Miller did as he was told. He held his hands up and lowered himself into the chair behind the desk.
“Let me get this out for all of you to hear. I didn’t kill your wife. And I don’t know who did.”
“You didn’t?” Lea was just as taken-aback as Miller and myself. Why would Camp lie at a time like this? He was a holding a gun on us.
“No, I didn’t.” Camp shook his head. The gun stayed pointed at Miller. “But Miller, here, has some explaining to do. See, I just got off the phone with that detective. He explained some irregularities with the finances. The same irregularities that Jessica found.”
“What are you talking about?” Miller and Lea asked as one.
“That night of the murder,” Camp said, “we were closing up. And Jessica asked me back here to this very place. She accused me of skimming off the top—of stealing from my very own business. We argued, and I left.” Camp turned to Lea. “That’s why I asked you to lie for me. I knew it’d look bad if the cops knew what happened.”
So, he and Lea had both lied to the police.
“What I didn’t realize until the detective called me was that it was Miller.”
Miller shifted uncomfortably in the chair. The gun moved with him.
“Camp,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t me. Why would I—”
The door of the office eased open—not an easy feat. I remembered how sticky that door was. Someone strong was behind it. I was hoping for Javier.
Another gun was the first thing I saw.
“That’s because it was me,” the voice behind the gun said. The gun fired. It was so loud I thought my ears would ring for days.
Camp crumpled to the floor.
“Sweetheart!” Lea fell on top of him. She rushed to press down on his shoulder where all I saw was red on his shirt.
There was a commotion in the kitchen. Cooks and staff scrambled out.
“Why don’t y’all step out here with me?” Ronnie Ferguson said.
“Ronnie?” my voice trembled.
“No one else has to die. I’ll lock y’all in the freezer. They’ll find you soon enough. Just give me the keys to that nice truck out there.”
“They’re in my purse,” Lea told him.
“And Miller, kick that gun over here.”
Camp’s gun was idle on the floor. Miller kicked it over for Ronnie to inspect.
He gave a short laugh. “Wasn’t even loaded,” he said. “This one, I assure you, is. All right, Miller first, then you two next.”
“What about Camp?” Lea asked.
“He’ll be okay. It’s just a shoulder.”
Lea didn’t seem to agree. Camp winced. Finally, Lea got to her feet. And we followed Miller out to the kitchen.
Like most industrial kitchens, the cookware, the pots, and the pans were all there for easy access—there’s no need to hide them in cabinetry. My eyes glanced over for anything of use to defend us, a knife, a skillet, anything.
What if you miss? My inner monologue kicked in.
Miller scuffed his feet. I assumed he was doing the same mental calculations.
“Let’s go,” Ronnie said. “I don’t have much time.”
When he poked Miller in the back with his gun, I took the opportunity. A heavy-duty baking tray was well within my reach. I grabbed it with two hands. Ronnie only had time to look back before I clocked him across the face with the full force of my weight behind the pan.
It knocked him back, stunned. And I knocked him over the head a second time. This time he fell to the floor. And the gun fell beside him.
Miller quickly swiped it up.
“Nice work!” he said.
“Do you hear what I hear?” Lea asked.
Both Miller and I nodded.
The sound of sirens from multiple emergency vehicles came roaring our way. Tires skidded across the gravel.
“We’re safe. He’s out cold,” I yelled as two officers came to the door with weapons drawn.
Miller set the gun down on the prep station. He eased back with his hands up.
The third person through the door brought a smile to my face. It was Javier, his bulletproof vest on atop his business casual attire.
He got my message. Relief washed over his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking down through the office and then at the floor in the kitchen. “I told you not to mess with these two. Why didn’t you listen?”
“It’s a long story,” I told him.
He nodded. He took out a walkie-talkie and said into it, “We need paramedics inside. Two down. One with a gunshot wound. All clear.”
I listened as the radio crackled back.
“I’m going to need statements from all of you,” Javier said. And oddly, he didn’t seem to ask who the guy crumpled on the floor was. Instead, he bent down and put handcuffs on Ronnie.
“Did he confess?” Javier asked.
“He did,” Miller answered, confused. “How’d you know?”
“I’m the detective,” Javier said. Then he looked up at me. “Or at least one of them.” He winked.
TO: Foodie Allison
FROM: Lea Bell
SUBJECT: Sorry
Allie,
I wanted to say sorry—sorry for everything.
Lea, aka _foodieXgirl_
21
“You have the right to remain silent....” Javier continued reading Ronnie Ferguson his rights while shoving his head beneath the roof of the patrol car.
“Ow, that hurts,” Ronnie complained.
“That goose egg will be there for a few days.”
Lights flashed all around as Camp was wheeled into the back of an ambulance.
Of all the crazy things I had done in my life—which honestly was a very short list—this was the craziest. Tracking down a killer, sort of. My heart was still beating rapidly. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to sleep tonight.
A strong hand touched my shoulder. After everything I had been through, I jumped a little before turning around.
“You sure you’re all right?” Javier asked me. “You know that was ridiculous—what you just did? I asked you not to do anything stupid, but you couldn’t listen.”
“I confronted her in the pharmacy. How could I have known it would end like this?”
Javier smiled. “You couldn’t’ve. But next time, leave it to the professionals to catch the killer.”
“I’ll be more careful from now on. Scouts honor.”
“Careful isn’t the same as leaving well enough alone.” Detective Burley came over toward Javier, but Javi signaled that he’d be just another minute.
“Allie,” he said to me, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.”
Screeching into the parking lot, Kate’s news van slid on the gravel before coming to a complete stop. Out stepped Kate, looking as put together as always.
She beelined straight for me, then wrapped her arms around me. I could tell she was as relieved as Javier to know I was okay. Her cameraman began to set up shop in front of the restaurant.
Before I knew it, he handed her a microphone. “Three…two…one… action.”
Am I in this frame? I wondered.
“Good evening, everyone,” Kate started. “Tonight, we have breaking news. There’s been an arrest. The murderer of Jessica Hayes was apprehended just moments ago, here, at The Southern Depot, where the awful crime took place.
“I’m here live with Allison Treadwell of the Lanai Gazette. Allie helped our local law enforcement catch the killer. Allie, do you have anything you’d like to say?”
“No,” I said. “I’m just happy Jessica will finally have justice.”
Kate smiled. She knew me well enough to know I wasn’t going to talk further. “Thank you, Allison. We’ll have more on this developing story tonight at ten.”
Was I really just on the news?
As fast as he’d set up, the cameraman got busy deconstructing the shot.
“You did great,” Kate told me. “Next time, I might not make it candid.”
“Kate,” I said.
“Sorry, I knew you’d never agree.”
She was right. And she had me rethinking that gift I’d left at Clark’s Pharmacy.
“All right, you ready?” Javier asked. “It’s time for your official statement.”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.
We got into his car and headed downtown to police headquarters. On this trip, the questioning took longer than my initial interview. I learned that Ronnie had Miller sign all of the shipping receipts. Jessica never thought to look for the losses before the food was cooked. She’d assumed they were paying for the correct orders of meat and produce. And Miller had been too trusting of an old high school buddy.
Ronnie was making a late delivery that night when he heard Camp and Jessica arguing. He must’ve known his time was limited. And he’d killed her in the heat of the moment.
Lea confessed to throwing the brick at my window. She’d assumed Camp was guilty. She assumed wrong. How terrible. Javier said they’d probably get some jail time for the wrongs they’d committed but nothing like what Ronnie was in for.
I woke the next morning, happy to be home in my cozy cottage. And like a heathen, I decided to skip out on church. Instead, I put on my tights and a long sleeve shirt. The chill of fall had finally arrived for good. It was time for that long run.
My body adjusted as I picked up the pace from mile two to mile three. Then I turned down Main Street and took it slow past the closed shops, smiling as I passed The Java Hutt.
Today, I didn’t need hope for a chance encounter with Javier. He, along with several of his buddies at the station, Kate, and Mom, were all coming over to watch football—and perhaps more importantly—eat the spread of food I’d planned for the blog.
There was a long day in the kitchen ahead of me.
Food was my passion.
And the next time I write a review, I decided, things better go smoother. I’d had my first—and hopefully, my last—taste of murder.
The End
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A Choice Cocktail of Death
1
“Are you ready for this?” Kate asked.
She worked carefully with her curling iron, while making finger waves in my hair.
“I think so,” I answered. I tapped my foot nervously. Never before had I mixed business with pleasure quite in this way. Sure, being a restaurant reviewer has certain perks—I not only get to eat and call it work but every meal receipt is a tax write-off.
Tonight, I was adding to the mix—a bit of fun and socializing.
I’d agreed a month ago to do a write-up in the Lanai Gazette on our town’s newest dining experience. And that’s exactly how it was sold, as an experience.
In fact, the idea wasn’t even mine or Kinsey’s, the scatterbrained editor-and-owner-in-chief of the paper, but the owner himself pitched it. George Wilson wanted me to do a one-night adventure at his Murder Mystery Dinner Party at the regal Bentley’s Estate. It was the perfect setting for such a unique event. The place oozed Southern charm.
But it wasn’t the food or the murder mystery that made my nerves tense with anticipation, though I had always wanted to participate in a murder mystery dinner party. It was kind of like playing life-size Clue.
No, this addition was what Kate brought to the party.
“Tell me again why you think this guy is right for me,” I said.
“Allie, look at me.” She grabbed my chin with her free hand. “Like I’ve told you before, he’s kind, he’s funny in a funny sort of way, and, boy, is he easy on the eyes,” she said the last part with a giggle.
“Well those are all good things I guess,” I said. “I’m still nervous about trying to fit in a blind date while I’m working.”
“Work will be the perfect buffer. Plus, he’ll have Marcus to talk to about sports or whatever. I’ll distract them when you’re tasting. I know how you can be.”
“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She continued working on the finger waves in an attempt to recreate the flapper style in my thick brown hair.
I strained to take a peek, but Kate situated herself between me and the mirror.
“How does it look?” I held up my homemade feather headband. “Ready for this?”
“Mah-velous, dahling, mahv-elous,” Kate doted. She snatched my headband away. “I love this broach. Where did you find it?”
“I got it antiquing not too long ago. It’s not too much, is it?”
“No, it’s just right. What do you think about mine?” Kate’s own creation was similar, if a little gaudier than mine. She, too, had a large black feather, but the broach and headband were covered in glitz.
“That’s perfect!” I said and meant it.
Kate finally moved, allowing me to look at myself. I’d secretly wanted to dress up like a flapper for pretty much forever. But every Halloween, things seemed to get in the way. Tonight was my first chance to do so without looking like a lunatic. I wore a sparkling silver knee-length number. Thanks to Kate’s magic, my hair was attempting to behave.
“Okay… You’re up next.” I pointed to the chair in front of my antique vanity. “So, what are we doing here?”
“We’re not doing anything,” Kate directed, a bit haughtily. “I can do my hair just fine. You think I have hair and makeup when I’m traveling for work? Nope. Just me.”
Kate separated her hair. She clipped the top half, then began to work the bottom half into two separate braids. Then she secured them with a few—or twenty—bobby pins.
Next, she grabbed the curling iron and managed to work some voodoo magic with the top. She spritzed each strand with some hair spray, continuing on around her head until she was done.
If I hadn’t known Kate since college, I would’ve been embarrassed by how mesmerized I was watching her do her hair. But she knew me well enough to know that hair and I were like oil and water. So, she wasn’t phased in the least.
“If you’d just put in some effort,” she said with a laugh, “you could do this too.”
Not a chance.
“So how does Marcus know this Luke guy?” I asked her.
“Oh, the gym, I think. They’re workout buddies or partners, whatever the term is of the day, bro.” She grinned. Then Kate glanced up at me in the mirror behind her. “I think they’ve known each other for a while though. Marcus thinks y’all will be good together.”
“A workout partner,” I said skeptically. “He’s not too beefy, is he? You know I can only handle a certain level of beefcake in my life.”
“Come on,” Kate begged. “Just lighten up and have a little fun tonight. And don’t judge a book by its cover. Nice guys are hard to come by these days, and he’s a nice guy.” Once Kate finished with her hair, she began on her makeup.
“Okay, okay,” I relented. “I’ll do my absolute best. I promise.”
“You promise to let loose, have fun?”
“Kate, I promise,” I promised, hoping there’d be enough prohibition era cocktails to help me follow through.
“Plus,” I said, “I’ll be so engrossed in the speak-easy vibe it’d be hard not to have fun. Remind me to take a load of pictures, okay?”
“Okay?” Kate raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, this isn’t just for the Gazette. I’m going all out tonight. I’m doing a blog post about the party and all things Roaring Twenties. I plan on blowing up Instagram with pictures too. Mr. Wilson wants press, and he’s going to get it. They plan on doing these monthly.”
“We’ll see how it goes.” Kate was the voice of reason. “Time for makeup.” She scooted out of the chair for me to sit again. And she proceeded to paint a beautiful face for me. Something unlike the one my mother gave me with bold smoky eyes and a pink
babydoll lip. I’d never seen my thin lips look so voluminous before. Maybe I needed a bigger place, so Kate could move in and be my makeup artist every morning.
Then again, who was I kidding? I worked from home.
“They should be here any minute now.” Kate checked the time on her phone and put on another coat of her own lipstick.
I stood and admired my outfit one last time. The way the beads flipped around made me giddy. I did a quick spin—this was definitely the right dress. The wonders of the internet would never cease to amaze me.
Kate quickly shimmied into her little black beaded number.
“Could you help me let down my hair?”
We went to work removing all the bobby pins, allowing Kate’s curls to fall. Once they were down, she gave herself another good spritz of hairspray all over.
The pièce de résistance for us both was slipping on our feathered headbands.
We looked into the mirror and grinned.
“Let’s do a Boomerang,” I said. And we took turns making our beads flounce about for the camera’s phone.
“No matter how this date turns out,” Kate said, “tonight is going to be a that night we’ll never forget.”
With that, the sound of a truck engine stopped just outside. Shortly after, there was a light knock on the door. The guys were here.
Time to meet this Luke.
2
“Will you get the door?” I asked Kate.
“No. It’s your house. You get the door.”
“But you know them better than me.” There was probably a hint of puppy dog in the tilt of my head and pout of my lips.
“Fine!” Kate huffed and rolled her eyes.
A different knock, this one louder, sounded from the foyer. Kate slid on her black stilettos in two easy steps as she made for the front door, a move I couldn’t make if my life depended on it. I’d be hopping one-footed trying to manage something like that.
“Welcome to Allie’s House,” Kate announced, opening the door. I cringed. I hadn’t exactly cleaned up for guests. The living room and makeshift office I used to write my blog was looking more like the latter with papers scattered and my laptop on the coffee table next to several used mugs.
Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 10