Caffe Latte & Murder

by Susan Gillard

  “Or it could have been the girlfriend who is missing,” said Heather.

  “Or the maid,” Amy said. “Because there is no butler in this case.”

  “I wish we knew more about the murder weapon,” said Heather. “Knives are easily accessible. The crime also happened so close to the ocean that it was probably disposed of there.”

  “Maybe we can join up with some dolphins to search for it,” Amy joked.

  “I wish we could do that,” said Heather.

  “And I wish we didn’t have to be busy in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon,” said Amy. “I do love helping you with the donuts, but it’s been too busy to enjoy.”

  “My assistants didn’t expect me in today, so we don’t have to be there all day,” Heather said, as they approached the shop. “We’ll just make sure they’re on top of everything. Maybe we can bring some donuts to Bernadette and see how crazy business has been at the bookshop.”

  “I like that idea,” said Amy. “She’s my favorite neighbor. Much better than that Mr. Rankle. How much longer do you think we have before he’s back on his feet?”

  “Oh,” Heather said, looking past her friend. “I think we’ve run out of time.”

  Amy turned around and sighed. “Speak of the Rankle.”

  Mr. Rankle was walking slowly towards Sun and Fun Novelties. He was using a cane again but was clearly out of his wheelchair.

  “I guess we should say hello,” said Heather.

  “Why?” asked Amy.

  “Because it’s the neighborly thing to do,” said Heather. “Besides, he’s been feeling a bit more warmly towards us after we helped him with a case. Spending time with Ethel and his new cat should have cheered him up, and I’ll bet he’s in a good mood now that he’s walking again.”

  “Fine,” Amy said. “But I’m not happy about it.”

  Heather ignored her remark and crossed the street to greet he neighbor.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Rankle.”

  “Is it?” He grunted. “There are people everywhere, crowding the way.”

  “It must be good for business,” Heather said, trying to remain cheerful.

  “Bah,” he responded.

  “So, are you back to work now?” Amy asked, crossing her arms.

  “I’m still building up some strength in my leg again,” he said. “So, I’m not back officially. I just wanted to see what sort of ruckus these crazy tourists are causing at my shop.”

  He started walking away without giving a proper goodbye. They did hear him grumble about how it might possibly be a good day because if the two donut makers were on the street, it meant there wasn’t another murder. Heather didn’t bother to correct him.

  Instead, she and Amy headed into Donut Delights. It was busy but wasn’t quite as crazy at this time of day as it had been at other times.

  Nina walked up to join them.

  “Is Mr. Rankle back?” she asked.

  “Not officially,” said Heather. “But he’s getting there.”

  “Oh,” Nina said, fretfully. “I wonder what that means for Nick. Mr. Rankle didn’t have him around before his injury. Maybe he won’t need him anymore.”

  “Even if he’s not working across the street anymore, it doesn’t mean that you won’t see each other anymore,” said Heather.

  Nina nodded but didn’t seem convinced. Heather wasn’t sure what else to say to convince her assistant, so she decided to let things play out on their own.

  Heather headed to the kitchen and began whipping up some Caffè Latte Donuts. With Amy’s help, they were decorated beautifully. They refilled the display case with the donuts, checked that everything else at the shop was going smoothly, and then brought some donuts over to Bernadette’s Beachy Books.

  “It’s so nice of you to visit,” Bernadette said when she saw her friends. She left her assistant to cover behind the counter so that she could talk to the donut makers. “Has business been crazy for you too?”

  “It has,” Heather agreed. “But not too crazy that we couldn’t bring you some Caffè Latte Donuts.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Bernadette said. “I’ve been wanting to get another cup of coffee, but this sounds even better.”

  She accepted the donut and then praised it, “It’s Caffè A-Ok.”

  Amy grabbed a donut too. “I think the memory of this donut is fading. I better try another one to make sure that review is accurate.”

  Heather smiled and joined in too.

  When Bernadette had happily finished her snack and accepted the box of the remaining donuts to share with her assistant, she asked, “So what are you two up to?”

  “The usual,” said Amy.

  Bernadette frowned. “Does that mean you’re investigating another murder?”

  Heather nodded. “Devon Davidson was found dead this morning.”

  “Oh my,” said Bernadette. “Devon Davidson? Was he found dead in a swimming pool?”

  “No,” said Heather. “Why would you ask that? Did you know of any enemies he had?”

  Bernadette blushed. “I’m sorry. I was making a literary reference. Devon Davidson was like the Jay Gatsby of town. His parties were also so large.”

  “Everyone knew about him?” Heather asked.

  “I think so,” said Bernadette. “You didn’t have to be invited to his parties. You could just show up. It’s for a bit of a younger crowd though.”

  “This is interesting,” said Heather. “If everyone knew about his parties, then it means that anyone could have come by his house. If someone wished him harm, they could have waited for the party as a cover. Or it could have been the perfect time to try and rob him.”

  “It was known that he was wealthy too,” said Bernadette. “And I’m not exactly sure how, either. That’s another similarity to Gatsby.”

  Heather nodded. However, she wasn’t thinking about the classic book reference. She was thinking about how they were going to catch the killer.

  The Nice Neighbor

  Though it was approaching evening-time, Heather was happy when Ryan and Detective Peters were ready to talk to the neighbors. She wanted to uncover how they really felt about living next door to a Gatsby-type.

  They decided to begin at the house on the left. It belonged to Katherine Teller, who they knew had visited Devon Davidson’s house on the night of the party.

  They knocked on the door and were greeted by a woman in pajamas. Ryan introduced them all, and she invited them inside.

  “When I saw the crime scene tape being set up outside, I knew something was wrong. I expected you to come and talk to me all day.”

  “We were processing the scene for quite a while,” said Ryan.

  “Did you see anything suspicious last night?” Peters asked.

  Katherine laughed and then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know you’re on official business and that you have to ask, but that seems like such a funny question because there was a lot going on last night. Devon was having one of his parties. There were dozens of people going in and out of his house, having quite a good time. It must have been one of those people who caused whatever trouble you’re looking into.”

  “But no one seemed suspicious in particular?” Peters asked.

  Katherine shook her head. “There were too many people to notice. But it must have been one of them. What are you investigating? A robbery of some sort? I’m surprised that hasn’t happened before. When you invite strangers into your home, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “We’re investigating a murder,” Ryan said.

  “What?” Katherine asked, turning pale.

  “Devon Davidson was killed last night,” said Ryan.

  “I can’t believe it,” Katherine said. She looked faint for a moment but then shook her head. “That’s terrible news. But I shouldn’t have been forgetting my manners. Can I offer anyone some water or iced tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Heather said.

  “Please, have a seat,” said Ka
therine.

  She led them farther into the house and showed them into a lavish living room. She sat on a chair, collecting herself as the others found their own comfortable spots.

  Heather looked around the room. It had a similar setup to Devon Davidson’s home but was perfectly neat. Nothing was upturned here. There were three vases on the mantlepiece. Two were clear, and one was pink. There were some children’s toys in the room, but they were settled in a toybox.

  “Are you sure he was murdered?” Katherine asked.

  “Yes,” said Ryan. “It happened last night.”

  “No wonder you asked if anything looked suspicious,” she said. “But I still can’t think of anything specific that is helpful.”

  “You did visit his house last night?” Heather asked.

  “That’s right,” Katherine said. “I brought over some beer to show there were no hard feelings. I’m not a huge fan of his parties. Sometimes people come over to my property, which is annoying. But I didn’t want him to think I was as unhappy as Mr. Brewster.”

  “Your other neighbor?” asked Amy.

  “That’s right. He hated Devon’s parties. He wanted him to get kicked out of the neighborhood.”

  “Were you at the party long?” asked Ryan.

  “Less than a half hour,” said Katherine. “I brought over the beer and tried to mingle for a bit. But it’s not really my crowd. I just was trying to be social. My kids are with their father this week, so I had the opportunity to go over. It made sense to have them with him when all the spring break parties are happening here.”

  Heather nodded. “I’m glad they’re not here while we have to investigate the murder. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Devon Davidson?”

  “Well,” Katherine said. “There were a lot of strangers at his house. Maybe one of them could have wished him harm. And I did hear a young woman complaining about him that night. She said she was his girlfriend, but didn’t seem too happy about it at the party. Then, the only other person I can think of is…well, Mr. Brewster.”

  “What makes you suspect him?” Heather asked, pretending not to have heard anything before.

  “He hated the parties that Devon threw, and I think he hated Devon too.”

  “Did you see him at the party that night?” asked Ryan.

  “No,” Katherine said. “But I didn’t keep an eye on the party after I left, and I wasn’t up too late. I just put earplugs in and went to sleep around midnight.”

  “Thank you for your help,” said Ryan.

  The investigators rose to their feet. It was time to talk to the other neighbor.

  Brewster’s Blues

  Mr. Brewster noted the police badges when he opened his door. He stood in the doorframe, not inviting them in. He did nod at them though.

  “So, you finally shut that hooligan down?” he asked. “Good riddance. Those parties were a hindrance. I’m glad law enforcement finally decided to step in.”

  “I’m afraid we’re not here about the parties,” Ryan said.

  “Though somebody did find a way to stop the parties permanently,” said Amy.

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Brewster asked.

  “Devon Davidson was murdered last night,” said Ryan.

  “Oh,” Mr. Brewster said, adjusting his stance in the doorway. “Well, it’s still for the best. He was a menace of a neighbor.”

  “That seems like a harsh statement to make about the recently deceased,” said Heather.

  “You try living next to him for a few years, and we’ll see how you feel,” Mr. Brewster said.

  The investigators exchanged a look. Amy whispered to her bestie. “I change my bet for the prime suspect. It’s not the maid. It’s the surly neighbor.”

  “Do you mind if we come inside and ask you a few questions?” asked Ryan.

  Mr. Brewster exhaled a breath. He opened the door wider and allowed the investigators to come inside. He showed them into his living room. It was very tidy, but there was one oddity in the room. Bubble wrap was taped up on the windows.

  “Interesting decorating style,” Amy said. “I think you should consider hiring a professional interior designer. Maybe that’s just me.”

  “It’s to keep the noise out,” Mr. Brewster grumbled. “You don’t know how loud it can be during spring break. Especially with a neighbor like that.”

  “What sort of neighbor was he?” asked Heather.

  “A bad one.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “He was nice enough if you saw him in person. And he didn’t visit his beach house that often. Mostly during spring break. When he’s not around, the neighborhood is nice and peaceful. When he is here, it’s chaos. He’d have people over most nights, and they’d be loud. And at least once during his visit, he’d have a crazy party. They were always a disaster. Someone vomited in my mailbox – twice! How does that happen twice?”

  “That is crazy,” said Amy. “Did they lift the flag on the mailbox too?”

  “It’s not a joking matter,” Mr. Brewster said. “I’ve had property damage because of those parties too. Some chairs were ruined and some potted plants. Yes, Devon agreed to reimburse me for the damage, but it should never have happened in the first place.”

  “It sounds like Devon Davidson didn’t care about things getting destroyed at his house or other places,” said Heather. “He would rather replace something than have to keep it safe.”

  “Exactly,” said Mr. Brewster. “And he had no regard for other people’s things.”

  “Mr. Brewster, were you home last night?” Ryan asked.

  Mr. Brewster crossed his arms. “Why? Do you think I killed the guy?”

  “You certainly weren’t a fan of his,” said Detective Peters.

  “That’s right,” said Mr. Brewster. “But I wanted him shut down or thrown in jail. I didn’t want to take matters into my own hands.”

  “You didn’t answer the detective’s question,” said Heather. “Were you home last night?”

  Mr. Brewster narrowed his eyes and glared at her. Then he relented and answered. “I was home for a while, but my soundproofing wasn’t enough. I could hear the party next door, and it was infuriating. I decided I’d check into a hotel so that I could get some sleep. I spent some time at the hotel bar, watching TV and then I went up to my room. I came back this morning to see what damage was done to my house. It was minimal. And then I saw the police roll up next door. I thought they were stopping these parties from ever happening again.”

  “Would anyone recognize you at the hotel?” asked Peters.

  “I don’t see why not. I was there.”

  “Which hotel was it?” asked Heather.

  “The Seaview Hotel,” he replied. “Have you heard of it? They were having some sort of special.”

  “Oh, we’ve heard of it,” Amy said.

  She and Heather nodded. The Seaview Hotel had been the site of another murder investigation that they had been a part of recently. The hotel must have been having a deal to invite in new business after it was the scene of a crime.

  “Well, it seemed like a reasonable price to pay to stay,” Mr. Brewster said. “And I’m happy to say that I actually did have a good night’s sleep.”

  “We’ll be looking into this alibi,” Ryan said.

  “Good,” Mr. Brewster said. “Then, you can discover that I didn’t kill anybody last night. I might have hated my neighbor, but I didn’t dispose of him.”

  “Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to hurt him?” asked Heather.

  “We weren’t what you would call bosom buddies,” said Mr. Brewster with a harsh look at her. “I don’t know much about his personal life. I assume it had to be his parties getting out of hand that led to his demise. Someone was angry about a drink or something like that.”

  “Do you think robbery could be a motive?” asked Peters.

  “Maybe,” said Mr. Brewster. “He did have a nice house like mine, even if he didn’t tak
e care of it. Maybe someone could have decided to rob him.”

  “Well, thank you for your time,” Ryan said.

  “Thank you for telling me the good news,” Mr. Brewster said, reaching out his hand to shake.

  Ryan ignored the hand. He nodded his head at the suspect, and the investigators headed out.

  “Yeah,” Amy said. “Definitely my choice for the prime suspect.”

  Hotel Reservations

  “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to come back here for a while,” Amy said as they approached the hotel.

  “I’m still delivering donuts to them,” Heather said. “And it is a little strange visiting a place where a murder has been committed, but at our rate, after all the cases that we’ve solved, if we ignored every place that was related to an investigation, there wouldn’t be many places that we could visit. We couldn’t even visit Bernadette.”

  “I know,” Amy said. “But it’s not just because it used to be a crime scene. It’s because seeing the woman in charge is going to be awkward.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be,” Heather said.

  However as soon as the words were out of her mouth, something happened to prove her wrong. The hotel manager appeared at the desk and greeted them. However, she wasn’t looking as casual comfortable as she had been the last time they spoke. She was dressed all in black and was even wearing a black veil.

  “Heather and Amy. How good of you to visit. I know how guilty you must feel for revealing who the real murderer was to me. But I want to let you know that I bear you no ill will.”

  “Good,” said Amy. “Because I wasn’t feeling guilty. All we did was catch a killer. That’s the person who should feel guilty.”

  Heather approached the counter and tried to put on a cheerful face. “How are you holding up, Toni?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. How does anyone hold up when they find out everything they thought was wrong? I was wrong about the crime. I was wrong about my friends. I was wrong about my business.”

  “Well, it’s because of your business that we’re here,” said Heather.