Chicken Caccia-Killer Part 7

Natalie moved forward and asked the question before Jordan could. "And who is the distributor?"

Jordan remembered that Emilio had asked Marco about the liquor at the party and that Marco had a.s.sured him it would arrive on time. And Alex had mentioned that Marco was the owner of the company supplying all the liquor for the festival. Obviously, Marco couldn't take the heat for the late s.h.i.+pment, so who was Georgette going to "have a long talk" with?

"The Petrone Brothers."

"Marco had a brother?" Jordan asked.

At the mention of Marco's name, a flash of sadness registered in Georgette's eyes before she quickly glanced away. "Yes. Bernardo," she said finally. "Their company is based out of New York City."

Finding out that Marco had a brother gave Jordan another avenue to pursue. Maybe there was sibling rivalry between the brothers or a long-standing family feud. That would definitely throw a little reasonable doubt Kate's way if they could prove it.

"I'm sorry about what happened to Marco last night," Jordan began, thinking it was the perfect opening to see if Georgette could shed any light on his death. "I've heard you and he were close."

Anger lit up Georgette's eyes. "Of course I was close to Marco. He and my husband were business partners, and he was about to marry my stepdaughter."

"Tina is your stepdaughter?" Natalie asked.

Georgia bit her lip before replying. "Emilio's first wife died of breast cancer when the child was five. I've raised her since then and love her as if she were my own daughter. Everything I do has been for her."

Including test-driving her fiance before the wedding?

Jordan stopped herself before blurting that out. What was the point in making this woman angry? They still needed information.

"Was Bernardo at the party last night?" Natalie asked.

Georgette narrowed her eyes. "Yes, he was, as were most of the people involved in the planning of the festival. Unfortunately, I had a business meeting in New York City that couldn't be postponed and missed it. I only arrived in Dallas this morning."

"And did Bernardo have a beef with his brother?" Natalie asked.

Georgette took a menacing step toward her. "They were brothers. Of course, they fought. Marco had a way about him that didn't sit well with a lot of people. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it your daughter who was having an illicit affair with Marco and pushed him off the balcony last night?"

Jordan reached out to keep Natalie from making contact with the younger woman.

"For your information, my daughter had no idea the man was engaged. So no, there was no illicit affair on her part. Although I can't say the same about you, since you were the one he sampled and tossed aside. I guess not everything you've done has been for Tina." Natalie's eyes turned defiant as she waited to see how Georgette would react to that remark.

"We're done here," Jordan said, grabbing Natalie's arm and turning her around. "I'll be in touch, Mrs. Calabrese," she said over her shoulder as she pushed Alex's mother in the opposite direction from the irate Georgette, who looked like she was close to committing murder herself.

On the way back to Alex's house, Natalie begged Jordan not to tell her son about the encounter with Georgette Calabrese. She was afraid if Alex decided to have a chat with her, Georgette might bring up the fact that Natalie was once engaged to Emilio-a.s.suming she even knew about that. It didn't take much persuasion to get Jordan to agree. Telling Alex would also be confessing they'd been snooping around, and he'd pitch a fit. Both she and Natalie would have to listen to a long lecture about leaving police business to the police.

It was after four when Jordan dropped Natalie off and made it back to her apartment. There was no news about Marco's death, and Alex and Kate were meeting with Hamilton later that evening to discuss what to do next.

Alex had invited her to stay and have dinner with them, but she'd excused herself, saying she needed to get her notes straight so she could begin her article for Thursday's Kitchen Kupboard. She was anxious to see what Loretta Moseley had to say in Tuesday's column, secretly hoping the woman bombed. As much as she wished for a job in the sports department, the culinary reporter gig had proven to be a great second choice for her.

And she would do whatever it took to keep the job, although being related to the editor did give Loretta a huge advantage. Jordan would just have to work harder. She grinned, thinking she had a few tricks up her sleeve, too. She couldn't wait to see the readers' reaction to the Italian Cream Cake Pops recipe.

c.r.a.p! She'd left so quickly after Natalie and Georgette had verbally attacked each other that she'd forgotten to go back for Carlita's recipe. Even though she'd promised not to print it until the festival was over, she wanted it in her hands in case Carlita changed her mind about giving it up. Her plan was to write about all the food and tease the readers with the hint that Carlita's fantastic recipe would be coming out in her column the following week.

There was no way Egan could can her if she had the good people of Ranchero clamoring for her next column.

Halfway home, she decided now was as good a time as any to get the recipe, and she headed over to the fairgrounds. Maybe she'd even get another sample of the sugary treat as a bonus.

Just thinking about the pops made her stomach growl, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since before noon when Alex surprised her with the meatball hoagie. Carlita had mentioned that her sister was famous for her chicken cacciatore and pizza bread. It might be possible to mooch a free sample of that, too. With a little luck, she'd get enough to count as dinner, and she wouldn't have to stop at Taco Castle on the way home. After splurging on the dress and heels for the party, she shouldn't spend the extra money.

It was just after six when Jordan pulled into the parking lot for the second time that day. She found a spot closer to the entrance and a.s.sumed most of the worker bees had already gone back to their hotel rooms. She hoped Carlita wasn't one of them. She got out of the car and walked toward the entrance, noticing that the Italian flag balloon flying above the entrance was now flapping at a good clip. At least the wind had cooled things down since her earlier visit, and the breeze felt good.

As luck would have it, she spotted Carlita as soon as she walked through the gate. Waving, she approached the booth.

"There you are. I wondered why you'd run off so quickly," Carlita said, wiping her hands on the same dirty towel she'd used earlier. "I still have a lot to tell you about my life for the article."

Oh, great!

Jordan forced herself to smile. "Good. I came back for that as well as the recipe." She giggled. "I don't suppose you'd let me have another taste?"

Carlita's face lit up. "Of course. I want you to rave about them." She reached under the counter and brought out the tupperware container. "Have two."

Jordan reached with both hands for the cake pops. It only took one bite for her to know that even if she didn't get the recipe right then, these little goodies were worth the trip back. After she devoured both of them, she declined Carlita's offer to wipe her hands on the towel and dragged her hands down the sides of her shorts.

"I wanted to tell you about how I came up with this recipe," Carlita began. "One day I was making my favorite Italian cream cake, and it didn't turn out so well." She frowned. "My oven was on the fritz, and the middle of the cake caved in. There was no way I could ice it that way, so I decided to crumble it up and make a dessert out of it. That's when I got the idea to turn it into cake b.a.l.l.s. It was almost worth the money I had to put out for a new oven to get this recipe perfected." She patted the tupperware, making Jordan wish for one more pop.

"That's a terrific story," Jordan said. "I'll make sure I use it."

Carlita reached under the counter and pulled out a notepad. She opened it up, tore out a page, and handed it to Jordan. "Here. I wrote it down as soon as you walked away. I thought for sure you'd come back for it."

Jordan s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from her hand as if it were made of gold. "My friend got an important phone call, and we had to leave right away," she lied. "That's why I decided to come back and talk with you tonight. The more I know about you, the better the article will be. I'd also like to include a small piece about your sister." She paused to scan the booths close by but didn't see another woman who looked like Carlita. "And you said she also has a booth?"

Carlita pointed to an empty stand across the fairway. "Hers is over there with the other food vendors. But she went back to the hotel already. Said she had a headache from the heat."

Jordan tried to hide her disappointment. She'd been looking forward to tasting the famous pizza bread. "Too bad. I would have liked to have chatted with her, too. It will make for great reading if I can showcase both of you in my column."

"Ginny will be back tomorrow morning if you want to come by. But you'd better make it early. Like I said, she doesn't do well in the heat."

"I'll do that," Jordan replied, thinking she'd get Victor to run out there with her sometime before lunch the next day. The man loved free food more than she did.

Taking another glance around the food court, Jordan spotted the guy Georgette had been arguing with earlier standing by himself near the beverage station a few booths down from Ginny's Chicken Cacciatore booth. She turned back to Carlita and pointed in that direction. "I've got to run and talk to him. Tell your sister I'll be by in the morning to get her story."

"That's Frankie O'Brien," Carlita said, her gaze following Jordan's pointed finger. "He's Georgette Calabrese's son."

Jordan had already started toward Frankie but turned back immediately. "Georgette and Emilio have a son?"

"Frankie was Georgette's son from her first marriage, and from what I hear, he's a total loser. No wonder Calabrese doesn't want him running his business."

"What do you mean?"

Carlita leaned closer as if there was a chance that the man she was about to talk about could hear her. "I heard Frankie's tried every job in Emilio's s.h.i.+pping business. Apparently, he hasn't lasted with any one of them. Rumor has it that Emilio once joked he'd pay good money just to keep the boy out of the business."

Jordan's mind ran wild after that statement, and she remembered bits of the conversation between Georgette and her son when she and Natalie approached them earlier that day. Georgette had said something about now being the perfect opportunity for him to show Emilio that he could take charge. Could she have been implying that Marco's death might be to Frankie's advantage?

It might not be a smoking gun, but it could be interpreted as a possible motive for wanting Marco Petrone out of the way. Marco had been about to marry Tina Calabrese and become part of Emilio's family. If Carlita was right about Emilio not trusting his stepson with his business, Marco would be the perfect candidate to take over. And from the way Emilio had been willing to overlook the man's indiscretions the night of the party, it certainly didn't look to be much of a stretch.

That had to make Georgette and her son angry, knowing Emilio was planning to crown an outsider as the heir apparent to his empire and totally disrespect his own stepson.

But was it enough to commit murder?

Anxious to get over and talk to Frankie more than ever now, Jordan waved goodbye to Carlita and told her she'd see her in the morning. Nearly sprinting to get to Frankie just in case he decided to leave, she approached him, out of breath, and tapped his shoulder.

"I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the reporter who was here earlier."

Frankie turned around to face her, his face pinched with irritation. As soon as he saw her, he smiled, letting his eyes travel up and down her body, making her wish she hadn't worn cutoffs and a sleeveless top.

"I don't know what you said to my mother, but whatever it was left her in a foul mood the entire afternoon." He leaned in close enough that Jordan could tell he'd been drinking.

She allowed herself a few minutes to check him out before responding. Frankie O'Brien stood a little over six feet and was of average build. She wasn't an expert, but she'd bet the man had never seen the inside of the gym, nor had he partic.i.p.ated in any sort of manual labor.

She decided to ignore the reference to Georgette and Natalie's altercation. "So, I've been told you're high up in the Calabrese s.h.i.+pping business. Is that right?"

The smile on his face couldn't have gotten any wider, and Jordan mentally high-fived herself for knowing how to b.u.t.ter him up.

"That would be correct. I'm in on all the important decisions the company makes." He leaned even closer, and Jordan took a step backward.

If what Carlita had said was true, this guy was lying through his teeth. And at the moment, Jordan was inclined to believe Carlita.

"Impressive," she said, not daring to say what she really wanted to. "So you're a big part of the festival?"

"That's right, sweetie, but I can still find time to party every now and then." He did another scan of her body, lingering on her chest before his eyes moved up to her face. "How about you joining me for dinner and drinks at the hotel right now? I'll show you how I let my hair down."

Shees.h.!.+ The man didn't even know her name, and he was already propositioning her. No wonder Emilio gravitated to Marco instead of him. But then again, Marco had a reputation as a womanizer, too.

"Sorry. I've already eaten, and I have an article to get ready for the newspaper." She hoped he didn't hear her stomach which decided to growl at that precise moment.

Frankie touched her shoulder and let his fingers slide down her arm. "Too bad. I have a pretty good feeling you and I would hit it off, sweetie."

Jordan gritted her teeth, thinking if he called her sweetie one more time, she'd barf. She had to get him talking about Marco instead of concentrating on putting the moves on her. She wanted to get out of there as fast as she could.

"So were you and Marco friends?" She watched his face, knowing his first reaction would tell the story.

And it did.

His brows narrowed into a V in the middle of his forehead. "Marco was engaged to my sister, but I wouldn't say we were friends."

"That's funny. Someone told me that Emilio was grooming Marco for a high-level position in the company. I would think that since you were going to be working closely with him, you'd be friends. After all, he was about to become your brother-in-law." She knew that was really reaching, but she hoped he'd take the bait.

"Friends don't sleep with your mother," he blurted before snapping his mouth shut and looking away.

But it was the perfect opening for Jordan-and she moved in quickly. "Did that make you mad enough to push Marco over the railing?"

This time Frankie didn't even try to hide his rage. "Listen, sweetie, I don't know where you're going with this, but let me set you straight. I was the one who introduced my sister to Marco. Why would I want to kill him?"

"So you were friends?"

"Business partners. We..." He stopped and smiled before pulling out a flask and taking a drink, then offering it to her. When she declined he said, "So what about tomorrow night? The hotel serves a mean ribeye." This time when he touched her shoulder, she moved away.

There was no way she was going anywhere with this guy-not even for a free dinner at the sw.a.n.ky hotel. And especially not for a steak. She hadn't eaten one of those since she was a teenager and her dad had forced her to try a rare one. The image of blood on the plate still gave her s.h.i.+vers. "Can't tomorrow, either." She took one last shot. "What did you mean when you said you and Marco were only business partners? Are you part of Marco's import/export business as well?"

Frankie stared at her for a moment then shook his head. "You misunderstood me. I never said we were business partners."

"Yes, you did."

His face was flushed with anger, his fists clenched at his side. Jordan had seen enough angry men in her life to know that the man standing in front of her was about to explode. She knew she should back off, but if Frankie O'Brien knew anything at all that might help Kate, she wasn't about to leave until she found out what it was.

"I misspoke. With Marco marrying into the family soon, it was family business," he said, simply. "Now, if you're not going to have dinner with me, I need to get back to what I was doing." He turned and walked away, leaving Jordan to ponder if finis.h.i.+ng off that flask in his s.h.i.+rt pocket was part of that plan. Maybe she should stick around until he was good and liquored up and got chatty.

Deciding that was a bad idea, she returned to her car, wondering why Frankie had lied to her-first about being a bigwig in Calabrese's company and then about denying he and Marco were business partners after he had just admitted they were.

Business partners in what? She had no idea, but she was darn well going to find out. She had a gut feeling it might be something helpful to Kate's defense.

A partners.h.i.+p gone bad was a perfect motive for murder.

CHAPTER TEN.

On Monday morning Jordan was surprised to see the older woman who used to occupy the cubicle next to hers settled into another s.p.a.ce on the other side of the newsroom. Given the woman hadn't said two words to her the entire time she'd been a Ranchero Globe employee despite Jordan's frequent attempts to make nice, it wasn't hard to figure out she'd probably asked to be moved.

Oh well! With the exception of her friend Sandy who worked a couple of rows over, n.o.body else had gone out of their way to get warm and fuzzy with her, either. Sandy had suggested that since most of them had been at the Globe since high school, perhaps they saw her as an outsider and a threat to their jobs.

Shees.h.!.+ Like writing the personals was the job she'd deliberately try to steal from anyone!

But if she really thought about it, she could see how that misconception might have originated. She'd only been on the job for two months when Dwayne Egan had called her into his office and offered her the culinary column. Although he'd done it because of her journalism degree and success as a sports reporter at the University of Texas, it wasn't difficult to see why they might feel a little snubbed because he'd chosen an outsider over one of their own. She wished she could stand on her chair and holler that she had no interest in taking any other job-except maybe a position reporting in the sports department-but she knew that would only further alienate her coworkers.

"Are you ready for the write-off this week, Red?"

Jordan snapped out of her daydreaming in time to see Loretta Moseley drop a box on the empty desk beside her. She prayed Loretta had stopped by to torment her and was not really planning to take over that spot. Competing with the woman was one thing-having her just an arm's length away while doing it was an entirely different story.

It didn't take long to realize that her nightmare was coming true. As she watched in horror, Loretta began unloading items from the box and placing them on the empty shelf above the computer.

c.r.a.p!

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Jordan responded, turning away so Loretta wouldn't notice how worried she really was.

When she'd agreed to compete with the woman who'd originally written the column for so many years, she'd asked Egan what would happen if Loretta won her job back. She couldn't quit thinking about his response. He'd implied that Jordan would be demoted back to writing only the personals-or worse.