Chapter Twenty-Nine

With her tummy fluttering, Shay pushed through the smoky glass doors of Jazz House. She stopped in the middle of the dining room and turned in a slow circle. Banquette seating, upholstered in rich burgundy, mixed with intimate tables for two. She trailed her fingers over the gold-colored wingbacks, which bracketed matching tablecloths.

Hurricane lamps in various styles and colors gave an elegant, eclectic feel.

She paused to look at her reflection in the huge beveled glass mirror behind the 1920s-era bar. A smile spread across the face of the woman in the mirror. For years she’d only existed. Daily routines kept her occupied, but that day, the knowledge she was happy, really happy, hit her. She was in love.

When Aden said he loved her, the last wall around her heart crumbled. Fear had held her back from loving him fully. And fear also allowed circumstances to control her life. No more. She was taking back control. Until then, her parents, Nick, and even Brenda, pulled her strings. Nope, that stopped here and now. Releasing bitterness and anger freed her from their influence. She was her own woman.

She never felt more alive. A buzz of energy tingled inside. Not only was she in love, but she was set be the executive chef at Jazz House. Another dream come true. Aden wouldn’t be her boss anymore—not really. Olivia would be the person she answered to. It made the relationship with him easier to relax into. The night before—she touched her lips—he was… Wow, the man could kiss. She shook off the images popping into her mind and walked toward the kitchen.

Jazz House’s debut would be in a few weeks. A soft opening right before Christmas. Nothing could be worse for a restaurant than to have a grand opening before managers and staff found their rhythm. First, they needed to work out the kinks, focus on the few customers to make it an exceptional experience, and then, when food, service, and music were finalized, only then bring on the crowds.

Shay glanced at the small stage, where entertainment would range from early jazz to modern avant-garde.

It appeared opulent, but also warm and inviting. Rich jewel-toned curtains allowed the exposed brick walls to peek through.

She liked the juxtaposition of hard and soft.

An old-fashioned microphone stood prominently in its stand. The large brass housing concealed high-tech capability. They’d scored with the singer. Madeline Cielo agreed to audition for the position of Jazz House’s chanteuse.

Pushing through the padded and studded doors, Shay entered the kitchen—her domain. She and Olivia, with Margaret’s input, handpicked the staff the week before. Several of the wait- and cooking staff had worked with her at Eduardo’s Sala da Pranzo. When word got out Shay was hiring for a new restaurant, the applications flooded in. She had an excellent reputation in the industry, and since she left, Eduardo’s wasn’t running as tight a ship.

Her heart stuttered a little when she stopped just inside the threshold to take it all in. Stainless steel glimmered in the light. The kitchen, smaller and more intimate than the Rock House’s, suited her. The hum of equipment was like music to her ears. She walked between the island and the stoves, dragging her hand across the cool metal.

A rustling noise from the pantry stopped her in her tracks.

Crash.

Something fell.

Tingling ran up her spine, and she broke out in goose bumps. She wasn’t alone. “Hello? Who’s back there?”

Nothing had happened in a while. No Brandt. No Brenda. No trouble. She’d let down her guard. Calm down, maybe it’s just a workman finishing up.

As Shay edged toward the storeroom, a cold draft lifted the loose hair around her face. Did someone leave the back door open? If so, any random person could be in there. A thump, followed by a shuffling noise, halted her steps. “Is somebody here? Did you forget something?”

No answer. Shay changed direction, eased over to the knife block, and pulled out one of the knives. “Stop whatever you’re doing and come out of there. I have a knife.”

A woman’s mocking laughter accompanied the figure stepping out of the storeroom. “And I have a gun.”

“What the…Kayla? What are you doing here?” Shay had hoped she’d seen the last of the woman when Olivia kicked her out of the Grill. “I thought you were in California.”

“I was, for a while.” She pointed a gun at Shay. “But I’m back. Seems I need Aden to help get my career off the ground.”

“Aden doesn’t want anything to do with you.” Shay gripped the knife tighter. Fear twisted in her gut. Could she actually use it to defend herself? “He’s not doing the TV show.”

“And let me think. Hmm, whose fault is that?” Kayla cocked her head to the side like she considered the answer. “Oh, right. You’re to blame.”

“My fault? You’re the one who took off after the accident, leaving him and Olivia high and dry.” Adrenaline pumped, making Shay tingle at the deadpan expression in the other woman’s eyes. Kayla was a sociopath. No matter what, she would never accept responsibility for her actions.

“Put the knife down, Shay. I feel like talking before I kill you.”

Shay gripped the knife tighter. Typical woman. Always wants to get the last word in. Fine by her, she needed all the time she could get.

“Come on, put it down. I’ll shoot you faster if you don’t.” Kayla twitched the gun at her. “Then I’ll talk while you die.”

Shay laid the knife down on the counter. “There, I put it down.”

“Shove it away from you.”

She complied. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you forced me. I thought if I made it look like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, or your presence put Aden’s precious Olivia in danger, he’d dump you.” Kayla gave her a petulant smirk. “But no, he circled the wagons tighter, and you became entrenched.”

Horror dawned in Shay. “You shot Nick and attacked Olivia. What did you do with Brenda? We thought she was behind it all.”

“That was my plan.” Kayla sneered. “Bimbo Brenda has been on an extended vacation with a new boyfriend. He’s old and rich. I overheard her in Eduardo’s restaurant one night, bragging to her friends she was over Nick and had moved on.”

“What about Detective Brandt? He insisted I committed all the crimes.” Keep her talking, Shay, maybe someone will come.

“Brandt was easy. I seduced him, and the fool fell in love with me.” Kayla preened, leaning against the door. “Brandt wasn’t the only one not thinking with his head. Barry made an excellent alibi, too, if anyone asked.”

“You did all this just to get back with a man who doesn’t want you?” Shay reached into her pockets, assuming a dejected posture. Thank God her phone was on silent. But before she could swipe it, Kayla noticed.

“Hey, put your hands back out where I can see them.” Kayla waved the gun at her again.

When Shay did as she asked, the woman continued her B-movie monologue. “Aden is a means to an end. The producers of Down Home and Delicious want him. Once we get the show rolling again, it won’t matter. It’s me everyone will want.”

“So, you really don’t want Aden?” Keep the delusional woman talking. Hopefully, help would arrive. “Can you stop waving the gun at me? It’s making me nervous.”

“You should be nervous.” Kayla’s face tightened with determination. “You just wouldn’t go away. After I shot Nick, Aden should have dumped you. Then, when I sent Olivia to the hospital, it should have sealed the deal. But no.” She narrowed her eyes. “All you had to do was leave.”

“Even before Nick woke up and cleared me, no one but Brandt believed it.” Shay changed the subject, trying to buy more time. “You don’t have to do this, Kayla. No one knows it’s you. Despite Brenda missing, everyone still thinks she did it. If you leave now, I won’t tell.”

The woman tsked and rolled her eyes. “Of course, you would. But I have no intention of letting you go. They will still believe Brenda did it. I have personal items to leave behind, implicating her. Tonight, when her plane lands and she goes home, you’ll already be dead. I’ll be waiting with a note where she admits everything. She’ll say if she can’t have Nick, then life is not worth living.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Don’t make it worse.” Panic fought against Shay’s determination to keep calm. The witch was totally crazy, and no doubt believed she would get away with it. “No one has died yet.”

A loud crash came from the alley behind the building, giving her the moment’s distraction she needed. She grabbed a heavy pot from under the island and threw it with all her might at Kayla.

“I’m going to kill you.” The deranged woman screamed as the pot struck her arm, causing her to fumble the gun.

Without any hesitation. Shay jumped up and slid across the stainless-steel counter like it was an Olympic sport. The bang of the gun caused her to flinch and duck, but it didn’t slow her down. Running low, she knocked more cookware to the floor as she darted toward the door. Pieces of drywall rained down from a shot hitting the wall above her.

****

“You let her go by herself?” Aden was furious. “How could you?”

“Because she is a grown woman who makes her own decisions.” Eli kept his cool despite Aden’s accusation. “Besides, have you ever tried to talk Shay out of doing something she’s already decided on?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Aden ran his hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his head. “I’m going after her. Is everything ok here?”

“Yep, we’re running smooth and good to go.” Eli turned back to the demi-glaze he was reducing.

“We’ll be back by the time the doors open.”

Aden stalked out the back door to where he’d parked, mumbling all the while about pig-headed women. Just the idea of her being alone in the same place Liv had been attacked made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

“Hey, Aden.” Michael trotted across the parking lot toward him. He must’ve been off-duty because he was in jeans.

The two men had developed a tentative friendship over the last few days. Michael now hung out, eating and having a beer, at the Grill on a regular basis. An easy-going, likable guy, he’d finally accepted Shay was with Aden, and the relationship was sticking.

“Where are you going?’

“Heading over to Jazz House, where my stubborn girlfriend is doing whatever she pleases, disregarding her safety. Want to tag along?”

“Sure.” Michael ran his hand over the contours of the brand-new coupe. “Sweet ride.”

“Yeah, you should have seen my last one. I’d restored her, and she was a beauty.” Aden still missed his sixty-eight. “But this one will do.”

****

Shay made it to the swinging doors when another shot went off.

Kayla was running after her, kicking pots and pans out of the way.

Heart racing, Shay crashed through the kitchen doors and ran for the exit.

“Come on, come on.” She fumbled with the entry door lock. Finally, it opened, and she spilled out onto the street into familiar arms.

“Shay, what’s going on?” Aden held her up, grasping her upper arms. “Are you all right?”

“She’s got a gun and is coming this way.”

“Is it Brenda?” Michael was with him and pushed them toward the wall.

“It’s not Brenda.” Shay clutched Aden. “It never was. It’s Kayla.”

“Kayla?” Aden thundered. “She’s supposed to be in California.”

“Who’s Kayla?” Michael protectively placed himself between them and the building, away from the windows, while he dialed his phone. “Dispatch, this is off-duty Officer Machau requesting backup. I have an armed suspect who’s implicated in a prior shooting.”

“Copy, Machau. Assistance is on the way,” the muffled voice answered.

“Ok.” Michael drew his off-duty weapon and guarded the door, edging close enough to peek into the smoke-colored windows. “Catch me up.”

“Kayla worked for Aden. She was an on-again, off-again girlfriend.” Shay looked up at Aden’s flushed face. Was he red from anger or embarrassment? “She’s trying to kill me. She wants you back so you can make the stupid TV show.”

“Fame? This is about her becoming famous?” Aden smacked the wall behind him.

Michael glanced over. “You’d be surprised by the stuff people will do for their fifteen minutes.”

“If she was coming out, she’d be here already. She was right behind me.” Shay swiped loose hair away from her eyes. “She got in through the back door, and I’ll bet she goes out it too.”

“All right, you two stay here. When my backup arrives, tell them to circle around.” Michael eased over to the door and peered in through the glass. “I don’t see her. I’m going in.”

“Please be careful,” Shay whispered as the door snicked shut.

A police car rolled up to the curb, and two officers Shay recognized, but didn’t really know, got out.

“Where’s Officer Machau?” the taller blond asked Aden.

“He said to go around back. Kayla, the woman with the gun, is probably trying to escape the way she came in.”

The shorter dark-haired cop, whose name badge read Vasquez, ran to the side of the building, stopped, and peeked around the corner. He disappeared down the alley leading to the parking lot.

Aden surveyed Shay as the officer slipped around the corner. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Are you injured, miss? Do you need medical assistance?” the blond officer, whose badge read Andersen, asked.

“No, I’m fine. No injuries.”

Ok. I’m going in. Wait out here.” Anderson peeked through the same window Michael had, then disappeared into the building.

****

“Aden, you’re crushing me,” Shay whispered.

“Sorry.” He only loosened his grip slightly.

“I’m ok. Kayla didn’t hurt me.”

“But she could have. I’m so angry with her, and with you.”

“Me!” Shay pushed against his chest.

“Yes, you.” His voice shook. “You put yourself in danger—again. You knew better than to come here by yourself. That it wasn’t safe. Especially after what happened to Olivia. She still has headaches.”

“Don’t be mad.” Shay stopped pulling away and hugged him back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it. I’m excited we’re so near the opening. Things have been quiet. At least now we know what’s been going on.”

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Aden stepped back and ran his hands over her, trying to convince himself she wasn’t injured. He couldn’t believe they were standing in the cold, with his bat-crap crazy ex running around with a gun. You couldn’t write this stuff. His gut rolled at the image of a weapon being pointed at the woman he loved. He pulled her tight again and kissed the top of her head.

The door behind them opened, and he quickly shoved Shay behind him.

Michael came out. “We’ve got her.”

“Thank God.” Aden relaxed and Shay leaned into him.

“Do you think she was working with anyone else?” Michael pulled out a notepad.

“Kayla was pretty tight with Barry, my producer for the show. He would have a personal stake in helping her get me back. I don’t know if he would go so far as to be part of her craziness, though.” Aden pulled Shay under his arm when she struggled to get from behind him.

“Aden, stop. I’ll be fine.” Shay pushed free and stepped forward. “She told me she was seeing Detective Brandt.”

The conversation was interrupted when the doors burst open, and Kayla’s wailing voice came through. “Let me go! You can’t prove anything.”

Aden couldn’t quite decipher which cop answered her.

“Call Detective Brandt. He’ll tell you all about Shay McDowell and what she is capable of.” Kayla persisted in her demands.

Anderson held the door to Jazz House open, and a disheveled and handcuffed Kayla appeared.

Hair hung in her face, and her wild eyes canted about. She spotted Shay and screeched, “You, you did it.”

“We caught her trying to blow the pilot lights on the stoves out.” Anderson keyed his mic. “Suspect in custody.”

“Newer gas stoves have electronic ignitors now,” Aden told him. “You can’t blow them out.”

“She was bent over the stoves looking for them.” The detective shrugged. “She’s not very smart.”

Michael loped over to the patrol car and opened the back door.

Kayla struggled harder while Anderson and Vasquez led her toward it. She called out over her shoulder, “Aden, don’t let them do this. You know me.”

Covering her head, they pushed her down and into the vehicle.

Moments later, the car pulled away from the curb, and the last they saw of Kayla, her mouth was still open and ranting.

Michael stood with his hands on his hips until they disappeared out of sight. Stepping up over the curb, he stopped in front of Shay. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“I need to take a statement. Are you up to it?”

Shay ran her hand over her forehead, pushing back the loosened strands. “Let’s get it over with.”

Aden tucked her under his arm again, and they followed Michael back into Jazz House.

“It looked so elegant not even an hour ago.” Her voice shook. “I’ll have to get the drywall contractor back.”

Even though she trembled, Aden admired her strength of will and determination. “Don’t worry. Together, we’ll get everything done.”