Death by French Roast

by Alex Erickson

  I wanted to force the issue, but stepped around him, and outside the apartment, anyway.

  “If he says anything that might help . . .”

  “I’ll call the cops if that happens. But it won’t.” He closed the door in my face.

  I trudged back to my car, defeated. If Roger had killed Wade, the memory could very well be lost. Could I really turn in a man who couldn’t remember committing the deed?

  I wasn’t sure. But I did know it was time to tell Paul everything I’d learned.

  22

  Paul and I decided to meet at Death by Coffee. I was running on fumes and was desperate for a shot of caffeine. Mason was standing behind the counter with Vicki when I arrived. The moment the both of them saw me, they grinned.

  “Can’t stay away, can you?” Mason asked.

  “Nope. You have the stuff of life. I need it.”

  Vicki rolled her eyes. “One coffee with a cookie inside coming right up.”

  Mason stuck out his tongue in mock disgust before he leaned against the counter. “How goes the investigation?”

  I shrugged. “Could be better. It seems like everyone involved is either hiding something or they’re at the point where their memories are hazy, or worse, nearly gone.”

  “That sort of thing comes with age.”

  “You should know.” I paused dramatically before, “You do remember who I am, right?”

  Mason laughed as he pushed away from the counter. “Watch it. I’ll have you know I’m as mentally sharp as I ever was.”

  “Which isn’t saying much,” Vicki said, handing me my coffee.

  “Hey!” Mason’s hand pressed against his chest. “That hurts.”

  Paul chose that moment to enter, which caused Vicki’s expression to change from playful to speculative.

  “No,” I said, forestalling any questions. “We’re going to talk about the murders.”

  “Sure you are.” She turned her attention to Paul, an innocent smile on her face, as he joined me at the counter. “What can I get you, Officer?” Behind her, Mason stifled a snicker.

  “A coffee is fine.” He ran his hand over his face and then used it to hide a yawn before he turned to face me. “You wanted to talk?”

  “Yeah, but not up here. Let’s wait until we’re seated.”

  He nodded, rubbed the back of his neck, and then sagged against the counter as if his legs could no longer support him. Another yawn cracked his face.

  “You look a lot like how I feel,” I said, joining him with a yawn of my own. Darn things are contagious.

  “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Vicki returned and handed Paul his coffee. He thanked her, and then led the way to a table in the back corner. He practically fell into his chair, and I didn’t manage much better. We spent the next couple of minutes merely sipping our coffees and avoiding each other’s eyes.

  Upstairs, Beth was picking up books that had been left on the couch. She flashed me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before she spun on her heel to put everything back.

  It made me wonder how she was doing. She claimed that she was fine, that she was no longer bothered by Raymond Lawyer’s verbal abuse, but I seriously doubted that was the case. Once the murderer was behind bars where he or she belonged, I needed to take some time to talk to her. I didn’t want to lose her because Raymond was a jerk who couldn’t handle losing an employee to a neighbor.

  I set my coffee aside and turned my attention back to Paul. “Have you made any progress on Cliff’s murder?”

  Paul took a slow drink before answering, as if working out what he should say before he spoke. “Not really. No one saw anything, and no evidence was left behind. I’m sure the killer will slip up soon enough, though.” He gave me a stern look. “You’ve been leaving it alone, haven’t you?”

  I looked down at the bit of cookie bubbling up from the bottom of my cup, unable to meet his eye. “Kind of.”

  “Krissy . . .”

  “I can’t help it,” I said. “Jay Miller showed up at my place, Paul. I feel like I have to do something or else it will keep happening. I can’t live like that, not when I know there’s something I can do to help.”

  Paul’s face darkened. “You should have pressed charges against him.”

  “Probably,” I admitted. “He scares me. And I think he’s the reason Cliff was afraid to talk until the night he died. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Jay was the one who killed him.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Paul said. “Jay was a cop.”

  “And cops can go bad. I mean, he did break into my house.”

  It would have been easy for him to take offense, but Paul merely nodded. “That might be true, but you can’t go accusing a cop of murder without proof. There are those at the station who wouldn’t take kindly to the insinuation that one of their own might be capable of such a thing, even if he did commit other, lesser crimes. Breaking and entering and throwing around threats are a long way from murder.”

  “Buchannan would be all over me,” I muttered, thinking about how he always seemed to look down on me. If anyone would jump at the chance to lock me up for smearing another cop’s name, he’d be it.

  “Actually, no,” Paul said, surprising me. He didn’t elaborate on who he was thinking of, however. “Even if Jay Miller knows something about any of the deaths, you have to be careful with who you talk to about him. We can assume Cliff’s murder is connected to Wade Fink’s, but we can’t be sure, not until the killer is caught. And if you anger the wrong person with your accusations, it could make things harder on not just you, but me as well.”

  “I know.” I hated it, but he was right. “I’d already talked to some of Wade’s friends before Jay showed up, so I figured I might as well talk to the rest. I’m starting to piece together what happened that day, but I still feel like I’m missing something.”

  Paul didn’t look happy that I hadn’t listened and was talking to suspects, but at least he didn’t reprimand me. “All right, what do you know?”

  I gave him a quick rundown of my conversations with Lester, Hue, Zachary, and Roger. I did my best to lay it out chronologically without adding too much of my own speculation, but it wasn’t easy. I finished with, “I’m not sure if they’re protecting someone, a friend like Arthur, or if there’s some other reason why their stories keep changing, but there’s definitely something going on.”

  “I’ve talked to most of those men,” Paul said. “I didn’t get the impression any of them are capable of murder.”

  “Other than Arthur,” I said.

  “Possibly.” He sighed. “Look, these men are friends. They will protect one another to a point. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of their earlier omissions were because they didn’t want to paint one of their friends in a bad light. There doesn’t have to be anything sinister in it.”

  “Yeah, but two men are dead.” Granted, one of the murders happened over thirty years ago, but still.

  “And I don’t want there to be more,” Paul said. “We aren’t sitting on our hands here.” Meaning the police. “Buchannan’s been keeping an eye on Arthur, even though he does have an alibi for Cliff’s murder.”

  “A good one?” I asked.

  “Good enough.” He didn’t elaborate.

  Paul pushed his coffee to the side, hesitated, and then reached across the table to take my hands. “I know you want to help, but please, leave the investigating to us. We know what we are doing.”

  “So do I.” Mostly. “I owe it to Rita to help as much as I can.” Paul opened his mouth to say something, but I spoke over him. “I won’t do anything stupid. If I talk to anyone, it will be in a public place, and I won’t let anyone into my house unless I’m certain of their motives.”

  “Talking to these men could be dangerous.”

  I suddenly remembered my conversation with Madeline Watson. I’d forgotten completely about it after my chats with Zachar
y and Roger.

  “Jay’s dangerous,” I said, which caused Paul to narrow his eyes at me. “I don’t just mean because he scared me. I talked to Cliff’s sister Madeline on the phone. She told me that Cliff confided in her that he felt guilty for Wade’s death. She thinks he knew something, not that he actually did it, mind you. When she told him to go to the police, he said he couldn’t. He was scared, Paul. Who do you think he was scared of?”

  “That doesn’t mean he was afraid of someone on the force,” he said, though I could tell he was thinking about it.

  “No, it doesn’t,” I admitted. “But Jay’s been involved in this thing from the beginning. Every time something happened that involved Wade, he was there, and that includes the discovery of his body.”

  Paul sat back, a frown creeping over his features. “He was a cop.” This time, when he said it, it sounded weak, as if he was truly starting to wonder.

  “Consider it, please,” I said. “I know you don’t want to believe a cop could have been involved in any of this, but it’s possible, isn’t it? He threatened me, Paul. Why would he do that if he had nothing to do with either Cliff’s or Wade’s death?”

  He was silent, eyes distant. I let him think it through.

  If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was talking to the wrong Dalton. Patricia knew Jay Miller personally. If anyone could tell me whether or not he was dirty, she would know.

  But would she tell me? She’d already warned me off talking to him. If I told her that he’d shown up to my house, would she tell me everything she knew? Or would she lock me up for my own protection?

  “I’ll talk to Jay,” Paul said. He didn’t sound happy about it.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Even if he didn’t kill Cliff or Wade, I bet he knows who did.” Why else threaten me?

  Paul stood, leaving his coffee on the table, forgotten. “Go home and get some rest,” he told me, even though he looked as if he could use it more than me. “If Jay tells me anything that shines a light on what happened to Wade, I’ll let you know.”

  I rose and rounded the table. It was my turn to hesitate before I stepped close enough to kiss him on the cheek.

  It’s a credit to how dire things were becoming that he only gave me a strained smile before he turned and walked away.

  Why did murder always have to come between us? It would be nice if we could have a day where we got to enjoy each other’s company without having death follow us around.

  I sat back down and nursed my coffee as I thought about what I should do next. Sure, doing what Paul asked and going home would be the smart thing to do, but just because he was going to talk to Jay Miller for me, didn’t mean any progress would be made.

  But what could I do? I’d already talked to everyone, and I doubted they’d up and change their tune now, not unless someone suddenly decided to come clean. I could try to pressure Patricia and see what else she might be able to tell me about Jay, but that could wait until I heard back from Paul.

  Larry Ritchie’s name floated through my mind again. The last time we’d talked, I’d known little about how everyone was connected. Could he tell me more? He knew Jay, knew the Coffee Drinkers. Maybe now that Cliff was dead, he’d be more forthcoming.

  I polished off my coffee, and then tossed both my and Paul’s cups in the trash. I was heading for the door when it opened and Raymond Lawyer strode through, a storm cloud in his wake.

  I flinched back reflexively, but when his eyes fell on me, he didn’t lash out.

  “Ms. Hancock,” he said. There was no love in the address, yet it wasn’t full of the venom I’d come to expect from him.

  “Raymond.”

  He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I’d like to speak with you a moment.”

  My gaze flickered to the counter where both Vicki and Mason were watching. Mason took a step toward us, as if he might intercede before things could get out of hand. I gave him a subtle shake of my head before turning my focus back to Raymond.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

  Raymond motioned toward the nearest empty table. We both sat.

  “I won’t keep you,” he said.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. I knew it was a defensive posture, but I wasn’t yet buying this kinder Raymond Lawyer. He was usually yelling by now. I could almost feel Beth watching us from up by the books, but I refused to look her way. I didn’t want to divert his attention toward her.

  “I understand why you are angry with me,” Raymond said. “Admittedly, I haven’t been happy with you since you came to Pine Hills. Your nosiness has rubbed me the wrong way, and continues to do so now.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said. “I’ve only tried to help.”

  His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath before he went on. “I don’t approve of you running all over my town and getting involved in other people’s business.”

  Your town? I thought, incredulous. What did he think he was, the mayor?

  “Regina and I have spoken at great length,” he went on, “and I’ve come to realize that my antagonism toward you has adversely affected my view of those around me. When I discovered my former secretary was working for you, I came to the conclusion that you coerced her into it. I was wrong.”

  I blinked at him. Was he apologizing? “I . . .” My brain blanked. This couldn’t be right.

  “Ms. Milner is her own woman. She can choose to work where she wants. It is none of my business. I regret the distress I’ve caused her, and your customers, and will no longer do so.” He stood. “Good day.” He spun and walked out the door.

  I remained seated, mouth agape. Did that really just happen?

  Vicki and Mason approached. Both looked worried.

  “He apologized,” I said before either could speak. “Well, he kind of did, anyway.”

  “He what?” Mason asked. He sounded as shocked as I felt.

  “He says he’s not going to bother Beth anymore.”

  “Did he say why not?” Mason asked. “Not that I want him to, but this isn’t like Dad.” He glanced toward the door.

  I shook my head. “He said he talked to Regina and he realized he was wrong.”

  “Really?” Vicki said. “Regina?”

  “Something must be wrong,” Mason said. “None of this sounds like Dad at all. And to claim Regina as the voice of reason . . .” He shook his head.

  When I stood, I found my legs were shaky. “I doubt he’ll apologize to Beth directly—talking to me was hard enough on him—but I do believe he was being honest.”

  “Wow,” was all Vicki could say.

  “I know.” I wondered what had made him change his mind so drastically. Could Regina Harper of all people be that good of an influence on him? I couldn’t imagine it, not with how she’d treated me from the moment we’d met, but I supposed anything was possible.

  “Someone should tell Beth,” Mason said. “She’ll be relieved.”

  “You two go ahead,” I said. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” Just because Raymond apologized, it didn’t mean everything else would work out as easily.

  Vicki and Mason drifted up toward where Beth was hiding in the books to give her the good news. Maybe now things could get back to normal around here and she’d stop walking on eggshells every time anyone so much as mentioned Raymond’s name.

  This better not be a ploy, I thought. I wouldn’t put it past Raymond to try something like that, just to cause everyone to relax before hitting us with a fresh volley of vitriol once our guard was down.

  But if that was the case, I’d deal with it when it happened. For now, I had a pair of murders to solve.

  23

  “You.” Larry spat the word like a curse.

  “I’m sorry to bother you again, but I had a couple more questions for you.” I was standing on his front stoop, doing my best to look friendly. I realized I was already breaking my promise to Paul, and was talking to someone without backup, but hey, life’s full
of risks, so what was one more?

  Larry didn’t even try to act like he was pleased to see me. His scowl was deep enough, the lines might never leave his face. “I do believe I’ve said all I need to say on the matter of Wade Fink.”

  “What about Cliff Watson?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve heard about his murder by now.”

  There was a flicker of pain in Larry’s eyes before he spun his wheelchair around. “If you’re not going to leave without having your say, I suppose you should come in.”

  I entered his house and closed the door behind me. A bowl of soup sat steaming on the table. Larry rolled over to it, but instead of eating, he pushed the bowl away.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner,” I said. “I won’t take much of your time.”

  The strained smile he gave me said volumes about how he already thought I’d taken too much as it was. There was absolutely no kindness in the expression.

  “You and Cliff were friends, correct?” I asked.

  “We knew one another.”

  “That’s all? You didn’t join them for coffee every now and again?”

  Larry sighed. “I might have. We didn’t keep in touch much after I stopped showing up at the Banyon Tree.”

  “So, you did know Cliff and the others better than you let on the last time we spoke?”

  Another sigh, this one annoyed. “Sure, if you want to take it that way, go ahead.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Larry,” I said. “I’m hoping you might be able to help me understand why someone would come after Cliff Watson. I assume it was because I was looking into a thirty-year-old murder.”

  “I think you’ve answered your own question.”

  “Do you believe Wade’s killer also killed Cliff?”

  He spread his hands. “You tell me.”

  “I think so,” I said. “Cliff called me the night of his death. He was going to tell me something about Wade’s murder, but he never got the chance. Someone killed him before he could tell me, which leads me to believe it was all connected.”

  Larry leaned forward in his chair with a sudden interest. “He knew something?”