let Ethan direct the conversation.

In fact, they'd made a good team. It was disconcerting.

"You're good at getting people to talk," she told him.

"I hardly ever need the rubber hose these days." Eating alone was sounding less appealing all the time. "You were pretty good, too. You even stayed quiet sometimes."

"Contrary to popular opinion, I don't have to be in charge of everything. I step in when something needs fixing. The interview didn't. You knew what you were doing."

"Hmm." The warm approval in her voice made him want to flex a muscle or two, and see if she approved of that, too. "I have something that needs fixing."

She shot him a suspicious look.

He laughed. "Not that. I'm having trouble getting in touch with your brother. Can you set up a meeting for me?"

"I have two brothers, you know. I suppose you mean Derrick? I don't see why you need to talk to him. We're on Norblusky's trail now. We know his most recent employer, plus the names of some of his drinking buddies."

Ethan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Logic told him to lie, but dammit, he was starting to like her. "Norblusky's a good lead, but we don't know how he's connected. Maybe he isn't. So I have to keep turning over stones to see what's under them. Derrick is in charge of quality control, and he was Norblusky's boss."

He waited for her indignation to spew out all over him, her demands to know what he was talking about. But when he glanced at her she was sitting very straight, looking worried.

Ah, h.e.l.l. He didn't like seeing that soft, anxious look on her face. It made him feel the way he had when she insisted it didn't matter one bit to her that she wasn't feminine. He grabbed another subject, wanting to distract her. "How did this feud between the Contis and the Barones get started, anyway? And what's the significance of Valentine's Day?"

"What? Oh." She shook her head slightly, as if returning from some distant place. "I'm surprised you don't know. Didn't Sal Conti tell you about it?"

"He said it was ancient history, and that no one believed in curses these days. Naturally that made me curious, but he didn't want to talk about it. The newspapers haven't been much help. There was an article in the Herald that mentioned Valentine's Day, a curse and star-crossed lovers, but it was long on speculation and short on facts."

"I saw that article. Tabloid journalism at its best. I'm not sure there were any facts in it. They didn't even get the curse right."

"You mean there really is a curse?"

"Certainly. Do you want to hear the story?"

He nodded.

"Long ago and not so far away, a young man fell in love. He was poor, of course-all the best heroes start out that way. But these lovers weren't star-crossed. The young man's sweetheart loved him, too, and one sunny Valentine's Day they ran off and got married."

"Let me guess. These two young lovers were your grandparents, Marco Barone and Angelica ... I don't remember her maiden name."

"Good guess. Anyway, the young lovers achieved their happy ending, or so it seemed. But like so many things, it came at a price."

"The curse?" he asked wryly.

"Something more important. Friendship. You see, back then the Contis were well off and the Barones were poor. But the families had been neighbors back in Sicily, so when Marco came to this country, it was under the Contis' sponsorship. He was their G.o.dson. They gave him a job in their restaurant, where he met Angelica, who was working there as the dessert chef. Her specialty-" she paused dramatically "-was gelato made from an old family recipe."

"And that was the basis for Baronessa? Angelica's gelato recipe?"

"You've got it."

"So the feud's really about money. The Contis felt wronged when Marco stole Angelica and her gelato from them."

"Oh, it goes deeper than that. The Contis' son, Vincent-Sal Conti's father-had been sweet on Angelica himself. He and his parents all expected her to marry him-and then she eloped with my grandfather, whom the Contis thought was going to marry their daughter, Lucia."

"Oh, ho. Betrayed love all over the place. Have we arrived at the curse?"

"Yes. Lucia Conti cursed Valentine's Day for her rival and her faithless lover. And a year later, Angelica miscarried their first child ... on Valentine's Day."