Mousse, Moscato & Murder

by Jamie Lee Scott

  I looked at the money still lying there. “Sure. I need to get going anyway. Want me to take this to the counter and get change? I’ll leave the tip.”

  She put the edge of her cup over the ticket and money. “No, it’s all for Vicki. She’s having a rough day.”

  I walked Saylor to her BMW and we hugged.

  “We need to do this more often, but maybe not cupcakes every time. My trainer is going to notice.” She got in her car.

  “Fine, next time we can do vegan.”

  Before she closed the door, she said, “Blech, let’s not go that far. Steak and eggs works for me.”

  Mmmm, steak and eggs. I needed to cook breakfast once in a blue moon. Not like I didn’t have access to aged, black Angus beef and farm fresh eggs. My stomach gurgled even though I wasn’t really hungry.

  I watched as she drove away and tried to figure out how I could get Becca’s address. Pear was a small town; someone had to know where she lived. I bet Bob knew. I just bet he’d followed her home a few times. I shivered.

  On the drive home, I went the long way around and ended up by the park near the Russian River. It was a deserted road that turned to gravel and led to a great fishing hole. I wished I’d brought my laptop with me so I could sit by the river and listen to the water while I worked.

  As I turned the corner, I saw a car parked on the side of the road, almost in the trees. Normally, I’d have driven right by, but the driver’s door was wide open, and I saw something that looked familiar.

  Chapter Four

  I hated getting dust on my new Mercedes, but I could always stop by the car wash. I drove by slowly and pulled in front of the car, looking to see if it had a flat tire or something. Why would someone leave a car on the road with the door open? Were they on the other side of the car trying to fix a flat?

  I got out of my car, looking around for a person. I had my house key between my fingers like a weapon, so if I had to punch someone, I could do some damage. I was starting to like the idea of Saylor’s boxing workout more and more.

  I walked around to the passenger side of the car. No flat tire, but I did see a dent on the back bumper. Had that always been there, or was it new? No way to tell. I went all the way around the back of the car and came up to the open driver side door. I looked in and saw an apron from The Bent Fork. It couldn’t be from anywhere else, with the aqua and brown colors. I walked around the side of the car again to see if someone was there, maybe down in the ditch. No one. I looked for footprints. Other than mine, there were none. I went back to the open door. There were scuffs in the dirt, but no obvious shoe prints. I leaned in, trying not to touch anything. I pulled the hem of my shirt out and used it to cover my hand before I lifted the apron. Becca’s name tag was still attached. I dropped it and ran back to my car to call 911.

  I stood next to my car and shivered, waiting for the police to arrive. I didn’t dare go near Becca’s car again. The silver Honda was giving me the creeps.

  Was this still in the city, or was it the county? Would John be the responding sheriff, or would it be a deputy or a city cop?

  Turned out it was Pear’s chief of police who arrived first. She’d been newly appointed by the city council, and I had yet to meet her. This appointment wasn’t like a sheriff’s election; no one but the council and a selected few had a say in the position. The former chief had retired and the assistant chief turned the job down. Dang it, I couldn’t even remember her name.

  She stopped in the middle of the road behind Becca’s car and got out. She called out to me, “Did you call this in?”

  “I did,” I said. I stepped forward to meet up with her. “I’m Willa Friday.”

  She didn’t take my offered hand. “I’ve got it from here, Willa. Thank you.”

  “Don’t you want to know whose car it is?” I asked.

  “I know. You gave the plate number when you called 911,” she spat out the words.

  I wondered how deserted this road was that a car could have sat here for hours on end and no cops drove by, or no one called it in. Or had it been that long? Had the car been abandoned the night before or that morning? I mean her apron was on the seat, so was she on the way to work? Did she live nearby?

  “I said you can go,” she insisted.

  I had a few choice names on the tip of my tongue for her, but I decided it wasn’t the best way to start a relationship with the chief. “I know a little something about the owner,” I offered.

  “That’s great. So do I.” She walked over to the car and picked up the apron on the seat.

  She didn’t want my help, and apparently knew all she needed to know, so I turned, got in my car, and drove away without responding. Why couldn’t John or Deputy Ballic have been the responding officer?

  I clinched my teeth all the way back to my house. By the time I arrived, my jaw was stiff and sore. I kept seeing the chief in my head: average height, average looks with blah brown hair she had pulled back in a bun. She wore a hat and looked sort of fat. I knew I was being shallow; the bulk was probably because of her bulletproof vest. She might have been pretty if she’d worn makeup, I had to admit. But I didn’t like her, so I wasn’t giving her the benefit of my doubt.

  I saw Peter walking across the parking lot of the restaurant as I stopped in front of my studio. From here, it was a stone’s throw from almost all of the Vendredi properties. I could see the restaurant, the B&B, the winery, and even Hattie’s mansion at the top of the hill from the front of my studio. Oh, and my house. The set up was perfect, and looked more professional than it sounded.

  Hattie had wanted her son to stay on the property after he got married, so she built the house on the hill while he was in college and gave him the bungalow he’d grown up in. We’d redecorated the entire interior, walls, cabinets, furniture, everything except tearing out the walls. We wanted it to be our place, not the house Peter grew up in.

  My studio had been a cafeteria for the winery workers before a new and better facility was added ten years ago. It had been sitting empty until I started renting it from Hattie. Yes, she made me pay rent. I was no longer family, after all. I was just happy my divorce from Peter didn’t make Hattie hate me. She would’ve made a formidable enemy.

  Peter kissed me on the lips when he walked up.

  I looked around.

  “Oh please, no one saw,” he said.

  We’d been keeping our reconciliation under wraps, and been dating under the radar. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, although Peter had told our daughter almost immediately. She was over the moon.

  “I may have to break our lunch plans,” Peter said.

  “So that’s why I got the big kiss,” I said.

  “One of my staff didn’t show last night, and she’s on the schedule again tonight. I might have to cover a lunch shift, so one of my servers can cover her night shift.” Frustration peppered Peter’s words.

  My mind went into overdrive. “Who was your no-show?”

  Peter ran his hand through his unkempt salt and pepper hair. “No one you know. Just some college kid named Becca.”

  The color drained from my face, and I felt nauseous. “Becca Roundhouse?”

  He grimaced. “You know her?”

  I nodded. “She’s usually my server at The Bent Fork when I go for breakfast.” I took a breath. “Peter, she was a no-show at the bakery today, too.”

  The world started to swirl on me. Please let Becca be okay.

  “Well, she’s just a regular deadbeat,” Peter said.

  “No, I don’t think so.” I walked back over and leaned against the railing outside my studio. “On the way home today, I was being nosy, driving around town, looking for her house. Don’t ask me why, or how I’d know it was her house, but I went looking anyway.”

  “Willa, I thought you promised no more investigating after what happened to Tommy.” Peter’s face flushed and his brows furrowed.

  “I know, but…well, I guess I lied. And sadly, I found Becca’s car on the
side of the road by the state park that runs along the river.” I was choking on my words as I tried not to cry. “Oh, dear lord, I think something bad happened to her. I mean no one just leaves their car on the side of the road with the door open.”

  Peter stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. “I’m sure she’s okay. This is all just a bad situation that will end up fine.”

  I leaned into Peter’s shoulder, then looked up at him. “Don’t get mad at me, but since she worked for you, you have her address, right?”

  He stepped back abruptly. “No, Willa, no.”

  I stepped forward and kissed him. I leaned into it and pressed hard. “Please,” I said through the kiss.

  He pushed me gently back. “I know I’m going to regret this. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Every horrible thought I could think went through my head as I waited for Peter to return. Kidnapping, rape, torture, sex trafficking. All of the things you hope never happens to your child. I didn’t let myself go as far as murder. I couldn’t.

  When Peter came back, he walked around to the passenger side of my car. “Let’s go.”

  “No, Peter, you have to work. I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

  “Get in the car and drive. No arguing. If you want to see her house, get in.”

  I pulled my keys from my pocket and pressed the button on the remote start fob. Peter opened the passenger side door and got in the car. I got in on my side.

  “Go left when you get to the road,” he said as he was looking at his phone.

  “Just give me the address, and I’ll put it in my GPS,” I said.

  “Turn left,” he said when my car was at the end of the Vendredi property driveway.

  “Peter…”

  “I’m not giving you the address. It’s illegal. I don’t need any hassles. Just follow my directions and slow to a stop when I tell you.” He looked out his passenger window to avoid looking at me.

  “You think this is a mistake, don’t you?”

  Without turning away from the window, he said, “I do. But you’ll do this either way, so it’s better that I’m with you. You’d find a way to get into my office and get the address. You’re a sneaky little sucker. Besides, better me than Tommy.”

  Ouch. That one hurt. I’d never put our daughter in danger on purpose. Back before Thanksgiving, she’d gotten into a situation that nearly killed both of us. I was trying not to think about that.

  I followed Peter’s directions until he said, “Slow down.”

  I slammed on the brakes in front of a tiny white stucco house with a postage stamp yard. A single flowerpot sat on the front porch. The yard was tidy, but sparse. There was a car in the driveway parked a few feet back from the detached garage, a white Celica that looked to be from the nineties.

  I pulled to the curb and put my car in park. I wanted to ask Peter to stay in the car because this wasn’t his idea and I didn’t want him involved if Becca was home. It might seem like he was harassing her. I decided against asking and got out of the car. He could make his own decision on that.

  Peter got out and followed me at a distance. He stood to the side as I walked up on the porch and knocked on the front door.

  It only took a few seconds before someone answered.

  “Can I help you?” It was a young man I’d never seen before.

  “I’m looking for Becca Roundhouse,” I nearly whispered. I hadn’t expected anyone to answer the door, much less a young man.

  “She’s not here,” he said and started to close the door.

  “You mean she doesn’t live here?” I didn’t understand exactly what he meant.

  “Nope, she moved out last month. Think she got an apartment off Main Street, but I’m not sure.”

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “I’m the guy who rents this house. Why?” Smug little…

  “I’m just looking for Becca, that’s all. Sorry to bother you.” I turned to leave.

  “She works at that cupcake place in town. And some winery, too. Not sure which one. Maybe you can catch her there.” He’d opened the door wider and called after me.

  Before I could respond, Peter said, “We know. But she hasn’t shown up to her last two shifts. We were worried about her. It’s not like her to not call in.”

  Now the tall, gangly twenty-something was standing on the porch with the door wide open. “Did you call her cell phone?”

  “I did. Voicemail,” Peter said.

  The guy pulled a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, unwrapped the plastic cover and tossed it on the ground. He pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Talking around the cigarette, he said, “That doesn’t sound like Becca. I wonder if she’s sleeping off a bender.”

  Sleeping off a bender didn’t seem like Becca, either.

  I took a step back toward the guy. “A bender? Becca party a lot?”

  He lit the cigarette, took a puff and said, “Depends on what you call a lot.”

  On a whim, I said, “Do you know her sister Ivy?”

  He puffed again, like he was thinking about it. “Ivy? Sure, I know Ivy. Are you looking for her, too?”

  “No, but I was wondering if you’d seen her lately.” It was worth a try.

  He flicked ashes. “I don’t recall the last time I saw Ivy. Sorry.”

  I turned back to my car and walked away, ready to be done with this guy.

  “Thanks, man,” Peter said and followed me to the car.

  Side by side, I whispered, “I don’t like him.”

  Peter whispered back, “Judgmental much?”

  “I don’t think I like your tone, mister,” I said as I walked to my side of the car.

  “I don’t think I really care,” he replied as he opened his door.

  When I got in the car and started it, I looked back at the house. The black-haired boy watched us as we drove away. He flicked his cigarette onto the lawn.

  Chapter Five

  After Peter lectured me all the way home, I kept to myself for the next twenty hours. He was right. I was beginning to act like one of those women in Hallmark Channel’s mystery shows. Always butting in where it wasn’t my business. And this really wasn’t my business. Becca wasn’t a family member or a friend of the family, or an employee. Becca was my server at the bakery. But wait, she did work for Peter at the restaurant, so didn’t that make it my business?

  After a night of tossing and turning, I was once again jolted awake by an early text message. I really needed to put my phone on silent or set some sort of sleep mode.

  I groaned and looked to my bedroom doorway. “Are you texting me?” I asked Peter, who had just walked by.

  He stopped and backed up a step. “No, I’m getting ready to head to the market. It’s my day to buy fresh produce.”

  “Okay, have fun.” I sat up and moved my pillow to lean against it.

  Lucy jumped up on the bed and curled up near my pillow, purring. I scratched her between the ears with one hand while I checked my phone with the other hand.

  It was Saylor.

  Girl, here’s your chance to get involved and not seem like a nosy Nelly. There’s a search party meeting at the park this morning. Looking for your waitress.

  I jumped up. Then I looked at the doorway again. I didn’t want Peter to know I was out of bed. I didn’t want to talk to him.

  Yes, Peter and I lived in the same house. We’d been divorced for more than two years, but we still liked each other and we didn’t want to make Tommy split time with us. And even though we were trying to make another go of our relationship, it was still in the dating stage. We weren’t back in the same bedroom.

  I heard the exterior kitchen door close and assumed it was Peter leaving. Tommy never came home during the week. Almost never. And if she did, she called or sent a text in advance.

  I hopped out of bed and I sent Saylor a response.

  Are you going to help?

  She responded back.

  Are you?r />
  I didn’t even have to think about it, I sent back,

  Absolutely!!!

  Saylor wouldn’t have messaged me if she wasn’t planning on taking part.

  See you in an hour. They’re meeting at nine.

  Was it really eight already? That text hadn’t been as early as I thought. Tossing and turning all night sucked. And since I had Jacob coming in after the lunch shift at Vendredi, I didn’t have to wake up to an alarm anymore. Loved it!

  I dressed in comfortable clothes, like I ever wore anything else. Black leggings, black tank top, and a thin pink hoodie. I wore my trail running shoes, so I’d have better footing if we had to go into the woods or down by the river.

  When I arrived at the meeting site, the parking lot was packed. Not one empty space, so I parked along the perimeter, even though it wasn’t marked for parking. I grabbed my keys and my phone, and tucked my purse in the back seat. The windows were shaded enough that no one would see it in there if they wanted to steal something. The big city girl in me was always aware of stuff like that.

  Saylor waved at me as I got out of my car. I put my phone and keys in the pocket of my hoodie, and jogged over to her. She hugged me tight. We always hugged, but this was different, like she was scared. I could feel it. She hugged me tight and held on a little longer than usual.

  We were both dressed in black, and she looked so casual in hiking boots. It was strange to see her in anything but high heels. She pulled at the sleeve of my hoodie.

  “This is so cute, and so smart. You’re bright enough that you’ll be hard to lose.”

  “I wore it for just that reason. If I get lost in the woods, I’ll be easy to find.” I looked around at the people milling about. “Hopefully we don’t find Becca, unless she’s alive and unharmed. I want her to come walking up and ask what we’re doing.”

  “Me too, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.” Saylor looked down, scuffing the pebbles on the asphalt with the toe of her boot.

  “How did you know about this?” I asked.