Jennifer L. Hart - Southern Pasta Shop 02 - Murder À La Flambé by Jennifer L. Hart
Authors: Jennifer L. Hart
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her face. Was that because she was sorry she'd hurt the Tillman family or because she missed Jones? Did she want him back even now? Was that why she'd decided to dig up some dirt on me, maybe to edge me out and get back under his skin? If so, her plan was working, but somehow I didn't think so. She didn't look at me as though I was the competition, the way Lacey did, or with obvious dislike, the way Lizzy always had. Rochelle looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy.
No, I decided in that moment, she hadn't come to win Jones back. My gut told me that although she still had affection for him, she wasn't here to seduce my man. I relaxed a little as relief coursed through me. Then I recalled that he was no longer my man, and flinched. Rochelle wasn't the only woman in the room who'd hurt Jones.
Maybe I could make it up to him by getting Rochelle on board to investigate the arsons and, with any luck, clear his father. Though I had no hope it would bring us back together, it felt like the right thing to do.
"If it helps," I said to Rochelle, "you're not really working for me. You'll be working for Lizzy. I'm really not involved at all, only here for moral support."
That did seem to help, because Rochelle nodded slowly. "Okay then, I'll see what I can do."
Though I could tell it galled her, Lizzy shook Rochelle's hand and then slid her a business card with her name and cell phone number. "Call me the second you find anything."
Rochelle looked down at the card and murmured, "I will."
Satisfied she's gotten her way, Lizzy exited the room without a backward glance, assuming I'd be trailing her like a water skier in her wake. I wasn't nearly so sanguine.
Rochelle raised one elegant eyebrow in my direction. "Is there something else?"
Was there? I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say but knowing I had to say something. "Did you love him?"
She held my gaze for a moment and then uttered a quiet, "Yes."
I believed her. "Then why didn't you tell him you were married? Why not get divorced?"
She would have been well within her rights to tell me to mind my own beeswax. That's probably what I would have done in her situation. Rochelle took a different approach. "If you want the whole story, I'll give it to you. I've been trying to tell him for a week now, but he doesn't want to hear it. But I have a meeting I need to get to. Meet me later, say for dinner?"
Was I really going to have dinner with my ex-boyfriend's former wife? The woman who was probably on her way to hand over all the gory details that would ruin my daughter's newfound stability?
Though I'd only just met Rochelle, I thought I understood her. She did her job to the best of her ability and took pride in her work, the same way I did, the same way Jones did. Plus, curiosity gnawed a giant hole through me. Besides, it wasn't like I had anything better scheduled.
"Okay. But not in Beaverton." The last thing I wanted was for it to get around town that I was hanging out with Rochelle. I doubted Kaylee would ever forgive me if she found out I'd talked to the PI who might be helping some unknown person to ruin her life.
"There's a diner two towns over. You know it?"
I did. Their main food was a total grease fest, but they had excellent Kentucky pie. "What time?"
"Any time after six."
"Make it seven." Pops and Aunt Cecily would be busy until late, sharing food and stories with their friends. They wouldn't even notice if I had other plans for dinner
I nodded and then took my leave, wondering if I'd lost my last marble.
* * *
After the funeral, I'd decided to leave Pops's town car at the Bowtie Angel and ride with Lizzy, a fact I'd been sorely regretting. She'd grilled me over what I'd said to Rochelle in private, and she drove so slowly I could have walked back to the pasta shop faster. "I told you—it wasn't about the case."
"Was it about Malcolm?" she peppered me.
I cast her a level look. "What do you think?"
She glanced into the
No, I decided in that moment, she hadn't come to win Jones back. My gut told me that although she still had affection for him, she wasn't here to seduce my man. I relaxed a little as relief coursed through me. Then I recalled that he was no longer my man, and flinched. Rochelle wasn't the only woman in the room who'd hurt Jones.
Maybe I could make it up to him by getting Rochelle on board to investigate the arsons and, with any luck, clear his father. Though I had no hope it would bring us back together, it felt like the right thing to do.
"If it helps," I said to Rochelle, "you're not really working for me. You'll be working for Lizzy. I'm really not involved at all, only here for moral support."
That did seem to help, because Rochelle nodded slowly. "Okay then, I'll see what I can do."
Though I could tell it galled her, Lizzy shook Rochelle's hand and then slid her a business card with her name and cell phone number. "Call me the second you find anything."
Rochelle looked down at the card and murmured, "I will."
Satisfied she's gotten her way, Lizzy exited the room without a backward glance, assuming I'd be trailing her like a water skier in her wake. I wasn't nearly so sanguine.
Rochelle raised one elegant eyebrow in my direction. "Is there something else?"
Was there? I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say but knowing I had to say something. "Did you love him?"
She held my gaze for a moment and then uttered a quiet, "Yes."
I believed her. "Then why didn't you tell him you were married? Why not get divorced?"
She would have been well within her rights to tell me to mind my own beeswax. That's probably what I would have done in her situation. Rochelle took a different approach. "If you want the whole story, I'll give it to you. I've been trying to tell him for a week now, but he doesn't want to hear it. But I have a meeting I need to get to. Meet me later, say for dinner?"
Was I really going to have dinner with my ex-boyfriend's former wife? The woman who was probably on her way to hand over all the gory details that would ruin my daughter's newfound stability?
Though I'd only just met Rochelle, I thought I understood her. She did her job to the best of her ability and took pride in her work, the same way I did, the same way Jones did. Plus, curiosity gnawed a giant hole through me. Besides, it wasn't like I had anything better scheduled.
"Okay. But not in Beaverton." The last thing I wanted was for it to get around town that I was hanging out with Rochelle. I doubted Kaylee would ever forgive me if she found out I'd talked to the PI who might be helping some unknown person to ruin her life.
"There's a diner two towns over. You know it?"
I did. Their main food was a total grease fest, but they had excellent Kentucky pie. "What time?"
"Any time after six."
"Make it seven." Pops and Aunt Cecily would be busy until late, sharing food and stories with their friends. They wouldn't even notice if I had other plans for dinner
I nodded and then took my leave, wondering if I'd lost my last marble.
* * *
After the funeral, I'd decided to leave Pops's town car at the Bowtie Angel and ride with Lizzy, a fact I'd been sorely regretting. She'd grilled me over what I'd said to Rochelle in private, and she drove so slowly I could have walked back to the pasta shop faster. "I told you—it wasn't about the case."
"Was it about Malcolm?" she peppered me.
I cast her a level look. "What do you think?"
She glanced into the
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