“No. I remember, because she said she thought that maybe the stalker was taking a break again. She said she hadn’t gotten anything for the last week.”
Beth glanced at me, and I raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. It all seemed to add up to something—I just wasn’t sure what that something was. Perhaps if we revisited the Black Cat, we’d find something that we’d overlooked the first time round.
Chapter Fifteen
Beth and I decided to stop by my apartment before we went back to the Black Cat, and while I searched through the online databases, Beth played with Pixie. Pixie was learning a few new tricks. Whenever Beth asked her to turn around, she’d turn around in a circle.
As I looked through the databases and gathered the phone numbers I needed, Pixie learned how to say, “Turn around,” and then Beth would turn around in a circle, and Pixie would cackle.
“She’s training you well,” I said, when I’d gathered all the information I need. “How does she do that?”
“I’m not sure,” said Beth. “I read that you can teach a parrot to turn around, and I was trying to do it. I didn’t realize Pixie wanted to be the trainer.”
We played with Pixie for a few more minutes, and then I called the first number on the list.
“Hi,” I said. “Is this Rowena Howser? Oh, hi, my name’s Mindy Mansfield and I’m looking into the health and safety conditions of the Black Cat Jazz Bar. I believe you or someone at your table at the prawn ceviche? Oh, okay—and did you feel any kind of illness afterward? Right, I see. Well, thanks for your time today.”
I hung up and looked at Beth, who was scratching Pixie’s head gently.
“No-go?” she said.
“Nope. Rowena ate the ceviche herself. Said it was delicious, and she felt perfectly fine afterward.”
Beth’s expression was inscrutable. “Do you want me to make the next call?” she said.
“No, you keep Pixie busy, I’ll run through the list.”
By the time I’d finished talking to the three other people on my list, Beth had taught Pixie how to shake hands—or claws, in Pixie’s case.
“None of the other people who ate the ceviche got sick,” I said.
Beth said, “I guess Bill’s right. Someone really did poison Vanessa.”
“But who would want to hurt her? Everyone at the Black Cat seemed to like her.”
“Not everyone,” Beth reminded me.
I agreed. “I think we should head back there. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to learn something new.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was early afternoon, and the Santa Verona weather was idyllic—blue skies and warm sun. But when we stepped inside the Black Cat, we were transported to another world: one which was dimly lit and reverberated with the soothing sound of smooth music.
I took a few steps forward, looking for a waitress we hadn’t talked to yet. I knew that different waitresses would have shifts at different times, and I was about to approach Melissa, who was manning the bar, when a familiar voice floated over to my ears.
“… And I’ll be filling in for Vanessa,” she was saying. “She’s unfortunately been taken ill. If you enjoyed her singing, I hope you’ll like mine.”
Beth followed my glance, and we both stared at the stage, narrow-eyed. I could feel my jaw clenching involuntarily: just what did Neve think she was doing?
As we watched, Neve ended her little spiel about taking over Vanessa’s role and began singing. I had to admit, her voice was enchanting; she’d clearly had some musical training. Dressed in a shimmery black dress, with her blond hair piled up high on her head and her makeup dark and smoky, Neve looked very much the part of a mesmerizing jazz vocalist.
“I can’t believe her,” Beth breathed softly.
“Me neither.” I pursed my lips, wondering how Neve had come up with this idea.
“We’ll need to talk to her,” Beth said, sounding as annoyed as I felt. “Whatever she’s up to.”
“She said she wouldn’t interfere in the investigation.”
“I guess she thinks this is a sneaky workaround.”
I sighed and decided to ignore Neve until we absolutely had to deal with her.
Melissa smiled at us when we approached the bar. “Would you ladies like a drink while you work?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m not really in the mood for a club soda right now. But business seems to have picked up today.”
“It ebbs and flows,” Melissa said. “Owen’s trying to get some publicity for the place.”
“And what’s up with her?” I jerked my head towards Neve, who’d just finished a song and was smiling at all the applauding listeners.
A waitress approached the bar with a drink order, and we watched as Melissa procured glasses and mixed together different liquids. “She approached me and then Owen,” Melissa said as she worked. “Said she’s a good singer, she’s got training, and she’ll work for free till Vanessa can get back. Owen couldn’t resist the free offer.”
“So she just started working here? Just like that?”
“This is her trial,” Melissa said. “But she’s clearly incredible. I don’t think we can turn her down. It works out well for the restaurant.”
I sighed and glanced at Beth, who shrugged. Whatever Neve was up to, she seemed to have thought it out.
“Her trial’s going to be over in a half hour,” Melissa said. “You girls could chat with her then, if you wanted to.”
“We don’t want to,” I said glumly. “But we’re going to have to.”
Melissa smiled. “I’m guessing you’re going to want to chat with some of the waitstaff in the meantime.”
“That’s what we came here for,” I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Who haven’t we talked to yet?”
“There’s a couple of girls who work the evening shift,” Melissa said. She pointed out some of the girls and told us their names.
“Thanks,” I said. “We appreciate your help. I guess we’ll start with whoever’s standing closest to us right now.”
“Ilona,” said Beth. “Come on.”
We went over to the waitress whose name Melissa had told us was Ilona. Ilona was tall enough to be a model, and slender with olive skin and long dark curls. She looked at us warily when we approached her; she’d clearly seen us chatting with Melissa a few seconds ago. The suspicious glaze of her eyes disappeared once we explained who we were, and what we wanted to talk about.
Ilona nodded. “Sure,” she said. “I’d seen Vanessa around. But we never really talked much. I usually come in just after lunch and leave late at night; I only get to see Vanessa for a few hours.”
“Did you know of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt her?” When Ilona shook her head, I said, “And what about anyone who might’ve had an argument with her recently?”
Ilona looked at us thoughtfully. “You know, a few days ago, she seemed to have an argument with Sally Smith, who works during the day. Have you talked to her?”
I nodded. “We did, but she didn’t tell us much about the argument. You don’t have any idea what it might have been about, do you?”
Ilona shook her head. “No. But I did hear Sally say it was really important. That it was a matter of life and death. She seemed really angry and upset.”
Beth and I exchanged a glance. Sally had told us that it had been a silly argument about an embarrassing secret, but this didn’t seem like a silly argument at all.
“That’s interesting,” I said slowly. “Did you know Sally Smith well?”
Ilona shook her head. “No, Sally keeps to herself. She never really talks with the rest of us much.”
“And what about Vanessa’s stalker?” Beth said. “Had you heard about that?”
“I have now,” said Ilona wryly. “The girls here are worried about Vanessa, but I didn’t know about the stalker before this. It’s so creepy.”
“You’ve got no idea who it might be?”
Ilona shook her head. “I
t was someone who liked her singing, and Vanessa sang in the mornings. I don’t work mornings. You’ll have to talk to the girls who work the morning shift. It’s really horrible, though. We all thought it was just food poisoning. Now if someone’s actually trying to kill her…”
“But she didn’t die,” I said. “At least she’s still alive. And doctors say she’ll be out of the coma in a day or two.”
“Still,” said Ilona. “How horrible.”
Neve finished her song, and I turned around to watch her as everyone applauded. “At least Owen’s found a replacement singer,” I muttered. “It would’ve been terrible for him if Vanessa had died.”
“Not really,” said Ilona, watching with us as Neve began to give a short speech thanking the listeners and saying she’d be back tomorrow morning. “If Vanessa died, Owen would get the insurance money. He took out life insurance on Vanessa, just in case anything ever happened to her.”
Chapter Seventeen
I turned to Ilona and watched her closely. “How do you know this?”
“The insurance?” She shrugged. “I might be wrong, but it’s a rumor that’s floating around; the girls were talking about it. Apparently Owen gets a multi-million-dollar payout if Vanessa dies.”
I relaxed slightly. “So it’s just a rumor.”
“I guess,” said Ilona. “And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have insurance on anyone who’s not a singer. So I’m probably safe.”
Her tone was joking, and her lips had gone up in a forced smile, but I could tell she was worried.
“Don’t stress,” I told her. “You girls are definitely safe. Beth and I’ll find out who poisoned Vanessa, and you can all relax.”
Ilona nodded, and I handed her one of our cards. “Call if you think of anything else. You’ve been very helpful.” I could see Neve making a beeline for the bar, and Beth and I quickly said goodbye to Ilona and headed over.
We got to Neve just as she was taking a sip from the glass of water Melissa had handed her.
“What’re you doing here?” I settled into the barstool on Neve’s right, and Beth sat down next to me. I was trying very hard not to glare at Neve, but her smug smile was making it difficult.
“I look good as a singer, right?” Neve reached up to smooth her blond hair. “I never wanted to be a professional singer, but it is quite fun.”
“Why?” I said, not wanting to waste time on Neve’s version of banter.
“Why sing here?” Neve looked at me, as though I was asking the dumbest of questions. “Why not? I thought it’d be fun to check out the joint, see if I pick up anything.”
“By singing?”
Neve smiled and shrugged. “I look good as a singer. And now that I’ve quit my job, I thought it would be fun to work in the same place as you guys. Besides, the audience loves me. As I knew they would. I’m always popular wherever I go.”
I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t supposed to interfere.”
“I’m not interfering,” Neve said sweetly. “I’m just hanging out, seeing if I can pick up any clues. All while becoming a popular jazz singer. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with Liam to get to.”
Neve put her water glass down, slid off the barstool, and flounced out of the restaurant.
Beth and I turned our heads, watching her leave.
A few seconds later, Melissa materialized at our sides and placed two glasses on the bar.
“What’s this?” I said, looking at the glasses Melissa had given us. They were full of a transparent liquid and garnished with mint leaves.
“Mojitos,” said Melissa. “On the house. I know you don’t drink on the job, but I figure you’re about done for the day, right?”
I sighed. “Not quite. But I guess one drink can’t hurt.”
I took a sip of the minty liquid and watched as Melissa excused herself to go pour a pitcher of beer. When she returned, I said, “Did you know anything about Owen taking out life insurance on Vanessa?”
Melissa gulped and looked from me to Beth. “So you’ve heard?”
“How come you didn’t tell us?”
“I didn’t think it was important,” Melissa said quickly. “And it had kind of slipped my mind. I mean, Owen does so many different things and I’m not always up to date with what insurance policies he’s got. I mean, surely you don’t think—”
I ignored her question and said, “How did you find out about the insurance on Vanessa? Do you have access to Owen’s finances?”
Melissa shook her head. “No, Owen leaves the management of the place to me, but he’s got a bookkeeper and accountant who do the finances. I think he mentioned something about insurance a few months ago, but I forgot.”
“What made you remember?”
Melissa looked at me, her eyes serious and concerned. “After you two left yesterday, the girls began talking about Vanessa and what happened. It was a sad thing when she got food poisoning, but now people think it was intentional. Which is scary for everyone here.”
I nodded. “I don’t mean to make people worried.”
“I know,” said Melissa. “And if Vanessa really was poisoned… you’re sure she was actually poisoned? Maybe it was just food poisoning.”
“I’m pretty sure,” I said. “But back to the insurance—what other insurance does Owen have?”
“I’m not sure,” said Melissa. “I mean, he’s probably got contents and building insurance. And maybe life insurance on himself.”
“And Vanessa,” I prompted.
Melissa nodded. “And Vanessa.”
“What made you remember that he had insurance on Vanessa?” said Beth.
Melissa shrugged. “One of the waitresses mentioned it. I don’t remember who, but when I heard it, I remembered Owen telling me he’d gotten it.”
“Isn’t it odd?” I said. “To get life insurance on a waitress?”
Melissa excused herself to mix up two cocktails, and when she returned, she said, “What were we talking about?”
“Isn’t it odd he got life insurance on Vanessa?” I repeated.
“I guess not,” said Melissa. “Vanessa was more than a waitress. She was important to the restaurant. It was a good idea—finding a waitress who had a singing hobby. She could sing, and do waitressing work. Owen could get a good, reliable singer without spending too much.”
“I’m sure there are lots of wannabe singers in Hollywood,” I said uncertainly. I didn’t know much about the music industry, but if it was anything like the acting business, hopefuls would be prepared to spend most of their days doing waitressing work.
“Maybe,” said Melissa. “But it would be difficult to find applicants and screen them and finally get everything set up. And Owen was thinking he’d promote Vanessa’s singing. He’d build up a following among locals, and tourists would come to see her singing. He hired her with an airtight contract.”
“And she was happy to sign it?”
“I don’t think Vanessa ever expected to be more than a waitress,” Melissa said. “Singing was just her hobby.”
“Does Owen have insurance on anyone else who works here?” I said.
Melissa shook her head. “I don’t think so. Just Vanessa. And on the building, of course.”
I thought back to the fire in the kitchen and nodded thoughtfully.
“I know it’s rather unusual,” Melissa said. “But Owen’s not a bad guy. He’d never hurt someone else.”
“Unless he was desperate,” said Beth.
Melissa looked at her doubtfully.
“Desperately people can do strange things,” I said, agreeing with Beth. “You never really know what someone’s capable of.”
“I guess so,” said Melissa, still sounding uncertain. She disappeared for a few minutes to make another drink order. When she came back, she said, “Do you think you could come by another time to chat with the rest of the girls? We’re getting a lot of customers suddenly, and I’ll need everyone at work.”
“Of course,” I sai
d. “We can stop by in a few hours’ time. Or tomorrow.”
Melissa nodded. “Thanks. The bartender called in sick today, so I’m going to have to manage drinks as well. Did you chat with Sally, the girl who’d argued with Vanessa?”
“I did,” I said thoughtfully. “How long has she been working here?”
“We hired her a few weeks after we opened,” said Melissa. “Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “But she seems to be hiding something. It’s time Beth and I looked into her secret.”
Chapter Eighteen
We said goodbye to Melissa and headed over to the police station. It was as busy as always, and for once, Detective Matt Alvarez was sitting at the desk next to Ethan’s. Ethan’s desk, on the other hand, was empty.
Matt’s dark eyes lit up when he saw Beth. “Hello,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“You’re always out,” Beth reminded him. “Or over in Phoenix.”
Matt grinned. “Well, I’m here now. We can catch up over some coffee, maybe. How do you feel about having some terrible police station coffee?”
“That sounds like fun,” said Beth.
She glanced at me, and just then, Ethan walked in.
“You two go have coffee,” I told Beth. “I’ve got some questions for Ethan.”
Ethan grinned as he sat down at his desk. “I guess you can’t get enough of me.”
I rolled my eyes. “More like, I can’t get enough of those records you’ve got access to.”
“We’re heading to the break room,” said Matt. He glanced at me and said, “I hope your chat with Ethan goes well.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling at him. I glanced at Beth and said, “You don’t need to wait for me, I’ll take the bus back home.”
“Are you sure?” said Beth.
I nodded. “You could even drive out and have a nice coffee somewhere with Matt. Not just break room coffee.”
Beth’s cheeks reddened slightly, and I knew that when I got home, she’d berate me for trying to send her out on a coffee date. “Break room coffee’s fine,” she said. “I’ll stop by when we’re—”
Jazzy Jeopardy: A Piece of Cake Mystery (Piece of Cake Mysteries Book 3) Page 6