“Yeah, American Bulldog.”
“Cool.” I didn’t know how to best end our conversation. So, I just went for it. “I’ll see you later. It was nice meeting you,” I lied to Clara.
Before making it back to Kate and company, it looked like I was hardly being missed.
“Was that who I think it was?” Kate asked.
I nodded. “Clara Clearwater. His girlfriend,” I declared for the whole table to hear. “I had to tell him thanks. He did my friend, Suzi, a favor today.”
“Cool,” Luke said. He didn’t seem too interested in learning more about Javier. In fact, he seemed as disinterested as was possible. We were cut from the same cloth, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
I stayed for one more drink before excusing myself to go home. Luke made only the slightest of protests. My head just wasn’t in it. Not after that.
TO: Foodie Allison
FROM: Daniel Froning
SUBJECT: This morning’s paper
Allie,
I just wanted to say your article this morning really put a smile on my face. And not just because of the quote with my name mentioned. George was such a good man, a pillar of this community. Your article articulated that in the best way.
Thanks again,
Danny
P.S. You’re welcome to join us for another run anytime.
19
The act of moping through the door of my mom’s house got her attention. The problem was it wasn’t an act.
“Allie… Are you okay?” Mom poked her head from the bathroom. She was still getting ready for the wedding. I’d put far less effort into my makeup compared to Kate’s date night exhibit. Then I donned a simple blue dress.
“I’m fine,” I mustered.
“All right,” she said, unconvinced. “I’ll be right out.”
Mom’s pups, Bella and Nicky, greeted me with all the puppy kisses anyone could ask for. “Hey, sweeties.” I kneeled down to give them the attention they pretended to be lacking. “I missed you too.”
After the initial onslaught of affection, Bella went back to being Mom’s shadow. I sat on the couch where Nicky found a spot on my lap to wrinkle my dress and cover me in dog hair—the dachshund in his natural habitat.
“What's up?” she asked, putting in an earring. “Do I need to go get the Chunky Monkey?”
“No. No Chunky Monkey, just yet,” I said.
“Good—cause I’m sure there’ll be cake.”
“There always is.” I smiled.
“Really, what’s up?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just being an adult is hard.” So hard, in fact, that I couldn’t actually place what was wrong. Last night’s date hadn’t gone well. And I had mixed feelings about seeing Javier with Clara Clearwater. The type of mixed feelings where my head and my heart were having some sort of disagreement. I wanted to wish them—that is, him—well. I wanted to think Javier dating was a good thing. But something inside me kept shooting down those thoughts.
“It sure is hard,” she admitted. “I'd like to tell you it gets easier. But it only gets, uh, different.” She squeezed my shoulder before placing her other earring. “We can talk about it if you want. Is it work? Everyone is raving about your article on George today. Is it the boy? Did you have another date? I might not have all the answers, but I sure can listen.”
Mom knew the right things to say. Sometimes friends wanted to try to solve problems, and while that can be great—sometimes—most of the time I just wanted to be able to vent in a judgement-free zone.
“It’s not work,” I conceded but didn’t give her much else to go on.
“I have news,” she said. “But if you’re not feeling it, well…”
“Just tell me.”
“It’s about Melanie,” Mom said.
“What about Melanie? Is she still hung up about George’s death?”
“Oh, no. Not that. It’s good news. Jack finally popped the question.”
“And?”
“And what do you think? She said yes! We’re having Jack’s family over for a little party in place of Sunday dinner. I’d love for you to invite this Luke fella—unless, of course, he’s who you’re hung up about. Oh, and I invited Kate.”
“Wait… you invited Kate? When did you get Kate’s number?”
“You know,” Mom said. “A few months ago. At Jessica’s funeral.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes. If Kate and Marcus were coming, I’d feel bad leaving Luke out.
“Melanie’s already dead set on Bentley’s. I’m eager to see what this place is all about.” Mom gathered her keys and her purse, eyeing my comfortable position on the couch. The dog was still curled on my lap. I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.
“It’s a great place for a wedding,” I admitted. “It’s Mara Murdock I’m not so sure about.”
“Don't let Mara Murdock get under your skin,” Mom said. “She’s just used to getting her way.”
“It looks like she might. Honestly, I think she might be involved in George’s murder.” I hadn’t actually meant to spill that to Mom, who seemed to lose her wind.
“I hope you’re wrong,” she told me. “But she’s probably heard enough criminal secrets to know how to get away with a crime or two. Her husband being Doug Murdock and all. There isn’t a loose criminal in the county who he didn’t help get off.”
“I didn’t even think of that.”
Mom sighed but opened the door. “Dang it, Allie, now I’ve got the heebie-jeebies. To think, we’re going to a wedding there right this minute.”
I moved Nicky and brushed his stray hair off my dress. “It’ll be all right, Mom” I said. “I think we’re good. We don’t have a business she wants to steal.”
20
The wedding was sweet, if a little cold. It was held at the barn on the estate—the place where Blake had retreated the night of his father’s murder.
While it might’ve once held animals, there was no hint that it did so these days. The horses had a much newer stable further down the pasture. This place was a mere backdrop, just a frame of a building—much like the picturesque scenery behind it, full of bare pecan trees and sloping hills. Inside, there were hay bales and straw aplenty. Four large heaters, the kind used for outdoor seating at restaurants, were placed strategically around the interior of the barn. Mom insisted we sit as close to one as possible, putting us toward the very back without much of a view of anything.
I noticed the photographer carefully ensured the heaters were out of each shot. I was never sure how I felt about action shots during the wedding itself. They tended to be a distraction. There were at least three snaps of the shutter while Gracie and her groom, Chad, recited their vows.
The recessional passed us. The bride and groom walked out to the traditional Mendelssohn's Wedding March. For some reason I got butterflies in my stomach. My head was abuzz, too. Not because of the wedding itself—though thoughts of love were buried inside there somewhere. But no, that wasn’t what set my mind awhirl. It was the up-close view of the photographer.
Ashley Erickson had taken photos during the Murder Mystery Dinner Party. Why hadn’t I thought of contacting Ashley before? I wondered if Javier had looked through her photos? Surely, if Blake had come back to the party, he’d show up in the background of some of those photos. And if he wasn’t… I wondered if there was anything that incriminated Mara to be found.
“Mom, I’ll be right back.” As she and the rest of the guests made their way up to the house for cocktail hour, I wanted to get a brief word with Ashley. The newlyweds and the photographer made their way toward the other side of the barn where Ashley had staged several spots for yet more wedding photos.
“Allie?” Gracie found me following them. “The cocktail hour is the other way.”
“Congrats,” I told Gracie quickly. “I just need a quick word with Ashley. It’s business stuff. You understand.”
“Oh, all right.” Gracie no
dded, not completely understanding. There was gooseflesh all down her shoulders. Note to self, don’t get married in the winter.
“Allie, hey?” Ashley had been summoned by hearing her name. “What can I do to help?”
“I have a question, really,” I admitted. “The photos from last week’s dinner party. Do you have them? I’d really like to take a look. I mean, if you don’t mind…”
“Allie.” Ashley grimaced, showing her teeth and sucking a breath in through them. “I sent Mara a thumb drive with them a few days ago. I can’t really afford to keep all the photos around. There’s only so many SD cards, and the cloud ain’t cheap.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You could ask Mara to see them. I told her, if she wants to post any of them she needs a release. The end of the night didn’t exactly go as planned. I stopped taking photos once things happened with George. Honestly, I left before the cops arrived. I knew things were done, and I had an early shoot the next morning.”
“Right,” I said, already feeling defeated. There was no way Mara was letting me near those photos. “So, the cops never asked to see them?”
“No.” Ashley shook her head. “I was already gone. I didn’t even think to ask if they needed them. It seems like a pretty open and shut case if you ask me.” She looked back at the freezing bride and the bridesmaids, groom, and groomsmen shivering behind her. “I really must get back to these photos. The sun’s setting.”
“Yeah. Thanks anyway.”
The walk up to the house didn’t seem to take as long as the chilly walk I remembered—the one with Kate, Luke, and Marcus only a week prior. Probably because my mind was full of unanswered questions. What if those photos contained the key to solving the crime? What if Blake really was innocent?
The right thing to do was probably to call Javier. But since the events of the previous night, that felt like the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. I have Luke, if he’ll still have me, I reminded myself.
Things were in full swing inside the house. It was much like the night of the party, only instead of flappers, the guests were dressed in modern suits and lovely stylish dresses. Johnny was tending the bar. I found Mara across the room doing her own thing, bossing the servers around, tasting the hor d’oeuvres, and generally being the nasty person she was known to be.
Mom had found Gracie’s parents. She was chatting away with them. And luckily, she hadn’t found me yet. Because if I was going to do what I thought I wanted to do, I had to be quick and unseen.
I slipped down the hallway, past every guest, to where a photo booth was set up once more for the night, blocking the rest of the house and Mara’s office from purview. I took a deep breath and managed to get around it by crawling unladylike beneath the table of accessories.
This isn’t going to become a thing, I told myself. My heart was racing. I’d snuck into The Southern Depot to look for evidence. Trespassed was the right word. Today, I wasn’t trespassing. After all, I had an invitation to be here.
Plus, Mara’s office door was unlocked.
The pictures were easy to find. A manila envelope sat neatly on Mara’s pristinely clean desk. It was opened but with the thumb drive still inside it. I wondered if Mara had even looked through them herself. If she had, would she have deleted those that would prove to be evidence against her?
I moved the mouse on the computer to wake it. Crap. A password. I thought back to all the TV shows when the protagonist is up against such an obstacle. Then I typed in “password” and hoped for the best.
It didn’t work. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. What is it? My fingers moved the desktop’s keyboard in my frustration. And in doing so, a yellow sticky note peeked out. I lifted the keyboard to read Bentley9812.
I typed the password, and everything opened. Then I plugged in the thumb drive and began to peruse the photos. I smiled as I found a picture of Kate and Marcus. Then I found the one Ashley had taken of Luke and me. We actually made a nice-looking couple. My heart sank a little as I realized he hadn’t texted me all day. In the past few days, he’d at least shot me one or two asking how my day was going.
This isn’t the time to think about that.
I continued to look. As I clicked through them, I started to pay attention to the background. Maybe something would show up. Anything.
But nothing looked off…
Wait! Something jumped out at me.
It was like one of those “what’s different about these photos” from a Highlights magazine. I’d stopped on a picture that was similar to the one I had on my phone, just a snap of people lined up around the bar with the bartender, Johnny, making their drinks. Only something was off.
I reached for my phone and almost had a heart attack when it buzzed in my hand.
Hey, how are you today? I’m sorry you left early last night. Maybe we could have a makeup date next week? I’ve heard good things about that railroad place, The Southern Table.
This wasn’t the time or place to reply, but I felt compelled to do so.
Yeah. The Southern Depot. I’d love to. Can’t talk now. I’ll call you later. Oh, and my mom wants you to come to a family thing tomorrow around lunch time. You game?
Dots appeared in the messaging app, and my stomach filled with butterflies for the second time today.
Definitely game. Just let me know the time.
Will do. I’ll call you.
The brief bursts of text got me completely out of my focus. What had I been doing again? Oh, right, I looked at the photo. Then I pulled the similar one up on my phone. The one I’d shown Adam at the e-cigarette store. The one with Johnny in the background.
In mine, Johnny was handing a guest a drink. In this one, Johnny was also serving a guest a drink. The guest was Suzi. And in this photo, Johnny’s hands had gloves on them.
I remembered in Kate’s report about the use of nicotine with e-cigarettes, she’d mentioned the use of gloves. Filling the e-cigarettes with nicotine could be harmful. One could be poisoned even through the skin.
This was the photo I needed. This could help prove Blake’s innocence. But why had Johnny murdered George?
I didn’t have much time to question it. I heard noises in the hallway outside. Then the sound of Mara’s voice. “If everyone can make it to the ballroom, please, the dinner service starts in ten minutes.”
There was a shuffling of feet. And my phone buzzed again. This time, it was from Mom.
Where the heck are you?
21
I would just have to wait for everyone to make it into the ballroom. Then I could stroll in fashionably late without anyone seeing me crawl back under the accessory table by the photo booth.
I can do that. Just wait it out. For no reason, my heart began to race.
But I didn’t have to just wait. I at least had something to take care of. I snapped a photo of the photo, which felt odd, and sent it to Javier with a brief text explaining what I’d found. He immediately texted back.
I hope you found this from the safety of your own living room.
Not quite. I cringed sending him a text with the explanation. His response was even better than what I could’ve hoped for him to say. Just three capital letters.
OMW!
My heart slowed with this reassurance. This wasn’t going to be like last time. In only a few minutes, I’d be completely safe. The sound of footsteps and that of Mara’s office doorknob twisting sent that assurance crashing to the pit of my stomach.
The door opened a smidge but stopped short of opening fully. I heard Mara’s voice first.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get back to the bar.”
“I will.” It was Johnny’s voice. “But I just need something first. We haven’t really seen each other in over a week. I’m dying here.”
“We haven’t for good reason,” Mara shot back. “And you’re not dying. The whole reason we haven’t, I’ll remind you, is because of a death.”
So, Mara and Johnny are in this together? That made sense
.
“Come on,” Johnny pleaded. He seemed to push her through the threshold. Then he grabbed around her waist, wrapped his mouth around hers, and closed the door behind them.
All this while, I attempted to hide under the desk. I wasn’t fast enough.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Johnny spat in my direction.
Mara looked at me in horror. “Allie, what do you think you’re doing in my office?”
Quick thinking wasn’t necessarily my forte. So, the first words I thought were the ones that blurted from my mouth. “I’m here catching George’s murderer.”
“And you think that’s me?” Mara asked in a huff.
“No, I think it’s both of you.” Mara looked confused. I made a guess, one I’d just put together. “George found out about your secret. You’re cheating on your husband. What would Doug think? It didn’t hurt that if you framed his son for the murder, you’d end up with everything—this whole estate.”
“That’s preposterous. George didn’t know—”
“He did,” Johnny confirmed. “He walked in on us a few weeks ago. I tried to reason with him. But the thing is, he didn’t care about the affair. No, he was just worried about the business. He thought Mara wasn’t fit to run the estate any longer. He said she couldn’t focus on business if she was willing to throw her life away for the likes of me. I showed him. Didn’t I?”
“Johnny?” Mara acted as if this was the first time she’d heard this.
He didn’t listen to her. Instead, he focused on me. “What did you find? I’m curious. There’s nothing linking me to George’s death. That nicotine was in Blake’s car. How am I supposed to know what happens to a drink after I make it?”
Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 19