by Kathryn Lin
“What is it?” Carly asked. She was still holding tightly onto the leash while Mochi tried to pull her towards the body.
“There’s a body. I think he’s dead.”
“Dead?” Carly croaked out.
I nodded and tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “There’s a box of our donuts next to his body. We have to call the police.”
“I don’t understand how this could happen again.”
I knew exactly what Carly was thinking. The last time pastries from the café were found at a murder scene, the police had named Carly as the main suspect. My best friend was already prone to anxiety. This was the last thing we needed so soon after the last incident.
Seeing that Carly was in no condition to talk, I made the phone call.
The dispatcher told us to wait until the police arrived. By the time I ended the call, a small crowd had gathered around us. Like I said, nothing ever happens in Grand Arbor without the entire town finding out about it.
One of the men in the crowd pushed his way to the front and asked Carly what was going on. As soon as she told him that there was a dead body, the gaggle of people around us began to whisper and speculate. The man wasn’t content on gossiping, he had to see it for himself.
“Wait! The police are coming. You can’t walk into a crime scene!”
But he didn’t seem to hear me. What he saw must have spooked him good. The color drained from his face and he stumbled backwards away from the body. Ignoring the people who wanted to know what he saw, he shoved them aside and hightailed it out of the park.
I could hear the police sirens in the distance getting closer and louder.
“Look, Liv, the police are here,” said Carly as she pointed at the two police cars and ambulance that pulled up to the side of the park.
I groaned when I saw who stepped out of the first police car.
It was Detective Miller.
Chapter 3
As soon as the police arrived, they sectioned off the area around the body with police tape and herded all the spectators and gawkers away from the scene.
Carly and I had been told to wait for Detective Miller to question us so we stood off to the side and waited for him. The detective was currently picking through the crime scene with two other officers. He towered over the other officers and his large features, dark hair, and fierce hazel green eyes made him seem like a character out of a film noir. He said something to the officer collecting evidence, but they were too far away for me to hear what they were saying.
I tried to read his lips, but all I could decipher was something about purple bologna mustache which I doubt was what he really said.
Detective Miller finished giving orders to the officer and ducked under the yellow tape before he walked over to us.
“Well, if it isn’t you two again.” He snapped the gum in his mouth and it only made me dislike the arrogant man even more. “It seems that whenever there’s death to be found, the Faulkner Café is involved.”
After the gracious way he thanked me for helping with the last murder investigation, I had expected that our meeting today would be civil, but if he was going to be sarcastic and mean, then I would match his attitude.
“You know very well that my café is popular in town. If we end up being suspects every time our products are found at a crime scene in grand Arbor, I would have to start paying rent to the police station. Neither I nor any of my employees have anything to do with this man’s death.”
“Liv!” Carly grabbed onto my arm and tugged in an effort to get me to shut up.
I clenched my hands into fists and dug my nails into my palms and shrugging out of Carly’s grasp, I stood up to him until we were just inches apart. I stared right into his cold gaze.
Detective Miller paused and looked over me from head to toe for what seemed like minutes. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Carly looked like she was going to freak out. I myself couldn’t quite believe that I had stood up to a police officer and mouthed off, but I was not going to back down.
“Hmm...”
Surprisingly, the detective ignored my outburst. He took out a notepad and pencil from his coat pocket and began asking us questions about what we found.
“Judging by the box of donuts next to the victim, he came into your café before his death. Do either of you know who he is?”
Carly shook her head.
I shrugged. “He comes in regularly in the mornings and always orders the same thing, but we’ve never really talked about anything else. He must be a local though--”
“Ms. Faulkner,” he held up a hand as he interrupted me, “please leave the speculation up to me this time. You may be the master of your domain in your kitchen, but I am in charge of this investigation.”
He was unbelievable. “In case you forgot, I was the one who solved the murder last time all while running my café simultaneously.” I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out and thumb my nose at him.
“You were lucky. This case is different.”
“Detective!” One of the officers gathering evidence ran up to the detective and handed him a plastic evidence bag with what looked like a Michigan driver’s license inside.
The detective held it up and examined it. “I guess we know the identity of the victim. Edward Banks. He’s a local too.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, but inside my head I was already chanting I told you so!
Suddenly I remembered that Edward pulled out a wallet when he paid for his order this morning. “Wait, did you find a wallet? He had one on him this morning at the café.”
The officer looked at the detective, unsure if he should be speaking to me.
“Well did you?” asked Detective Miller.
“No, sir. The driver’s license was all we found next to the body. He had nothing else in his pockets.” The officer walked back to the crime scene when someone called him over.
Detective Miller returned his attention to Carly and me. “Tell me everything you know, from meeting the victim in the café this morning to when you found the body.”
“I was in the kitchen all morning, so Olivia was the only one who interacted with him, but he was very rude to my puppy,” Carly said before she picked up Mochi, who looked like he was ready to fall asleep, into her arms.
I told the detective everything, from how he almost kicked poor Mochi to what Austin told me about Edward and finally how we found the body after our picnic.
He scribbled furiously in his notepad while I talked, especially when I mentioned the conversation I had with Austin. Which was why I was surprised by his conclusion.
After I finished talking he closed his notepad. “It looks like a mugging gone wrong. You two are free to go now. Call me if you think of anything else.”
I wanted to tell him that something didn’t seem right about his mugging theory, but I knew he wouldn’t listen to me.
When Carly and I arrived back at the café, most of the customers from this morning were gone and the dining room was quiet and empty except for a few tables.
“Poor Mochi,” Carly cooed as she cuddled the puppy in her lap and stroked his head. “I don’t know how he’s going to get over the trauma of what he saw today. Do you think he’ll have long lasting psychological damage?”
I doubted that Mochi even remembered what he ate for breakfast, much less that he had stumbled upon a murder scene. He looked blissfully unaware of what had happened today, but I couldn’t tell Carly that she was being a helicopter doggy mom.
“I think a couple play dates with Kevin and Molly would be just the thing to help him forget.”
That seemed to be the right thing to say. Carly’s face lit up again as she talked about Kevin.
I prayed that this was the last I was going to hear about this murder investigation, but I should have known that I wouldn’t be so fortunate.
Chapter 4
The rest of the afternoon at the café passed peacefull
y and quietly so I closed up shop a little after five o’clock and drove home.
I was still driving the lemon yellow vintage VW camper van that my daughter, Vi, and I had found in the deserts of Nevada and restored. It was our home away from home when we traveled across the country during the summer and I knew I shouldn’t be driving it as an everyday commuter vehicle. Even though my home was only a ten minute drive from the café, the roads would be heavily salted soon once it started snowing and I didn’t want to risk rust damage to the bottom of the vintage car.
I made a mental note to take my mother’s Toyota Camry out of the garage to the mechanics for a tune up. My parents’ sudden death in a car accident this spring pulled my daughter and myself from our life in Chicago back to Grand Arbor Township. I was now the sole owner of the house where I grew up, the café that my parents spent their entire lives building up, and my mother’s car which she seldom drove as my dad was the default driver and he preferred his Ford pickup truck.
I turned onto Starmore Drive where my parents’ house—or I guess it was my house now—stood at the end of a long driveway hidden behind a wooden gate from the public street.
42 Starmore Drive was a lovingly restored Queen Anne Victorian house with a three story tall turret on the left side and a wraparound porch lined with hand crafted spindles. The exterior was lined with pink wood shingles and the trim and details were painted in eight different colors. As a child, I felt like a fairy tale princess living in a real life castle.
I pulled up to the front door and shut off the engine instead of parking in the garage. Vi still had another year to go until she could get her learner’s permit and start to drive, so I didn’t even worry about blocking the driveway.
Even though it was only a quarter until six, the sky was already dim and dark, but I could see a police car parked in front of the house two doors down.
Starmore Drive was not the type of neighborhood where the police made frequent visits unless there was a loud party. Two officers stood at the front door talking to the homeowner. I squinted, but it was too dark to see who was standing behind the door. Whoever it was let the police officers inside and shut the door behind them. I wondered what that was about, but the ringing of my phone in my purse interrupted my thoughts.
I pulled out my phone and my heart skipped a beat at the name displayed on the screen. It was Cranbrook, the private school that my daughter was dying to get into. I cleared my throat and willed my pulse to slow down so that I could sound calm and collected.
“Hello, is this Ms. Olivia Faulkner?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“I am happy to tell you that your daughter has been selected for a final interview before we determine the status of her admittance to Cranbrook. We will need to interview both you and your daughter. Is ten in the morning on the Saturday after next convenient for you?”
“Oh yes, that sounds perfect.”
“Excellent. Please check in with the receptionist at the Dean’s office when you arrive.”
I thanked her and ended the call. Holy smokes. Vi was going to freak out when she hears about this.
With a skip in my step, I ran up the front steps and into the foyer.
“Vi!” I shouted up the stairs and waited for her to come down.
My daughter bounded down the stairs in her pajamas with her crimson curls flowing wildly down her back. She stopped a couple steps in front of me and furrowed her brow. “What is it?”
I guess I injected a bit too much urgency into my voice. But I couldn’t help it, this was the moment we had both been waiting for ever since we moved from Chicago to Grand Arbor.
I held up my phone. “That was Cranbrook.”
She gripped the banister with both hands until her knuckles turned white. “Well?” She was practically ready to bounce off her tiptoes.
“We’ve got an interview in two weeks!”
“Ah!” We both yelled and jumped with hugging each other like two maniacal bobble headed cheerleaders. Our red and white tabby cat, Fox, didn’t know what we were so excited about, but she was determined to join in the celebration and rubbed against us, weaving in and out between our legs.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it.” I could see the panic wash over her before she even realized it herself.
“What are they going to ask me? What am I going to say? What am I going to wear? There’s going to be a quiz, I know it—”
“Breathe, Vi, breathe.” I gripped her shoulders and guided her by inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. She mimicked my breathing pattern until she lost the deer in the headlights look on her face. “They already have all your academic records. The fact that they’re giving you an interview means that you’ve already met their qualifications. Now they just want to make sure you’ll be a good fit at the school.”
“Right. Right.” She mumbled while I maneuvered us toward the kitchen. “That makes sense.”
My daughter was a bit of a brainiac, and I’m not saying that as a proud mama. She attended a magnet school for gifted kids in Chicago—one of the best high schools in the country. Unfortunately, Grand Arbor High came up short when it came to academics. The only thing notable at our township’s high school was football and the girls’ swim team. Not only was the curriculum not challenging enough for Vi, but keeping her in the local high school would ruin her dream of going to an ivy league university.
I had been working for months to get her an interview at Cranbrook, which was one of the best private schools in the state. It was also just a short thirty minute drive from Grand Arbor Township so she wouldn’t have to live at the school dorms.
“How did you manage to get an interview so soon? I thought they didn’t let new students in after the school year started?”
“Hmmm…I may have greased the wheels a bit,” I replied from behind the refrigerator door while I rummaged for ground beef and cheese to make a casserole for dinner.
I handed her a block of cheddar to grate while I stir-fried the beef together with tomato sauce. “Remember Grandpa’s friend who works on the admissions board?”
“Yeah, they were fishing buddies, right?”
“Mmm. I may have sent him some of my cheesecake as well as a letter reminding him that he attended both of our christenings.”
We assembled the casserole together before I shoved it into the oven.
“Isn’t that nepotism?”
“You have a lot to learn, kid,” I said wryly. Despite her book smarts, my daughter was so innocent and naïve. What I did was merely social networking and good manners. It was nothing compared to what went on behind the scenes at these types of schools where parents and students had more money than good uses for it.
“Meow?”
I looked down at my feet to find Fox sauntering past me out through the sliding glass door that lead out to the backyard.
“Fox, no!” She dashed outside and disappeared into the garden faster than I imagined possible.
“I’ll help catch her,” Vi said.
We went outside together and split up so each of us covered a different side of the yard.
“Fox!” I called. I looked up into the branches of our apple tree and low underneath the leaves of the raspberry bush for any sign of her ginger fur.
My mother had maintained a large and beautiful garden in the front and back yard that looked like something out of Good Housekeeping Magazine.
Unfortunately I lacked her green thumb. With the stress of the last murder investigation, Vi’s schooling, and running the café, I had no time left over to tend to the garden. Her prize winning hydrangea bushes and fruit trees were now somehow overgrown and covered in brownish yellow foliage at the same time.
“Fox, where are you?” I heard the panic in Vi’s voice. My cat was a spoiled indoor cat who lacked the street smarts to survive long outside of the house. Images of her running out to the street and getting run over by a car or hurt by a wild animal flickered across my mind. We had to find her before nightfall.
“Meow.”
I turned my head in the direction of Fox’s meow. It seemed to be coming from the row of hedges between our yard and our neighbor’s yard.
I hoped she hadn’t escaped next door. Even after being back in Grand Arbor for a couple months, I still hadn’t met the man who lived next door. I knew he moved in a couple years after I moved out of my parents’ house and moved to Chicago. I guess our schedules never matched since I still hadn’t ran into him once when leaving or coming home.
Standing on my tiptoes I peered over the top of the hedges. In contrast with our crowded backyard, our neighbor’s backyard only contained a well-manicured lawn and a garden shed in the far corner. A couple of black garbage bags stuffed full were stacked next to the shed door.
But there was no Fox.
“Fox,” I called again, “this isn’t funny!”
“Meow.”
This time the sound seemed to come from the area to the left of me, by the hydrangea bushes next to the hedges.
“Fox?” I dropped to my knees and crept closer so I could look underneath.
“Meow?”
A pair of eyes glowed in the dark under layers and layers of broad leaves.
“There you are, you scamp.” Reaching in I grabbed her before she could make a run for it and escape my grasp.
“Gotcha.”
“Meow!” She skulked in my arms, upset that I had cut short her field trip outdoors.
“Fox, you scared us, girl.” I handed Fox over to Vi.
A timer beeped from the kitchen, calling us in for dinner.
“Come on, food’s ready,” I said.
I walked behind Vi back to the house, but I could not resist taking one last look at the garden. I vowed to make time from now on to restore my mother’s garden to its previous glory and to make her proud.
Chapter 5
“Thanks, Dave!” I waved farewell as the Fedex driver who picked up my online cheesecake orders drove down the alley behind the cafe.
I started selling our family’s cheesecake on the internet as a way to add another stream of income to the café. Vi helped me set up a website and social media accounts and to my surprise, sales took off after we were mentioned by a popular food blog.