Hot Coffee Iced Santa

by Cam Larson

  I smiled at the sentiment. Lifting the scotch tape from the lid I opened it to find a caricature of me. I was holding a coffee cup in my right hand. In my left was a magnifying glass. On my head was a replica of Sherlock Holmes' deerstalker hat. Daniel must have planned this ahead of time. It was no last minute gift. He should be getting my insulated coffee mug any day. It said "I need 250cc of coffee – Stat" on it. I thought he would get a kick out of it, plus have hot coffee when he wanted it while on the job.

  Thor nudged my knee and looked toward the back door. I got up and let him out. There was no way this dog would lure me outside again on this cold night. I set Daniel's gift in the middle of my kitchen table and thought how lucky I was. I waited for Thor to scratch the door.

  Frank Duvall came to my mind again. Something told me there was much more to the man than most people assumed. First he was poor as a pauper. Next he, seemingly overnight, became rich. He liked to drink. His choice of water holes wasn't in the best of neighborhoods by a long shot. He drank with people like Joe. The night he was killed his bank account was well padded. Someone wanted him dead. He had plenty of enemies. Any one of them could have held a grudge against him. He dealt with unscrupulous people and yet loved playing Santa to kids at Christmastime. He was an enigma.

  I went to the back door and let Thor in for the night. Then I clicked on my computer.

  What I planned next was a risky move. I needed to find out where Frank's house was and somehow gain entrance. I could have asked Cassie Johnson but this was no time to alert anyone of my plans.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I had most of the day off from Roasted Love until mid afternoon. My first inclination was to head for Frank's address. Then I remembered my promise to Daniel about letting Chief Donald Hayes know what I had been doing. When I got to the precinct I asked Susan if he was there. She buzzed his office and his voice invited me in.

  "Laila, good to see you again," said Chief Hayes. He pushed aside the paperwork in front of him. "I take it you have some news or are you here to weasel more information out of me."

  His smile was all it took for me to start my narrative. "I went to Tommy's Bar yesterday."

  "I didn't know you hung out on that side of town," said Donald.

  I ignored his jibe. "Anyway, I talked to a man named Joe someone. I admit he was a little inebriated but he had some substantial information before it was all said and done." I told him about Frank being there that night in his Santa suit. "According to this Joe, Frank met a man at the door who was dressed in a business suit and they talked for a few minutes."

  Chief Hayes became all ears. "We haven't had much luck down there. The bartender isn't saying much. He tells us he doesn't know anything. Bartenders usually know everything about all their patrons so that's doubtful. Did Joe know who the man was?"

  "He had no idea. He said Frank walked out the door. The well-pressed man had a quick drink and then he left." I gave the Chief the description of the man in the suit.

  "The description could fit our main suspect," he said. "Did you find out anything else?"

  I didn't want to say much more, but then remembered my promise to Daniel. "When I left the bar, it was late afternoon. A lot of shadows were on that side of the building and it was hard to see clearly. Someone came up behind me and clamped his hand over my mouth. He then threatened me."

  Donald Hayes moved forward in his chair. "Did he hurt you? Did you call the police?"

  "By the time the police got there, he would have been long-gone. I wasn't hurt except for some soreness from being thrown to the ground while he was getting away." I had applied enough make-up to cover the light bruise on the left side of my face. "The only thing in the alley, when I had a chance to turn around, were two stray cats." I mentioned the scent of cologne or aftershave lotion on the attacker. "I've probably smelled that recently but can't place it."

  “I don’t like the fact this is the second time someone targeted you,” said the Chief.

  “I’m all right. A little unnerved, but alright.” I opened my purse and pulled out the ziplock bag that held the red Santa hat. "I found this on my way into the bar. It was near the storm drain next to the tavern. It has the initials F.D. under the felt rim. I've tried to protect it as much as possible so not to disturb any possible evidence."

  He reached for the bag. "Have you ever thought about changing careers from a barista to a detective?"

  "The career I have for now is enough. I'm not so sure I could make this my daily job." I stood to go. "That's all I have for now. I don't guess you have come across any more suspects, have you?"

  "We are looking at a few but they will probably be cleared, except for our prime one, of course. The information you just gave me could possibly lead in a different direction."

  "Okay. Keep me posted."

  Chief Hayes smiled again. It was a good thing he liked me. I could be brazen at times. I left the precinct and went home to pick up Thor. He had a part to play in my plan.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My next stop was Frank Duvall's former home. In my purse I had several tools to get inside. One was a hair pin and of course, credit cards may come in handy. When I got to the residential end of Main Street, I parked. Thor tried to wag his short tail before he jumped out. I took hold of his leash. He was ready for a walk and I obliged him while scanning house addresses.

  Frank's house was a modest one that set back from the street. A boarded up house was a few yards to the left of his. On the other side, there were no cars in the driveway and blinds were closed. It was a tree-lined street in the front and back of the houses. Even though the limbs were bare I counted on them being thick enough to conceal me and my dog. I presumed the police had already been there.

  I led Thor along the edge of the abandoned property. We then cut across to the back of Frank’s house. I wanted to stay out of view of anyone possibly watching us. The old siding had chipped, dull grey paint. Frank's landlord appeared to be negligent in upkeep of the place. I stepped over the broken bottom step. Unknown faint shoe prints sank into crusted snow on the porch. I supposed they were left there by a cop at the time of a search. It didn't look like anyone had been there lately.

  The door was locked as I expected, but if I had thought to bring a screwdriver, it could easily have been dislodged. Instead, I reached for the bobby pin already broken in half. Using the curved part I twisted it inside the lock. Once unlocked, the door swung open a few inches. A stale odor of coffee and cigarette smoke met me. Dishes waited to be washed and stacked several layers in the sink. The coffee pot held a half inch of dark cold liquid. Crumbs strewed across one end of the table. I closed the door behind us.

  I moved to the next room. "Look at this," I said to Thor. "This proves he had money."

  In the living room was a 42" flat screen TV that covered most of the width of the small room. Beneath it was an entertainment center with an entire gaming system. On the other side of the room was a large genuine leather recliner. A matching loveseat rested against the wall to the left of the kitchen doorway. Everything in this room was new, including two lamps with cowhide shades. If the house was cleaned up, the living room alone would have been the drawing card for decorators. Whoever chose the furnishings had good taste. Somehow Frank didn't hit me as someone with good taste in household furnishings. On the other hand, by the time he came into his wealth, Cassie was long gone from his life.

  I tugged gently on Thor's leash. We went into the bedroom across the narrow hall. The queen sized bed sucked up most of the space in the room. It seemed as if someone had just gotten up and hadn't made the bed yet. Covers draped to the floor on one side. A stack of used Styrofoam cups were on the nightstand. Two stale donuts, partially eaten, crusted on top of the surface next to an overflowing, dirty ashtray. Ashes sprinkled on the floor next to the bed. A pile of dirty clothes were heaped in the corner of the room. Frank was no housekeeper. I wondered if it looked like this when Cassie was here.

  "I don't und
erstand how someone can live like this, can you, Thor?" His look told me he was just as mystified as I was.

  I pushed back the sliding door to Frank's closet, and stopped breathing. I stared at the large sums of bundled cash stashed in the right corner of the closet. It was at that moment I wished I had wrapped my shoes in plastic bags and worn gloves. I couldn't believe the cops didn't take the enormous amount of loot.

  "They haven't even been here, Thor."

  This baffled me. I would think the victim's house would be the first place inspected. I looked at my feet. If the cops got here any time soon and took prints, mine would be here along with Frank's. I pulled a clean shirt, one of two, from a hanger and wrapped it around my hand. I turned the bundles of cash over. The band that held them together read West River Bank. The bank's insignia was stamped professionally in the upper left hand over the word ‘West.' I turned them back over the way I found them. When I did that, I noticed a note sticking out from between two of the bundles.

  The note read: "We can talk at the restaurant tonight 11 p.m." My heart beat rapidly. The house was silent. Thor stood waiting and alert. I carefully tucked the ominous note back where I found it.

  I led Thor back the way we had come. Frank's laptop was on the end of the entertainment center. I still carried the clean shirt. With it wrapped around my hands, I reached for the computer. I used every password I could think of to get into its contents. Nothing worked. I gingerly put it back where I found it. I made sure the dust around it met the perimeter of the computer before I dropped it back in the center. Thor and I took the same trail back to the street. I hoped no snoopy neighbor observed our actions. Once in my car, I dialed Chief Donald Hayes. When he picked up, I already knew what I would say.

  "Did the police check Frank's house for any evidence?" I asked.

  "We have someone on the way over there right now. I don't know how that slipped past any of us. I guess the blame is with me. I should have followed up much sooner."

  "I just wondered if anything of interest was found there," I said. "I thought you probably had done that right away."

  "Well, if this is any explanation at all, I did think the detectives had done that the next day at the latest. When I asked about evidence at the victim's house, everyone looked at everyone else," said Donald. "I have to admit I was more than harsh with every one of them. Anyone could have broken in there by now and disturbed things."

  My face flushed at the thought he already knew I had been there. When he didn't say anything about that, I decided there were no snoops in Frank's neighborhood after all. We ended the call and I moved my car down the street, and then turned around for a good view of the house. Two patrol cars came around the corner. Officer Stanton and the two detectives, who were at the Steakhouse the night Frank's body was discovered, got out of their cars.

  They were lucky I was the only intruder there since Frank's murder. As for me, I was lucky I got out in time. The footprints I saw on the back steps didn't belong to the police after all. I figured they could have belonged to Frank. They weren't recent, but the snow hadn't completely covered them. I wondered if anyone else had been there since the dishwasher's death. At least they hadn't gotten inside or there wouldn't be bundles of cash in the closet.

  I watched the activity. One of the detectives put the laptop in the trunk of the cruiser and took two large boxes back inside. There was nothing else for me to do at this point. I wanted be a fly on the wall and watch the reactions when they found the huge stash of bills in the closet. This Santa didn't plan on giving any of it to kids on Christmas. He became a big spender on himself. I could only imagine what grandiose plans Frank had for spending it all. It was too bad he didn't get any more chances.

  It was getting late and I told Thor he would have to go to work with me. It wouldn't be his first time there. Jacob was nice enough about letting him come inside during bad weather. Thor and Jacob understood each other. As soon as the dog's begging eyes met Jacob's, he got a treat.

  As I drove, I recalled Cassie telling Daniel and me about Frank's childhood of poverty. At least he died rich. The mystery of where that money came from was a new wrinkle in the matter. Once that was solved, it would bring me much closer to the killer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Have you solved that mystery yet, Laila?" asked Jacob when Thor and I came in.

  "Not yet, but new clues come up almost every day."

  "I don't guess you plan to fill me in."

  I shook my head no. "It isn't good to divulge too much while the case is still open." Jacob understood my kidding when I answered him. It was too soon to tell him anything.

  "That's what the cops always say," he said. "I doubt Sherlock Holmes lets too many secrets out."

  I had just a few days left before it was time to head home for the holidays. Roasted Love was very busy as one customer after another came and went. Eddie made up more sandwiches. Jacob kept the ovens going with tantalizing Christmas specialties. Lily and I sat down for quick cappuccinos when Jacob came to our table.

  "Laila, do you mind taking this mail to the Post Office for me? It all has to go out today and they close in about a half hour. Pick up a roll of stamps for me, too."

  I told him I didn't mind at all. I finished the hot drink quickly and went to get my coat and gloves.

  Four people were in line ahead of me when I got inside the Post Office. Daydreaming about the holidays with my parents flooded over me. I was ready for some normalcy. It took a few minutes to register that a faint odor of a familiar scent was in the air. I looked ahead in the line to see if I knew anyone there. I turned toward the door that led to the street. I saw the coattails of a suit jacket that belonged to a man. The rest of his body was invisible to me as he left.

  "Are you wondering why that man wears such strong cologne, too?" asked a lady behind me.

  "Yes," I smiled at her. "Do you know who it was? There was enough on him to make it linger even after he left."

  "I don't know the man. I noticed he was in a business suit. I guess he was someone important. Maybe he had a hot date." She laughed at her joke.

  I chided myself for not picking up on the odor sooner. He must have been in the second line and I didn't even look over in that direction. I just picked the shortest line I saw. I finished Jacob's business and headed back to Roasted Love. When I came in the back door, Thor thought I was going to give him a run. I put the leash on him and we walked up and down the alley for a couple of minutes.

  "I wish I had picked up a bundle of that money, Thor," I said. "I'd like to take it to Jared Freedman and surprise him with it. I bet he'd have plenty to say." It hit me then of a possible strong link between the investor and Frank. Of course, the money could have come from anyone that worked at West River Bank. And, he was fired for missing money, but that seems like an awful lot to just be fired. I glanced at my watch. Two hours to go before the coffee house closed. Tempted to call Daniel, I knew they needed me back inside. When one car drove away from the shop, another was there to take the parking spot. Running back and forth between tables and the expresso machine made the time pass faster.

  "Lily, what do you plan to do over the holidays?" I asked her. She waited for a Latte in the making.

  "I'm staying right here in West River. I told Jacob I would work Christmas Eve. He said he was going to close at three and not open again until the day after Christmas. My mother will come for the day and a few cousins. Eddie will be there, of course. I guess you are looking forward to seeing your family again."

  "I am!" I told her. “My airline ticket is secure at home. Jacob told me he would get me to the airport and he would keep Thor over Christmas for me."

  There was no more time for chit-chat and we ran nonstop until closing. Once Thor and I were settled in at home, I planned to call Daniel.

  Before I had a chance to do that, Steven called. He asked me if I had any new information. I told him I didn't but had a question for him.

  "Shoot," he said.

>   "Do you know Jared Freedman at West River Bank?"

  "I know who he is. He's an investor or banker there, I believe. Why do you ask?"

  "I just wondered. There is something mysterious about him. I went to see him the other day. He told me Frank used to be a teller there. Did you know that?"

  "I knew that. Frank told me when I first hired him. He asked me not to check references at the bank. It had been a while and I got the impression he and his boss didn't get along so well. I checked references where he had worked at a restaurant instead. It made more sense for my purposes."

  "Looks like he made enemies everywhere he went," I said. Steven agreed. "By the way, do you know if Frank had enough money to invest some?"

  "I doubt that. I was at his house one time. He lived in a place that didn't speak of money."

  That was for sure. I wondered when and how he raked in enough to buy all of that expensive stuff in his house. Steven was talking again and so I tuned in.

  "If you want, I can make you dinner tonight. We are almost ready to close for the night."

  "Thanks, but I'll pass this time. I worked later than usual tonight. I think I'll turn in early."

  I wasn't ready to meet Steven Landers alone in his restaurant kitchen again this soon. I wanted to ask him what kind of aftershave he used. That would call for a huge explanation. I certainly didn't want him to think I flirted with him, nor did I plan to buy him a Christmas present. I passed on the idea of asking him a personal question.

  “Before we hang up, I want to ask you one more question. Does your Chef have any connections with West River Bank?” I could hear his deep breath.

  “I have no idea. Peter could bank there. I have a bookkeeper who makes sure paychecks go where the employee wants them to go. Why do you ask?”