by Kathryn Lin
I thanked Gino and chewed on my all cheese slice. Gino’s was started by Gino Sr., and the little restaurant which made hearty home style Italian food and the most awesome pizzas was one of the most popular restaurants in town. At least until Edward Banks built his mall.
Gino’s story sounded eerily similar to Austin’s. Family owned businesses on Main Street were going to go out of business one by one until there was nothing left. None of the businesses on Main Street were safe from the big corporations, not even the café!
Vi and I were ready to call Gino for a to-go box when a rush of cold air came into the dining room from the front door. I swiveled my head to see who it was. It was Austin. He walked to the front counter and talked to Gino. I waited until he was finished placing his order before I approached him.
“Is it true, that the police are looking at you as a suspect?”
Austin nodded. “I swear I didn’t do it. I went straight back to the store after I left the café. You believe me, don’t you, Olivia?”
Poor Austin looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his cheeks were dotted with stubble.
Did I believe him? While I couldn’t see the Austin who grew up alongside me in town as a murderer, people did have a way of becoming unpredictable and nasty when it came to money and business.
“Of course I believe you. If you were working, then it should be easy enough to prove with security footage from the store. They should be time stamped and everything. Why don’t you give the tapes to the police?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. He scuffed his feet against the chipped linoleum. “The cameras have been broken for a long time. Business has dropped and money’s been tight so I haven’t gotten them fixed yet. Nothing ever happens in this town, you know this, Olivia. I never thought I would actually need the cameras.”
That made things more difficult. “Still, the police can’t suspect you just because you’ve lost business ever since the mall opened. If that were reason enough, all of the Main Street store owners would be murder suspects.”
“It’s true. I hate the jerk as much as the rest of you and I can tell you the rest of us on the street feel the same way,” said Gino. He placed the paper bag containing Austin’s order up on the counter.
“They’re probably looking at me because I sell exact same model of the murder weapon in my store,” Austin replied.
That did make Austin seem incredibly suspicious. If I were Detective Miller, I would have listed Austin as my main suspect too.
“You’ve got to help me, Olivia. Miss Porter said you pulled a real miracle out of nowhere when you caught the person who really killed that professor. You can do it again.” Austin reached out and grabbed my hand. “Please, Olivia. You’re my last hope.”
I just knew Maude Porter couldn’t leave well enough alone. I grit my teeth in annoyance at her meddling, but Austin’s warm hands and the desperation in his puppy dog eyes sealed the deal.
“Alright. I’ll do whatever I can.”
He grabbed me in a crushing bear hug that stole the breath from my lungs.
I had no idea how I was going to pull this off, but I had to help Austin. We townies had to stick together, no matter what.
Chapter 8
The mall was located at the edge of Grand Arbor’s town limits, though that wasn’t saying very much as you could get from one end of town to the other in under twenty-five minutes.
Vi and I were here to look for an interview outfit for her big day, but I also wanted to get a look at this new mega mall that was stealing business from all the stores on Main Street. Just what was so great about this mall that our loyal customers would abandon our small stores after being loyal to us for years?
We passed by a group of picketers on the sidewalk facing the mall parking lot. Their signs were painted with various slogans for people to boycott the mall. A large sign at the entrance of the parking lot stated that the mall was a new lifestyle complex by Banks Development. I parked the car and turned off the engine.
“Do you mind if we go talk to them first?” I asked Vi.
She shrugged and followed me across the road to the group of protesters.
Their chants grew louder and louder as we approached.
“Shut it down!”
“Banks, you’re no good!”
I approached a middle-aged woman with frizzy brown hair sticking out of the sides of her purple knitted hat. She looked like someone I used to run into at the natural food co-op back in Chicago. She held a large white sign with black lettering.
Say No To Banks.
Save Main Street.
“What’s going on here?” I asked her.
Her face lit up at the chance to talk about her cause and she launched her rapid fire speech. “We want everybody in town to know that big corporations like the Banks Development Corporation destroy wages, workers’ rights, small businesses, and communities where ever they go.”
“But surely people will see what’s happening to Grand Arbor and support local businesses instead.”
She shook her head vehemently and shook her sign at a passing car.
“We’ve seen how Banks operates. They’ve done this to dozens of small towns in Ohio and Pennsylvania already. Their strategy is to swoop in and capture the local market until the original mom and pops go bankrupt. Then they buy up all the original land cheaply and redevelop it with big box stores.”
“That’s evil,” I said with a sinking realization that every business on Main Street was on the chopping block.
Over in the corner, I saw that they had a stack of signs that weren’t being used.
“Hey, could I get a couple of those for my shop? I know a couple people who would be happy to display them in their windows.”
I threw the signs into the backseat of my van before we entered the mall. Even though I wanted to hate the mall and everything it stood for, I had to admit that the interior was modern and slick and it seemed to have everything a family could want or need.
With over three stories of glass, steel, and glossy tile, there were endless brands and stores. Vi and I window shopped and the prices were far below what we could find in Main Street shops with a wider selection of products.
There were high end restaurants as well as two buffets and a food court where tired shoppers could stop and refuel. After that, teens could go to the catch the latest movie at the theater or go play in the arcade while parents could relax at the spa or bowling alley. There was even a fancy grocery store selling gluten-free and whatever-the-latest-fad-free products.
The sign I saw outside the parking lot now made sense. This wasn’t just a building with a bunch of stores inside. It was a lifestyle complex to replace all of the places a family would patronize in a one stop shop.
I had seen more than enough. I couldn’t believe that the Grand Arbor city council approved the building of this project.
“Look, Mom,” said Vi while she pointed toward the food court, “there’s a Starbucks and Mrs. Fields over there.”
My stomach felt like it was made of stone. The café hadn’t suffered a loss of business yet, but it was inevitable.
Vi summed up my feelings. “I don’t feel like shopping here anymore.”
I agreed. “Let’s go to Janice’s for your clothes.”
Janice Wong owned Second Chances, a small vintage clothing boutique a couple doors down from the café.
Vi nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find something classy and tasteful.”
We couldn’t justify selling out the future of our town only to save a couple dollars.
The sky was inky dark by the time Vi and I finished shopping and arrived home. The days in Michigan started getting shorter and shorter until we reached a point when it would be night when we went to work and school and dark when we went home.
It was still early in the fall season so that meant that it was a little past six o’clock when we both collapsed on the couch in the li
ving room.
Vi had tried on outfits for over two hours before she found a stylish, but practical navy dress and blazer. It was also a vintage Yves Saint Laurent which was a shock. What was a bigger shock was the price. Her entire outfit cost less than sixty dollars total. I knew we made the right choice to support a local store rather than shopping at the mall.
“I’m pooped, Vi grumbled, “who knew trying on dresses could be so exhausting.”
“It’s just one of those annoying things you have to put up with if you want to look good.”
The doorbell rang and I groaned. Who could be on our front porch at this hour?
“You go get it. I can’t move.” Vi kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and turned on the television. Fox climbed onto her lap and settled into her usual spot on Vi’s lap.
As I walked to the front door, I breathed a silent sigh of relief at the lack of shoes and abandoned jackets on the floor. Thankfully I had cleaned the house in a sudden burst of energy last week.
“Who is it?” I asked. The stained glass of the front door obscured the person on the other side of the door, but I could tell that it was a tall and male person.
“It’s me,” Ben said.
I flipped the lock and opened the door.
“Ben, hi!”
Ben looked like a typical good looking Midwestern middle class man with his soft sandy blonde hair and green speckled hazel eyes. Only his well-muscled physique and rough hands gave away the fact that he worked with his hands everyday carving and building wooden sailboats in his workshop.
Ben was more than a foot taller than me, standing at six foot something, and rather than intimidating, his size made me feel safe and protected.
Today he wore a heather green sweater over a blue and red plaid shirt and the bits of sawdust stuck to his jeans told me that he had come straight over after he closed up his workshop.
“Hi yourself,” he said.
He held up a large plastic bag with what I could see were Chinese paper takeout boxes like it was a peace offering.
“I thought you could use a break from the kitchen.”
“How did you know? This is exactly what I needed.” I stepped aside to let him in and closed the door before heading back to the living room.
“Hey, Vi.”
“Hi Ben! Whatcha got there? Is that Chinese?”
My daughter suddenly forgot about her fatigue and picked a spot next to the coffee table to sit. She helped remove the takeout cartons and oohed and ahhed at the delicious aromas that wafted out.
“I heard through the rumor mill that you were the one who found the body in the park so I wanted to come by and see how you were doing.”
For not the first time since I came back to Grand Arbor, I marveled at the speed that rumors traveled through the grapevine. Somehow, Maude, Trixie, and Helen had created a system that where information traveled faster than viral news on the internet.
“So, what clues have you discovered so far, Detective Faulkner?”
I tossed a fried noodle at him in response. “I don’t understand why death keeps knocking on my door.”
“If I knew Grand Arbor was this exciting, I would have told you to come back earlier,” Vi said around a mouthful of eggroll.
As I scooped chow mein onto my paper plate, I told him about Banks Development and the havoc it’s caused with the shop owners in town.
“I’ve heard about them from when I worked in New York. They were notorious for breaking up small towns and driving down property prices in small towns upstate. They approached me when I moved back here a couple years ago, probably to design the mall, but I turned down their offer. Now that I think about it, I’m not surprised that Edward Banks was killed. His company screwed over suppliers, contractors, and tenants and his business partner, Robert isn’t any better.”
“So what you’re saying is that everybody in the world wanted him dead.” Great. That really narrowed down the list of potential suspects. I couldn’t find anybody who didn’t hate this guy.
Ben nodded and stabbed a piece of sweet and sour chicken with his plastic fork.
“What about that Robert guy?”
“What about him?”
“Well, with Edward out of the way, does that mean he gets full ownership of the company?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, unless Banks had a will drafted that gave his stake in the company to his heirs.”
“I don’t think he and his wife have any children.”
“Do you think she killed her husband?” Vi asked. She hung on to ever word of our conversation like she was auditioning for a role as one of Maude’s informants. This was not exactly the small town experience I had in mind for my daughter when I decided to move back to Grand Arbor.
I thought about the woman who was even shorter than me. I couldn’t picture her overpowering a large man and dragging him into the bushes after stabbing him.
“Maybe, but I don’t think she’s strong enough. There’s also all the business owners whose stores will go out of business with the new mall. The police think Austin did it, but he can’t be the only one who’s pissed at Edward Banks.”
Chapter 9
Carly and I took turns working the early morning shift at the café when all the baking and prep work was done. Today was my turn to come in for the late morning shift.
Just as well as it gave me a chance to stop by the hardware store on my way to the café. I took one of the signs I collected from the picketers at the mall from the pile that sat in the passenger seat.
Keep Grand Arbor Local. Shop Local.
The slogan was inoffensive, but the message was clear. I was sure that Austin would want to display it in his shop window.
It was quiet inside and I was the only customer there. I didn’t see Austin at the front counter so I assumed he was in the back of the store. Looking up, I saw two security cameras mounted near the ceiling, one pointed at the door while the other pointed toward the cash register and had a view of the entire store. Too bad they were useless as they would have provided proof of Austin’s alibi.
Parma Hardware was a small old fashioned shop with less than a dozen aisles. It didn’t carry twenty different brands of cordless drills like the big box stores, but you could find everything you would ever need to fix your house and garden.
I wandered through the store and looked for the aisle with gardening supplies and sprinklers. I passed by a bunch of camping supplies and something in the display caught my eye. I walked closer and realized that it was the exact make and model of the ice pick that was sticking out of Edward Banks’s chest. I recognized it by the wooden handle and the engraved brand name in the wood. Tucking the sign in my hand under my arm, I picked up the ice pick and pressed a finger to the pointed metal tip.
In my mind I pictured myself holding the ice pick in my fist and stabbing it into someone’s chest.
I shuddered. Shivers ran down my spine and my hands shook as I placed the tool back onto the shelf.
“Can I help you find something?”
A girlish scream escaped from my throat and I jumped at the voice behind me. I spun around and saw that Austin was standing less than two feet behind me. He looked down at me and then glanced at the tool I just had in my hand. An odd expression flitted across his face for a moment before it vanished.
“Oh, Austin. I just wanted to give you this,” I said before I shoved the sign at him, “and I-I was looking for something for my garden.” I cursed the stutter in my voice and silently scolded myself for being scared.
He glanced over the sign and though he didn’t say anything positive about it, I noticed that he didn’t toss it aside, so there was a good chance he was going to put it up.
“Gardening supplies are over there,” he pointed over my head to the other side of the store before he continued, “in aisle eight.”
“Of course, of course. I just couldn’t help noticing that this is the same ice pick they found at the crime scene, like you said. What do pe
ople use it for?”
His hand reached over my shoulder and I flinched. When I opened my eyes I saw that he had the ice pick I had just put down in his hand.
“It’s mostly campers and people who go ice fishing who buy these. It’s used in emergencies in case they fall into an icy lake and end up trapped under the ice. A pick is the perfect tool to break the ice.”
“I didn’t know that. I thought the only people who still used ice picks were snobby bartenders.”
Austin chuckled. “We sell picks to some of those people too.”
He placed the pick in his hands back on its shelf.
“What is it that you want to do in your garden?”
“Oh, right! I’m looking for a way to water my garden when I’m not home. I’ve been so busy with the café that I haven’t had time to look after my mom’s garden.”
He talked while he led me over to the gardening section. “You can do something simple like attaching a wind up timer to your garden hose or set up an irrigation system throughout your entire garden.”
I listened politely while he demonstrated how each type of irrigation product worked, but it went in one ear and out the other. I never was very good with tools.
Austin must have sensed my confusion.
“How about you come back with a drawing of your garden layout and approximate dimensions and I can help you design a system that won’t break the bank.”
“Thanks, Austin. I appreciate it.”
I got into my van and drove to the alley behind the café which also served as our employee parking lot.
I wanted to believe that Austin was innocent. Even though we weren’t close, we grew up together here in Grand Arbor. I knew his brother and his parents and grandparents. Plus, he was always so kind and helpful whenever I had a question about fixing something in my house.
But he had no alibi for his whereabouts at the time of Edward Banks’s death and the security cameras in his store were conveniently down at the time.
My mind flashed to the image of him standing so close behind me when he saw that I was looking at the ice picks. I wouldn’t say that he looked angry, but there was something dark in his expression. When he held the sharp ice pick in his hand, I could definitely see him towering over another man and slamming the sharp pointed steel into his victim’s chest without exerting much effort at all.