Page 49 of The Rainbow Recipe
“He doesn’t care. He didn’t even attempt to let me know where he was while a killer was running loose! What was I supposed to do?” Her hair in its natural state of brown frizz with a silver streak off her forehead, Pris stomped into the kitchen. She checked that the twins were occupied, then headed for the refrigerator.
“You have proof that Vincent Gladwell is a killer?” Evie asked with interest. “But if he was in Italy, he couldn’t have had anything to do with the fire here.”
“Minions. He has minions.” Pris angrily flung bacon on the counter.
“You have no proof. Why would he kill his own daughter? That makes no sense.” Jax stayed out of the way while Pris emptied the refrigerator.
“I didn’t say he killed his daughter. He could have, though. He was there when KK died. He aided and abetted the limoncello episode.”
“I’ll leave y’all to solve the case, shall I? I need to get dressed. Loretta, make the so-called adults keep their voices down so they don’t disturb the kiddos.” Evie shuffled off upstairs.
Rube apparently hadn’t come home last night or he’d have been in the refrigerator by now as well. He hadn’t been home the night before either. Maybe he and Larraine had figured out how a flashy fashionista and a professorial nerd could be a couple.
Pondering why people killed before she showered just wasn’t happening. She’d much rather contemplate romance.
But if Vincent Gladwell returned to town, she’d sic her family on him and let them figure out what made him tick.
Dante,over the English Channel
Dante’sfirst reaction to Pris’s departure with his children had been to book the first seat to the states that he could find.
Then, after reading all the texts and listening to the voice mails he’d missed, he’d taken a step back and called Leo. He’d been too late to catch Vincent and Matt Gladwell. As usual, they’d only been in for a day.
He stretched his stiff leg in the front bulwark row and hooked his phone up to the plane’s wi-fi. He had enough frequent flyer miles to go anywhere, anytime, in any fashion he liked, but a flight to the states required that he keep his leg up. That had necessitated a little more juggling and led to another decision. This flight was taking him to London.
While he’d been at the airport, Pris had texted him that she’d arrived in Atlanta, so he knew they were safely with family by now. Before he’d left home, he had checked on the address of the shell company Pris had been concerned about, confirming that yes, the office was a dirt lot. Combining that with the knowledge the Gladwells were in Italy, Dante had made his rash decision to go to London first.
Pris would probably throw that in his face too. But someone had to find Lucia and ask what the hell was going on. He didn’t suffer Pris’s paranoia about Vincent, but Leo had been evasive and uneasy when Dante had asked questions about the man who bought his oil.
Arriving at Gatwick, he called Pris while looking for the cousin who had promised to pick him up. Managing a crutch and luggage on the tube was too much hassle.
The phone call to Pris went to voice mail.
Despite the aggravation of feeling helpless, he was almost grateful that his snickering cousin teased him by bringing a wheelchair. Once they had his luggage and were in the car, Dante called the rest of his family to let them know he’d arrived. They’d already divided up his list of Lucia’s addresses. The plan now was to hit them all at the same time.
There might be more places he didn’t know about, but he was making damned sure that every person Lucia had ever known was interrogated before he left the city. If her stepfather really was a danger to their children, he wanted to know why.
Twenty-six: Pris
Afterthought,South Carolina
“No,I don’t want to visit a bigot who spouts paranoid conspiracy theories,” Pris insisted. “I appreciate you finding room for the twins, but I’m not one of your spooky investigators, and I’m not probing a nasty mind like Jane’s.”
She threw flour on a wooden board meant for cutting meat and dumped her dough on it. Evie’s kitchen was utterly inadequate for anything except the basics, but Pris couldn’t stand idle.
And she wasn’t letting any more evil into her head or paranoia would become a permanent state of mind.
“Well, Jane’s still in the hospital. She can’t do much, but I suppose you’re right.” Evie looked out the back door, checking on the children exploring the yard. “Her aura is mostly murky fear and maliciousness. Even if she knows something, she may not know its importance. For our purposes, she’s useless for tracking bank deposits. I just wanted her to stir the cauldron, as she calls it. Although if arson investigators can’t determine who set the fire, we’ll need to test her truthfulness.”
“I doubt I can help.” Pris rolled the dough and used a cup to cut out cookie rounds. “The company receiving the deposits is obviously a shell if their office is a dirt lot, as Dante says. I can see Gladwell siphoning funds to avoid taxes, maybe. But why does he hate the twins?”
Evie’s Siamese leapt from the refrigerator to the counter and down to the kitchen door, meowing to be let out. Given that Psycat was one of their cousin Iddy’s weird minions, Pris heeded the warning. She dusted off her hands and let the cat outside, checking on the kids while she was there. She saw no intruders.
Of course there were no intruders. She had to quit thinking like that. She was home. They were safe. “Maybe it’s Dante that Gladwell hates, and he’s just transferring his anger to his children.”
The instant the cat set foot on the wide porch, Nan and Alex came running. They should be allowed pets. Dante damned well better arrive with a nanny so they could have one.
Evie followed Pris into the chilly November air. “Psycat usually avoids kids. Do they ever talk?”
