Murder at the Grill (Cold Creek Book 3)

by Christa Nardi

  He paused and kept his attention on Marty. I watched Marty as well, who stared right back at Bergner. Marty looked so mad, I could almost see steam coming from his ears. Power in the room would go to the one able to maintain composure. Marty didn’t shift or move a muscle for what seemed like forever. Then he leaned forward. He never broke eye contact as far as I could tell.

  “Mr. Bergner, I will convey your offer to my client. I do not expect she will accept.”

  Bergner glared as he spit out through clenched teeth, “Mr. Cohn. I will see you and your client in court.” And with a slam of the door, he was gone. Marty let out a deep breath and looked over at me.

  “That was tense to say the least. Why do you think Zoe will refuse the offer?”

  “Because I will advise against accepting the offer. In Virginia, the penalty for first-degree murder is from 20 years to life, with possible parole after 15 years. It was an empty offer if ever I heard one and an insult to me besides.” I could tell from his darkened eyes he was still as angry as Bergner.

  Not being an expert on murder charges, I was about to ask about second degree murder, when Chief Hirsch escorted Zoe into the room. She was in a jumpsuit with hands cuffed in front. Marty asked that the cuffs be removed. After another minute of male posturing, Chief Hirsch complied. Then he left.

  Zoe sat down and looked from Marty to me and back again. Marty asked how she was doing and quickly explained my presence. Zoe nodded in my direction and I tried to put on a friendly smile. It wasn’t easy to do. Zoe looked tired, dark circles under eyes, no makeup, and hair sticking out in places.

  Marty went on to explain the deal Bergner offered, stating it was her choice, but he would advise against it. She nodded again.

  That resolved, he explained the best defense was to at least establish reasonable doubt. He pointed out one way to do that was to identify someone else with means, motive, and opportunity. She nodded again. I realized she hadn’t said a word since she walked into the room. Marty explained that he asked me to work with him on her case and I had some questions for her.

  Surprise! I fumbled, smiled, and went through the pleasantries to buy myself some time. I looked down at the paper I had been writing on as if prepared for this. I didn’t have a list of questions ready, so I just asked whatever popped into my head.

  “Zoe, you brought a shrimp salad sandwich to work with you the day Jebediah died. Isn’t it odd to bring your lunch to a restaurant? And why shrimp salad that particular day?”

  Marty looked aghast at my question. Zoe responded with a shrug, “The Grill couldn’t have seafood on the menu when Jebediah and I were married and he worked there. And I could never eat seafood because of his allergies. Since the day after he left, I bring my lunch whenever I work a day shift, and it’s always shrimp salad. Anyone who works there now or in the last 15 years could tell you that. It was my way of thumbing my nose at him.”

  Marty’s eyebrows raised and his forehead wrinkled as if he was trying to figure something out. This piece of information countered any claim the shrimp salad showed premeditation. On the other hand, it confirmed she’d held a grudge for 15 years. It also meant anyone in the kitchen would be aware she had shrimp salad if she was working a day shift. If she wanted to kill him and his allergy was that severe, couldn’t she have just eaten the shrimp salad and kissed him, not leaving a trace?

  Plunging ahead, I asked the next question that popped into my head. “Why did he come back? Did he tell you?”

  Several emotions crossed Zoe’s face, most prominent of which was anger. I glanced at Marty while I waited for her answer. He obviously saw it as well. His consternation was plain. It didn’t bode well if her hostility was obvious.

  “No, he didn’t tell me. I asked him though. I have no idea why he couldn’t stay out of our lives.”

  “Zoe, what happened 15 years ago?”

  “That’s none of your business and has nothing to do with this. It’s old history. It’s personal.” She sat up straighter, her eyes flashed at me, and her arms crossed over her chest. Her body language conveyed that I would not get anywhere on that topic, at least not now. I looked to Marty for guidance and he barely shrugged and looked back to Zoe.

  “Okay, can you help me understand the family business and how that works? Who does what and such?”

  The change in direction of my questions proved helpful. Her facial features softened and she relaxed her arms. For about 30 minutes she explained the management structure from the top down. When she finished I had a fair idea of the family members and who worked in the front of the restaurant, who was in the kitchen, and who was management.

  Zoe explained that she was in the front most often, as waitress or hostess or both, and handled some of the management when her parents or Trevor, her older brother, went on vacation. Other times, she or Trevor would slide into a management role. Dawn, Trevor’s wife, usually stayed in the kitchen, but waited tables or worked as hostess in a pinch. Her not so friendly manner was better suited to the kitchen. Zoe’s tone, volume, and expression when talking about Dawn suggested some hostility between them.

  Collectively, the children of Zoe and her brother filled in as wait staff, bus boys or girls, cooks, or whatever was needed. Except one. Cathryn Baxter did not work at the Grill. A little more questioning indicated she never had. When asked why, Zoe shrugged and mumbled something about health concerns. She quickly added that of course, a few of the Cold Creek College scholarship students worked there as well.

  As she talked about the Grill, I started to get an idea of the way the family interacted as well as their jobs. We probably could have continued for a while, but Marty reminded me I needed to return to campus. Disappointed to have to stop, I made my excuses with Marty’s promise to set up another time for us to talk.

  CHAPTER 7

  I rushed back to campus and hustled to the Administration Building. This time I was the last to arrive. The gentleman, Andrew Newcastle, was not as interesting as Van, but seemed knowledgeable and personable. He would easily fit the conservative politics of Cold Creek and the trustees. He wore a steel grey suit like Mr. Bergner’s with a pearl gray shirt and black tie.

  It was a pleasant meeting with no confrontations and no mention of the murder. His flat personality and reserved manner reminded me more of an undertaker than a leader. Cramer and Quigly didn’t look pleased either. One more interview done and this candidate was at least still in the running, if not charismatic.

  As I left the building with no other scheduled appointments, I opted to walk in the Arboretum instead of returning to my office. The Arboretum was one of the best things about Cold Creek College. With two miles of paths adorned with flora native to the region, it was a pleasant place to recharge or relax. Along the paths were several coves or cutouts with cascades of color and water features. The paths led from the college campus to the town hall in downtown Cold Creek.

  I settled onto a bench in the first cutout and took a few deep breaths. My mind was racing but it was peaceful here. I replayed what stood out from the interview with Zoe. I needed to write up my notes on the interview the same way I would if I were doing therapy instead of trying to find reasonable doubt or solve a murder. Just writing therapy notes sometimes helped with insight and future direction. Notes and connections had helped in the past. Hopefully, the same would be true for this murder. Calmed and armed with a plan, I went back to my office. For sure, thinking about the murder was more stimulating than Chancellor interviews.

  Word of my involvement in the murder case must have traveled fast. I opened my office door and groaned as I picked up a piece of paper. Carefully, I placed the note with the words “Stay out of it” printed in block letters in a file folder. It was doubtful there were prints, but I called and left a message for both Hirsch and Marty anyway.

  I did a cursory scan through my email and pulled up a browser. My curiosity in full gear, I hoped there was any indication in the newspapers from 15 years ago of why Jebediah left. It
took a few minutes to find the local paper from that time period. Unfortunately, a search of the papers for Baxter or Gruen wasn’t helfpul.

  I sighed. Most likely the reason behind his exodus either wasn’t illegal or sensational, or it was never reported to anyone. At least, it had not shown up in local papers. Then again, the Baxter’s might wield enough clout to keep a well-protected family secret out of the paper. I was about to check Richmond and Richmond papers when Kim knocked on the door and bounced into my office.

  “How did it go with Zoe? Was Marty able to get her out on bail?”

  “She’s good, but no, she’s still in jail. Lots of questions, Kim with very few answers.”

  “Didn’t she fill you in on why he left? Why he came back?” Kim’s voice was getting louder and I signaled her to bring her voice down.

  “Nope. She said she didn’t know why he came back. As for why he left, she declined to comment. Said it was none of my business, it wasn’t relevant.”

  Kim turned around in place, threw up her hands, and groaned. Truly, it sounded more like a screech than a groan. “Not good. And I got a call this morning from Bergner’s office. Someone from his office wants to question me about what I saw, as a witness. I don’t want to testify against Zoe. Will they question Marty too, even though he’s her lawyer?”

  I had no doubt Bergner would do just that. “If so, Marty will know how to handle it.”

  We discussed the case a bit more. It was awkward and I had trouble looking at Kim, but I brought up the issue of confidentiality. I pointed out that this time I wasn’t going to be able to share information unless it was public knowledge. She nodded and volunteered to look in Richmond papers, while I took the lead on Richmond papers. Maybe we could find some hint.

  Just when I thought I might get some work done, Kim brought up Marty and their relationship. They started dating about four months ago and were gradually seeing more and more of each other. Her history with men wasn’t a high point. We talked about our plans for the weekend and for Brett’s birthday party. Somehow that shifted the focus to Brett and me.

  “Did you talk to Brett about the murder case?”

  “Yes. I told him I would be working with Marty. And you were right. He said he was worried about me, but it was my choice.”

  She clapped and smiled.

  “See it’s alright! He’s not like your mother or the jerk you were married to!”

  I smiled even though for some reason I was still leery. That was one of the differences between us. Kim always found the silver lining, even created some. She reminded me to look for the upside on more than one occasion. But even if Brett hadn’t said so, I’d sensed he wasn’t happy about my involvement.

  After Kim left, I took the time to write up all my notes and diagram relationships based on what I knew so far. The situation with Cathryn seemed unusual given that Zoe wasn’t very open about it. I wondered if Rebekah could add anything and I emailed her to suggest another breakfast meeting. I hoped she was available.

  Before I left, Chief Hirsch stopped by and I turned over the note. Most likely it was for naught. Priscilla’s tirade made me wonder if she’d left the note.

  CHAPTER 8

  I arrived at the Grill about 8 o’clock looking forward to a fluffy western omelet while I talked to Rebekah. I looked around. The place was busy enough. Obviously, a murder wasn’t keeping the customers away. Maybe it even brought them in.

  I nodded to the group of retirees who met here on a regular basis. They took over one corner. A few others were drinking their coffee and eating. None I recognized and that made me reflect again on my small circle of friends and acquaintances.

  My world pretty much revolved around Cold Creek College and the places I frequented in town. That included the restaurants, the salon and spa, the grocery store, and other retail shops. My circle of friends was also small as well. Brett, Kim, Mitch, and now Marty were my usual companions outside of work. Mitch and his wife escaped Cold Creek for the summer months. Otherwise my interactions were with my colleagues and staff, most often restricted to my work setting. All in all, Cold Creek was small and I lived and functioned in an even smaller sector in terms of the community and the college.

  I finally spotted Rebekah toward the back and walked in her direction. We greeted each other and she again thanked me for helping her mother. Even though she wasn’t working, she took my order and slipped into the back. I didn’t recognize the waitress on duty. I assumed they found someone so Dawn could stay in the kitchen and not alienate the customers.

  Rebekah came back out and joined me. We talked briefly about my visit with her mother. So far Rebekah hadn’t been over to see her. Dawn assured her that Zoe would be home soon. I didn’t want to discourage her, but I suggested a visit might cheer Zoe up. The waitress, Kay from her nametag, delivered my food as I asked Rebekah about her cousins. My plan was to let her talk while I ate.

  “Kay, your waitress is my cousin and I’m closest to her. We’re the same age and were in the same schools. We used to do a lot together. Once we got to high school though, being in the same classes and working together after school was too much togetherness. We don’t talk much outside of work any more.”

  Her tone was wistful and I wondered if that was common in family businesses. I nodded and she continued.

  “Then there’s Harrison. He’s three years older than me. You’ve probably never seen him. He hides in the back room doing the books and putting everything from ordering to recipes in the computers. A hermit almost, he keeps to himself and can’t be bothered with the rest of us.”

  From her description, I pictured him as skinny and geeky with dark-rimmed, thick glasses.

  Her tone shifted as she talked about her cousin Jason.

  “Jason’s two years older than me. Jason’s grandpa’s namesake. I don’t know if it’s because of the pressure of his name or what, but Jason makes sure to have fun. He’s always telling jokes and getting in trouble with my Aunt Dawn.”

  She exhaled and continued, “He’s talking about going off to culinary school in Richmond to become a real chef. If he does that, I don’t think he’ll come back to Cold Creek. I’ll miss him.” The wistfulness crept into her voice again.

  When she didn’t continue talking, I asked, “What about Cathryn?”

  Rebekah looked down before answering. “I don’t know her real well. She’s a few years younger than me. We were never in the same school at the same time. She never worked or helped out here. A couple of years ago, she ate some of the chicken salad with the almonds. It turned out she’s allergic to nuts. That was when the nut allergy notation was put on the menu. Back then it wasn’t required, but everyone got so scared. As a result, she stays out of the restaurant and I only see her on special occasions.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “So was she at the family dinner the night Jebediah returned to Cold Creek?”

  “No, she’s visiting my mother’s cousins in North Carolina or somewhere. She goes there for the summer every year.” Her expression changed to reflect her confusion and then she shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what she does there. Kay or one of her brothers could tell you where she is.”

  I waited her out to see if she would add anything. She didn’t, so I asked about her Uncle Trevor. A smile lit up her face at the mention of his name.

  “He’s even more of a jokester than Jason!” She laughed. “One year he convinced all of us that the Grill was haunted. He even rigged ghosts to jump out of the storeroom. And he always comes up with something good for my birthday. He’s way different from Aunt Dawn.” Her face lit up as she spoke. Clearly, Uncle Trevor was a favorite of hers. Left unsaid was why Uncle Trevor married Aunt Dawn.

  I pulled out the family tree I’d created and asked her to check it for me. She looked it over and mentioned it would be nice if someone in the family documented prior generations. We talked about that a while and how one does that. My phone rang, “Private” showed as the caller, and I ignored it. />
  She pointed to one of her grandmothers’ names and explained it was one of the relatives on that side of the family who Cathryn had gone to visit.

  “So does the rest of the family visit these relatives in North Carolina? Do they come here?”

  “Grandma and grandpa go visit a couple times a year. I think around birthday and holidays. Aunt Dawn and Cathryn go with them sometimes, usually in the summer. They may go other times, I don’t know for sure. I’m not sure if Uncle Trevor ever goes. If he does, nobody said anything about it. He’s always here. All my other cousins work here, too. My mama never goes anywhere.” Her tone was forlorn again.

  Having exhausted her family members, I asked her again if she remembered or heard anything about why her father had left. She looked pained, her eyes brimmed, and she shook her head. With little else to talk about, I paid my bill and left.

  I was walking toward my car when I sensed someone coming up behind me. Next thing I knew, an arm came around my neck and I was pulled backwards. I tried not to panic and remember what I’d learned in that self-defense class. As he halted, I shifted my weight to one hip, visualized the flip, and the man landed on the ground. He looked stunned, yet not quite unconscious. I’d never seen him before.

  As he moaned, my fight or flight instinct kicked in. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and grabbed a quick picture. Although my car was closer, no one else was in the parking lot so I bolted into the Grill. I stayed just inside the door and called 9-1-1, my heart racing. The dispatcher took my report and I waited. I couldn’t quite see the man, only his feet. When the feet moved, I hesitated but left the safety of the doorway.