Chapter 11
Morning had come too early, and now at work, I sat at my desk typing with a steaming latte next to me.
The rain pattered outside, lightly tapping against the office windows.
Even nature seemed restless, ready to shove winter out the door.
The scent of lavender drifted around me from the assortment of candles and plug-ins Pauley had scattered throughout the office.
I still preferred the vanilla smell, but I didn’t complain. Pauley liked experimenting, and I encouraged his creativity whenever I could.
My phone dinged, cutting through the steady sound of the outside drizzle. “Hey, Oliver.”
“Hi. There’s a Brad Backleboff here to see you, Miss Albertini.”
I sat a little straighter in my chair. “All right. Bring him back, would you?”
“Absolutely, ma’am.” He clicked off.
I took a deep breath to keep from slamming the phone into the cradle. If he wanted to call me Miss Albertini, fine. But ma’am? That was a no-go. It made me feel ancient, and I wasn’t even close.
A moment later, Oliver appeared with Brad and lingered in the doorway. “Can I get either of you anything?”
“No, I’m good,” Brad said.
“Thank you, Oliver,” I added.
Oliver’s eyes twinkled as he closed the door behind him. I’d handle the ma’am situation later.
“Have a seat, Brad,” I offered.
He crossed the room and sank into one of the guest chairs, moving with easy confidence. Today he wore gray slacks and a white shirt open at the collar, no tie.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with darker blond hair and sharp brown eyes that scanned our environment.
Taller than me and polished, in that big-city-prosecutor kind of way, he seemed comfortable in my office.
His briefcase gleamed where he set it on the floor, the leather smooth and expensive. His loafers were definitely Italian.
“This is a surprise.” I was suddenly glad I’d chosen a blue skirt suit today, with a green-and-blue shell under the jacket. It worked for both the office and St. Patrick’s week.
“I’m here with a plea.” He settled in.
A plea? My stomach tightened.
“For your grandmother,” he added.
“Considering that’s the only case we have against each other, I figured,” I said lightly. “Last I heard, she hasn’t been charged.”
He nodded once. “I’m still trying to obtain an arrest warrant. It’s funny how small towns sometimes work against an honest citizen.”
If he only knew my Nana, he’d realize how ridiculous that sounded. “If you understood her at all, which apparently you don’t, you’d know she would never sabotage anybody’s pie.”
He leaned forward slightly, the movement calm but calculated. “She admitted in front of too many witnesses that the ingredients in Ms. Walton’s pie included her lotion.”
I stared at him. “She could’ve been wrong, and even if she wasn’t, there’s no proof she’s the person who injected it into the pie.” I refrained from noting that Gloria’s pie had probably sucked before being infused with peppermint lotion.
He nodded again, one side of his mouth quirking. It wasn’t a smile. “As you know, I could charge her with felony food tampering, which carries up to fifteen years in prison.”
My jaw tightened.
“Not to mention false pretenses, maybe reckless endangerment, even public nuisance. That’s just off the top of my head right now.”
“It’s all baloney, and I think you know that,” I said evenly, studying him.
His eyes widened a touch. “No, I don’t. The only person who would’ve put her own lotion in that pie was your grandmother. She always takes first place. Gloria second. This was Gloria’s year.”
I cocked my head. “Gloria, huh? You sure went from Ms. Walton to Gloria pretty quickly.”
His chin dipped, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ve been working with Ms. Walton for the past day, trying to craft a decent case. I find her kind and deeply hurt by your grandmother’s actions.”
“What’s the plea?” I asked, noting how highly irregular it was to make a plea offer before there was even an arrest warrant.
Brad folded his hands on his lap. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll drop the felony food tampering if she pleads guilty to misdemeanor deceptive practices, pays a two-thousand dollar fine, and accepts six months unsupervised probation.”
My mouth dropped open. I shut it before it could betray me and start spitting out Italian curses. “Are you insane?”
“I’m letting her off with no jail time. Give me a break, would you?
” His brows knit down, creating a deep groove above his nose.
“In addition, Fiona O’Shea has to sign a statement admitting she knowingly added a non-food substance to the contest entry.
” He paused as if wanting the words to sink in.
“And she agrees never to enter any baking contest in Silverville again.”
I fought the urge to hurl my stapler at his head. “You are insane.”
Brad sat up straighter, posture perfect. “I suggest you watch your words, Ms. Albertini. I would love a slander case.” The threat had a soft, polished edge.
I looked him over slowly. “Well, gee, Brad, considering there’s nobody here to hear that statement, I don’t see how you could possibly be damaged.
” What a joke. I leveled my stare. “Tell you what. Go get that arrest warrant, and we’ll fight this out the right way, and just so you know, I will absolutely kick your ass. ”
His face hardened. “I can make a strong case without additional evidence. I strongly advise your client to take my offer.” He rose then, gathering his briefcase with a quiet efficiency, and closed my door softly behind him.
I put my elbows on the desk and pressed both thumbs into the corners of my eyes until the pressure blurred the lines of the room. A headache was threatening to bloom behind my temples.
Brad hadn’t seen the CCTV of the leprechaun leaving the dynamite at the shop, and even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to prove it was Nana.
Still, the O’Shea crest on the vest had been visible.
Everyone in town has seen her wearing that outfit on St. Patrick’s Day for decades.
It wouldn’t take much to convince a jury that the person captured on grainy footage was my grandmother.
Of course I had a defense. Why would she risk being seen? He could get creative with alternative theories. He could suggest motive. He could paint my Nana as bitter, jealous, or desperate. The thought boiled under my skin even as my hands trembled slightly.
I leaned back, thumbed my phone from the pile of paperwork, and dialed her number with fingers that felt too heavy. The line clicked, and then Nana’s voice came through, bright as always. “Hi, honey.”
She had finally learned to read caller ID, and I was ridiculously proud. “Hi, Nana. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, excellent. I just left the Green Eggs and Ham breakfast over at Sunshine Eats.” Her voice bubbled. Sunshine Eats had been a town fixture as long as I could remember.
“Who won this year?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Bobbo Brando won,” Nana said. “Isn’t that lovely? He came from his farm and cooked the best green eggs and ham I’ve ever had.”
Finally, some good news. Bobbo always struck me as decent. He farmed alpacas.
“Guess what?” she asked, pure delight.
“What?” I asked.
She giggled. “Right after he won and was given the trophy, he proposed to Kelsey Walker.”
I blinked, then let the statement land. “That’s really good news.” Kelsey and I had become friendly through a couple of my cases. She’d been looking for love for a while. “Bobbo is solid, if a little thick. What did she say?”
“She said yes, of course,” Nana said. “They make a perfect pair. Don’t you think?”
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Heck if I know, but he seems like a good guy, and that’s what Kelsey needs. She’ll bring some fun to his life.”
“Yes, it’s a good thing. I do love a wonderful engagement. Don’t you, Anna?”
My head tipped back. “Yes, Nana. Do you have time to meet up with me today?”
She let me off the hook with a pleased little hum. “Sounds delightful. Your mom and I are driving into Timber City to get some more decorations for the shop.”
“You don’t need any more decorations. St. Paddy’s has taken over.”
“Oh, honey, you can always have a couple more. Do you need me to bring you anything? Lotion? Oil?”
Could she be any sweeter? “No, thank you. How about lunch? Meet me at noon?”
“That sounds good. We can meet at Tessa’s restaurant over there.”
“Of course. I’ll see you there, Nana.”
“Bye, honey.” She ended the call.
The office settled back into the sound of the spring deluge.
My sister had purchased half interest in Smiley’s Diner down the street from my office, the same place she’d worked since high school.
She bought into that restaurant around the same time she opened Silver Sadie’s over in the valley.
She was planning a wedding and juggling two businesses. When did she find time to breathe?
I needed to focus on Nana and the mess tightening around her. I picked up the phone and scrolled to the next call.
“Hello, dear,” Nonna answered, warm as always.
I paced to the window, palm cooling on the glass. The ground below gleamed dark and wet. “Hi, Nonna. I need to ask you a question.”
“Of course. Anything.”
I needed answers but didn’t want to get her involved. “Last I heard, you were looking for someone to do computer searches and that kind of work for Three Hens Investigations.” The three women could out-stakeout most rookies, but Wi-Fi was not their friend. “Did you find anybody, or…?”
“Yes. Yes, we did,” Nonna said. “We have a young man who can pretty much hack into anything.”
I could not deal with that. “Nonna, no hacking. We just want somebody who can conduct research legally through official channels.” I kept my voice even.
“Oh yes, yes, yes, of course,” Nonna said brightly. I could hear the faint scrape of a teaspoon against porcelain, meaning she’d made tea. “We do have that, sweetheart. That’s exactly what he does. What do you need?”