The Monet Murders

“Sure you did.” He showed me those big white teeth again. “You’re looking at Cupid here, Mrs. D. The god of love.”

Somehow that sounded about right, but Rossi was the last one I’d tell.

He stood. “Since I’m off duty, if it’s okay with you, I’ll go get something I left in the car. Be right back.”

I sat quietly, relieved to know nothing bad had happened to Paulo. As soon as Rossi returned, I’d ask him if Lee knew all was well.

In a minute or two, he sauntered in like he lived here, with a bottle of Chianti and a Leoni’s pizza box topped with a bouquet of multicolored flowers from a Publix market. He eyed the exquisite arrangement Simon had sent. “I guess you can’t have too many. You want to take these off the pizza box? If you’ve got a jelly glass, I’ll put them in water.”

I reached out for the flowers, sniffed the blooms and laid them on the coffee table. “They’re beautiful, Rossi. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“You planning to stay for dinner?”

“That was the general idea.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “If you’re feeling up to it. You look a little pale. The arm hurting?”

“Now that I know Paulo’s okay, I’m feeling much better.”

“He’s more than okay.” Rossi looked great when he grinned. It transformed his face, like sun coming over the mountain. “He’s been cleared in the Alexander case. So have you.”

“Paulo and I are both off the hook? You’re sure?”

“Enough said. We’re working on all our leads. That’s as much as I can tell you. You sounded worried about the kid, and I figure you’ve had enough tension for a while. Which is why I brought some relaxation with me.”

Was he kidding? Rossi was Tension City personified. Just being in the same room with him had my adrenaline surging. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t tired anymore. Either that or the good news about Paulo had me pumped up.

“Did Paulo call Lee?”

“No.”

“Then she doesn’t know he’s all right.”

“Yeah, she does. I called her.”

“Did you give her his address?”

“You know better than that.”

I ignored the reprimand. “Did you ask him to call her?”

He waggled a finger at me. “I’m the detective. I ask the questions.”

“Did you?”

“Of course not. Guys don’t ask other guys to do stuff like that.”

“Then she hasn’t been in contact with him. She’s still heartbroken.”

“For now, but not for long. That’s a Dr. Rossi prediction.”

“What makes you so sure?” I found his certainty irritating. Lee’s happiness was at stake here.

“The kid’s going to crack. They always do.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Rossi cocked an eyebrow. “Lovers, Mrs. D. Lovers. Now is it all right with you if I bring the pizza out to the kitchen? My hands are all over grease.”

“Sounds delicious.” I went to get up off the sofa.

“No, don’t move. I’ll open the wine and bring you a glass.”

“You don’t know where the opener is.”

He lowered the Chianti onto the coffee table and, balancing the pizza box on the palm of his right hand, he reached into a pants pocket with his left, withdrawing a lethal-looking opener, the kind with a sharp spiral corkscrew. I relaxed back against the cushions. I should have remembered I could rely on Rossi.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll castrate yourself walking around with that thing in your pocket?”

He stooped to pick up the wine and glanced over at me. “You wouldn’t like that?”

“I’m taking the Fifth.”

“That’s tantamount to an admission of guilt. What are you hiding, Mrs. D?”

A good question I had no intention of answering. I was hiding the fact that I wished he’d put down the greasy pizza box and come over and kiss me. But all he gave me was a wink. Damn him, he knew.

The juices that had dried up when Jack died were liquefying, swirling around inside me, ready to rise and froth and bubble out. Stunned by the suddenness of this realization, I sat without moving a muscle and listened to Rossi slamming kitchen cupboards in his hunt for wineglasses. How could I be feeling what I undeniably was? Rossi was Jack’s polar opposite-gruff, terse, irascible, unpolished as the hunk of concrete that had slammed through the shop window…and just as steady as stone, just as strong and constant. I suspected that, hidden within, he harbored a capacity for love that once tapped would sweep both him and some lucky woman away. True though it might be, I wasn’t ready for such an emotional tsunami. Not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never. But I had to admit, in the meanwhile, Rossi had me intrigued.

While I sat there immobile, entranced by thoughts that were turning my face hot, he returned, thrust a glass of Chianti into my hand and plunged the flowers into a glass of water. Then he disappeared for a moment and came back with his own wine in hand. “Salute!” he said, sitting on the club chair across from me. “I put the pizza in your oven to warm up.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, yeah. My specialties are sandwiches, pizza and cold cereal.”

I sipped my Chianti, looking across at him with what I hoped were not hot eyes. He sat sipping his wine, looking completely at home, completely in control, one leg crossed casually over the knee of the other. He had no intention of making any moves on me. So why had I even wondered about drowning in a tsunami? To get a kiss out of this guy, I’d have to go after it. For all his he-man posturing, he wouldn’t make the first move. That would be up to me. What an insurance policy he’d bought. For once I made my move, there would be no backing down. I kind of liked the idea. But draped with the sling, I was a wounded bird, in no condition to throw my wings around him and pin him to the floor. Or the bed. So for now at least, Paulo and I weren’t the only ones who were off the hook.

Chapter Fourteen

Needing to flex my independence muscles, cut arm or no cut arm, on the third day after surgery, I slipped off the sling long enough to drive to work.

Shortly before nine, Lee arrived, looking beautiful in the new blue dress, her eyes faintly shadowed with fatigue.

“You know Paulo’s fine?” I asked.

She nodded and upped her chin. Her bottom lip quivered, and tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. So he hadn’t called her. Before I could mention my conversation with Rossi, a UPS truck clattered along the alley, screeching to a stop outside the entrance.

From where I stood by the cash register, I could see the driver stand up from behind the wheel and reach into the back of the van. He stepped out of the cab carrying a large, flat carton. The dozens of china hearts and cupids I’d ordered for Valentine’s Day couldn’t be packed in a container that size.

After placing the carton on the floor in front of the cash register, the driver held out a clipboard for my signature.

I glanced at the shipping label. “It’s for you, Lee.”

She hurried over to sign for the package, her hands trembling as she took the pen.

The door had hardly jangled closed behind the UPS man when she disappeared into the storeroom, returning a moment later with a box cutter in her hand.

“I just have to open this up right now, Deva. I hope y’all understand.”