Mousse, Moscato & Murder

by Jamie Lee Scott

  Tommy pointed back and forth between the candles and the flowers. “This is not just an early Valentine’s Day. This is a serious date I am interrupting.” She walked straight back to the door. “I’m going to talk some sense into Gran. I’ll see you guys later.”

  Peter and I looked at each other as Tommy slammed the door behind her and was gone.

  “We did good, didn’t we?” Peter said.

  “I think we did,” I said.

  Tommy was the best thing to happen to either one of us. I didn’t want to say that she was the reason Peter and I were trying for a second chance, because doing it for someone else wouldn’t work. She was a catalyst. I wasn’t sure she even knew why we’d divorced. I was careful to never say anything negative about Peter in front of her. I hoped Peter had done the same. After all, even though we weren’t married, we were still her parents, and she needed to love and respect both of us, whether we were married or not.

  I thought about the last few years, and how Tommy had cried and apologized and said she’d be better. She was sure the divorce was because of her. Peter and I sat down separately and explained how it was our problems that were too much to overcome, and she had nothing to do with our decision. We’d been fighting so much after Peter had his affair that we didn’t think it was fair to Tommy to have to be around the tension all the time. For a few months, while we needed some cooling off time, Peter had gone to live up on the hill with his mom. That was worse than living with me. We talked it out and decided we didn’t hate each other anymore, and he moved back in. I’d never seen Tommy so happy, until she saw her dad signing the divorce papers.

  But we’d finally moved beyond the initial hurt and betrayal, and a couple of dates later, it looked like we were going in the right direction.

  Dinner was amazing, and the best part was there were no awkward silences. That’s a benefit of knowing each other; the silences were okay. We had so much to talk about though, catching up on the last few months of craziness. Even though Peter and I saw each other nearly every day, living in the same house, we rarely sat down and just talked. After dinner and dessert, we cleared the table, Peter grabbed a couple more bottles of Blue Moon, and we decided to give in and finally started watching Game of Thrones. We had planned on binge watching for at least a couple of hours, but the next thing I knew, I woke up on the couch with a pillow under my head and a blanket tossed over me. Not exactly the way I had planned to end my date.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even though I only slept on the couch for a few hours, my neck was slightly stiff when I got out of bed the next morning. But I jumped up, eager to have coffee with my daughter. I checked her bedroom, only to see that her bed was still made. She hadn’t slept in it. I knew this because she never put the pillows back the same way I did. Maybe she’d gone to Jacob’s after seeing her grandmother and decided to stay the night. The thought made me cringe, but she was a big girl now.

  I wanted to send a text message, but I didn’t want her to think I was checking up on her. Cutting the apron strings had been difficult for me, and sometimes I liked to pretend they were still attached. Not this time. I’d be good and pretend she was all grown up.

  I was looking forward to editing the photos, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed straight to the studio. I sat down at my desk, fired up the computer and inserted my SD card, ready to see my work from the previous day. I opened Lightroom to work on the RAW files of the photos I’d taken, and could see there was quite a bit of editing to be done. Damn, I thought they looked better than that from the monitor when I scrolled through the LCD screen.

  I flipped through at least a hundred photos, trying to decide which ones to use for the final product, and which to send as unretouched proofs.

  “You busy?” Hattie walked into the studio.

  I turned around from my desk. “Not real busy. I’m just trying to decide which proofs to send to the client before I start retouching the photos.”

  I pulled the photos I wanted to send to my client.

  Hattie walked up and leaned against the edge of my desk. “I’m sure you know that your daughter came to see me last night. Did you know she was coming? Did you call her?”

  I wanted to say that Hattie’s tone was accusing, but actually it was more curious.

  “I did not call her. Jacob did. Your son was in the kitchen of his restaurant ranting about his crazy mother, and Jacob overheard it. Tommy was so worried about you, especially after what happened to her, that she thought she would come and talk to you.”

  I could see the wheels turning in Hattie’s head by the expression on her face that I couldn’t quite place. “She’s a good kid.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  Hattie waved me off. “That’s between me and Tommy.”

  “How did things go with John last night?” I winked

  Hattie grimaced. “It went very professionally. He came and looked at the beer bottle and the cigarette butt, but was quick to assure me that they would not be able to use them.”

  I rolled my chair back, leaned back, and put my feet up on my desk. “What do you mean he can’t use them?”

  “Something about chain of custody.”

  Being the murder investigation expert that I was (cough cough), I should have known what chain of custody was. I gave Hattie a questioning look.

  “The way he explained it to me was that the police have to find the evidence, or a police officer needs to be there when the evidence is recovered. That evidence is bagged, logged and placed in the custody of the department. Anyone who looks at the evidence has to sign it out and there has to be what they call a chain of custody. That way the evidence can’t be tampered with and they know for a fact that it came from the crime scene or from a suspect. Us just grabbing the beer bottle and cigarette butt is fine and all, but they can’t use it as evidence and wouldn’t be able to use it if the case went to trial.”

  I sighed. “At least we tried.”

  Hattie agreed. “John said they have some pretty good evidence so far. But it killed me to look at him. He’s exhausted and he won’t admit it. I tried to get him to stay for dinner, but he declined.”

  “I noticed his cheeks look sallow and he’s got dark circles under his eyes. I didn’t look close enough to see if his eyes were bloodshot, though. But his voice sure sounded exhausted.”

  “His eyes would look perfect, anyway. He’s addicted to Visine,” Hattie laughed.

  I remembered what John had said right before he walked up to Hattie’s house. “He told me he had an interview with Austin, Vicki’s son, last night.”

  Hattie hopped up on my desk, and crossed her legs. “Why is he interviewing Vicki’s son?”

  I was really surprised that John hadn’t shared this information with Hattie. But then, why would he? This investigation had absolutely nothing to do with us.

  I debated how much to share with Hattie, but I realized if she had any new information, she would’ve shared it with me. We were in this together, at least for now. “Apparently Austin was Becca’s boyfriend. Go figure.”

  Hattie uncrossed her legs and jumped off my desk. “Now there’s a new twist.”

  “Did you plan to join me at The Bent Fork?”

  Hattie’s gaze was far away, as if she was watching a movie no one else could see. “No, I have some errands to run.” Then she turned and walked out of my studio without saying goodbye.

  I knew something was up, Hattie never ran errands. She hired people who ran errands for her. I finished making file folders for the initial proofs of the soda shop shoot, then headed into town. I looked at my watch and realized it was almost ten o’clock. As I drove past the convenience store on the main road into town, I saw a familiar face.

  I did a double take. It was Bob.

  As I sat at the stop sign, I debated if I should approach him. Apparently, I debated a little too long, because the car behind me honked. I decided to pull up and park on the side of the road by the gas station. I waited
for Bob to finish filling his tank, go in and pay, then come out and get back in his car. I knew what I was planning to do could be one of the most dangerous things I’ve ever done in my life. I hoped I’d get his address because he was driving home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bob pulled out of the gas station, turned right up one of the side streets in Pear, then turned left and made another left, pulling into the parking lot of the Crow’s Nest, which was a burger joint that opened at nine in the morning to serve the breakfast crowd. Make that the late breakfast crowd. They served eggs on their breakfast burgers with a side of hash browns instead of fries. It wasn’t a place I ate very often, though their food was delicious, and the menu extensive.

  I hung back as I watched Bob pull his car into the parking lot and parked. I sort of admired Bob’s car, a 1960-something Chevelle that looked like it had been restored to its original state, with the light metallic blue body. I drove past the restaurant, trying to figure out what to do next.

  I decided to go for it. The Crow’s Nest was a public place. How much trouble could I get into?

  I walked into the restaurant, which had roughly finished, wide plank hardwood floors. All of the seats were picnic tables with long wooden benches and red and white plaid, plastic tablecloths. It was one of those places where the rolls of wrapped silverware were in a pile on the table along with salt, pepper, ketchup, steak sauce, and even Tabasco sauce.

  I walked right up to Bob’s table before I chickened out.

  I took a deep breath, and said, “Don’t I usually see you at The Bent Fork?”

  Bob didn’t have a book or a laptop with him. He had a newspaper lying on the table that he hadn’t unfolded yet. He looked up at me. “Excuse me? Who are you?”

  I just slid my butt right onto the picnic bench across from him, inviting myself to his table. The look on his face said he wasn’t quite comfortable with that. I didn’t really care.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m Willa Friday. I’m a regular at The Bent Fork, and I know I’ve seen you in there a few times.” Or a few dozen times.

  Not quite cordial, Bob said, “Yes, I eat there regularly. I’m Sam Thompson. Nice to meet you.”

  I put my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my hands, like I was eager to get to know him, which I was. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in a few days. So weird that I would see you here.”

  Sam sounded as if he didn’t quite believe me. “Yeah, really weird.”

  “Is The Bent Fork your regular place, and you’re just changing it up?” I tried to make it sound conversational.

  “To be honest, I have a favorite waitress there, but I haven’t seen her car lately, though. If I don’t see her car, I go someplace else to eat.”

  “Becca, right?” Like I didn’t know the answer.

  “Yes, Becca,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure where this was going.

  “Oh, I know, Becca is amazing. I noticed that we always ended up sitting in Becca’s section.”

  Sam looked at me as if he was trying to place me. “I can’t say that I remember seeing you.”

  “You usually have your nose in your computer, and I usually have my nose in mine. I’m a food blogger who has an addiction to cupcakes. I cook enough stuff every day for my clients and my food blog that I absolutely don’t want to be baking cupcakes, and I need to get out of the house once in a while. The Bent Fork and their cupcakes and coffee are my guilty pleasure.”

  Sam laughed. “I usually have a heartier meal, but I always end with a cupcake. Do you know Becca very well?”

  I contemplated how to answer, deciding to be honest but vague. “I’ve lived in Pear forever, and I’ve been a regular at The Bent Fork for a long time. Becca and I talk whenever I sit in her section.”

  Sam hesitated before asking the next question. “Did she quit? I haven’t seen her car there for days.”

  I blurted out what I said next without thinking. “You should know better than me, I saw you follow her out the last day she worked there.”

  Sam looked perplexed. “What?”

  Now I wondered if I was making up what I saw that day. “The last day that Becca worked, she stormed out of the restaurant in a fit, then I saw you jump up, grab your laptop, and dart out after her. I assumed you were following her out.”

  Sam shook his head, a genuinely perplexed look still plastered on his face. “I must’ve missed that. I was pretty engrossed in a conference call. I had another call come in and had to take off to take care of something. I guess I never even saw Becca leave. But that was the last day that I saw her car there. I haven’t been in there since then.”

  On a call? “Oh, I guess I didn’t see you on the phone.” Liar, liar, pants on fire, I saw you.

  “Bluetooth?” he said as if I didn’t know such a thing existed.

  My cell phone rang. I looked at it to see it was Saylor. I stood and said, “I need to take this call. It was so nice meeting you. Hope to see you for cupcakes again soon.”

  I excused myself to take Saylor’s call, but I really had nothing else to say to Sam. I wasn’t even sure Sam Thompson was his real name, so as I was talking to Saylor on the phone, I decided to walk outside and take down the license plate on his car.

  As I walked out, Saylor was telling me, “Alan’s clammed up. I told you he wants me to stay away from this. I don’t know how much more I can do for you.” I was only half listening to her as I was keying in the letters and numbers of Sam’s car into the notes app on my phone.

  “That’s fine, I just talked to Bob.”

  Saylor yelled into the phone. “What?!”

  “It was the craziest thing. I saw him at a gas station and decided to follow him. I followed him right into the Crow’s Nest, sat down across from him and introduced myself. He said his name was Sam Thompson.”

  Conspiratorially, Saylor said, “So, is he creepy?”

  “Not even remotely. He seems pretty normal. But he’s hiding something. I don’t even think Sam Thompson is his real name, but that’s okay. I may have another way to find out.”

  “Oh, Willa, what are you going to do now?”

  The sound of her voice made me not want to share it with her, so I said, “Nothing. I was just kidding. I’m starving, so I’m going to go get something to eat.”

  “Didn’t you just say you were in the Crow’s Nest?” Saylor asked. “You can eat there, you know.”

  I shrugged, but obviously she didn’t see it. “I’ve got to go.”

  I disconnected, got in my car and drove to The Bent Fork.

  I was starving, but not in the mood for cupcakes or coffee. I decided when I got there that I would order off the regular menu. It was late for breakfast and early for lunch. The sign at the door said Please Seat Yourself, so I did. I had just gotten seated when Vicki came up to the table.

  “Running late? We missed you this morning.”

  “I had too many things to do to come in for a cupcake this morning. But I was in town, so I thought I’d stop in and eat off the regular menu for a change. How are things going?”

  Vicki blew her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s been a rough couple of days, and I don’t see it getting better anytime soon.”

  I didn’t feel like beating around the bush. I was tired and hungry. “I didn’t realize Becca and Austin were dating.”

  Vicki folded her arms across her chest. “Actually, they’d been having problems. Now Austin is devastated.”

  “Devastated? Were the problems that bad?”

  Vicki seemed to squeeze her arms just a little tighter. “Just regular girlfriend and boyfriend problems, I suppose. But you never think it’s going to be the last time you see someone. Sheriff Waters was in to talk to Austin last night, which really upset him. The sheriff asked him all about their relationship. Austin said that Sheriff Waters just grilled him over and over with the same questions, like he expected him to eventually answer them differently.”

  I grabbed the menu from the side of the table and opened it
like I was only half interested in the conversation. “Yeah, I guess that’s their job. They’re trained in interview techniques. They know how to draw things out of people that they might not know that they’re saying.”

  Arms still crossed, Vicki leaned her hip on the outside of the booth. “There’s nothing to catch Austin in. He and Becca had only been dating for a little while.”

  This made me wonder. “Did Austin know Becca’s sister, Ivy?”

  Vicki took a deep breath, and sighed. “Actually, Ivy was part of their problem. That girl is nothing but trouble. She caused me grief here, and apparently was causing Becca and Austin grief, too.”

  “Really? How could Ivy possibly cause Becca and Austin to fight?”

  “Austin called Becca a bleeding heart. After everything Ivy had done to her, Becca let Ivy move in with her. Apparently Ivy and her mom had been fighting and she wanted to move out of Santa Rosa. Ivy had treated Becca like crap, but as soon as she came begging, Becca let her move in.”

  I acted as if I didn’t know any of this. “Seems like a mess to me.”

  “It was bad enough with the sister being there, and then she brought Randy into Becca’s house. Randy is Becca’s ex-boyfriend.”

  Hoping I was a good actress, I looked at Vicki wide-eyed. “That doesn’t sound good at all. How did Austin feel about Randy moving in?”

  Vicki pushed off the side of the booth with her hip and said, “Not sure. But Becca and Ivy sure had words about it.”

  “Does Austin still live at home? Or did he stay at Becca’s when he’s in town?”

  “He’s going to school at the local community college, so he has an apartment right up the street. I’m not sure he ever stayed at Becca’s house, but Becca stayed at his place a lot. Especially recently.”

  “I’m sure the police asked Austin about when he saw Becca last. And I’m sure you did too, right? Since she was a no-show?”

  Vicki unfolded her arms and pulled an order pad from the pocket of her apron. “Funny you should ask. Austin told me that morning that Becca didn’t come by the night before. She usually came by when she got off work from her night shift job, but he didn’t hear from her. He said he fell asleep, and didn’t think about it until he woke up the next morning. And he woke up because I called him in to work.”