by Leena Clover
“Pa Harris talked about how old their ranch is,” I murmured.
Jessica got excited.
“That’s just it. Jordan kept on about that all the time. And he wanted to reconnect with his brother.”
“Speaking of Cameron …” I paused, knowing my next line might annoy Jessica. “Do you like him?”
“You mean like, do I want to go out with him?” Jessica asked.
I gave a slight nod.
“I’m not that kind of girl, Meera. You think I would get engaged with one brother and go out with the other?”
“Did he come on to you?” I persisted.
“Guys come on to me all the time. What can I do? With Cam, I think it was more for shock effect.”
“He mentioned he has a key to your apartment.”
“No he doesn’t. But I do keep it under a potted plant right outside my door. Things aren’t that formal on campus. I live close to the lab. So people often just crash at my place for a nap. Cam did it too a couple of times. No big deal.”
“He said he was at your place the night Jordan … that night.”
I raised my eyebrows at Jessica.
“Maybe he was. I was working through the night. Then I napped at my desk and got home around 7.”
I didn’t think I would get much more out of Jessica.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” I asked.
“I’m leaving on Christmas Eve. Trying to squeeze in as much work as possible until then.”
I stood up and wished her a safe drive home. She hugged me impulsively. Then she turned and walked away.
I nursed my coffee for a while more, enjoying the solitude in a place that was usually bustling with plenty of people. I dumped my empty coffee cup into a trash can and walked out, planning to visit Sylvie’s on my way home.
I almost ran into Colin Stevens. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes, and looked more unwashed than before.
“Finished your meeting?” he asked.
“What?” I burst out.
“Your meeting with Jessica? How was it?”
Colin Stevens had managed to irritate me once again. I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind.
“Didn’t I say she tells me everything?” he sneered.
“That, or you eavesdrop on her phone calls,” I said mildly.
“Who do you think she called when she wanted a ride, hunh?” he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Who did she turn to when that so called fiancé of hers was sulking over something stupid?”
“Are you talking about the night Jordan died?” I asked.
He puffed up, looking important.
“Do you realize you may have been the last person to see him alive?”
“Of course not!” he retorted. “I mean, of course I wasn’t.”
“You would say that of course. To save your skin.”
Colin Stevens laughed in my face.
“You work at the library, don’t you? Been reading a lot of trashy novels? Why would I want to save my skin?”
I shook my head.
“Forget it. What do you mean you weren’t the last person to talk to him?”
“We had an urgent team meeting that night. Our funding depends on delivering results at a certain pace. Every person needs to pull their weight and be present at the meetings. Jessica had promised to be there by 7. We needed to prep before our 8 PM meeting with our industry sponsor. When she wasn’t in by 7:30, I called her.”
“Go on,” I urged.
Colin Stevens had stopped to take a breath.
“I could hear Jordan cursing in the background. Apparently, they were in the middle of an argument. Jessica asked me to come pick her up. When I reached there, they weren’t talking to each other. Jessica went to use the restroom.”
“Did Jordan say anything?” I asked.
“He looked pretty angry. He wasn’t good to me at the best of times, so I didn’t say anything. He opened his truck and took out a box or something.”
My blood pressure went up a notch.
“Was it like the box they wrap pies in?” I asked with bated breath.
“How would I know?” Colin pounced. “I was reading some of our test results. We really were on a tight deadline.”
“Then?”
“I heard Jordan call out to someone. Sounded like he was surprised to see that person there. I think it was his brother.”
“Did you see this person?” I asked.
Colin Stevens shook his head. “I told you I was busy studying something. I thought maybe Jordan was just crying out, or was drunk. Then I saw a guy somewhere in the shadows. He beckoned to Jordan and he walked away.”
“What about Jessica?”
“Jessica got into my car and we raced back to campus with 5 minutes to spare.”
“Was Jessica in the lab all night then?”
“We all were,” Colin smiled. “We pulled an all nighter, and then went home in the morning.”
Colin had managed to add something to the story again. I wondered who it was Jordan had talked to. Was it really his brother Cameron? Or was it just some random guy in the park. Maybe it was some homeless person who wanted a bite to eat.
“Have you talked to the police yet?” I asked Colin Stevens. “I’m sure they will appreciate all the valuable information you have.”
Colin Stevens whipped out a card.
“They can talk to me anytime. So can you. Let me know if you have any more questions.”
I took his card and put it inside my purse.
“Say Jessica and Jordan had a falling out,” I mused. “What do you think she would do?”
“The real question you want to ask is would Jessica do anything to harm Jordan, right?” Colin Stevens gave me a dark look.
I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to say yes.
“I’ll answer anyway. She would’ve dumped him some time or the other. He wasn’t smart enough for her. Or ambitious enough.”
Soon, Colin would be extolling his own virtues as the perfect match for Jessica. I thanked him for his patience and stepped out of the building.
The cold air felt invigorating and I took a deep breath. Once again I was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of information floating around. Was there anyone who knew all the facts? Or anyone who could make sense out of this mess?
I got into the Camry and hit the road. I was so lost in my thoughts, I found myself in our driveway about 15 minutes later. I had completely forgotten my plan to visit Sylvie’s.
The spicy notes of ginger and garlic wafted out from our kitchen, along with the scent of assorted spices. Dinner was almost ready and I was just in time for it.
Chapter 24
The next couple of days were busy sampling all the yummy food Motee Ba cooked for my aunt. It was the holidays, after all. Jeet and Pappa added in some special requests. Even my Dad wasn’t immune to the delicacies that came out of the kitchen at regular intervals.
“What’re we doing for Christmas dinner?” my aunt asked the room in general.
We were gathered around in the living room, playing cards. There was a roaring fire in the grate. We were well insulated against the sub zero winds blowing outside.
We were drinking mulled cider, and it warmed me inside out. I groaned mentally as I realized my aunt would be with us for Christmas day too. I love my aunt, but she can be a trial. She had already sneaked in about a dozen photos of eligible young men by me. They were all Indian and extremely well educated from Top 10 schools. Some were born and raised in America while some were still in India. Almost all of them were surgeons or doctors of some kind. The least desirable of them was a lawyer.
“You’re not getting any younger, Meera. Once you cross 25, no one will look at you.”
I showed the appropriate fear this statement was supposed to evoke.
“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” my aunt asked suspiciously.
“No, I’m not, Aunt Anita!” I protested without much conviction.
“I like Tony too, but he hasn’t pulled his life together yet,” she responded.
“What does that mean?” I sighed. “Where’s Tony come into all this?”
Motee Ba and my aunt exchanged a look. They didn’t bother to reply.
“Anand’s department buddies usually invite us for Christmas dinner,” Motee Ba told my aunt. “But I don’t think we have an invite yet this year.”
“They had to go out of town to visit a sick relative,” Dad explained. “I was supposed to tell you this.”
“We’ve got to do something!” Motee Ba straightened in her chair, looking hopeful.
“Please, Ba! No more parties …”
Even a small party ends up being fifty people and is at least 3-4 days of work.
“Why don’t we do a potluck?” I asked. “With Jon & Sylvie and Tony’s people if they are free?”
“Not a bad idea!” Motee Ba leapt up and dialed Sylvie.
“We’re meeting tomorrow to talk about it.”
She held up a hand, warding off my Dad as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Everyone’s going.”
No one argued because we had all looked forward to doing something special for the holidays.
The next day, we were seated at Sylvie’s, drinking coffee and eating pie.
“It’s nice to see everyone here after so long,” Sylvie smiled.
“Mom can make the roast,” Tony volunteered, then looked at his Mom.
She nodded.
We came up with a short menu and then started splitting up the dishes amongst us.
My gaze strayed around the diner. A few tables were occupied. People were busy eating their food, talking softly amongst themselves or reading the paper. Becky was busy in the kitchen, filling orders.
A couple of cars pulled up outside. I braced myself as I realized they were police cars. Stan Miller got out of one car, and walked toward the diner door. Three other deputies flanked him. He pushed open the heavy door and strode in.
He seemed taken aback at seeing all of us.
“Hello Meera,” he stuttered, looking tense.
“What’s the matter?” I asked fearfully.
“It’s not good,” he said to me, almost under his breath.
Stan Miller turned toward Jon. Two of his henchmen had already surrounded Jon. One stood near the diner door.
“I’m sorry Jon, but you’ll have to come with me.”
Sylvie moved closer to Jon and took his hand in hers.
“What’s going on?” she asked Stan, bewildered.
“Some more tests were done on Jordan Harris. They found nuts in his stomach, along with berries. Looks like the last thing he ate was your pie.”
“But haven’t you already cleared us?” Sylvie asked in a rush.
She had begun to hyperventilate.
“The food department checked the diner for chemicals or poisons. Or rat infestation. They didn’t check for nuts, but I’m sure you have those around.”
“We sure do, yes sir!” Sylvie was defensive. “My pecan pie is our top seller. But I didn’t give that boy any. I know he never eats them nuts.”
“So maybe there was some cross contamination?” Stan said reluctantly. “Look, Sylvie, I’ve been eating that pie for years. I know there’s nothing wrong with it. But I have to take Jon with me now. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s two days to Christmas!” Sylvie wailed, hugging Jon tightly.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Stan looked uncomfortable.
I was impressed by Stan’s behavior. The old Stan would have come in with sirens blaring, and ordered his people to take Jon away. He was really maturing a bit. That didn’t make the situation any easier, though.
Dad stood up and patted Jon on the shoulder.
“I don’t think you have a choice.”
“So, are you arresting me?” Jon had been silent so far.
Stan Miller sighed deeply. Then he gave a slight nod.
“Jon Davis. You are under arrest for the murder of Jordan Harris. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say …”
A gasp went around as Stan Miller read Jon his rights. We were all speechless as the deputies marched Jon out and put him in the back seat of a police cruiser. They backed out slowly and sped away.
Sylvie burst into sobs, and Motee Ba rushed to console her.
“Don’t you have that lawyer’s number in your phone?” Motee Ba asked Dad.
She was referring to the time earlier in the year when Stan had wanted to arrest me. My Dad had contacted a city lawyer at that time and I hoped he hadn’t deleted his number from his phone.
Dad was already flicking through the address book in his phone.
He stepped away and spoke to someone for about five minutes.
“The lawyer can be here right away, but it won’t help much. The courts are closed for the holidays. The earliest anything can be done is on Tuesday the 26th.”
Sylvie gasped and clutched her heart. She was crying openly now.
“So my Jon’s going to be in Jail over Christmas?”
Motee Ba put an arm around her and tried to placate her. Aunt Reema did the same. My Aunt Anita had a frown on her face. She can be a bit stuck up at the best of times. She doesn’t get how close we are to Sylvie and Jon.
The few guests in the diner were staring at the scene openly, their food forgotten. Becky had come out of the kitchen. She tried to steer the guests to their food or urged them to leave if they were done.
Tony, Jeet and I were quiet. There wasn’t much to say anyway.
Motee Ba looked up and beckoned me closer. Her mouth was set in a firm line and there was a determined glint in her eye.
“Do something, Meera. Find out who did this.”
I felt the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. So far, I had been serious about finding out what happened to Jordan. But now the stakes had gone up. The clock was ticking and someone close to me was affected.
“I’m going to do my best,” I promised, clasping Sylvie’s hand in mine.
Dad and Pappa looked at each other. But they didn’t say anything this time.
I was very familiar with the kitchen at Sylvie’s. I generally manned the grill with Becky. There was a small room that Sylvie used exclusively for baking. She took me in there and showed me the setup again.
“Look, I have separate ovens for baking my pecan pies or any other nut based pies. There’s another oven for the fruit pies. This here shelf on the right holds the fruit pies and the one on the left holds the pecan pies. All the utensils are different too.”
I was impressed. I hadn’t known Sylvie was this meticulous about the issue.
“Cross contamination is almost impossible here,” I agreed.
“But if there’s no contamination, what’s the alternative?” Motee Ba wondered. “Will they say it was done on purpose?”
“We need to find out who had access to the pie,” I marked, “both here in the diner and outside the diner.”
“Well, he certainly had his fill here,” Becky noted. “He ate a whole piece of pie with ice cream, and then he took half a pie with him.”
“What time did he have dinner here?” I wanted to refresh my memory.
“Around 6-6:30,” Becky confirmed.
“We know he was well until almost 8-8:30. So maybe someone doctored the pie that he took along with him.”
“But who? And why?” Motee Ba pounced. “The why’s not important to us. We just need to know who did it so we can exonerate Jon.”
“The why is going to help us in finding out who did it,” I told her.
“What’s our next move, Meera?” Tony asked, looking impatient.
“I think we need to recap everything again, update our board.”
I was referring to the large board I had set up in the guest house to help us work through this problem.
“Can Becky come with us?” I asked Sylvie.
She waved a hand, and gestured she
didn’t have a problem. She hadn’t said anything at all for a while.
“Sylvie, can you please do something for me?” I asked gently. “Make a list of who else was in the diner when Jordan and Jessica were having their dinner. I know it’s been a while, but anything, or anyone you remember will be helpful.”
“Okay, Meera. I’ll do that.”
The Christmas party was forgotten and we all got up to leave. Motee Ba decided to stay back at the diner just to be with Sylvie for a while.
Sylvie had started sobbing again.
“Thirty years we’ve been running this diner. But my food’s never made anyone sick before.”
The diner had emptied again and it wouldn’t take long for the gossips to spread the word about Jon’s arrest.
“Don’t worry, Sylvie! We all know Jon’s innocent. And he’ll be out soon enough. You’ll see.”
We all hugged her as we filed out of the diner. Dad and Aunt Anita helped Pappa into the car and they went home. I got into my Camry with Tony and the others and we followed my Dad home.
Chapter 25
Lunch hour had already come and gone and my stomach rumbled as I parked my car in front of the guest house.
“I’m starving too,” Jeet spoke up after a long time.
I asked Tony to update the board with what we had found out in the last two days. I decided to make a quick batch of grilled cheese sandwiches.
Becky broke open two cans of tomato soup and heated some up on the stove. I slathered thick slices of country bread with butter and grilled them until the cheese melted and began oozing out. We made short work of the food.
I had set some coffee brewing and we finally put our thinking caps on. The food had energized me and I was ready to tackle the problem with a fresh mind.
“How do you want to do this?” Tony asked.
“Let’s list the main players, go over their story, and list any motives they may have had to harm Jordan.”
“Do you want Stan here?” Becky asked.
I shook my head.
“There’s a lot of information in my head right now. I want to make some sense out of it before I can present it to Stan. It will help if I can present it in a coherent manner.”