Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,73

"I have not switched teams! I like the team I'm on. I'm just...unhappy about the lineup. Too many minor league players wanting to come to the plate."

"Nice analogy," she conceded, following behind me into the room. "And you never even played baseball."

"Can we forget men for the moment and talk about something serious? I think my mom may be in danger."

"Unh-oh. I saw Mrs. S. at breakfast and she told me about the toilet paper fiasco. Has she threatened to kill your mom? Trust me, once a jury gets a look at your grandmother's hair, they'll let her off the hook. It's a clear case of justifiable homicide."

"Listen to me, Jack! Of the three people appointed to judge this romance contest, one is dead, one is missing, and one is left. My mom. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?"

She regarded me smugly. "Of course, I know what that means. They're going to need replacement judges."

"It means someone might be planning to kill my mother!"

Jackie executed a major eye roll. "Didn't I just say that? Your grandmother wants to kill her, Emily! Do you ever listen to anything I say? This is just like being married to you!"

I sank into the armchair and scrubbed my face with my hands. "I thought I had it all worked out. I thought Gabriel killed Sylvia because of the animosity that existed between them. Some kind of vendetta or something."

Jackie sucked in her breath. "Vendetta? You think Gabriel is mafioso? But he doesn't look Italian. I would have guessed WASP. Or Canadian."

"I thought he went missing because the videotapes would prove he pushed Jeannette to her death."

Another inhalation of breath. "He had a vendetta against Jeannette, too?"

"I...I don't know."

"You think he killed Cassandra?"

"He might have...but I haven't figured out why."

"What happened to murder due to plain, simple greed? Are you letting all the wannabes off the hook?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't figured that out either."

Jackie flopped onto the bed. "You want to tell me again what part of this you've worked out?"

"Hey! This whole thing has gotten very complicated. If someone wants to sabotage the contest by knocking off the judges, why begin by killing two of the contestants? Why not just stick to the judges?"

Jackie shrugged. "Maybe Cassandra and Jeannette were smoke screens. The killer wanted to cover up the real murder, so he started by pulling off a couple of fake ones."

"They weren't fake, Jack. Two women died!"

"But someone made them look like accidents, so they could have been fake!"

Groaning, I threw my head back and stared at the yellowed paint on the ceiling. "None of this makes sense. The killer should be targeting either the contestants or the judges. Not both."

"Maybe the killer doesn't have the same classification skills you have. Maybe he's just lumping everyone together in a general pool and picking them off like fish in a barrel."

Eh! I hoped that wasn't the case. But I knew one thing for sure. Whether Gabriel Fox turned out to be perpetrator or victim, I suspected he was the key to this whole mystery, and I wasn't going to rest easily until someone found him.

"So what's today's strategy?"

"Today, we're searching for Gabriel Fox. Dead or alive."

Jackie clapped her hands. "A manhunt! A manhunt's gotta be more exciting than surveillance work. Right?"

"And a little guard duty."

"Euw, more diversity. I like it. Who are we guarding?"

"Mom."

"Oh, no!" She catapulted herself to her feet. "You can forget that. No way I'm spending the day with your mother. In case you're unaware, Emily, SHE DOESN'T LIKE ME."

"She does so."

"Does not. Haven't you ever noticed the way she looks at me -- like I'm a hologram she can't quite get into focus. And the only thing she ever says to me is, 'What a lovely outfit you're wearing.' She doesn't like me, and don't you dare suggest she does. It's taken a while, but I've become very sensitive to the vibes other people send my way. WHY DO YOU THINK I'VE HAD ALL THIS DAMN HORMONE THERAPY?"

I heaved myself out of the armchair and stashed some extra film in my shoulder bag. "Mom likes you, Jack. She likes everyone. Plus, she forgives easily, is always kind, and never holds a grudge. Nana thinks she's an alien."

Jackie folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. "She doesn't like me."

"She does so! Come on. Give her a chance. If you hang out with her a little, I bet you'll see loads of improvement with her conversation. She's really quite chatty at