Peril for Your Thoughts (Mind Reader Mystery) Page 4

  “Throw her out. I get it. Just behave yourself, for my sake, please.”

  She let out a heavy sigh, then patted my cheek before I could protest. “For you, my darling. Only for you. And then you can do something for me, no?” She grinned as she walked away with a spring in her step.

  I rubbed my cheek with the sleeve of my suit coat and frowned. Why did I feel like she had just won some secret battle I knew nothing about?

  Shrugging off my unease, I pasted on a smile and headed to Natasha Newlander’s table with the stars in my eyes shining brightly. I was so excited to start this new venture, I could barely contain myself. I still couldn’t believe it was actually happening. “Ms. Newlander, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  Natasha stood as I arrived and smiled back, looking professional and sophisticated. Someone I aspired to be. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Ballas. Sorry to have missed you last week. I had some urgent matters with another out-of-town client that had to be dealt with in person, but I’m here now.” She held out her hand, and I didn’t even freak out. I had prepared myself, knowing I would have to shake her hand. Discreetly holding my breath, I shook her hand firmly.

  Her smile might be pleasant, but her grip was tight and she held on longer than necessary. A wave of distaste and resentment swept over me and then I heard, Great. Erickson assigned Marcus to a top designer while I get Little Miss Sunshine. It’s so unfair. Why do women have to work so hard to get ahead in this business?

  I tugged my hand away, lost my smile, and sat down as the stars faded from my eyes big-time. I was going to excuse myself to slip away and rub some hand sanitizer on, but my stubborn streak emerged. I pulled out the small bottle I always carried with me and blatantly squirted a generous amount into my palm and scrubbed hard.

  Natasha narrowed her eyes a bit and asked as she sat, “Is something wrong?”

  “I just feel a bit icky all of a sudden, but don’t worry. I’m tougher than I look.”

  She arched a sleek auburn brow. “That’s good. This business isn’t easy.” A flash of vulnerability crossed her face, and I decided to cut her some slack. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to get ahead. I’d been around Jaz long enough to know getting ahead in any business was tough for women. Maybe Natasha wasn’t as mean as she seemed. Maybe she was just ambitious. Now that was something I could relate to.

  “So it would seem.” I relaxed and gave her a genuine smile.

  She studied me curiously, looking like she’d never come across a woman like me before. “Something tells me you’ll do just fine.” She actually gave me a genuine smile back.

  Eleni stopped by and took our order. She was the perfect waitress: pretty, personable, and polite. Yet even her smile faded a bit by the time Natasha was through with her. Then my cousin Frona appeared out of nowhere, her dark hair in cockeyed pigtails and her apron on inside out. She refilled our coffee mugs with water, our water glasses with coffee, and then opened Natasha’s napkin and stuffed it down her shirt before skipping back into the kitchen.

  Natasha gasped. “What was that? This is unacceptable. I’m speaking to the manager.”

  “Wait,” I quickly said. “Let me. I know the owners. Don’t mind the poor woman. She fell off an apple wagon and hasn’t been the same since. She’s supposed to be on dish duty, but sometimes she gets confused. Excuse me.” I slipped into the back, yelled at Ma, gently scolded Frona, and bribed Eleni to keep an eye on her before returning to my table. “Our dinner is on the house,” I stated apologetically.

  “Well done, Ms. Ballas, though I would have had her fired.” She studied her manicured nails, then flicked a piece of lint off her arm. “Let’s hope you are even more efficient with your book of designs. Speaking of the book, when can I expect it to be ready?”

  No pressure, I thought, and so much for giving her the benefit of the doubt. Her ambition clearly outweighed her compassion.

  “Well, Mr. Erickson told me I had a month.”

  “And I’m telling you we need it in two weeks.” She stared me down, but I refused to look away. “Erickson might be the CEO, but the PR department is your bread and butter. We can make or break a new line. If you want a stellar launch, we need all the time we can get. I need that book ASAP.”

  “I don’t want to hold you up any longer than necessary, but you can’t rush creativity,” I replied carefully.

  Her face stiffened ever so slightly, but her smile remained in place. “Understood, Ms. Ballas, but creativity alone doesn’t pay the bills. I need that book to get started on a proper PR plan. I am at your disposal. Maybe I can take a peek at the book and—”

  I shook my head before she had half the words out. “I’m sorry, but I don’t let anyone see my work until it’s finished. That’s one rule I won’t break for anyone.”

  “Oh, you artists are a funny lot,” she said with a chuckle. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to imagine the mental eye roll she must be giving me.

  “We do have our quirks.” I chuckled back, albeit a bit more like hysteria than a chuckle. “I really don’t want to hold you up, but I’m kind of going through something that might hinder my creativity even further. Why don’t you go back to the city, and I can contact you when the book is ready.”

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere without that book, Ms. Ballas. My orders are to stay here and help you in any way that I can. Now, what exactly are you going through? Maybe I can help resolve the issue.”

  “Unless you can help me catch a killer and clear my friend’s name, there’s not much you can do.”

  She blinked. “Pardon me?”

  “Murder, Ms. Newlander. I need to solve a murder before anything creative can flow.”

  Her shock quickly passed to resolution. “I’m sorry for your trouble, Ms. Ballas, but make no mistake. Murder is what’s going to happen to your new line and your book of designs is going to become a book of death if I don’t get it soon.”

  And just like that I lost my appetite. I hated when my mother was right.

  I’d stayed up all night trying to work on my book of designs with no success. Poor Jaz was pacing relentlessly, going stir crazy at home, her place of business still a crime scene. I had her making a list of possible enemies for herself while I tried to be creative. Tried being the operative word.

  After giving up at the crack of dawn and sleeping a measly two hours, my mother woke me up by phone for mass at our Greek Orthodox Church. I spent the whole hour wondering how many days sleep deprivation had just stolen from my life. If that wasn’t bad enough, we’d run into Nikos in full Greek mode. His mother was in town visiting, so of course my mother invited them both over for our weekly Sunday brunch. This time she couldn’t blame me for not eating. It was all her fault that I’d lost my appetite.

  “I like your nice Greek boy,” Dido said. She was short and plump with her gray hair pulled back in a bun and her ever-present apron tied around her waist. “He’s a keeper.” She rubbed my back. I just hope it’s not too late and your eggs haven’t dried up.

  I bent down to fix my heel, which didn’t need fixing at all, but since I was there I readjusted it three times, trying to ignore her mental sigh. The action removed her hand from my back, which was my main goal. There were some thoughts I really didn’t care to hear. “He’s half Greek, Yiayia, and he’s not my anything,” I responded, hoping to squash my grandmother’s plans before she put them in motion.

  Yiayias were far worse than mamas.

  “He’s Greek enough, considering … you know.” She shrugged sympathetically, but then a mischievous twinkle entered her faded brown eyes. “He might not be yours yet, but Ophelia says it’s only a matter of time.”

  She locked eyes on my mother, who had her head bent close to Nikos’s mother, Chloe. The women were about the same age, but that’s where the similarity stopped. Chloe had short black hair styled chicly and wore fancy clothes, whereas Ma wore her hair in a beehive and preferred a flashy polyester look. That didn’t matter one bit when i
t came to scheming mamas.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t believe anything Ma says. You know how desperate she is for a grandbaby.”

  “She’s not the only one. Look at Homer. He’s beaming at Nikos. I can see the longing in his eyes all the way over here. My poor boy. Why you deny him the son he never had? And look at Amos. Your papou only wants to see his granddaughter happy. Is that so wrong?”

  The drama gene ran rampant in my family. Every day was like a three-act play with them. It didn’t matter how many times I yelled “cut,” they never stopped. I loved them, but they were exhausting.

  “Opa! Opa! Opa!” Frona yelled as she skipped about, supergluing the napkins together and wrapping Duct tape around the gazebo poles.

  “Frona, no.” Yiayia scurried off after her. “Eleni, take your sister inside and keep her there.”

  Frona giggled hysterically, poured olive oil all over herself, and zigzagged around the yard. All chaos erupted as everyone tried to catch the slippery waif to no avail.

  Detective Stevens walked toward me, wearing khaki pants and a baby-blue polo shirt that brought out the amazing color of his eyes. His thick, coffee-colored wavy hair accented his olive skin and five-o’clock shadow perfectly, causing my insides to flutter in a most uncomfortable way. I was pretty sure that could not be good for me. He came to a stop beside me with a concerned look on his face and hooked his thumbs into his pants’ pockets. “Hey,” he said. “How are you?”

  Great, he’d left his detective personality at work and his Nikos one under the gazebo, choosing to don Nik the nice guy instead. So not what I needed right now if I was going to have a chance at all of staying strong.

  I smoothed my chignon and smiled pleasantly. “I’m fine, Detective. I’m used to this behavior. I told you my family was unique. The question is, How are you?”

  He studied me for a moment, and then a slightly sad smile crossed his face, as though he wished we could start over. “And I told you my family is just as crazy. I meant: How are you with everything that’s happened to Jaz?”

  “Oh.” My shoulders slumped a bit. “We’re okay for now, but she’ll go stir crazy if her shop is closed for long. Not to mention she’s a little shocked and upset. She might not have known Darrin that well, but still … he died in her store while she was right upstairs. I have her making a list of any possible enemies that she might have. We have to start somewhere.”

  Nik slid his thumbs out of his pockets, and his eyes narrowed as Detective Stevens came back on duty. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?” I frowned. “Why on earth not?”

  “Because you’re not a detective.”

  I stiffened my spine and crossed my arms in front of me. “Apparently, neither are you. Why aren’t you out investigating?”

  “Because it’s Sunday. And everyone deserves a day off. And my mother’s in town. And missing church was not an option. You of all people should know that, and why the hell am I explaining myself to you?” He scowled, pure frustration written all over his handsome face.

  “Jaz doesn’t get a day off, does she? She’s looking at twenty years to life if we don’t catch this guy. That’s why.”

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear. There is no we, Kalli. You are way too close to her to be of any help. Not to mention that if she truly is innocent, then there’s a killer on the loose. You could be in danger. So could she, for that matter.”

  “What about you? She’s your landlady, for crying out loud. I might not be Sherlock Holmes, but I’m pretty sure I can deduce that’s a conflict of interest or something?” I gave him a smug look.

  “And Detective Matheson is her ex-lover. I’m pretty sure that means I’m the better man for the job in a police department this small.” He smirked, but then blew out a large breath and rubbed the back of his neck before adding calmly, “Look, we both want the same thing here: to get to the truth. All I’m asking is that you cooperate.”

  “Well, what do you suggest I do?” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.

  He mimicked my movements and I jumped back, nearly having a heart attack at his nearness. “Stay away from this case, and let me do my job,” he said with a growl.

  I huffed.

  He grunted.

  And Frona screamed for all she was worth as someone finally caught her.

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  Later that night, we were having unusually warm spring weather so Jaz and I sat on our back deck. When the house was divided, she’d had the fenced-in backyard divided as well, along with two decks put on. Detective Stevens was nowhere in sight and neither was his beast of a dog, Wolfgang, thank goodness. His yard was a mess already, and he’d barely moved in.

  My Calico cat, Priscilla, leapt on top of the railing and stretched out, staring over the perfectly groomed yard and landscaping. The snow had melted early this year. Flowers hadn’t bloomed yet, but the promise of their glorious splendor was in the air. I adored spring when everything was fresh and new and … clean.

  Jaz still wore her track suit, and quite frankly still looked like a hot mess, but I’d convinced her to have her favorite toddy to help her relax. I’d fixed her a Bahama Mama while I sipped on a crisp glass of chardonnay. Usually Jaz was the strong one, pulling me out of my funk. It felt so strange to reverse our roles, but I knew she needed me. No matter how uncomfortable, I would do whatever it took to clear her name.

  “So … how was your day?” I asked tentatively.

  “Awful,” she responded, leaning back in her lounge chair and crossing her legs before her. “I can’t stand not being busy. I don’t know how people who don’t work manage their days without going crazy.”

  “You need to keep busy. Find a hobby. Focus on something.” I paused for a second to let my words sink in, and then I asked, “Any luck on making a list of suspects? Who would like to see you get into trouble and suffer?”

  She snorted. “Pretty much everyone in town.”

  “Well, that narrows it down,” I said dryly, then adopted a no-nonsense tone like the one she had used plenty of times on me. “Jaz, if you honestly want to get your life back, you have to get serious about this.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I just needed a little pity party.” She pulled a folded up sheet of paper from her pocket and opened it fully. “For starters, Maria Danza hates me.”

  “You mean the pastry chef across the street from your shop?”

  “One and the same.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Remember the carpenter, Johnny Hogan, I hooked up with six months ago?”

  “Yeah, the one who split this house in two? Why?”

  “Well, he kinda sorta was her boyfriend.”

  “What?” I slapped my forehead with my palm. “Oh, no, Jaz … tell me you didn’t.”

  She winced. “I did. Several times in fact. What can I say? I’m a sucker for muscles, and the things he could do with those big hands were—”

  “Jazlyn, honestly!” I puckered my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you would disapprove, just like you are now.”

  I relaxed my features and adopted a nonjudgmental tone. “It doesn’t matter what I think, you need to tell me everything if we are going to stand a chance of solving this case.”

  “Okay, but in my defense, they were having trouble before I came along. Maria grew up in this town, just like you. While Johnny was an outsider, same as me.”

  Jaz had purposely chosen a small town to start fresh and put her name on the map, knowing her mother would never step foot there. Johnny, on the other hand, was small town.

  “Maria and Johnny were complete opposites, but she was the first person he met, and they formed a special bond, kind of like you and me,” Jaz continued. “They would have been better off remaining best friends, but he had to go and ruin it by sleeping with her and giving her hope for something more. Unlike you and most definitely like me, he has a hungry appetite, so to speak. It
was only a matter of time before Maria’s pastry cakes wouldn’t be spicy enough for him. I can’t help it he prefers hot tamales.”

  “Oh my.” I fanned my cheeks.

  “Oh yeah. And it gets better. I knew it was wrong, and you know that I can’t stay with anyone for too long. I wanted to do the right thing and get them back together. But when I tried to break it off, Johnny wouldn’t accept no.”

  “Oh wow.” I pressed my lips together.

  “Mmmhmmm.” She cleared her throat. “I can feel you judging me.”

  “I didn’t say a word.” She was right. We were best friends. She didn’t need a gift to read my mind. I smiled brightly, then quickly added, “Moving on. Let’s talk this out. Maria could have had a grudge against you and killed Darrin out of desperation. If she framed you for murder, then you would be out of the way in prison, and Johnny would get over you and come back to her.”

  “That sounds like a legitimate possibility.” Jaz stared up into the sky, pondering my words.

  “On the other hand, if Johnny couldn’t accept no, then maybe he killed Darrin out of heartbreak. Maybe he thought if he couldn’t have you, then no one could.”

  “I never considered that.”

  “Trust me. I’ve seen your exes in action. You leave a lasting impression on them, making that a definite possibility.”

  “I can’t help it I’m so memorable.” She fluttered her lashes.

  I shook my head with a grin, knowing that keeping things light was her defense mechanism. “What else do you have?”

  “Well, there’s also Anastasia Stewart.”

  “You mean the owner of Vixen?”

  “Exactly. My one and only competition for your lingerie line. Before I added you, she was the only game in town. When I sold everything else except lingerie, she acted like my best friend. But the minute I added Kalli’s Originals, she turned into a she-devil.”

  “Oh, my gosh. She could have killed Darrin out of greed. She had to know if you take the fall, then Full Disclosure will fold, and she will be the only game in town once more. She probably thinks I’d work for her, even though I’ve turned her down every time she’s made the offer. Is she really that greedy?”