Taste Read online

  Taste

  The Delta Girls: Book Four

  Juliet Madison

  Copyright

  Diversion Books

  A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008

  New York, NY 10016

  www.DiversionBooks.com

  Copyright © 2016 by Juliet Madison

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, email [email protected]

  First Diversion Books edition April 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-68230-051-0

  To Mum.

  Thanks for always believing in me.

  Chapter 1

  Sometimes, if you think about a certain food, focus on it deeply enough in your mind, you can taste it. I can, anyway. The sense of taste, like the other senses, is simply the firing of nerve impulses. An express train from the tongue’s taste buds to the brain, arriving at the destination of yum or yuck depending on the specific formation of those nerve impulses. But sometimes, I can also taste other things. Fear, for example. It’s like a gritty, bitter, hot sensation beneath my tongue.

  And attraction. (Yes I’m thinking of my neighbor, Leo.) Attraction tastes the sweetest, but with a hint of something spicy and sort of… raw—an indescribable flavor yet to be fully realized. But a new, unknown taste fired rapid impulses in my brain as I watched my sister Savannah press her hand desperately against the glass pane of the living room window.

  “You see Dad?” I asked, my heart thumping, a mixture of hope and dread confusing my emotions. Hope that he would give us answers, dread that he would disappear and leave us in the dark. Again.

  A craving for something sweet and soft bombarded me. Totally inappropriate timing, but cravings would often hit me at the weirdest times. And I knew that it was my mind’s strange way of giving me certainty. I knew that when I bit into a freshly baked cupcake I would experience the bliss of both the softness and the sweetness. There would be no nasty surprises (at least not if I made them; I was a damn good cupcake baker), and I would know exactly what to expect. That was what I liked about food: follow the recipe, and you know what you’re gonna get. With life, not so much. Especially with our gift.

  Savannah dashed to the front door and flung it open, her petite body framed in the doorway. She stepped to the edge of the porch. Mom and my sisters and I waited at the door, waited for her to relay what her eyes were seeing.

  “Dad! Please, tell us what happened! Don’t leave without telling us! Tell us everything, now, please!” My sister’s voice was high and urgent. She didn’t care one bit if any of our neighbors could see her out front, talking to thin air. Roach Place was like a haven for the grieving; almost everyone on the street had lost a loved one. It was Sorrow Row.

  I squinted in the direction she was staring, wanting desperately to see my dad, but I could only taste coffee. Dad’s coffee, his morning fix to get him through the workday. A taste he would never again experience, thanks to the injustice of the world.

  Mom gripped the doorjamb, not daring to blink. She was frustrated she couldn’t see him either, especially since she used to be able to see spirits so clearly. Sasha breathed deeply, sucking in air loudly, inhaling the scent of Dad’s cologne.

  “I can’t hear him. Why can’t I hear him?” Serena’s high-pitched tone relayed her frustration, too. Then she gasped. “Hang on!” I didn’t know whether to watch Savannah or Serena, or the empty space out front that wasn’t really empty. “There’s some kind of voice, but it’s muffled… Is that him?” She angled her ear out the door and smiled. “I can’t understand it, but I hear something!”

  For some reason, Serena hadn’t been able to hear Dad’s voice when he’d first appeared. Maybe it was her subconscious denying that he’d died. Not wanting to believe it. Savannah could see and hear him, even though, in her visions, she could only use the sense of sight. But it was like that with ghosts, when they were here with us in the moment; to Savannah it was like they were any other person in the room.

  Savannah spoke. “It’s okay, you can tell the truth.” Silence filled the gaps between our bated breaths and her voice. “I knew you wouldn’t,” she said, “but even if you had, I…” She stepped off the porch. “Oh, Dad. I understand. Don’t get upset.”

  Upset? The thought of my Dad being upset made me feel unstable and shaky. Then again, knowing that he had died made me feel worse, but I hoped that somehow he was at peace, at least some of the time, wherever he was.

  “Who, Dad, who?”

  My eyes alternated between Savannah and Serena, desperate to know what he was saying.

  “What do you mean you can’t remember? …Hidden? Where?”

  Argh! This was painful.

  “But do you remember, you know, how you, um… died?” Savannah’s body morphed from still to agitated, her fingers twisting the hem of her top like Serena’s often did. “But I am. I am ready! We all are. We need to know!” She turned to face us briefly, the audience to her invisible show. “Dad? Wait!” She rushed forward. “Let me see your shirt, don’t fade away!”

  Oh my God. The shirt or jacket that Savvy had noticed him wearing the first time she saw him. When she’d described it, Mom had said it didn’t belong to him, yet he must have been wearing it when he died.

  Savannah’s hand rose up in front of her, as though trying to touch something. Talia’s hand rose too, reaching forward, gently hovering in front of her.

  The logo, she’s trying to see the logo.

  If she could memorize it, it could provide a link to Dad’s killer, or killers.

  Savvy’s hand dropped suddenly, and so did her shoulders. “Dad…” Her voice was barely audible.

  Talia grasped Sasha’s shoulders when she tried to dash outside. “Wait, give her time.”

  We needed Savvy to process whatever she’d seen, and heard. If we interrupted her she could lose it, like waking and forgetting a dream.

  Mom took what sounded like her first breath since Savannah had gone outside.

  Savannah came inside, and we all sat around the couches as Savvy picked up a scrap of paper and started sketching. “Before I forget,” she said. She finished and held up a rough drawing of two letters merging together, m and w, and what looked like an outline of a mountain around them. “We’ll have to Google it,” she said.

  “But what did he say?” Serena asked. “I could actually hear something but couldn’t make it out.”

  Savannah’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, tell us first! Tell us everything,” I said.

  Savvy looked at Mom. “You were right about something, Mom. He was ashamed, but not for the reason you thought.”

  Mom’s hand went to her chest.

  “He didn’t get involved with anything shady on purpose, but what he thought was some legit casual work outside his normal business operations turned out to be not so legit after all. By the time he realized, he was in too deep.” Savannah sighed. “He was ashamed. Felt stupid for not seeing the truth, or that maybe he didn’t want to see the truth. He said he just wanted the extra cash to put toward your anniversary vacation and support the family.”

  I could practically see Mom’s heart in her eyes, they were so open and sad, so raw and vulnerable. I slid my arm around her waist.

  “So, this work he did led to his disappearance?” Serena asked. “Wouldn’t the police have checked his receipts and invoices and records and looked into all the people he had dealings with?”

 
“There was no record of this.” Savvy sighed again. “It was all paid in cash—decent cash, he said. Something about the guys wanting to avoid some tax penalty or something, but obviously they wanted to avoid a lot more than that.”

  “Guys? You mean he told you who they were?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “He can’t remember. Said something about them being hidden, but when he tries to recover the memory, it fragments, and he feels himself fading away.”

  Now my heart was opening wide, urgently needing comfort and answers and truth. “And what was the part about being ready?”

  Savannah rubbed her temples, her short black fingernails as dark as her eyes. “He said we’re not ready to know what happened to him. And that it’s not going to help find him anyway, because he doesn’t know where his body is.”

  My mind tried to comprehend that. Dad knew how to visit us, he knew how he died, but didn’t know where his final resting place was. Why was it that the one piece of information we needed above all else, in order to finally lay him to rest, continued to elude us? I hugged a cushion to my chest and squeezed its soft, comforting texture.

  “He said he gets glimpses sometimes, like we do, of things. Clues that may lead to his whereabouts. But they don’t make sense.”

  “Like what? Maybe we can make sense of them?” Serena suggested.

  “He didn’t say. There was so much I was trying to get him to tell me, it was all a little overwhelming. I wish he would’ve stayed longer!” Her gaze moved back to the door, now closed.

  I glanced at Mom, who fiddled with the wedding ring that hung from her necklace. “It’s probably hard for him,” she said. “It’s probably as confusing for him as it is for us.”

  I didn’t know whether she was trying to reassure us, or herself.

  Serena’s hands trembled. She brought them to her face. “It must be bad, what happened to him. Really bad. If he doesn’t want to tell us.”

  “Serena, don’t say that.” Sasha crossed her arms and looked away. Mom moved close to her and rubbed her back. Sasha was still sensitive and vulnerable after her attack, and now she had more to deal with. More progress with Dad’s situation, but more uncertainty as well.

  My people-pleaser instincts took over, and I stood. “I think I should go make us something nice to eat. Serious conversations call for serious calories, yeah?”

  Mom offered a tiny smile. “Honey, it’s almost time to get dinner organized, so we’ll just make that. Together. All the ingredients are ready to go.” Mom stood too.

  As if signaling that we’d had enough discussion for one day, the sound of a door closing could be heard from outside. I peered out the front window. Leo, in his chef’s uniform, got into his car in a hurry. It looked like he was running late for work. Or maybe he had already been at work and had dashed home to do something on his break and now had to get back. Maybe he had met up with that woman from work that Savannah mentioned a little while ago, and now he was running late because they had spent too long talking and laughing and being all friendly and maybe even…

  Oh man, what am I doing to myself?

  I should just speak to him. Properly. One day. I should strike up a conversation about food, since we share the same passion. That could work. But how could I do that without looking like a desperate, inexperienced teenager? Maybe I should pull a Savannah and go out there on garbage night and arm wrestle him on the trash can. Except, he was hardly around at night because of his work. He was hardly around at all. The only way to break the ice with him would probably be at the restaurant where he worked. But unless I—we—found enough money to eat out regularly, that wouldn’t be sustainable.

  I was so focused on watching Leo drive off, and imagining how to get into his inner circle, that I didn’t notice Riley approaching our front door.

  “Boo!” he said, his face suddenly appearing in the window.

  “Ah!” I flinched, then opened the door for him. “Sorry, I was off in la-la land.”

  “You were just entranced by my shocking good looks, weren’t you.” He winked.

  You, no. Your brother’s, yes.

  “Hey,” said Savvy. “You trying to pick up my sister or something?” She nudged her boyfriend as he entered the house.

  “Think I’ll pick you up instead.” He scooped his arms under her legs and lifted her effortlessly, and she made a surprised sound.

  “I think I could pick you up too,” she said.

  “You probably could,” he replied, pecking her on the cheek.

  “You’ll never guess what happened,” Savvy started, but Mom spoke at the same time.

  “Dinner for seven coming up!” Mom retreated to the kitchen.

  “That’s my cue,” I said, leaving the lovebirds.

  “Can I help with anything, Mrs. Delcarta?”

  “Riley, sweetheart, it’s Rose, remember?” she called out. “And perhaps you and Savvy might like to set the table?”

  “Deal.”

  “Um, guys?” said Serena.

  I stood at the entry to the kitchen and glanced her way, as she sat on the couch with the laptop.

  “I Googled the logo from the shirt.” She turned the laptop around and pointed. “Is that it, Savvy?”

  “Oh God, I almost forgot!” Savannah moved toward the screen and her eyes hardened as she examined the picture. “That’s exactly it. That’s what was on Dad’s shirt.”

  Chapter 2

  “Mountain Workwear,” I said. We scanned the search results. It was bizarre to see something for real that had only been seen by Savannah and her super-powered eyes.

  “So what happened? What’s all this about?” Riley peered at the screen too.

  Savvy filled him in about how she’d seen Dad. Serena clicked through to the website the image was on. It was a leading clothing supplier to various companies and individuals who worked in the trades—primarily construction, electrical, and plumbing.

  “Should we send them an email or something?” Savvy asked Mom.

  “And say what?” said Sasha. “Can you tell us why our Dad’s ghost was wearing one of your jacket-shirt things?”

  “We could just ask if they had ever sold one to David Delcarta,” I suggested.

  “We could,” said Talia, who I’d almost forgotten was there. She had the ability to seem invisible sometimes, appearing suddenly out of nowhere. Maybe all that meditation she was doing was giving her a new superpower. “But shouldn’t we take this to the police and let them investigate?”

  “Honey,” said Mom. “We don’t have any actual evidence to show them. The logo, yes, but there’s no evidence that Dad was wearing a shirt with it on it unless I change my statement after all these years and tell them I now remember him wearing something else.”

  “Well, could we do that?” asked Savannah.

  Mom gave a small smile. “I know you want to find out everything as quickly as possible, but we have to be patient. The truth is, I didn’t see him wear that shirt, and I can’t lie about it. Even if it means we can’t get their help with this.”

  “But, couldn’t we just, maybe sort of...”

  “Sav, what if I lied about that little detail, and it created a ripple effect and somehow stopped the real truth from being found out? We need to stick to the known facts and keep our… extra insight between us until it leads to evidence.”

  “Mom’s right.” Serena clicked on the various pages of the site. “But I’ll add all this to my flow chart.”

  Serena’s flow chart was now the blueprint for everything we knew about Dad’s disappearance, minus the ending. I hoped like crazy that one day we would get to add in that final piece of the puzzle, and lay both the flow chart and Dad to rest.

  “Okay, so it looks like this isn’t going to bring us that much closer to the truth yet,” said Serena. “There would be tons of customers who’d purchased the company’s workwear, there’s not much hope of finding out who they’ve sold to in this part of the state without police intervention.”

/>   “Maybe we could pretend we’re doing market research.” Sasha sat on the couch. “Call various local businesses whose people might wear this sort of clothing and ask them about their uniform preferences or something, I dunno.” She talked with her hands. “If we can find out if they use this brand, then we can narrow down some possibilities as to who Dad might have been involved with.”

  It wasn’t the worst idea. And it was interesting to see her offering constructive suggestions (as well as making jokes).

  “It could also be dangerous.” Mom spoke softly. “I don’t want you girls putting yourself at risk. You just don’t know who anyone is these days, or who to trust. Let’s keep noting down these clues and let them simmer for a while, let things progress naturally, and I’m sure the right way will show itself.”

  And that wasn’t the worst idea either. “Speaking of simmering,” I said. “Let’s get back to preparing dinner.” I glanced at Mom.

  “And we’ll set the table, c’mon Sav.” Riley rubbed his girlfriend’s shoulder.

  “But, what if–” She scrunched up her face at the screen.

  “Savvy, c’mon.” Riley gave her a look that she seemed to recognize. Perhaps one that silently said, “Not now. Stay focused, and don’t get too caught up in what you can’t control.” She relented, and they got to work on the table.

  I welcomed the pungent aroma of onions and garlic as I chopped them, and bit into a raw mushroom as I chopped those, too. It wasn’t exactly a cupcake, but I needed a new taste under my tongue, one that would remove the residue of coffee flavor and the uncertainty and instability that hung about whenever we got new information through our gift and, as always, new questions that could not yet be answered.

  • • •

  Ah, Friday afternoon. Nothing like it. Two days and one evening without school, and the freedom to do what we wanted. So of course Serena was at Damon’s house, probably watching The Big Bang Theory or debating whether romantic attraction was due purely to chemical signals in the brain or some other unquantifiable mechanism. And Sasha was at the harbor with Jordan, doing God knows what—maybe practicing their kissing techniques—while Talia was practicing her creative pursuits, constructing some kind of sculpture with odd random objects. And Savannah, Savannah was…