Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The lunch rush at Maude’s Diner was winding down when the craving hit me like a physical blow. I’d been fine one moment, discussing holiday shopping plans with Penny, and the next my entire body demanded pickles and vanilla ice cream with an intensity that overrode rational thought.
I gripped the edge of the laminated menu, trying to focus on anything else.
Yesterday, during lunch, I’d mentioned wanting extra pickles on my sandwich—just casual conversation—but the way Dominic’s eyes had sharpened made me change the subject quickly.
Blake had given me a speculative look too.
I ready for them to put the pieces together. Not yet.
“You okay?” Penny asked quietly, reading my expression with the ease of a decade-long friendship. “Still craving pickles?”
I nodded miserably. “And now with ice cream.”
Penny grimaced. “Oh no.”
I glanced around the half-full diner. I needed to be careful. Millcrest boasted a vigorous grapevine.
Robbie Mitchell—a slight omega with kind eyes and his grandmother’s dark curls—approached with his order pad. “Hey guys! What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have the chicken caesar salad,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my body screamed for pickles. “And a side of vanilla ice cream for dessert, please.”
The words were ashes in my mouth. I wanted the pickles so badly my hands trembled, but I couldn’t order both. Too obvious. Too pregnancy-stereotypical.
Robbie wrote it down and turned to Penny. “And for you?”
Penny didn’t even glance at the menu. “Turkey club, please. Extra sliced pickles on the side. Actually, you know what? Make it a whole bowl. I’m really craving them today.”
I shot him a grateful look. Penny hated pickles with a passion.
“Sure thing,” Robbie said cheerfully. “Mom’s in the kitchen if you want to say hi. She loves when you guys come in.”
As he walked away, I leaned back into the vinyl booth, the cushion yielding beneath my weight. “Thanks.”
Penny lifted his chin, a facade of haughtiness crossing his features. “You’re welcome. Though I’m going to need serious compensation for this. Do you know how much I hate pickles?”
“I owe you my firstborn,” I whispered.
“Tempting, but I’ll settle for being godfather.” His smile faded. “Why don’t you just tell Dominic? He’s going to figure it out eventually. Your scent’s already starting to change.”
I stared at my water glass, watching condensation bead on the side. “I’ve tried. I really have. Three times already, I’ve started to tell him, and then something happens to interrupt.” I stopped, frustrated at myself. “And then the moment passes and I lose my nerve.”
“But why lose your nerve? He’s your mate. He’ll be thrilled.”
“Because once I say it out loud, it’s real.
” My voice dropped even lower. “And real means vulnerable. Real means someone could use our baby as leverage or a target. We still don’t know who killed Thomas Wong or why.
What if—” I pressed my hand to my stomach unconsciously.
“What if whoever did it is still out there?”
“It’s pretty real already.” Penny said, then his expression softened with understanding. “Oh, honey. You can’t protect everyone from everything.”
“I can try.”
Before Penny could respond, Sienna Maude emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. In her mid-fifties with Robbie’s dark hair threaded with silver, she had sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing.
“Hello, you two,” she greeted warmly, sliding into the booth beside me. She adjusted her apron and glanced between us. “I feel like I haven’t seen the two of you in here in forever.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “We’ve had a lot going on.”
Penny chuckled. “Just the usual dramas of life. You know how it is.”
Sienna nodded, her expression softening. “I do, indeed.”
“How’s life been treating you?” Penny asked, leaning back in his seat.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Just keeping this old diner running. The gossip train has been chugging full steam since that poor boy turned up underneath Winslow’s.”
Penny’s eyes flicked to mine, and I answered him with the barest tilt of my chin.
“Were you or Robbie at the protest?” Penny asked, his voice taking on a loquacious tone.
Sienna shook her head. “No, we weren’t there, but a few regulars mentioned it. Seems like the pharmacy demolition stirred up quite a scene.”
Penny nodded, glancing at me. “Yeah, people are pretty riled up about it.”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces from customers.” Sienna sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. “It’s hard to keep up with everything these days, but customers won’t stop bringing it up. It really breaks my heart to learn that’s what happened to him.”
My investigative instincts perked up immediately. “You knew Thomas?”
“Not well. I was just a schoolgirl back in ’73, maybe eleven. But I used to do my homework in that booth right there—” she pointed to the corner booth by the window, “—and people-watching was always more interesting than algebra.”
“What do you remember about Thomas?” I asked.
Sienna’s eyes went distant with memory. “He came in a lot during the construction projects. Spring of ’73, mostly. Always ordered coffee, barely touched it. Just sat there looking… worried. Scared, even.”
“Did he come in alone?”
“Sometimes.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But I remember several times seeing him with different men. There was this whole group involved in the district renewal project that year—they’d have meetings here over lunch.”
My pulse quickened. “Do you remember who?”
“I couldn’t tell you everyone back then, but that mobster definitely showed up.
He runs that fancy Italian place downtown now.
” Sienna’s lip curled, revealing exactly what she thought of Vicente Antonelli without uttering another word.
“And there was this other fellow—always in dusty overalls and a hard hat hanging off his chair—must’ve been running the construction crews. ”
“And Richard Fairfax Sr., definitely. He was hard to miss—important family, always impeccably dressed. He and Thomas would sit together in that corner booth, heads close, talking quietly.” She hesitated. “The way they looked at each other… even at eleven, I knew that wasn’t just business.”
So Richard was connected to Thomas. That confirmed what we’d suspected from the photograph.
“Who else?” Penny asked.
“Robert Winslow, of course.” Sienna tapped her fingers on the table. “Though he mostly kept to himself. He just never seemed the same after his wife’s death, if you know what I mean.”
“And then there was your grandfather Joe,” Sienna continued, and my breath caught. “He and your grandfather Benji came in often. “Chesapeake was… intimidating, but he seemed protective of Thomas. I remember once seeing him put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder when Thomas looked particularly upset.”
My mind raced. Thomas had very personal connections to Richard Fairfax, Robert Winslow, Vincent Antonelli Sr., and my own grandfather’s circle. But who was the man who led the construction crews?
“Did you ever get the name of the guy with the hard hat?” I asked.
Sienna’s forehead creased with deep lines as she dug through her memories. “If I did, I don’t recall. But I definitely think he was the foreman.”
“Did you ever hear what they were discussing?” Penny asked.
“Not really. But I remember one afternoon—must have been mid-April—Thomas was here with the foreman and Judge Whitmore. It was unusual to me because the judge never ate at the diner before. Thomas was practically shaking, telling them he couldn’t be part of whatever they were planning.
The judge kept trying to calm him down, saying they’d handle everything, but Thomas just kept saying ‘This isn’t right. I won’t be part of it.’”
“Part of what?” Penny leaned forward.
“I don’t know. I had to finish my homework and I wanted to play outside before it got dark.” Sienna’s expression turned sad. “About two weeks later, Thomas disappeared. And everyone acted like he’d just moved away. Being a kid, I just assumed they were right. Looking back on it now…”
Robbie arrived with our food, setting down my salad and ice cream, then placing an enormous bowl of pickles in front of Penny, who visibly fought back a grimace.
As soon as they both walked away, we executed our food swap with practiced ease—I slid my ice cream toward Penny while he pushed the pickle bowl in my direction.
I speared a pickle with my fork and took a bite, the sour crunch satisfying the craving instantly.
I moaned.
“You’re making obscene noises,” Penny observed, dutifully taking a small spoonful of the ice cream while I combined a pickle with vanilla in the most satisfying bite imaginable. Heaven.
“I can’t help it. This is exactly what I needed.”
“The food or the information?”
“Both.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “So we already know Thomas was connected to multiple men who were all involved in the district renewal project. Richard Fairfax, Judge Whitmore, Robert Winslow, Vicente Antonelli, my grandfathers, and this foreman guy, whoever he was…”
“Any of them could be the baby’s father,” Penny said quietly. “Excepting Joe, of course. I don’t believe he’d step out on your grandfather like that.”
I nodded. I didn’t believe it either.
“Which leaves us with five suspects...” I said while alternating between salad and my forbidden craving combination.
“What were they planning that he didn’t want a part of?” Penny asked before taking a hearty bite of his club sandwich.
I thought about the timeline. “Spring of 1973. The big preservation deal. Richard’s marriage to Caroline Pemberton happened not long after Thomas disappeared.”
“The pregnancy would have threatened the engagement.” Penny’s jaw worked as he chewed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. “And that cost Thomas his life?”
“Maybe. But based on what Sienna said she overheard, I’m thinking Thomas discovered something illegal about the development deal and threatened to expose it.
” I took another bite of ice cream before surreptitiously following it with a pickle slice.
“We need to find out what that renewal project actually involved. Who benefited? Who had the most to lose if Thomas talked?”
My phone buzzed. A text from Dominic:
How’s lunch? Want me to pick you up?
I typed back:
Good. Getting a ride home with Marcus.
Another message immediately followed:
I’ll text Marcus and give him the night off.
My lips curved upward, a rush of warmth spreading through my chest.
“So,” Penny said, drawing my attention away from my phone, “I’m going to the Fairfax mansion tonight. Gonna be doing more work on the historical fashion exhibit.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“God, yes. Please.” Penny’s relief was palpable. “I won’t have to be alone with Sebastian and Victor.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Have they been inappropriate?”
“No, they’ve been perfect gentlemen.” Penny’s spoon hovered above our melting ice cream, its tip just barely dimpling the surface. “Sebastian is… warm. Friendly. All charm and easy conversation. Makes me feel welcome, asks about my work, genuinely interested.”
“And Victor?”
“Cold. Emotionally stunted. Very controlled.” Penny’s voice dropped. “Like he’s watching everything, calculating. It’s unnerving.”
“Sounds like a fun dynamic.”
“It’s complicated.” He paused. “And to make it even more complicated, the master of the manor has returned.”
I crunched into another pickle slice, the vinegary tang flooding my mouth as I chewed. “Richard’s back? What’s he like now that, you know… Thomas’ remains have been found?”
“As cold and emotionally stunted as Victor, maybe more so.” Penny shuddered. “Spends most of his time in that old greenhouse on the estate grounds. Sebastian says he’s been holed up there for days, barely speaking to anyone. Very Bronte, if you ask me.”
Richard Fairfax Sr. One of the potential fathers of Thomas’s baby, and possibly one of the last people to see home alive. Maybe even the last.
I needed to talk to him.
“I’ll come with you,” I said. “The fashion exhibit sounds fascinating, and I’d love to see the greenhouse.”
“Thank you.” Penny’s gratitude was genuine. “Having you there will make everything less awkward.”
I finished the last pickle, the craving finally satisfied. My body hummed with contentment—both from appeased pregnancy hormones and new information about Thomas’s final weeks.
My hand went to my stomach, that protective gesture I couldn’t suppress. I understood Thomas’s fear now in a way I hadn’t before. The vulnerability of carrying something precious.
But unlike Thomas, I wasn’t alone.
I had Dominic. I had Penny. I had a community.
“Ready to go?” Penny asked, standing and stretching.
I nodded, signaling Robbie. “You paid last time, so this one’s on me.”
I swiped my card through the reader Robbie brought to our table, then added a generous tip before signing the receipt.
As we walked out into the cold December afternoon, the Historical District’s Christmas lights twinkled cheerfully along Main Street.
Somewhere in this picturesque community, lurked a killer. Someone who’d walked free for fifty years, their secret buried with their victim.
But secrets didn’t stay buried forever.
My baby deserved to grow up in a world where justice mattered. Where murdered omegas got answers, even fifty years later.
Whatever it took, I’d give them that world.