Dark Roasted to Death
Page 6
He handed me the steaming paper cup complete with a little leaf drawn into the foam. I sipped the drink and tried not to moan out loud. The sugary sweetness hit my pallet, whisking me away in a dream. The sweet, floral scent engulfed my senses and made me feel all warm and gooey inside. “Wow, this is great. You’re like some sort of coffee witch.”
“I’m glad you like it.” A hint of pink rose to his cheeks.
“So, I think I have a good shot at interviewing your grandma under the guise of a story I’m pitching. Any tips on dealing with her?” It was amazing how two people could be from the same gene pool and yet be so different in demeanor.
“Watch for the jugular.” Dylan’s tone was a little deadpan, and I laughed a nervous laugh. He didn’t.
I paid for my coffee and headed into the office. The place was back to its usual hustle and bustle. Phones chimed, people chattered and whizzed by my desk on their way to doing important things. I busied myself at my desk, preparing my pitch for the meeting. It had to go just right. I had to make my case for why the story on Esther Sawyer would be a good fit for the paper.
I briefly thought about mentioning my murder suspicions. In the end, I would play it by ear. Bob was usually a no-nonsense kind of man, but sometimes even he was in the mood for a potential scandal. After all, what’s a journalist if not a professional gossip?
At nine o’clock on the dot, we piled into the one conference room in the building. It was small, with severe fluorescent lighting and a tiny oval desk we all crowded around like sardines. Although I’ve never been, I suspected the interrogation room at the police station was more inviting.
“I’ve got story assignments, but first let’s hear those pitches,” Bob said. There wasn’t enough room for him to lean back and take up all the space his big body liked. He had to resort to hunching over the table like the rest of us.
Tom pitched an idea about a new sport the high schoolers were trying to get off the ground. Liam pitched a story, something about social media, to which Bob rolled his eyes, but gave the green light. Then, it was my turn. I cleared my throat and exhaled sharply before I spoke.
“I want to do a story about how Esther Sawyer is coping with the loss of Mayor Lockwood and how she’s fitting into her new role as deputy mayor.” I waited while Bob squinted his eyes at me. That was a good sign. That meant he was thinking.
“Not bad, Boggins. Larry, you take it,” he said.
“What? No!” I said it a little more forcefully than I intended. Everyone stopped writing and looked up at me in shock. “What I mean is, I covered Lockwood’s death. I covered the vigil. This was my idea. I think I should have it.” Stern but not forceful. Level but still passionate. Just like I had practiced.
“Yes, but Esther Sawyer actually likes Larry,” Bob said.
I looked over at Larry. He sat stumped over in his chair, his face expressionless. He shrugged at me and to my surprise said, “oh let her have this one.”
Thank you, Larry.
“All right. Anything else?” Bob said.
“Well…” I wasn’t sure if bringing up murder was the right call, so I tested out the waters. “I was playing poker with my grandmother and some of her friends last night. Some of them are members of the Historic Society in Aurora Heights. They mentioned that Mayor Lockwood had been buying up property and had building plans, but they were trying to stop them.” A little presumptuous on my part, but a white lie never hurt.
“What are you getting at?” Bob said. His eyes did that squinting thing again.
“I’m not exactly sure yet. I’m… investigating,” I said.
A long pause followed as Bob thought my pitch through. “Let’s put a pin in that. I don’t want to do anything controversial this soon after the mayor’s death. Also, I’d like you to take the story on the theater reopening.”
Another fluff piece. I told myself I would not complain, though. It was worth it to have the green light on my investigation. Well, not a green light per se, but he didn’t say no.
Chapter 11
Aurora Height’s city hall had the bustling energy of a building that only Monday morning could bring. Situated right beside the courthouse and overlooking Aurora Park, it was exactly in the middle of the town. It had that old timey charm that tourists found so endearing.
I climbed the stone steps and pushed open the heavy wooden doors. I crossed the large, stone atrium with the black and white tiling to the information desk. This was my first time at city hall and I had no idea where to go. You would never know that Aurora Heights was a small town by judging the size of city hall. The place was massive.
“Lainey Boggins from The Chronicle, here to see Esther Sawyer,” I told the lady at the desk.
“You have an appointment?” She asked without looking up from her screen.
“Yes. I set it up with Sarah earlier today.”
She dialed a number and announced that I was here to someone on the other end. “Go to floor five and see Sarah,” she said. Finally, she looked up at me. “What happened to Larry?”
“He’s working on something else,” I said.
To the right of the information desk was a set of elevators. I only had to wait a few moments to take one to the fifth floor. When the elevator doors opened, the first thing I saw was a sign that said Office of the Mayor in large, black lettering on the wall behind a desk. I assumed the perky blond behind it was Sarah.
“Oh, you’re the journalist. Welcome,” she said with a bright smile that showed perfect white teeth. “I’ll let her know you’re here.” She left me standing at the front desk for a moment and returned within minutes.
“She’ll be ready for you in a minute. Would you like water or tea? Perhaps some coffee while you wait?” she said.
My stomach growled at the mention of coffee. Spending time with Dylan had nearly doubled my caffeine consumption, and I was dangerously close to overdosing. “No, thank you.”
I glanced at the fancy red couch in the waiting area, then had a better idea. Sarah was making herself look busy by perusing social media on her phone. “It’s crazy what happened to Mayor Lockwood, isn’t it?” I said.
Her eyes widened as she put her phone down. “Yes. Can you believe it? Right there at that cute little coffee shop. It’s awful.”
“I bet Esther Sawyer is in over her head as interim mayor.”
“Oh no, not even a little. She’s so organized and efficient. I swear it’s like she doesn’t even need me sometimes. Not like Mayor Lockwood. That man couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything. I swear that tie he wore actually kept his head attached to his body,” She laughed softly at the memory of the old mayor. “Still, he was a nice man. Always so charming. Not like Esther Sawyer.” Her hand shot to her mouth, trying to cram the words back in. It was too late. I already heard what she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, but I already knew what she meant.
“Well… she’s just so… bossy.” Sarah made a face like the word had the smell of old, moldy cheese—and not the fancy kind.
“Miss Boggins,” a voice called from a narrow hallway just off to the side of Sarah’s desk. It was the unmistakable cry of Esther Sawyer. I had been summoned.
I made my way to the office, where Esther Sawyer stood by her door, waiting for me to go in. Her tall, thin posture was so straight I wouldn’t be surprised if she had swallowed a broom handle. She wore a neatly pressed black jacket and trousers. She looked at me with cold blue eyes—a stark contrast to Dylan’s warm and friendly hazel eyes. “Please, have a seat,” she said as she closed the door.
A chill rattled me as I made my way to the chair in front of her desk. I sank into the chair while she sat straight in the large leather chair behind a dark mahogany desk. Her hands folded neatly on the table in front. “So, you’re here to find out how I’ve been coping with the loss of Brian Lockwood?” She said. Her words were a cool drawl that sent tingles up my spine.
“Y… yes,” I said. My heart hammered in my
chest. I pulled out my voice recorder from my bag and found my hands shaking. I turned the thing on and set it on the desk. I pulled out my notes. I usually started with some ice breaker comment about the weather, but Esther Sawyer seemed like a woman who liked to get down to business. “His death was so sudden. How have you been coping with the shift in roles?”
“It was sudden. Tragic, too,” she said, although I didn’t detect a shred of sorry in her voice. “But someone has to run this town.”
“You seem to run a tight ship around here,” I said.
“I do. Not to speak ill of the dead, but that man had no idea what being a mayor of a place like Aurora Heights means. This is a town full of tradition and I intend to keep it that way,” she said.
“I see.” I asked her a few more questions before pulling out the big guns. “I heard from someone that there were building projects in the works around town that the mayor was proposing. What will happen to those?”
A small smile crept across her face. “They’re on hold,” she said.
“Well, that’s all the questions I have for you today,” I said. I turned off the voice recorder and shoved it into my bag along with my notebook. “Maybe I’ll see you at Dylan’s cafe?”
“Perhaps,” she said with a small sneer. “I love my grandson, but I’m not fond of what he’s done to the place. That used to be a bakery when I was growing up. We used to get our bread freshly made every day from that shop. Now the place is overrun by cats and expensive coffee.”
“I think it’s charming,” I said, almost defensively.
“Yes, you young kids seem to like that sort of thing, no matter how unsanitary it is. I supposed it’s good for the tourists.” She leaned into me suddenly and her voice dropped. “He does make a decent cup of coffee, though.”
Leaving her office was sweet relief. Something about that woman made me uneasy. Judging by the look on Sarah’s face, I wasn’t the only one. “I see you made it out alive,” she said.
“Yes, well, someone has to write that feature story about her,” I said. We both giggled slightly.
“Before I go, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Sarah said.
“I’d like to get a picture of Mayor Lockwood’s old office. You never know what kind of pictures we end up using in the paper.”
“I don’t know… I’m not supposed to let anyone in unless they’re movers.”
“Movers?”
“Yes. They’re scheduled for later this week. Esther is having everything moved out of his office and painted before she takes over.”
“All the more reason for me to sneak it,” I said.
I gave her a slight wink, and she smiled a mischievous smile. “Okay. Why not?”
She led me down another narrow hallway to the left of her desk. She unlocked the large wooden door and flipped on the lights. A large, mahogany desk like Esther’s sat on one side with the window to the left and large bookcases filled with old books on the right. Mayor Lockwood had the view of Aurora Park and seemingly the whole town from his office.
Papers were stacked on his desk in a chaotic order I couldn’t make sense of. He clearly had his own way of organizing. I scanned the pages but found nothing interesting. No building contracts at least.
Sarah was still at the doorway but had gone back to scanning her phone. Talk about an easy distraction. I tried a desk drawer but found nothing but pens, paper clips, a box of staples and a small notepad all thrown together. I tried another and found an Epi pen. I wondered if Mayor Lockwood really had forgotten it, or someone took it from him and stashed it.
“Sarah, can I ask you a question?” I called.
“Yes, sure,” she said, not looking up from her phone.
“Do you know how severe his peanut allergy was?” I held up the Epi pen as if I had just found it laying on the desk.
“Deadly.” She put her phone away and walked into the room. “Just the other day, he accidentally took a bite of the Peanut Perfection donut from The Donut Jam. The man barely finished chewing before he turned into a giant red balloon. It was lucky that his office door was open or I wouldn’t have heard him choking. I rushed in here and jabbed him with one of these.” She took the Epi pen from my hand and looked at it with sadness. “I called Allen and yelled at him to never send anything peanut related again. He could have killed the mayor.”
And according to Mrs. Cruikshank at the poker game, Allen was out of town. Could he have skipped town because he was the culprit? The man made donuts, which the mayor was more than fond of. What motive could he have? Suddenly, my biggest worry was who had more motive to want the mayor dead, Allen Bell or Esther Sawyer?
Chapter 12
The Donut Jam wasn’t too far from city hall, so I could go in for some questioning. And some snacking.
I made my way into the shop where the sweet smell of warm sugar enveloped me. The shop was small, but it was cozy. A large glass window made up much of the wall that faced Main Street, making the inside bright and airy feeling. There were two small, round tables with chairs that sat in the far side of the shop, just beside the cash register.
And Detective Nick DeLuca sat in one of those chairs, demolishing what looked like a Double Trouble Chocolate donut. Great. Luckily, he was also busy reading a newspaper and didn’t notice me.
A young couple stood in front of the counter, examining donut flavors—and Allen Bell stood behind it. He was a large man who looked like he enjoyed eating his desserts as much as anyone. His voice was a loud bellow that always sounded like a celebration.
“Lainey Boggins,” he said, exasperated by the couple who couldn’t make up their minds.
“Hey Allen. I thought you were out of town. Mrs. Cruikshank said you were looking at property in Vancouver?” I said.
“That ol’ gossip.” His chuckle rattled his round stomach. “Well, the cats out of the bag. I’m thinking of franchising.”
“That’s great,” I said.
“Excuse me?” The girl in front of me waved at Allen. She had pink and blond dreadlocks that tumbled down a brown sweatshirt and oversized cargo pants. “Are any of these donuts vegan?”
“Vegan?” Allen asked like he’d never heard the word before.
“Yeah, vegan,” the man beside her asked. He was dressed the same as his girlfriend, but his dreadlocks were dark.
“I… guess so…” Allen said, looking confused. “I mean, if you eat butter and milk, that is.” The couple looked horrified at Allen, turned and marched out of the shop. “Honestly, who eats vegan donuts?” He shook his head with slight disgust on his face.
“I’ll take a Boston Fudge Bomb and a Strawberry Dream,” I said to him.
“You got it.” He boxed up my order, and I paid for my snack. “Listen, Allen, can I ask you a question?”
"Of course."
“I just came from Mayor Lockwood’s office in city hall,” I began. I watched his eyes grow when I mentioned the mayor.
“That damn peanut allergy. I knew it would be the death of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the other day, we made a little mistake. We had an order for a dozen donuts for the mayor’s office that included two Peanut Perfection donuts. They’re Esther’s favorite, you see. Now, I make sure to pack those separately from the rest so they don’t come in contact with anything Brian would touch. Only I wasn’t the one who packed the order that time. I just hired a new shop assistant, Janelle, and she didn’t know to pack them separately.”
“And Mayor Lockwood went into anaphylactic shock,” I finished for him.
He leaned his heavy hands on the counter and hung his head in shame. “Boy, did his assistant scream at me. That little girl has some mighty fightin’ words.”
“I’m not surprised. She saved the Mayor’s life with an Epi pen,” I said.
His eyes widened with horror. “Well, lucky she was there.”
“So, you and Mayor Lockwood were friendly?” I asked.
“I don’t understand. He had all the money in the world. Why was he borrowing it from so many people?”
“He was a gambling fiend? I don’t know. I don’t think he was as rich as people thought he was. Anyway, your grandma is quite the player. Cleaned me out good.” His laugh shook that belly of his. His eyes sparkled with mirth and nostalgia.
Another couple came into the shop and I went to the empty table to enjoy my desserts. I still had some time to kill before I went to see the new Mountain House Theater. Besides, I needed time to put these pieces together. I picked up the Strawberry Dream and took a generous bite, feeling the warm, gooey center melting in my mouth.
Allen didn’t have beef with Mayor Lockwood. Unless he’s lying. My gut feeling told me he wasn’t, though. Maybe this Janelle girl had something against him? A long-lost daughter, perhaps? As far as anyone knew, Mayor Lockwood had no children.
When Allen finished with his customers, I went back up to the counter. “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?” I knew that it was for employees only, but Allen was always inclined to let you use it if you were nice about it.
“Of course. You know where it is,” he said and went back to helping more customers.
I went through the doors that led to the back of the bakery where all the ovens made the place hot. Instead of going into the bathroom, I slipped into Allen’s office.
An old computer sat in the corner. Papers lay everywhere. A cork board was mounted on the wall with pay stubs stuck to it with thumbtacks. I found Janelle’s and copied her address on a piece of paper. I knew that Allen would never give out his employee’s personal information—even if she might have tried to kill the mayor.
I left the back, trying to act like I hadn’t just done something criminal. A small, low chuckle came from the tables. Specifically, where DeLuca was. He just sat there, one leg perched on his knee with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smile on his face. A low rumble echoed from him as we locked eyes.