Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) Read online

  The front door was opened by the butler. J.J. had been surprised the first time this had happened. Butlers were not in her purview but Angelica had explained, as if it was of no importance, that there had always been a butler in the Portovino household.

  J.J. walked into the large open foyer as Angelica ran down the circular staircase toward her. She looked more like an excited eleven-year-old than someone celebrating twenty-one years. Her curly long dark hair framed an oval face with large brown eyes. J.J. admired the metallic leggings and multicolored long T-shirt she’d chosen, which were so perfect to her slender body. Not many could pull off that look. Well, maybe at twenty-one they could.

  “I’m so excited. I don’t think I can make it through the day without bursting.”

  J.J. laughed and grabbed hold of Angelica’s hands. “Then it’s a good thing you’ll be off in the city for most of the day with your friends. What time is your hair appointment?”

  “We’re doing the full spa thing first—mani-pedi, massage, lunch, and then hair. There are six of us and we’ll all come back here to get dressed. Do you think that making a grand entrance at nine thirty would be tasteful?”

  J.J. laughed. “I think nine thirty will be perfect.”

  Angelica pulled her iPhone from her pocket and checked for a text. “OMG, they’re on their way. Papa has hired a limo for us and it’s just done its last pickup. They’ll all be arriving here to stash their overnight bags. I’ve got to get moving.” She started toward the stairs, then stopped on the bottom one, turning back to J.J.

  “Thank you so much, J.J. I know it’s going to be perfect.”

  Here’s hoping.

  CHAPTER 8

  The extra tables and chairs was the only delivery arriving on time. The deejay showed up half an hour late to set up his equipment, the flowers were next to arrive, and then the decorations were an hour late, but fortunately it didn’t take that long to attach them to the walls and, in some places, the ceiling. So the team she’d hired were finished on time. The catering truck arrived an hour late, and J.J. was just about to call Antonio Marcotti when she saw a black truck pull around to the back of the house, followed by a black Cadillac Escalade, obviously driven by the boss. Sweeping past her and talking loudly to his crew, Marcotti didn’t give her a chance to comment. She backed out of the kitchen, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was all coming together. It would be fine. That would be her mantra for the next ten hours or so.

  And before she knew it, the time had arrived to head home for that badly needed break. She tried napping, but when that didn’t work, she contented herself with lying on the bed with slices of cucumber on her closed eyelids and Indie perched, kneading, on top of her, and tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. After about twenty minutes, she gave up and went in search of food. A quick protein-filled snack to keep up her energy would have to do. She found that eating a heavy meal made her sluggish when she needed to be alert. She grabbed a few individually wrapped Ghirardelli dark chocolate squares in case she needed to stoke her fires during the long evening ahead.

  J.J. took a final look in the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom. She’d decided to wear her sleeveless black crepe wrap dress, plain but striking, an easy choice, since she felt her most confident in it and was certain she’d need an extra dose of confidence tonight. She’d bought the dress when she’d still been working at the ad agency and had to attend numerous clients’ social events. The image that looked back at her said confident, in charge, and ready to kick ass. She smiled, admitting to being a tad over dramatic.

  Watching closely, Indie lay on the bed, curled up against the two throw pillows with quilted covers, their bottom halves covered in fur. “What do you think? Will this do?” J.J. asked and took the fact that Indie decided to lick his lips as an approval. Of course, he then proceeded to lick many others parts of his body, too. She shrugged and gave him a quick pat on the head.

  She grabbed her critical list, which had the evening’s schedule on it, along with her contact list, stuffed them back into the binder, and grabbed her large black satin hobo bag. The satin was a concession to the elegance of the evening, the size a necessity in her line of work. It held a four-inch-by-four-inch plastic container with everything from safety pins to Scotch tape to pens, scissors, and a screwdriver. One never knew.

  She drove through the front gate, wide open this time, and parked her car around back near the kitchen door at precisely six P.M. The invitation stated the event would start at eight. Again, the butler seemed to be waiting in anticipation of her arrival and opened the door before she could ring the bell.

  She wandered through the rooms, taking it all in, and then went through a second time with a more microscopic gaze. In the living room, she decided a vase of white and purple orchids would look better on a side table rather than on the grand piano, and out on the patio she checked to make sure there were no burned-out bulbs in the strings of tiny white lights that encircled the space.

  When she entered the dining room, where the large formal dining table had been removed and buffet tables set up in the center, she ran into a woman dressed in a black skirt and blouse with the Bella Luna logo on the front left side.

  “I’m Mr. Marcotti’s assistant, Kim Schaffer.” She held out her hand and J.J. shook it.

  “J.J. Tanner. Nice to finally meet you in person. This looks fabulous, Kim,” J.J. said, walking the length of one side.

  Kim allowed a small smile. “Yes. Chef Marcotti is always very particular about how his food is displayed. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to oversee in the kitchen, but please let me know if you have any questions.”

  “I will, and thank you for all your help and fielding my phone calls.”

  She’d found dealing with Kim to be the total opposite of dealing with her boss. Nothing flamboyant. No dramatic displays. Just a cool, almost dispassionate discussion of the details. That was fine with J.J. She felt she could count on Kim.

  By the time she’d checked on everything, she noticed it was just before eight. She saw Lorenzo Portovino enter the foyer and look around. He gave her a quick salute of approval and went back into his study. She heard some girlish squeals from above and watched as Angelica and her friends came quickly down the stairs. She hoped none would trip with the combination of heels and dress lengths.

  “It’s so amazing, J.J.,” Angelica said. “What do you think of my dress?” She did a dramatic twirl and her long chiffon skirt swirled around her in a mass of blues, mauves, and pinks. The sleeveless bodice had plenty of bling, set off dramatically by a wide black sash. “It’s my own design. Do you like it?”

  “It’s breathtaking. In fact, you all look quite glam.”

  “Just the effect I was going for.”

  All the girls began talking at once and then screeched as the doorbell rang.

  “We’ll make our grand entrance later,” Angelica called out as they retreated back upstairs.

  The butler waited until they’d disappeared and then opened the door. An early guest had arrived. J.J. disappeared into the library and let herself out onto the patio. She needed a quiet moment before everything exploded into action. It was quite easy to picture living in such a fantasy house, especially with the magic she’d helped to create. She heard the string quartet tuning in the background and took a deep breath before opening the doors into the living room.

  The next time she looked at her watch, it was eleven thirty, time for the late-night buffet to be laid out. She took a few minutes to watch the dancing and spotted Angelica, long skirts hiked up, shimmying with a dark-haired young man—her prince, J.J. suspected from the looks on their faces.

  There were a few people standing in groups in the dining room, small plates in one hand, juggling drinks with the other. She made her way over to the table and ran her eyes along it. Two large tiered stainless serving dishes held place of honor at each
end. She wondered what was in them and then felt a hot spot in the pit of her stomach. She walked slowly over to the closest one and cautiously lifted the lid.

  Funghi.

  She caught herself before crying out. That double-crossing Marcotti. She’d told him they couldn’t afford it. Several times. It wasn’t on the finalized menu that they had agreed upon. But, she realized, Marcotti was playing by his own rules. She carefully placed the lid back on and took a deep breath before heading into the kitchen.

  Marcotti was nowhere to be found, and Kim quickly made herself scarce by ducking outside. J.J. realized there was little she could do about it at the moment but promised herself she’d deal with Marcotti before the night was over.

  CHAPTER 9

  J.J. looked at her watch a second time just to be certain. Two A.M. She let out a deep breath and took a final look around at the foyer. All the guests had left. The entertainers, too. Angelica had kissed J.J. on each cheek and given her a big hug before wandering up to her bedroom, girlfriends in tow. Even Lorenzo Portovino had shaken her hand and said how pleased he was with everything. Time for J.J. to head home for a few hours of sleep before coming back to supervise the removal of the decorations. She hoped to have it done before the family arose and had arranged for a cleanup crew to arrive at eight.

  Now, to deal with Antonio Marcotti. She’d checked on the progress in packing up the kitchen and waited until only a few of his staff were still around. As they all headed out the back door, J.J. caught up with Marcotti and asked for a few moments of his time.

  He made a big show of looking at this watch and started to follow the others. She trailed him but then blocked his access to his black Cadillac Escalade. The three remaining staff, including Kim, hustled themselves over to the black catering truck and left without a backward glance.

  “I’m very upset with you, Chef Marcotti.”

  “How could you be upset? You heard the praises for my food. I made this event a success for you. You have nothing to be upset about.” He made a gesture with his free hand, shooing her aside and opened his car door.

  “I’ll agree it was all very delicious. But I will not pay for the funghi. It was not what we’d agreed upon. You will have to absorb the cost of the dish.”

  Marcotti placed his bag of knives on the backseat and closed the door, turning back to her. “Oh, but it is there, right on the contract.”

  J.J. gasped. “It is not. And if that’s so, it was added after the contract was signed.”

  “That’s quite the accusation. Who would believe you? They would say you were trying to cover up your own budgeting error. You are a nobody with a nothing firm. I, on the other hand, have a renowned reputation. You should think very carefully before tossing around any accusations. Now, if you’ll be so good as to leave me alone, I’m tired and want to go home.”

  J.J. clenched her hands at her sides, willing herself not to reach out and do some damage. “I, too, am tired. Too tired to deal with this deceit now, but we will continue this discussion. Believe me, it’s not over.”

  J.J. turned on her heel and stomped with as much dignity as she could muster over to her own car. She slid in and drove off without a backward glance. She couldn’t chance the possibility of being overcome by the desire to run him down.

  When she reached home she was still seething. She put the kettle on to brew a cup of chamomile tea and ran a hot bath, dropping a handful of lavender Epsom salts into it. Unfortunately, she didn’t have her copy of the catering contract at home, but after taking care of the morning cleanup, she planned to drive straight to her office and secure it. Who knew what he might attempt to do with it? She could picture him trying to break into her office, maybe even at this very moment. Should she dash over there? No. He wouldn’t do that. He was too sure of himself. He thought she’d kowtow and not put up a fight. Well, she’d show him.

  She grabbed her tea and stepped gingerly into the steaming water, sinking down with a sigh. When she felt sufficiently soothed, she dried herself and headed to bed.

  She was surprised when the alarm woke her at seven. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to get a bit of rest, but she’d underestimated just how tired she had been. She still felt tense, though. She did some stretches to try to work out the kinks in her shoulders, dressed in a comfortable long multicolored T-shirt and black leggings, fed Indie his usual mix of canned and dry food, then, armed with resolve, headed back to the Portovino estate.

  Her first hint that something was wrong came when she rounded the curve leading up to the entry gate. Two Burlington Police cars were parked, one at the side of the main road, almost blocking it. She could see more police cars and a police van farther up the drive, toward the house. Unsure of what to do, she pulled over to the verge.

  A police officer got out of his car and walked over to her, indicating that she roll down her window. After asking her name, he asked what she was doing there.

  “I’m an event planner from Make It Happen. I was in charge of the birthday party held here last night, and I’ve come to supervise the cleanup this morning. My crew should be arriving shortly. What’s happened?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Would you please wait in your car? I’ll get someone to talk to you.”

  J.J. did as told, trying to see as much as she could, wondering what was wrong. She dearly hoped it wasn’t one of the Portovinos, maybe taken ill overnight. But that wouldn’t call for all the police. What if something valuable had been stolen during the party? She checked to see if she had her lists handy. They might want to know whom she’d hired for the evening. After about fifteen minutes of numerous scenarios running through her brain, a man in a brown suit with a police badge hung from his breast pocket approached her car. “Would you step out of your car, Ms. Tanner?”

  “What’s going on? Has someone been hurt? Has there been a robbery?”

  He eyed her a few seconds before answering. “I’m Detective Ozzie Hastings, Burlington Police. There’s been a death. A murder, actually.”

  J.J. gasped and leaned back against the car. “Not one of the family members?”

  “No.” He took a few moments before continuing. J.J. tried to keep her imagination in check. She concentrated on his wavy blond hair that looked awfully long for a police officer, the obviously rumpled white shirt, and the blue striped tie. And his accent: soothing, one that could lull you into a false sense of all’s well. Obviously a Brit of some sort. She wondered how long he’d been in the States. His eyes sat over deep bags even darker than she imagined hers were this morning.

  He finally looked up at her. “I understand you were here late last night. What time did you leave?”

  “It was shortly after two A.M. I waited until most people had left.”

  “And you walked out to your car alone?”

  “No. I was with the remaining staff who catered the event. Bella Luna. What’s happened?”

  “Bear with me. Was there anyone still here when you left?”

  “Yes, Mr. Marcotti. He was just getting into his car when I drove off.”

  “And was there anyone else around?”

  J.J. shook her head. “Not that I could see. Of course, the butler closed up after us, but he was inside. Mr. Marcotti could tell you better than I if anyone else stayed after I left.”

  “That won’t be possible.”

  J.J. had that sinking feeling sometimes described on TV mystery shows, one that always lead to the same question and announcement. She had to ask it, though. “Why not?”

  “Mr. Marcotti is dead.”

  It still shocked her to hear it said out loud. “I can’t believe it. He can’t be. We were speaking just a few hours ago. What happened?”

  The detective didn’t answer right away. He appeared to be studying her, which made J.J. feel all twitchy. She willed herself to remain outwardly calm.

  “I’d like you to go do
wn to the police station at some point today to give a statement about the night’s events. Would you do that?”

  “Sure, but I’m meeting my crew here to take down all the decorations inside.”

  “Not now, you aren’t.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to speak.

  “We’re treating this entire estate as a crime scene until we have a few more answers. The decorations will have to stay.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until I say so.”

  “What will Mr. Portovino say?”

  “This is police business. Does that answer your question?” He stood straight and struck an aggressive pose.

  She nodded. “All right, I get the message. But you will let me know as soon as it’s possible?”

  He grunted as he turned away and strode toward the house.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning, J.J. went through it all again, this time for Skye’s benefit.

  “Oh man, that’s so terrible,” Skye moaned and sat back in her chair. “He’s dead. You’re a suspect. And we’re left with an incredibly high bill to pay, what with his conniving last-minute addition. I know”—she held up her hand—“I shouldn’t be so crass and uncaring. But it is all part and parcel. How are you holding up?”

  “Well, I was feeling fine. But what do you mean, I’m a suspect?”

  “It stands to reason. It sounds like you were the last one to talk to him, and you did argue. I think anyone who had anything to do with him later that night could be a suspect. I know you didn’t do it, which goes without saying.”

  “Well, thanks for that. I was a bit shaky yesterday, especially when I went to the police station to give my statement and then sign it. Just being in that building can make you feel guilty. And then later in the day I got the all clear to go back to the estate and remove all the party stuff. The police were still working out in the yard, and I had an escort walk me from my car and back. The same for the cleanup crew. I was lucky they were able to come at a moment’s notice. It was really creepy, though.”