Eleven
Mel arrived home to find Joe already there. He had Peanut, their rescued Boston terrier, and Captain Jack, their likewise rescued kitten, harassing him while he attempted to prep their dinners at the same time. Captain Jack was up on the counter, sneaking nibbles out of Peanut’s bowl while Peanut sat on Joe’s foot, staring up at him with her tongue hanging out.
It was a normal, everyday event, and yet, taking in the sight of her three somebodies in their kitchen made Mel’s heart swell. The love she felt for her little family was without end.
As if sensing her watching him, Joe turned and smiled at her. “Hey, cupcake, how was your day?”
He’d been calling her “cupcake” ever since they first got together and it never failed to make Mel’s heart go pitter-pat. She crossed the room and gave him a quick hug from the side. He turned and kissed her quick, at which Captain Jack howled as attention was being taken away from the making of his dinner. Mel stroked his back to soothe him and bent down and scratched Peanut’s ears. A lick on the wrist was her response and Mel smiled.
“My day was informative, how about yours?”
“Dull,” he said. “Lots of paper pushing so let’s talk about yours.”
Mel watched as he served the critters and then went to the fridge. “Wine or beer?”
“Beer, definitely beer,” Mel said.
Joe raised an eyebrow and poured them two glasses. “All right, what gives?”
Mel led the way to the living room, where they sat on the couch while she told him about her mission with Oz and the stunning information that Kasey Perry had had an affair with Miles.
“Whoa,” he said. “That puts her in prime suspect position, yes? Oz must be happy about that.”
“Eh.” Mel took a big sip of her beer.
Again, one of Joe’s eyebrows popped up on his forehead. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“The thing is, it got rather weird with Kasey,” Mel said. “As in she thought Oz was my boy toy and I had to work that angle to get her to talk to us.”
“Oh,” Joe said. “Awkward.”
“Yeah, when Kasey attacked, Oz felt compelled to come to my defense and . . .” She wasn’t sure how to finish the story.
“It came out that Oz has feelings for you,” Joe said.
Mel’s jaw dropped as Peanut, who had finished her dinner, came trotting into the living room and took a doggy leap right into the middle of them. Both Mel and Joe shifted to accommodate her and Joe rubbed her tummy, much to Peanut’s delight.
“How did you know that?” she asked.
“It’s been pretty obvious that he’s had a soft spot for you ever since the day you hired him,” Joe said.
“Did everyone know about this except me?” she asked.
“I doubt it,” Joe said. “I wasn’t even sure until he cut his hair and I could finally see his eyes. They light up whenever you enter the room, by the way. When he quit the bakery, I suspected he was leaving to get some space.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Mel asked. “I had no idea. I felt completely blindsided.”
“It wasn’t my business,” he said. “I figured if Oz wanted to say something to you he would.”
“I don’t think he wanted to,” Mel said. “The situation with Kasey got out of hand and, of course, he was wearing a mic so the crime scene tech and Uncle Stan heard it all.”
“Is that why you told me?” he asked. “Because you think I’ll hear about it secondhand?”
“Not so much that as I was hoping you’d tell me if I handled it right,” she said. She went on to tell him about her talk with Oz.
“If a guy has to be rejected, I think you did it in the kindest possible way,” he said. “Why are you still frowning?”
“It changes everything, though, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Maybe, a little, until Oz finds his own ‘cupcake,’” he said.
She smiled. Leave it to Joe to make it so simple.
“Now, tell me what’s really on your mind,” he said.
Drat, the man knew her too well. Mel took a deep breath. Best to get it over with as fast as possible. “YourbrothersarehavingapokergamewithSimonfromtheFoodieChanneltofindoutifhemurderedMiles.”
Joe blinked at her. “Huh?”
Mel was panting. Joe was smack-dab in the middle of his seven brothers and, as such, was the family mediator. It had surprised no one that he had gone into law as a profession given that he’d spent his formative years settling disputes between the DeLaura siblings.
“Is this about the poker game?”
“You knew?”
“Brother group chat,” he said. “Ray forgot to take me off it when he sent out the call to all.”
Mel nodded. “Of course he did. Did you tell them not to do it?”
“Nope,” Joe said. “I figure it’s a good opportunity to find out more about Simon Marconi.”
“They didn’t notice you were still in the group, did they?” she asked.
Joe grinned. “No.”
“Joe, we’re a little less than a week away from our big day. What’s going to happen if Uncle Stan doesn’t figure out who murdered Miles Gallway before we get married?” she asked.
Joe clasped her hand in his. “That’s not going to happen because there’s no way we could enjoy our honeymoon while worrying that Oz is going to be arrested. Uncle Stan will figure it out and, who knows, maybe Marty and the bros will get a clue from Marconi that will crack the case wide open.”
“I hope so,” Mel said. “Do you think we should tell Uncle Stan about the poker game?”
“What poker game?” he asked.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said. She lifted her glass to his and said, “To cracking the case.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“My dude, you look like a pimp,” Oz said. He was sitting at the steel table in the bakery, taking in Marty’s poker outfit.
“Shows what you know,” Marty said. He tugged his shirtsleeves so they were just visible beneath the cuffs of his navy blue velvet jacket.
Angie had her head down but her shoulders were shaking and Mel suspected she was doing her best to keep from laughing out loud. The struggle was real. Mel opted to bite her tongue until the pain squashed any urge that she had to laugh.
“You look very dapper,” she said. “Very Frank Sinatra Rat Pack.”
“Without the hair,” Oz added.
Marty scowled at him.
“Who’s ready for some action?” Ray asked as he pushed through the bakery doors into the kitchen. Unlike Marty, he was dressed in black leather pants and an open-at-the-throat dress shirt, which again left the thick gold chain he wore around his neck visible. Mel tried not to wonder how he disentangled it from his chest hair without hurting himself. Al and Tony arrived next, looking reassuringly normal in jeans and T-shirts, followed by Paulie, who had kicked it up a notch by wearing a suit. Neither Sal nor Dominick were participating in the game and so far none of them had realized that they’d included Joe on the group text.
“I’m ready for a big hand,” Paulie said.
Angie rolled her eyes. “Paulie, you can’t even win at Yahtzee. What are you thinking, trying to play in a high-stakes poker game?”
“Yahtzee is for old ladies,” he protested. He ran a hand through his curly hair and tipped his chin up. “Texas Hold’em and me are like this.” He held up two crossed fingers.
“Really?” Al asked. “Because the last time you played it was more like this.” He made an obscene gesture with his hand and Ray slapped his hand down.
“Not in front of the girls,” he said.
“Girls?” Angie turned and looked at Mel. Her expression seemed to say Can you believe this guy?
Given that it was Ray, not known to be the most forward thinking of the DeLaura brothers, Mel shrugged. There was simply no enlightening Ray—besides, he was his girlfriend’s problem now.
“Tony, how is this going to work?” she asked. Tony was the gadget guy of the family. While no one knew exactly what he did (he went by the generic title technical director), he had some serious espionage skills, and Mel and Joe had decided between themselves that he was some sort of corporate fraud investigator. There was simply no other explanation for his high income and affinity for spy gear.
“We’re all microphoned up,” Tony said. He handed Angie a small portable Bluetooth speaker. “I have the conversation recording to a cloud, but you two can listen in during the game. That way if Ray gets into trouble, you can call for backup from Uncle Stan.”
Mel looked at Angie. “Oh, he’s going to love getting that call.”
“The plan is for you to not need to make the call,” Tony said. “You’re just backup.”
“Gotcha,” Angie said. She looked doubtful.
“Where is the game being held?” Mel asked. If things did go wrong, it would help to be able to tell Uncle Stan where they were.
“We’re playing in the back room at Mick’s tattoo parlor,” Marty said. “Of course, I had to pay him for use, but I figured it would keep us on neutral ground with Marconi.”
“Good thinking,” Tony said.
“Tattoo parlor?” Paulie asked. “They put all of the stuff away, right?”
“What stuff?” Marty asked.
“You know, the stuff,” Paulie said.
“The needles,” Al explained. “He’s afraid of needles.”
“I am not afraid,” Paulie protested. “I just have a healthy respect for not puncturing my epidermis.”
“Like I said, he’s afraid,” Al said.
“We’re in the back room,” Marty said. “It’s not like the needles are going to fly up and stab you of their own volition.”
“I’m definitely going to have nightmares,” Paulie said. He ran a hand down the front of his suit as if trying to soothe himself.
“All right, that’s enough yapping,” Ray said. “We’ve got to go. We can’t be seen coming from here together. Everyone, out the back, and then we split up to make it look like we arrived separately.”
No one moved.
“You heard him,” Tony said. He clapped his hands. “Let’s go.”
The brothers and Marty all headed to the door. Ray turned and looked at Mel and Angie. “Did you see that? I speak and no one moves. Tony claps and everyone jumps to it.”
“That’s because we’re all afraid that Tony knows our deep dark secrets,” Angie said.
“Besides, they did start moving when you spoke,” Mel said. She couldn’t stand to see Ray’s feelings get hurt. “They were just slow.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I knew that.”
He was the last to leave and Angie locked the door behind him. She looked at Mel and cradled her belly with one hand while holding the small speaker with the other. “Why am I worried about those knuckleheads? They’re going to be fine, right?”
“Totally,” Mel said. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and texted Joe. She noticed Angie was doing the same with her free hand. “Tate?”
“He wanted to be kept in the loop and is going to swing by,” Angie said. She glanced at Mel’s phone. “Joe?”
“Same.” They exchanged a grin.
“Come on,” Angie said. “Let’s go over our remaining wedding details while we wait.”
They left the kitchen and sat in one of the booths in front of the large picture window. The shades were drawn, the doors were locked, and the bakery was closed for the night. This was Mel’s favorite time of the day.
In the beginning, this was the only time she’d had the bakery to herself. She’d put in many late nights, listening to the radio, dreaming of the success of her shop while baking until the early hours of the morning. The work was grueling and the potential for failure huge. She’d lived in a constant state of high anxiety back then. Now, weirdly, she missed those early days.
She’d been young and single and living above the bakery. Tate had gone all in and invested in making the place a success. Angie had quit her teaching job to work here, clearing out her savings to buy in. It had been the three of them against the world. It was before Tate realized he loved Angie, who had been in love with him since middle school. It was also before Joe had started coming around, giving Mel hope that maybe he finally saw his little sister’s best friend as something more than another little sister.
“So much has changed since we opened the bakery,” Mel said.
The nostalgia was feeling pretty thick as she realized Angie might not return from her maternity leave. Now that Tate had managed to successfully franchise the bakery all over the country, they really didn’t need to work in the day-to-day operations of the original shop, but Mel couldn’t give up her specialty orders and she loved experimenting with new recipes to share with the other Fairy Tale Cupcakes bakeries. While each shop was individually owned and operated, Tate had made certain that they upheld the high standards and signature recipes of the original bakery.
Mel glanced at the counter where she and Angie had toiled until they’d hired Marty. He’d managed to slip right in, becoming family almost immediately. Then Oz had come along, rounding out their crew. He’d gone to culinary school and even then Mel had known he wouldn’t be staying, but she missed him just the same. And now although things had gotten complicated, she missed their big shaggy-haired teen, who’d mostly stayed in the kitchen perfecting his craft, because he’d scared the customers.
“Hello? Mel?” Angie waved her hand in front of Mel’s face. “I’m going over the checklist for Friday and Saturday here, you know, for your wedding. Any input you want to add?”
Mel blinked and glanced at the sheet in Angie’s hand. “Oh . . . um. No, it all sounds good to me.”
“Really?” Angie asked. There was a wicked twinkle in her brown eyes when she asked, “So, that’s a yes on you and Joe arriving at the church astride camels? My cousin Judi will love that. And then you’ll be serenaded at the reception by a celebrity impersonator, did you prefer Lady Gaga or Bruno Mars?”
“You’re hilarious,” Mel said.
“I know,” Angie chortled. “Can you imagine our mothers’ faces if we got a Bruce Springsteen impersonator?”
“They’d mob him,” Mel said. “The guy would have to do the famous knee slide right on out of there.”
Angie tapped her lips with her forefinger. “Almost worth it.”
When their chuckles subsided, Angie glanced at Mel. “What are you really thinking about? You look very introspective for a bride who is finally getting this matrimony thing done.” She gave Mel a side eye. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No! Not at all,” Mel assured her. “I’m just remembering our beginnings. It’s all changed so much in the past few years.”
“For the better, right?” Angie asked. She picked up the speaker and switched it on. They could hear the sound of the brothers arriving at the tattoo shop down the street. Angie glanced at Mel, waiting for her answer.
“Of course, I just . . .” Mel paused. What was she trying to say? She was happy. Life was great. They’d achieved their dreams and were about to embark on even bigger ones. Marriage for her and Joe, a baby for Tate and Angie. It was all good and great and she had no complaints. Really.
“I just miss how uncomplicated it all used to be,” she said.
Angie studied her. She nodded. “It was pretty simple back when it was just the three of us. Of course, we were also totally broke and working twenty-hour days. It was just the two of us since Tate had to keep his day job for a while. I remember eating a lot of packaged noodles.”
Mel laughed. “I do, too. Ah, those were the days.”
“They were,” Angie agreed. “But I’m really glad we can afford to eat from the other sections of the grocery store now.”
“Same—”
“Hey there, how are you, Simon?” Marty’s voice boomed out of the speaker and both women jumped.
Angie snatched up the small portable speaker, searching for a volume control. It was a tiny button on the bottom. She gingerly adjusted it. Mel gave her a relieved look. This would have been a very long poker game if the volume stayed that loud.
“Good to see you, Marty.” Mel recognized the voice as Simon’s. She mouthed his name to Angie, who no-dded.
They settled in to listen as Marty introduced the brothers. It sounded pleasant enough and then Marty explained the rules of the table. It was high stakes so they were starting at a hundred dollars to ante. Mel felt her stomach go a bit queasy at that and she wondered who was staking all of the DeLaura brothers. She suspected it was Marty and hoped his two daughters didn’t find out or they’d try to have him committed again.
Marty had worked at the bakery for a couple of years before they’d discovered he was quite wealthy and didn’t need to work. He just liked to keep busy and loved working the counter at the bakery. His daughters, concerned about their inheritance, had tried to have Marty locked up, especially when he began his tempestuous relationship with rival bakery owner Olivia Puckett. On that score, Mel could see their point but she adored Marty and if Olivia made him happy, who was she to judge?
After the men settled in, the poker game was quiet except for the sound of chips stacking, cards shuffling, and the occasional grunt. Mel wished they’d had a video feed into the game. She wanted to see who was breaking into a sweat and who was playing it cool. Her money was on Paulie for the sweaty one, Ray the impetuous bluffer, Tony maintaining his usual cool, and Al, as the youngest, the watcher.
“Any luck finding someone for your television show?” Marty asked, breaking the quiet. He explained to the others. “Simon, here, is a TV producer.”
“Cool,” Ray said. Mel could just picture him giving Simon a view of his best side.
“Not yet,” Simon answered. He sounded distracted and Mel thought she heard the scratch of cards on the table as he examined his hand.
Angie glanced at Mel. She noticed the tone, too. Simon took his card playing very seriously, it seemed. The game continued as cards were dumped, hands were folded, and two players remained. Ray and Simon. When Ray finally called him, Simon revealed a full house. Ray threw down his pair of kings and made a sound of disgust.
Although she knew the brothers had plotted out how the game should go, it sounded as if Ray’s disgust was the real deal. More shuffling commenced. While they were listening, Tate arrived and slid into the booth beside Angie. Shortly after that, Joe appeared and took a spot beside Mel.
“Did I miss anything?” he asked.
“Just Ray losing, repeatedly,” Mel said.
Joe made a face as if he knew how poorly that was going to sit with his brother. “On purpose?” he asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Mel said.
“All right,” Tony’s voice came out of the speaker. “Five-card stud, one-eyed jacks are wild, ante up.”
The sound of chips landing in a pile sounded and then the swish of cards being dealt.
“I’ll open for five hundred,” Simon said.
Mel exchanged a wide-eyed look with Angie, who whispered, “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“I’ll call and raise you another two-fifty,” Al said.
There was the sound of shifting in chairs and Joe said, “Am I the only one who’s feeling uncomfortable?”
“Nope,” Tate said. He blew out a breath. “Seven hundred and fifty on a hand of cards.”
“Eight-fifty if you count the ante,” Angie said.
“Not helping,” Tate said with a grin. He kissed Angie’s head and tucked her in close as they listened.
Most of the table folded but Al held in there as did Marty. When it was up to two thousand per player to stay in, Marty folded and then Simon did, too. Called out, Al spread out his cards. He had a pair of threes.
“You . . . that . . .” Ray was apoplectic. “I don’t know whether to punch you in the face or high-five you. That was the most epic bluff ever. I was positive you had a royal flush or four of a kind.”
“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for,” Marty said, but there was respect in his voice.
“Thank you,” Al said. They could hear him pulling his winnings in closer.
The game continued for another hour. Marty and Tony were the most persistent about asking Simon questions about what he thought about the murder of Miles Gallway, but he managed to sidestep each one, keeping his focus on the game.
After two more hands, Paulie was out, and Ray followed on the third. Tony and Al were still in play, as were Marty and Simon. On a winning streak, Simon had proposed that the last hand be winner take all. With a pot worth sixty thousand dollars, the stakes were higher than they’d been all night.
This was it, their last chance to get any information out of Simon. Mel thought she might faint, and judging by the way Angie, Tate, and Joe were hovering over the small speaker with her, they felt the same.
The sound of cards being dealt broke the silence, and then Marty’s voice, asked, “So, Simon, tell me the truth. Did you murder Miles Gallway?”