Page 18 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Bella arched a blond brow, as if she thought he was doling out a bucketful of crap.

The phone in his back pocket vibrated, and he ignored it. “I’ll need to find a place to go run off some calories.” And exercise his K-9.

She stopped outside a closed door but didn’t open it. “Rockland Lake is only a few minutes from here. There’s a three-mile running trail that loops around the shoreline.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take Jax there.” He’d have to run that loop more than three times to get in his daily ten miles. “Do you want to run with us sometime?” He had a feeling once she was outside the Bistro, he could pull more information from her.

“I prefer to run alone.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket. “Besides, I’m sure you could walk faster than I run.”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay.” Time for a change of topic. “Have you thought of a name for your new dog?”

“No. How did you come up with the name Jax?”

That was a story he could never reveal to her.

All Port Authority K-9s were named after an officer who died on September 11. Jax had been named after John “Jack” Skala, a Port Authority lieutenant who’d been killed that infamous day. “He was named after a friend who passed away.”

“I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat, then unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. “This is our private banquet room. I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of it.”

“What does that mean?” He stepped inside. The room was about half the size of the main dining room, with no pretense made to give it the same welcoming ambience.

The walls were dark red and devoid of decoration. High shelving just below the ceiling encircled the room. The only decorations on the shelves were a few pots of fake flowers and strands of tiny white lights, some of the bulbs on which were out. Black carpeting completed the somber, secretive vibe.

She humphed. “This is where Tony and my aunt, whom I’m sure you’ll meet soon enough, have their special meetings.” There was no hiding the acidic tone in her voice.

The operational, tactical side of Jamie’s brain sparked to life. “What kind of special meetings?” he asked, all the while darting his gaze around the room, surveying it for places he could plant listening devices. But he didn’t have probable cause for that. Yet.

“Like I said, you’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go.” She headed for the door.

Again, there was no hiding the icy tone. Something was off here. “You don’t approve of this room being used for meetings?” He followed her back into the hall.

She flipped off the lights and closed the door behind them, locking it. “I always intended to fix this room up and turn it into a place where customers could hold private parties—birthdays, wedding receptions, graduations.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

Bella’s lips tightened. “I’m not the sole owner of this place. My aunt owns half—fifty-one percent, actually—and she won’t approve it. I can’t make any major changes without her consent.”

Jamie committed her words to memory for the report he’d have to write up for Jenkins.

She was aware Paola and Tony were holding meetings here and clearly didn’t like it. So was Bella part of the Mancusos’ operation or not? She had to be, had to know Paola was laundering money through the place. But there was a missing component. Like whether Bella Bianco was a willing or unwilling participant.

He followed her back to the bar. A cash register sat in the center of the rear shelf, flanked on one side by rows of top-shelf liquor, and on the other, a selection of microbrews. If his friend, Kade Sampson, were here he’d have an orgasm. Beer was pretty much all he and his K-9 friends drank when they got together. But it was the enormous cappuccino maker sitting on the far end of the back ledge that made Jamie’s heart zing.

“Based on what you told me,” Bella said, “I assume you know the basics. Pouring beer, opening wine bottles, filling orders brought in by the waitstaff?” When he nodded, she continued. “The good stuff is down here.” She pointed to two glass-fronted refrigerators, one stocked with red wine, the other white. Digital readouts indicated both units were temperature controlled. “I’m the only one with a key to these coolers. I unlock them right before we open every day. But no drinking on the job, especially these wines.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’m a beer guy.”

“No drinking beer on the job, either.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t help but grin.

Luckily, she’d turned her back to him and missed it. “This is Big Mama.” She rested her hand lovingly on the gleaming stainless-steel cappuccino maker. “It takes a while to get the hang of her, let alone make the flower, heart, and leaf foam designs our cappuccinos are famous for. My regular bartender will probably be back long before you have a chance to learn. Until then, either I or one of the waitstaff will cover espressos and cappuccinos. So hands off Big Mama.”

“Understood,” Jamie lied. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Big Mama. In the world of latte art, flowers, hearts, and leaves were child’s play.

“Bella?” Sierra set a tray of salt and pepper shakers on the bar. “Don’t forget to go to the bank tomorrow, and the AC is making noises again.”

Bella groaned. “Just what I need. Another bill to pay.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s too late to get a contractor here today, and getting one to show up on a Saturday is about as likely as Paola selling me her share of the Bistro.” To Jamie, she said, “If you have any questions, snag me or Sierra.”