We started toward them. When my aunt saw us, she got Melanie’s attention. Then we greeted each other with hugs. It was nice to be a part of a family that was so fond of hugs.
“Do you remember your junior prom?” Melanie asked with a special gleam in her eye. Mel was more like her brother than she liked to admit. She wasn’t too big a person to taunt me by dragging up the past.
“How could I forget?” I tried to chuckle. But the laugh was real, partly because I was reminiscing on a time when Jessica was alive, but also partly because I needed the laugh. “I could have sworn Jeff was going to ask me,” I told Mel. “But he asked Jessica instead.”
“You were so upset,” Mom added. “I didn’t know if you were ever going to get over it.”
“At the time, I didn’t think so either. I made a breakup playlist—and I hadn’t even been broken up with.”
“Did you ever really talk to her after that?” Melanie asked.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I held a grudge against Jessica for far too long. After all, it was just a little crush.” Even if the mood felt as heavy as ever, it felt good to get that off my chest.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the time. “You ready to go inside?” I asked the fam. “The service is going to start in a few minutes.”
The sanctuary was bustling, not many open pews. And like a normal church service, there were quite a few saved seats with purses and jackets atop the uncomfortable bench seats.
Mom was right, it seemed everyone looked into their closet and plucked out their favorite little black dress, some of them skimpy and short—most of them skimpy and short.
I adjusted my outfit self-consciously. You would think by thirty I would have plenty of confidence or at least realize when I was defeated by the younger crowd. But I was conflicted, somewhere in the middle.
Uncle Billy and Jack were already inside. They saved seats for my aunt and Melanie. There was maybe enough room for Mom and myself, but not Kate.
“Let’s save a spot for Kate,” I whispered to her. “I know when she wraps up her report she doesn’t want to be forced to sit on the back pew.”
The next few minutes were spent looking for a spot to sit. It wasn’t the very back, but we found seats in the last third of the sanctuary. Mom and I scooted a little farther apart and placed a thick hymnal between us.
Like most funerals, the front two rows were clearly reserved for family. In row three, I noticed a few people of interest to me.
There was Taylor Coker, the wife beater and business partner, Camp Devereaux, and the mystery blonde. It looked like the entire staff of The Southern Depot sat next to or behind them. I recognized the young robotic server and the hostess.
Taylor was chatting with some guy, probably a cook by the looks of him. He had tattoos inching up his neck past his collar.
The cook nodded as if the man was giving him instructions on his next dish.
“Hey, Mom,” I whispered, “do you know who that blonde lady is up there with the staff of the restaurant?”
“Lea?” she asked a little louder than I would have liked. Discretion wasn’t always her strong suit. And, of course, Mom knew. She was good with names. And with as many close-knit groups as she was a member of, book club, MOPS mentors, Junior League, there was no wonder she knew who this girl was.
“Who’s Lea?” Kate asked. She scooted past me, picked up the hymn, and sat herself between me and Mom.
“Lea Bell,” Mom informed us. “She’s dating that Camp Devereaux guy. She’s sweet as pie. I met them both before you got here. They were very close with Jessica.”
Kate and I gave each other telling looks. And if the looks could talk, they would have said something like Who knew Carole would give us some vital information tonight?
Kate wrapped her arm around my mother. “It’s so good to see you, Carole.”
“You, too, sweetheart.”
The pianist began to play a somber set of chords. The lights flickered and went dim. A door at the front of the sanctuary opened up and in walked the family. Miller looked like a wreck. Jessica’s family looked just as bad, if not worse.
It always seemed so cruel to parade the family—the people closest to the deceased—at these things, all for the community to see their tears and anguish.
The service itself was moving.
One by one, a new person spoke about the joy Jessica brought to their life, their frustration with her death, and their trust in God’s will.
I couldn’t take much more. Tears streamed down my cheek. The little makeup I wore was of no use. Trusty ole Mom pulled a tissue out of her purse for me.
I gently dabbed at my eyes and then swiped underneath my nose. “Thanks.” I whispered across Kate, “You know, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go.”
Kate and Mom both nodded. They knew my anxiety was getting the best of me. It wasn’t the first time.
The thing was, it wasn’t my anxiety or sadness that was at fault. I’d realized something, and I’d gotten it into my head that this was my best move—the best time to make a move to figure out which one of these three people was Jessica’s murderer.
I slowly stood up to exit as quietly as possible, hoping not to draw too much attention in my direction.
Looking down at my feet, I quickly exited the church, not making eye contact with anyone along the way.
16
Ducking out of the memorial early was a risky move, but one I was willing to take if it meant answers.
In my all black attire, I already looked the part of cat burglar or spy. It wasn’t exactly a disguise. I just need to slip in and out unnoticed.
From Main Street to Broad, I searched for a place to park where the car wouldn’t be seen. I found a dimly lit alleyway behind the local baby boutique.
Backing my car into the space made me nervous—it always has. But slowly and steadily the tires crunched on the loose asphalt. I turned the lights off just in time as a car sped past on Broad.
With most of the town at the First Baptist Church paying their respects to Jessica, I knew I’d have at least another hour to get what I needed.
My mission: sneak into The Southern Depot and find that paper trail we so desperately needed to make a turn on this case.
Butterflies welled in my stomach. Oddly, this felt like the one and only time I helped toilet paper a house, our youth minister’s from church. It was all meant in good fun. But when I confessed my wrongs to Mom, she saw to it that I helped clean it up the next day.
I sprinted across the road, trying to get a good angle on the old railroad station. I needed to find a way in. I was thinking the wall of windows that had once made up the station counters was my best shot.
Obviously, I didn’t really know what I was doing.
The sidewalk up the street was empty aside from me. The parking lot was clear. Most of the lights were off inside. A faint light glowed in the back where the restaurant received its shipments.
This is it. No turning back once I’m inside.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that one of the investors, Camp and his gal pal, in particular, had something to do with all of this. I just had to prove it.
I mustered all of the courage I had and made a run for it. In movies, they show people doing zig zags to go undetected, but I didn’t trust myself not to trip. I sprinted and made it through the gravel lot pretty quickly.
The back of the building was my goal.
Completely out of breath, I made it. I didn’t think a single car had passed in that time.
I’d done sprints only two weeks before and had felt way better. The adrenaline had kicked in. My heart pounded.
Deep breaths. Calm down. You’ve got this.
Step one of that was a mistake. I’d inhaled deeply right next to their giant dumpster. It smelled all sorts of dank. And I fended off a case of dry heaves.
A single light lit the door of the receiving area. I knew it would let in toward the kitchen.
And as pr
edicted, that door was locked. I shimmied along the side of the building, feeling like an awkward Catwoman, and made my way to the line of windows.
The first three wouldn’t budge.
Finally, I came across a window that moved at my touch. With a heave, I was able to get it up. Then I hopped inside like it was nothing. Okay, that’s a lie. I struggled inside like the flopping of a fish out of water. I really hoped I wasn’t going to get caught. Or at least that the escapade didn’t make it on camera. I wondered if there was a World’s Worst Criminals TV show I was destined to be on.
Once inside, I heard no voices. There was no sound of sirens headed this way.
I eased the window back down to cover my tracks.
It took a moment to gain my bearings. I was in a laundry room. There was an industrial washer and dryer. A bunch of linens, table cloths, napkins, kitchen towels, the whole nine yards, folded neatly atop each machine.
I found the light switch and the door to the hall.
Another door waited on my right.
What’s behind door number two?
This door didn’t open as easily. But I put my weight into it, and it swung open. The office. I closed the door behind me.
Nothing to be nervous about, I told myself. Just closed in a dark room at a restaurant where someone you know was murdered. No big deal.
Using the flashlight on my phone for guidance, I started carefully making my way through papers on the desk.
It was a bit of a wreck. Papers and coffee cups with The Java Hutt’s logo were scattered everywhere. I snapped a few pictures of spreadsheets I found. Some things were marked off in red and blue ink, but nothing stood out to me.
All of sudden, my ears picked up the crunch of gravel underneath tires. Someone had pulled up outside.
I had nowhere to go. I ducked under the desk, my heart pounding louder and faster than it had during that run through the parking lot.
The light under the office door got brighter signaling that the full kitchen lights had been turned on.
“This is just like you, Lea,” a male voice said in a huff. “Always forgetting something.”
Lea, the girl my mom had pointed out. Of course, I knew who the male voice must belong to—Camp.
I nervously waited to be found.
Refreshing my deodorant before the memorial had been a futile effort. This nervous sweat soaked my shirt. I was so hot it almost made me dizzy. The fear was real.
“Sorry, I had to change purses for the funeral,” Lea said. “Floral doesn’t go well with black. It should be around here somewhere.”
Please don’t let it be in here, I pleaded.
The footsteps grew closer.
“You think it’s in the office?” Camp asked.
My heart thundered against my chest.
“Here it is!” Camp yelled. “Right on the prep station. God, you’re always leaving things behind. And I’m always having to clean up after you.”
“Don’t even get me started,” she shot back. “You’re the reason we are even in this mess right now. Lying to the police is a felony you know.”
“Stop it!” Camp barked. “We said we’d never talk about that again.”
“This is just all too stressful,” Lea said. “I’m just ready to skip town and be done with all of this.”
“We can’t yet,” Camp said soothingly, far removed from how he’d spoken to her only moments before. “Just a few more days, and we should be in the clear. Be patient.”
“I’m trying.”
With that, the light clicked off, and everything went dark.
I didn’t let myself exhale, not until I heard the sound of the truck’s tires change as it passed from gravel to the pavement of the parking lot. Even then, I waited several more minutes before truly feeling at ease.
That was close.
I’d never been so scared in my life. I needed to get what I came for and get out. Then I realized, I had all I needed. They’d all but admitted that Camp was the killer. And Lea had given a false alibi. She’d lied to Javier.
I knew it. I knew these two were at the bottom of this.
Getting out of there before anyone came back was my main priority. I realized the kitchen door would lock behind me, let myself out, and sprinted back to the car.
Back in the car, I breathed slowly. I was safe. My phone glowed in my face as I texted the one person I wanted to talk to right now. A phone call would not cut it; we had to meet in person. I finally had some evidence. And I needed to share it.
Meet at my house in 15.
17
Kate’s shave and a haircut, two bits knock came even sooner than I expected. But with a cryptic message like the one I’d sent her, I knew she’d come running to my door.
“You okay?” she asked. I answered the door in my pajamas. I’d actually stuffed the black clothes in the bottom of the hamper. I still felt the lasting effects of committing a crime.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry I left you with my mom.”
“No, it’s all right. I love Carole. She’s a character. I think she’s worried about you though.”
I nodded.
“Jessica’s death seems to have had a big impact on you. I’m not sure we really understand.”
We? Kate had turned on me. I wondered how long Mom had talked to Kate about me. I should’ve mentioned my visit to Dr. Gilmore to Mom before I left. It would’ve put her heart at ease.
I took a second to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted. “It’s not just her death I’ve been worried over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I found something,” I said. “Or I heard something.”
Kate could be my biggest ally on this, which is why I asked her to come over. But how could I ask her for help without making her feel like I’d been stepping on her toes? “Can you help me figure out if the something I heard is actually anything worth worrying over?”
“What are you talking about?” Kate asked. “You’re doing that thing you do where you have a conversation in your head, and I’m playing catchup. Start from the beginning. If you’re not worried about Jessica’s death, what are you worried over?”
“Her murder,” I answered.
“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, the murder. Like solving it. That’s what I’ve been fretting over.”
Kate raised a neatly trimmed eyebrow.
“And what did you find?” she asked.
I recapped what went down after I’d left the memorial.
She gave me several looks, that said without saying, Girl, you are crazy.
I knew I deserved it.
“All right, so Camp and Lea. They’re definitely our top suspects. She really said she lied to the cops?”
I nodded.
“Okay, please don’t go over there without the professionals next time. And by that I mean without Detective Portillo. Even I don’t go so far to track down leads.”
“Understood,” I said.
“So, what do you have for me to see?” she asked. “You said you took photos?”
“Only a few.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures of the documents.
“Can you print them for me?”
“I don’t have color ink—”
“That’s fine. It’ll be like investigating a cold case from the fifties.”
We both laughed.
While the printer spit the papers out, I opened a bottle of wine.
“Let’s get down to business,” Kate said, taking the glass I offered her and flipping through the papers.
“See that red there—” I pointed. “—well, it was red, now it’s gray. That means they’re operating in the red, right? So, they’re losing money…”
“That’s definitely what that means. But by this much? This seems a little absurd. I think you are onto something here. Do you mind if I keep these?”
“They’re all yours,” I said, knowing
I could look at them on my phone whenever I wanted.
Kate continued to parse through them until she finished her glass.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything else.” She stacked the papers neatly, then slid them into her purse.
“Thanks for coming over tonight,” I told her. “My nerves really were rattled. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if they caught me in the office.”
“Don’t even go there,” Kate pleaded. “Better yet, please don’t go back.”
“I promise I won’t. My nerves can’t take it.”
She gave me a hug, and I walked her to the door.
Once I was home alone, the gravity of the situation sank in. Tonight could’ve been bad. Very bad. I got lucky.
I crawled into bed and found Mister Netflix where I’d left him. “I’ll never truly be alone as long as I have you.”
Like a gentleman, he let me fall asleep first.
18
Another missed morning jog—this wasn’t a habit I wanted to get used to. But until Camp and Lea were behind bars, I couldn’t see myself feeling comfortable on the street.
In fact, I couldn’t get into any sort of rhythm, not here at home. I packed my bag and laptop for The Java Hutt. Caffeine was in order.
“I’ll take my coffee for here,” I told Gertie.
She smiled and pulled down one of the large ceramic mugs. She even made the face of a cat with the caramel syrup.
I took a photo and posted it on all my social media accounts. I had to stay relevant somehow. A cute picture of coffee and a kind review of the best coffee shop in the county would do the trick.
The blog was another matter. Here it was, Saturday, and I had no idea what to post for the weekend. The omelet post was phoned in, and the lack of spikes on the website showed it. I was in major need of something major, something that would resonate with my readers.
It was October. Spooky Halloween foods were cliché. But October was smack dab in the middle of football season. It’d been far too long since I’d hosted a game day party. I loved football food. This could be a good idea. It also could be a lot of work.
Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 8