“This is a tiny office for such a big operation,” Rory said.
And she was right. It was almost a storefront, although it was located in one of those industrial parkways. “He doesn’t outfit the food trucks here, I’m guessing.”
I pulled open the door and we met his receptionist, Pam, as she was coming back from getting coffee. The mug in hand, steam wafting from it.
“Hi, Win,” Pam said.
“Hi. Is Mr. Manuto around?”
“Sure is,” she said. “Hold on, I’ll buzz him.”
Charles Manuto and his assistant were an odd pair, but they were perfectly matched. They both reminded me of beach bums that were now trying to break into Hollywood as agent and starlet. Pam’s hair was straggly, a dirty blond with dark highlights. She wore tight clothes and high heels. Cheap high heels.
“Where did she get those vinyl shoes from? Payless?” Rory nudged me. Her nose was turned up like she’d smelled a dead mouse.
“Everyone can’t wear designer shoes,” I whispered back.
Rory winced. “They should at least try.”
“Bronwyn Crewse!” He came out to the lobby. His arms outstretched. “My favorite customer.”
“Hi, Mr. Manuto.”
“Call me Chuck.” He’d said it every time I’d seen him, but for some reason I just couldn’t do it.
“And who do you have here?”
“This is my friend Rory,” I said. “She’s visiting from out of town.”
“Nice shoes,” Pam said from behind her desk.
“Thank you,” Rory said. Her smile was an I-told-you-so. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Manuto.”
“Chuck!” he said. “Everyone calls me Chuck.” He gestured with his hand. “Come on in, have a sit-down and let’s talk.” He stepped back into his office, waiting for us, then closed the door after we went through. “Sit. Sit.”
Mr. Manuto. Chuck. Was tall and lanky. His shoulders were in a constant state of hunched as if he wanted to keep his full height a secret. He had a brownish-orangey tan, so evenly colored that even with our streak of hot weather, I was thoroughly convinced it had to be done at a tanning salon. His hair was brown, combed back and hung right below his ears. He’d been in a suit every time I’d seen him, never one that seemed tailor-made.
He sat at his desk across from us. “It won’t be long now.” He waved his hand over his head like my name was going up in lights. “The Crewse Creamery Food Truck,” he announced. “Bom, bom bah bah! Will make its maiden voyage right to your front door in less than thirty days.”
I couldn’t help but to beam. “I really can’t wait.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to wait much longer.” He ran his hand over the stubble on his face. “I was just in your neck of the woods and saw a line coming out your door.”
I beamed some more.
“This truck is really gonna be the icing on the cake for you,” he said. “Or should I say, the sprinkles on the ice cream.” He laughed at his joke.
I was still smiling about getting the food truck, so that worked—he thought I thought he was funny, too.
“You’ve got a good thing going on over there.” He smacked his lips. “A real good thing.”
“She makes delicious ice cream,” Rory said.
“Thank you,” I said and bowed my head. “Thank you both.”
“I was meeting another client when I passed your establishment,” he said. “Otherwise, I would have stopped in.”
“Another client?” I asked. Guess I won’t be the only shop owner on North Main with a food truck.
“Yes,” he said and looked off thoughtfully. “New concept for me—a mobile bookstore.”
“Oh really?” I asked.
“Yes, spoke with the mayor,” Mr. Manuto said. “His idea is sort of like a bookmobile only it’s not the lending of books, but the selling of them. He told me the only bookshop in the village was going out of business and he still wanted to be able to serve his residents.”
“Around the Corner Bookshop.” I nodded not because I knew, thanks to our search, they were going out of business, but to confirm the name. Although it was just the answer Maisie and I were going to try and find.
“The mayor owns the bookstore?” Rory asked.
“No,” I said, just then realizing that part of what Mr. Manuto said. “The food truck—uh, book truck—is for him?”
“No. It’s for the owner of the bookshop.”
“Oh,” I said, remembering Amelia Hargrove coming into the store to hang flyers. I guess she would need to reduce inventory. She couldn’t fit all those books in a truck.
“Prime retail space.” Mr. Manuto was stroking his stubble again. “I tried to get office space over that way, always had a dream of opening my business in Chagrin Falls. But they told me nothing was available”—he focused his eyes on me—“although I knew there was.”
“Who told you that?” I asked. There were a couple of empty storefronts for rent or sale available most of the time.
He let out a chuckle. “The same guy who wants my help now.” He nodded. “He knew I’d know just how to get him what he needed.”
“Oh,” I said and sat up a little straighter in my seat.
That was interesting.
“But what he doesn’t know,” Mr. Manuto said with a smirk, “is that I’m going to make up for my lost cost in opportunity in the price I’m giving him.”
chapter
THIRTY-FOUR
I couldn’t wait to get back to the ice cream shop and tell Maisie about the mayor buying Amelia a book truck, and the fact that he was telling prospective shop owners there wasn’t any space available on North Main. Had he done that because he’d known the mall was coming? What was going on with him?
And if he had, what, if anything, did that have to do with Zeke Reynolds’s murder?
When Rory and I walked into the store, there was a line that snaked around the lobby, people licking on cones and gobbling down big spoonfuls of scoops and whipped cream–covered sundaes. Riya was still there helping Maisie and Wilhelmina. My mother had already left. Candy was due in later. Everything seemed to be under control now. Afternoon crowd would be coming in soon, though.
I decided to walk around and talk to my customers. I liked to get feedback on my flavors and let the customers know that our place was filled with a family atmosphere.
Four o’clock rolled around in no time and it was hard to break away. Especially hard since all four of us were going—Rory, Maisie, Riya and me.
This was one time I was happy Aunt Jack was in town. I called her to come in. She hadn’t showed up that morning. I think she had been worn out. She answered the phone grumbling and grumbled all the way through the conversation, but she agreed to come in and help. I had to promise her, though, that she wouldn’t have to stay all the way to closing.
I didn’t know how long we’d be gone. Especially since this little outing had nothing to do with the family’s business.
“How are you going to get him to talk to us?” I asked Riya as we set out.
“I’m going to use my auntie Neera as a weapon against him,” she said.
“Are we going to go talk to her first?” Rory asked.
“No,” Riya said. “We don’t have to. I’ll just tell him I’m going to tell her what I know, and he’ll tell us whatever we want to know.”
“How do you figure that?” Maisie asked.
“Because everyone is afraid of my auntie Neera.”
Garud Khatri had an office on the second floor of an office building that sat between Davis Bakery and McGuire’s Pharmacy. It took up almost the entire floor.
“Ah,” he said when his assistant showed us in, his big phony smile spread across his face. At least he had nice teeth. He opened his arms like he was happy to see us, his too large suit jacket hanging
off of him like he was a scarecrow. “I was surprised when my dear, sweet niece called and said you all wanted to speak to me.”
“Thank you for taking time to see us,” I said.
Riya cut an eye at me. I think she felt like since she didn’t like him, I shouldn’t be nice to him.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked, gesturing for us to sit. There were only two chairs in front of the desk. But there was a gold-colored couch on one wall where Rory sat down. Riya stayed on her feet.
“I was wondering, Uncle Garud,” Riya said. “Does Auntie Neera know about you and that woman?”
Lowering his voice, he talked out of the side of his mouth. “What woman?” His smile dimming a watt or two.
I laughed to myself and wondered how many women there were because he didn’t deny Riya’s accusation, it seemed he just wanted to clarify it.
“The woman I saw you with at the meeting for the shop owners,” she said.
“You were there?” He narrowed his eyes, apparently trying to think about what he’d done there that night.
“I was there,” Riya said, “and I saw you.”
“I did nothing.” He waved both his hands, dismissing the notion. “What did this woman look like?” His voice went down again.
“I think her name is Amelia Hargrove,” Riya said.
“Oh, if that is the case”—his smile returning—“it wasn’t anything. Amelia Hargrove is with the mayor,” he said, smoothing down his bow tie.
“What do you mean she’s with the mayor?” Maisie asked. She had sat down in the chair next to mine. “Isn’t the mayor married?”
“Ah,” Uncle Garud said. “I see I know something you don’t. Did you come to me for information? Because I can tell you that being married does not always stop a man from going after a woman.”
“It has never stopped you, has it?” Riya said. “Does my poor auntie Neera know that?”
He opened his mouth, closed it and let out a groan.
“I think she does, because she is the one who asked me to keep an eye on you at the meeting.”
I didn’t think Riya had even seen him at the shop owners’ meeting. She was too busy being “supportive.” At least she would have mentioned it—heck, she’d never even mentioned an Auntie Neera. But if she thought this was a way to get information from old Uncle Garud, I was all for it.
“I am not concerned,” he said, “about your fantasy. I have done nothing wrong.”
“But who will Auntie believe, Uncle Garud, you or me?”
“What is it that you want, Riya?” He balled up his hands into fists and placed them on his desk. Seemed as if he was trying not to show his anger with us. “You bring your friends here, you want to lie about me to the love of my life . . .” He placed one fist over his heart. “All I want to know,” he said, now putting the palms of his hands together like he was praying, “is what it is I can help you with so that you and your little friends can leave.”
“Why were you following my friends yesterday?” Riya asked.
“I wasn’t following your friends,” he said curtly.
“Then why did you say you were following them?”
“Did I say I was following them?” he asked. “I don’t remember saying that.”
“Don’t play games with me, Uncle Garud,” Riya said. “Auntie Neera is coming to see me at the hospital tomorrow. I have to check on her heart. Do you want me to have to break it by telling her about you and this woman I saw you with?”
He coughed into his hand and looked around the room at us. “As I said, I was not following these women. I was following Veronica Russell.”
“Why were you following her?” Maisie asked.
“Why were you following her?” Uncle Garud asked.
“We’re here to ask the questions,” Riya said and put a hand on her hip. His shoulders fell and he lowered his eyes. She really knew how to handle this man. We should take her on all of our interrogations.
“I was following her because I wanted to see where she was going,” he said and held up his hands, surrendering. “Isn’t that why you follow people?”
“Why did you want to see where she was going?” I asked.
“Because I needed to see what she was up to,” Uncle Garud said. “Rhys Enterprises is to buy my property and their representative is killed. It is in my best interest to keep track of what’s going on.”
“You are going to sell your property to Rhys Enterprises?” I asked.
“Of course!” he said enthusiastically. “I am a businessman. I am in the business of making money.”
“Do you think because Zeke Reynolds was killed you’re not going to be able to sell your property?”
“Of course not. What do they say? ‘One monkey does not stop a show.’ They will send another representative.”
“Then why did you care where Veronica was going?” Maisie asked.
“Because she went to see the mayor. That couldn’t be a good thing for me.”
“How did you know that’s where she was going?” Rory asked from the couch.
“What?”
“Good point,” I said. “When she started out you didn’t know where she was going.”
“And why is her going to see the mayor a bad thing for you?” Riya asked.
“I just needed to keep an eye on her because the mayor and Amelia will get a kickback if they strike a deal. If he makes a deal with them before he can make a deal with me.”
“Who?” all of us asked together.
“The new guy. The new representative that’s coming from Rhys Enterprises, that’s who. You girls know nothing about business.” He shook his head. “I wanted to make sure that I was the first to see him when he got here.”
“Were you afraid that Veronica was going to make a deal with the mayor and Amelia?”
“No.” He thought about that. “Maybe. Zeke was a good friend of mine. He told me lots of things. I told him all about Chagrin Falls. How he could come and buy my buildings and put up his mall. How I would help him to get everyone to sign the deal. I am very influential, you know.”
I wondered about that. I hadn’t ever heard of him. Nor had I heard my grandfather or mother talk about him. He was more smoke and mirrors, I thought, than anything else.
“But when Zeke got here, he had a change of heart,” Uncle Garud was saying.
“So you killed him?” Maisie asked the question that Riya had said we were coming to ask.
“No.” Garud said it just as calmly as if Maisie had asked him would he like a piece of gum. “I did not kill him, but I did want to wring his neck.” He pretended with his hands to grab an imaginary body by the neck and gave it a good shaking. “But I didn’t.” He dropped his hands. “He decided to quit. Go home to Florida. And not take any more property from people who didn’t want to sell it.”
“Like who?” I asked.
“Like those ancient twin spinsters,” he said. “They would not give. Everything else was a done deal.”
“You didn’t want to sell yours?” Maisie asked.
Uncle Garud pointed at Maisie but looked at Riya. “Does she not understand English? Did I not say I wanted to sell my property? Sell. Sell. Sell.” He stood up and leaned over the desk toward Maisie, spittle flying with his words. “Even that building you want to expand your little garden.” He swiped the palms of his hands together. “Gone!”
“We get it, Uncle Garud,” Riya said. “You wanted to sell.”
“Yes,” he said and sat back down. He gave his bow tie a tug on both sides. “I didn’t like that Zeke wanted to leave. I needed him to work for Rhys until this deal went through. I needed him to make sure I got the good deal and not the mayor and Amelia.”
“What kind of deal would they get?”
“Kickbacks.” He said it like it
was obvious. “The mayor could offer Rhys Enterprises many things I couldn’t. And Amelia, his woman,” he emphasized, looking at Riya, “would stand behind him and they would get rich together, and I would not get a thing, even though I was the one to bring Rhys Enterprises here.
“I couldn’t kill him,” he continued. Cupping his hands and holding them out, he shrugged. “Because then I would not make any money.”
chapter
THIRTY-FIVE
Family Chef Night. My mother’s creation after us kids grew up and flew the nest. It was a way to make sure her children didn’t stay away from the coop too long. One family member was designated head chef, the others acted as sous chefs. We’d cook, eat and spend the evening playing games, laughing and, per my mother, “creating lasting family moments.”
My daddy, skilled surgeon and culinary master, was up tonight and we all knew that meant we’d be in for a treat.
Riya on her last day off for a while had been a big help. Letting us meet at her house, making an appointment with Garud Khatri for us and steering that conversation in the right direction. All without losing her temper.
That was practically a miracle. And an inspiration.
After talking to him, our little sleuthing squad was raring to go. We decided to talk to all the people who’d sold their shops and the one (even though there were two of them) who stood in the way—the Dixby sisters.
But first it was dinner at the Crewse house. Dr. James Graham Crewse, acting head chef, with sous chefs galore. Who said too many cooks spoil the pot. Not when the cooks were the Crewses.
Wilhelmina worked the late shift with Candy so the rest of us could leave early. Not that we’d been there all day. It was a good thing I’d come in and made ice cream that morning.
I scooped up enough of the shiny and creamy mango sorbet I’d made and added a touch of tart lime and the tangy lemon basil from trays in the walk-in freezer to fill up two gallon cartons. Didn’t know what was on the menu for dinner, but fruit goes great for dessert with any entrée. Especially when the fruit is in ice cream.
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