I couldn’t imagine a teacher getting so bent out of shape over a student’s class performance and behavior that he’d kill her—and after graduation, no less. Mr. Griffin would have been rid of Esther at the end of school that day, and that evening he was probably out celebrating, not plotting and carrying out her murder. I still planned to talk to him, though. Teachers saw a lot more that went on between students than the students ever realized.
“Okay, what about Tim Carter? His name got mentioned, too.”
She blew out a sigh. “Oh, poor Tim. He loved Esther.” She shook her head sadly. “She probably treated him worst of all. He was a smart kid, but she knew he’d do anything for her. Including her homework, science projects, term papers, and occasionally her chores at home. She would flirt with him and agree to hang out with him if he did her work for her, but then she’d conveniently be busy when the time came for them to spend time together. Their arrangement came to an abrupt end when Brock found out about it. Esther threw Tim under the bus and said she’d done nothing to encourage him. Then Brock decided to beat the snot out of poor Tim for trying to steal his girl.”
“That’s awful.”
“She was awful, Quinn. I’m not saying she got what she deserved, but she deserved some sort of comeuppance for the way she acted.”
It was clear that Violet wasn’t the only person who thought that way.
Chapter 23
When I got back to the B&B, Delilah left for her first interview of the day while I made refreshments and tidied up for Papa Sal’s magic show. In between tasks, I called Dennis Griffin to try to set up a meeting with him, but only got a recording saying his number was no longer in service. I texted Delilah to see if she had any other ideas on how to contact him, but didn’t get a response from her, either.
After the magic show ended, there was a lull in my day. No one bothered us much between check-out and check-in. Granted, it was the only time we had to clean the rooms, but our two groups checking out today had left early and Delilah had taken care of their rooms before she’d left. I was off the hook for actual work for a while.
I got out my laptop and skyped my dad. He owned an auto body shop in Charleston, so as the boss, he could usually take time off whenever he wanted. When we talked, which wasn’t terribly often and normally was initiated by me, it was either during our afternoon lull or in the evening.
Dad’s handsome face filled the screen. “Hey, Quinnie. How are you, darlin’?”
“I’m fine, Dad. And you?”
He smiled. “Better now that I’m talking to you.”
My father was ever the charmer. My mother griped that it was what had made her fall for him so hard and be so blind when he was preparing to leave her.
He continued, “How’s the B&B business? You and Delilah keeping busy? Your band playing gigs? Is she keeping up with her acting?”
No matter how much my sister pushed him away, he never neglected to ask about her. Granted, it would probably go a lot further with her if he’d contact her himself to inquire about how she was doing, but at least he asked.
“I had a gig last night, and D was part of a wonderful performance of A Christmas Carol last weekend.”
“Sorry I missed them. You know, I’ve been thinking about coming home over the holidays. Would y’all have a room for your dear old dad?”
Sure he’d come to visit, but normally only if we’d comp him a room. He was like Mom in that sense—we provided for him, rather than the opposite.
“I would love to see you, but we are booked solid through January. You know there are other places to stay besides Bellandini’s B&B.”
He laughed. “I know that. I love that old house, though. And the company, of course.”
“You’re more than welcome to hang out here; you just can’t sleep here.”
“I’ll see.”
And there went my chance to see my dad this holiday season.
I cleared my throat. “Um, Dad, the reason I called is I wanted to tell you that a friend of yours from high school was found dead.”
His face went blank for a moment, but he soon put on a suitably somber expression. “You mean Esther Sinclair? It’s big news up here, too.”
“Oh. Well, then I have some questions I’d like to ask you.” I gave him a quick explanation of why I needed his information.
“I see,” he said slowly. “You know, I don’t think it’s wise to go messing around in a murder case.”
“We’re being careful, Dad.”
Good thing he didn’t say that to Delilah. She would have fired back something along the lines of, “Now you’re going to go all father figure on us?” I could picture it as if she was in the room with me.
I continued, “I take it you knew Esther pretty well since you dated her friend Portia. How long were you two together?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s ancient history. Speaking of ancient history, how’s your mama?”
Dad also had a bad habit of not being able to stay on task.
“She’s fine.”
His eyebrows knit together, although he kept a jovial smile on his face. “Still with that loser Paul?”
“Yes, Dad. Tell me about Portia. Did she have anything against Esther? There had to have been some kind of jealousy or drama between them, considering the minute Esther dumped her boyfriend, Portia latched onto him.”
His smile vanished. “You can stop that kind of talk about Portia right this minute, young lady.”
“But, Dad, I need to—”
“No. You’ll not say another word about her. You girls better not even consider dragging her into this case. I don’t want you uttering her name in the same conversation with the word ‘murder,’ and that’s final. You hear me?”
Dad usually didn’t get too wound up about anything, but he was quite adamant about us leaving his ex-girlfriend alone. Was it possible he still had feelings for her? Or did he know for certain that she had nothing to do with Esther’s death? I wished he’d just tell me, but that wasn’t how Dad operated. But if he and Delilah were this convinced of Portia’s innocence, and seeing as how there wasn’t a super compelling reason to think she could be guilty, I guessed I could get on board. We had more than enough potential suspects.
“Quinn?” he prompted.
I sighed. “Yes, sir.” Switching gears, I said, “How well did you know her husband, Brock?”
He seemed to relax a bit. “We were buddies. Brock is a good guy.”
My father wasn’t the best judge of character, so I took that one under advisement.
“I heard he used to get violent sometimes. He evidently beat up Tim Carter for trying to steal Esther from him?”
His face fell. “I don’t know why you personally need to dig into this, Quinn. The past is better left in the past.”
Not to be deterred, I asked, “Do you think if he thought Esther had in fact cheated on him that he’d ever get physical with her?” The more I heard about Brock Sheridan, the more I didn’t think I liked him. And the more motive he seemed to have to go after his ex-girlfriend.
Dad shot a pointed look at the camera. “Quinn, honey, are you trying to ask me if I think he killed her?”
“I’m going to be asking a lot of things, and they may not all be pleasant. I need to find Lela some reasonable doubt before she gets locked up for good. This is serious, Dad.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, I’ll be serious, then. I think this would be better left to the professionals. You’re no investigator, Quinn. Concentrate on what you do best—baking delicious scones and keeping the B&B shipshape.”
Is that all my dad thought I did? I ignored his comment. “Do you think Brock would have killed Esther?”
My dad let out a long sigh. “I can see you’re not going to give up until I answer your question. No, I don’t think Brock wo
uld have killed her. In fact, he took every chance to stand up for her. Even to me. It was obvious to everyone except Brock that Esther had led Tim on so he’d do her work for her. When Brock decided to go after Tim, I tried to tell him what was really going on, but he wouldn’t hear it. Took a swing at me for even bringing it up. He loved Esther, regardless of what she put him through.”
I pressed, “If you believe Brock is innocent, then who do you think would have had a reason to kill her? What about the history teacher, Mr. Griffin? He didn’t seem to like Esther very much.”
“True, but aside from his beef with Esther, he was a kind soul. He couldn’t have killed a fly if he’d had to. For lack of a better word, he was kind of a loser. A studious type.”
“Who else had it out for her?”
Staring at me for a moment, he said, “I think you’re in over your head, honey. You need to quit with this before you get hurt.”
“That’s why I’m trying to get what I can out of you instead of having to talk to strangers.”
He sighed again. “What does your mama say about all this?”
I didn’t need to derail the conversation into what Mom thought. And he didn’t need to know she’d become a hostile interviewee.
“Well, Dad, she hasn’t said a lot. In fact, the two of you have been about as helpful as a screen door on a submarine. If you want to know the truth, I think there’s something you’re both not telling me.”
His eyes bulged out. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that way, Quinn.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m gruff, but Lela is running out of time. I’ve got a lot of people left to speak to, and I was hoping you could give me something I can use.”
Out of the blue, he said, “You know what? Instead of me visiting, what would you say to going on an impromptu family vacation for Christmas? I could leave the day after tomorrow. What do you say—you, me, and your sister head somewhere tropical? Or maybe we could go north and have a white Christmas.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out why in the world he was throwing out this crazy idea all of a sudden. I finally replied, “Dad, we can’t leave the B&B. I told you we’re booked for weeks. Maybe we could take that trip during the off-season, but not now.”
Deflating in front of my eyes, he said, “Oh.”
“It sounds like fun, though. Just not now.”
Dad nodded. “I hope you’ll take my advice and abandon this quest that you’re on. You’re a grown woman, so I can’t force you to stop. But I need you to be careful, Quinnie. I’ll talk to you soon.” And with that, our connection was broken.
Again, I was relieved that Delilah hadn’t been present for yet another odd and frustrating conversation with one of our parents.
Chapter 24
Delilah and I missed each other in our comings and goings today, but we’d made new plans to sit down after I got home tonight and bring each other up to speed on how we’d spent our days.
Tucker and I headed to Cucina Fresca, a lovely little Italian restaurant tucked into a mostly residential neighborhood. It felt like we were sitting down to eat in someone’s home, so warm and inviting.
After we ordered our food, he said quietly, “Aunt Lela’s got a hearing tomorrow morning. Is there any way you could be there? I think I’m going to need as much moral support as she is.”
My heart wrenching, I reached across the table and took his hand. “Of course I’ll be there. For both of you.”
He gave me a sad smile and squeezed my hand hard. We had to get this thing solved soon. I hated knowing Tucker’s aunt was imprisoned, but I worried for his mental well-being just as much. I could see in his eyes the helplessness he felt. They’d lost that sparkle I liked so much.
“Do you have any good news for me? Delilah texted me earlier and said you were dividing and conquering today.”
“No earth-shattering news to report, but we are making progress. And about us working independently today…to be honest I didn’t enjoy it as much. Delilah and I make a good team. Our personalities are so different, a lot of times when one of us is having trouble communicating with someone, the other knows exactly what to say to get the conversation flowing.”
“And being together is safer.”
“True, but considering my interview list today consisted of a middle-aged gossip girl, a teacher, and my dad, it couldn’t get much safer.”
Flashing me a relieved smile, he said, “I’ll agree that doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”
We were served salads at that time, so we suspended our conversation and dug into our food. As we were finishing the salads, I shifted our focus onto more lighthearted issues, like sharing what kinds of unusual requests guests had made this week and asking if he wanted to drive around and look at Christmas lights and decorations sometime soon. He responded politely, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. Before our food came, I got a text from Delilah saying that she’d managed to track down more current information on Dennis Griffin. He spent most evenings tending bar at a place on Abercorn Street not too far from where we were now.
Our dinners were delicious, but there was a somber pall over our table. I tried to come up with easy conversation starters, but Tucker simply didn’t have much to say. I imagined his mind was fully dwelling on Aunt Lela’s court appearance tomorrow, and I didn’t blame him a bit. I would probably have been feeling the same way if I didn’t have this investigation looming over me.
Speaking of which, if we didn’t put in a request to speak to the chef soon, we might lose our chance. I waved our waitress over and did exactly that.
As we came closer to finishing our meal, I became increasingly anxious about Grady Stewart not coming out to speak to us. But just as our table was being cleared, a man in a chef’s uniform appeared beside me.
“Good evening, folks. I’m Grady Stewart, head chef here at Cucina Fresca. How did you enjoy your meals tonight?”
Tucker replied, “Delicious food, chef. Thank you.”
“Everything was wonderful,” I agreed. “While we have you here, I wondered if I might ask you something.”
“Sure. Are you in the market for some catering?”
Giving him my brightest smile, I said, “Not at this time, although I hear from Coralee Marshall that your catering is second to none.”
Grady grinned wide. “Mrs. Marshall is one of our best customers.”
“She also said you used to work with her friend Esther Sinclair at Earl’s Southern Fried Chicken.”
His smile faltered, but he covered it with a chuckle. “Well, you know, sometimes we have to take whatever job we can get. I was saving every penny I could get my hands on for culinary school, so I wasn’t terribly picky about where the money came from.”
“Were you friends with Esther? My mother was a childhood friend of hers. Pity about what happened to her.”
“Right. I heard. Esther was a friend.”
“I keep hearing good things about Esther. Strange that someone would want to kill her.”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah. I agree. The news came as a shock. She was a nice girl.”
“Right. Unfortunately Earl didn’t think so. Is it true that he fired her right before she died?”
“No, she quit. I was the one who got fired.” His expression was beginning to grow wary.
“Oh. Did your firing have to do with her quitting?”
Eyeing me, Grady asked, “What’s with all the questions? Are you a cop?”
“No. My name is Quinn Bellandini, and I’m conducting an independent investigation.” Ooh. That was a good one. I’d have to use that again.
He nodded, sizing me up. “I should probably get back to the kitchen.”
“Wait,” I said, reaching out to seize his arm. “If you were Esther’s friend, I would think you’d want the right person to be punished for killing
her.”
He cast a pointed look at my hand, and I let go of him. After smoothing his sleeve, he said, “I do want that. But what does it have to do with me and her job at Earl’s?”
“We’re looking for any information we can get about the last couple of weeks of her life. Earl Settle told me he fired her. I’d like to know why he lied to me.”
“Probably because Earl is a horrible person. He’s the reason Esther had to quit.”
“Because he kept making unwanted advances at her?”
He nodded. “She’d finally had enough and told him off. He went nuts.”
“Nuts, how? Did he ever get abusive or physical with Esther? Did he threaten her?”
Sighing, he replied, “No, but maybe because I made sure it didn’t get to that. I was the only other worker there that night when she told him she was quitting. He started screaming at her and throwing pans around. I told him to knock it off and got between them. He fired me on the spot and told us to both get the hell out. I didn’t argue.”
I could feel the unease rolling off Tucker. I glanced at him to find it written all over his face, too. I guessed Earl just made our suspect list for real. Between Esther spurning his advances and then quitting on him, he had a decent amount of motive to want to get back at her.
I said to Grady, “Did Earl ever try to contact you after that night?”
“No.”
“Did you have any contact with Esther after that night?”
He thought for a moment. “Not that I recall. I heard she left town a week later, but evidently that was not the case.”
“Right. Were there any other coworkers you remember that Esther befriended?”
“Not really. She mainly talked to me, and that was it.”
“Fair enough. Do you remember any of your coworkers’ names?”
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