Death Before Decaf

by Caroline Fardig

  He turned on his way out and smirked at me. “Keep your nose clean, Ms. Langley.”

  I stomped back to the kitchen, yelling and spewing a torrent of foul language that I didn’t know I had in me. Redheaded She-Devil was in charge now. How dare he accuse me of murder and “violent tendencies”? People argued all the time, but that didn’t mean the next logical step was murder! I felt like getting myself a lawyer, but that would probably only make me look guilty, plus I had no money with which to retain said lawyer.

  After kicking the mop bucket across the room, I filled it up and went to work on the floors. As I was angrily mopping, I replayed my conversation with Detective Cromwell. It certainly had sounded like he thought I was guilty. How could he think that? I wouldn’t hurt anyone! But he didn’t know me. It wasn’t like I was back in my little hometown, where I had grown up with most of the cops. This guy had me as a possible suspect and hinted that he thought I could be violent. Well, to be fair, Redheaded She-Devil could be a little scary—but murder? No way. Maybe the detective simply didn’t have any other suspects. Surely it wasn’t that hard to come up with a list of people who might have had it out for Dave. Hell, I could do that.

  Wait. I could do that. What better way to take the heat off myself than to hand mean old Detective Cromwell a list of people who had an actual reason to kill Dave? I could ask around at Java Jive. Surely his co-workers would know something. Even Pete would probably have a few ideas. Oh! I had almost forgotten about Charlene. She had said that Dave was always meddling in other people’s business and that it was only a matter of time before he really pissed one of them off. She probably wouldn’t talk to me, considering the way she’d treated me at her house. But I did know someone she’d be happy to talk to, though.

  I called Pete. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need you to go out with Dave’s wife.”

  He laughed into the phone. “Good one, Jules. What is it really?”

  I hesitated. I wouldn’t put it above Charlene to try to man-rape Pete, but I really needed info from her. “I wasn’t joking. Detective Cromwell came by just now, and I think I’m in real trouble here. I want to put together a list of people who would be better suspects than I am.”

  “Come on. You’ll be fine. The evidence will show that you didn’t do it. If it will make you feel better, we can get you a lawyer.”

  “Or we could figure out who actually did it,” I said.

  “Isn’t that what the police are for?”

  “Well, you’d think that, but evidently not in this situation. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

  “It sounds dangerous,” he said apprehensively. “And speaking of dangerous, how does me dating Charlene come into play?”

  “Remember when she said that she wasn’t surprised that Dave had managed to piss someone off enough to kill him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, maybe she knows the names of the people she was referring to. I bet she’d tell you if you were nice to her,” I said sweetly.

  “Sick, Jules! You’re prostituting me!”

  I supposed that was kind of true. “It’s not prostitution if no money changes hands.”

  He ignored me. “Where are you? I’m going to come knock some sense into you.”

  “At Java Jive.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Wear something pretty.”

  He growled at me and hung up. It only took him a couple of minutes to get to Java Jive, so he was still pissed. “You’re insane, you know that?”

  I sighed. “Do you want me to go to jail?”

  “No. Do you want me to get violated by Charlene…again?”

  “No, but I can live with it if we get the information we need.” Pete scowled at me. I continued, “Why don’t we have the two of you meet in a public place? That way maybe she won’t try to hump you. We could get you one of those rape whistles if that would make you feel better.”

  “Couldn’t I just call her on the phone?”

  “Yes, call her and invite her to get a drink with you. We’ll go to some dark, seedy bar, and I’ll sit near you guys. She’ll never see me. If she tries anything, I’ll jump out of the shadows and karate chop her. Deal?”

  Pete begrudgingly got out his phone. “You couldn’t karate chop a houseplant.” He dialed her number and said, “Hey, Charlene, this is Pete Bennett.”

  I could hear her exclaim, “Oh, Pete! Hello, sugar!” causing Pete to wince and pull the phone away from his ear.

  He stared daggers at me as he said, “I’d…I’d like to take you out for a drink. Where would you like to meet?”

  There was more shrieking on the other end of the phone, but I couldn’t make it out. Pete continued to make his mad face at me as he listened to her yakking. He finally said, “Okay, I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes,” and ended the call. He got in my face and said through gritted teeth, “You owe me.”

  —

  Charlene suggested meeting at her favorite bar, The Dirty Duck. I had never heard of it, and when I pulled up in front of it, I realized why. The Dirty Duck was a scary, run-down biker bar across from a bunch of crappy warehouses down by the river, somewhere I normally wouldn’t have gone in a million years. Pete and I had driven separately so no one would know we were together. I was to go in first and stake out a couple of empty tables. Inside, it was even more of a nasty hole, and my shoes stuck to the floor as I walked across the room. I grabbed a drink from the bartender, found the cleanest-looking table, and sat down.

  Pete and Charlene came in a few minutes later, Charlene clamped onto his arm like a leech. They sat at the table next to me, with Charlene’s back to my back. I had my hair pulled up in one of Pete’s baseball caps and wore sunglasses so Charlene wouldn’t recognize me. She’d barely glanced at me when I was at her house, so she probably didn’t remember what I looked like anyway.

  Her voice was so loud and obnoxious, it was easy to hear every word of their conversation. Charlene was blabbing on and on about how wonderful it was that Pete had asked her for a date. I tried to nonchalantly sip my drink, but every time I set the glass down it would stick to the disgusting table. Even the filthy kitchen at Java Jive was cleaner than this place.

  My ears perked up when I heard Pete say, “Man, the police have really been hounding me about who might have killed Dave. Did someone come and talk to you?”

  I turned on my phone and started recording their conversation. Charlene sighed. “Yes, some detective came by and asked me a whole bunch of awful questions. It was so hard on me, Pete.” I was dying to watch Charlene as she flirted with Pete, but I couldn’t move or I’d blow my cover.

  “That’s understandable,” Pete replied politely, his voice shaking a little. “I told the police that I had seen Dave arguing with a rough-looking guy on a Harley in the alley behind the coffeehouse the other day. Any idea who that might be?”

  Puzzled, I looked over my shoulder at Pete. He shook his head slightly, so I turned back around. Was this true, or was Pete trying to get her to talk? I would need to remember to ask him later.

  Charlene asked, “Was he bald? Nasty beard? Sleeve tattoos on both arms?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was Ron Hatcher, the no-good son of a bitch. He was Dave’s bookie. Always on his ass for money.” Hmm. So old Dave was a gambler. Interesting. Charlene changed the subject. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about us. How do you like your women, sugar?”

  Before I could stop myself, I chuckled quietly. I was sure that Pete noticed, because he could see me clearly, and my shoulders were shaking. If she was going to continue to talk like this, I would have to move farther away.

  Pete finally replied, “I…uh…I like women who have a sense of humor. Um, you know…” He trailed off.

  “You look like you could use a woman who’s been around the block.”

  “No, no,” Pete said quickly. “No need for that. I prefer women who are sweet, and maybe a
little shy at times. Someone I could take home to my grandmother.”

  I could feel his eyes on me, so I turned my head. He was staring right at me. I quickly turned back around. Pete needed to stay on task or we’d never pull this off.

  “Oh, honey, I can be shy and sweet. I can be anything you want me to be.”

  Disgusted, I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t stand women who would change their personalities for a man.

  Pete changed the subject. “Um…thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, Dave had to leave work last week to help his sister. Something about her boyfriend? Are they doing okay?”

  “What the hell do I care? Gina’s a total bitch, and she’s always hated me.” Charlene laughed. “What happened was that she couldn’t keep her man happy. Her baby daddy was cheating on her. Dave went over to help her kick him out of the house. Of course, they got into it, and stupid Billy pulled a knife on him.”

  I peeked again and saw Pete’s eyes widen. “What happened?”

  Charlene shrugged. “Nothing much. He slashed the tires on Dave’s truck and ran.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “Why?”

  “Because your husband was stabbed.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “With a knife. And his sister’s boyfriend threatened him with a knife. See the connection?”

  Charlene sounded unimpressed. “Billy wouldn’t kill him. He don’t have the balls.”

  “Well, I think you should tell the police anyway.”

  “They already said they had some suspects. Besides, I ain’t fond of talking to pigs.”

  I shivered. I was one of those suspects. But hopefully Pete could get enough information out of Charlene for us to find some dirt on one of the other suspects and clear my name.

  “I’ll be happy to tell them. What is Billy’s last name?”

  “Knock yourself out. It’s Billy McClintock.” Yes! Pete was really doing a great job here. I owed him big-time. Charlene got sidetracked again. “Mmm, sweetheart. You look good enough to eat. Why don’t we get out of here?”

  I couldn’t risk letting another giggle escape. I clamped my hand over my mouth and pulled the cap farther down my face.

  Clearing his throat, Pete warbled, “We’re not even halfway done with our drinks, Charlene. Besides, I really, uh, like this place. Oh, I almost forgot. Dave also talked about some guys who were in the joint with him giving him trouble. Do you know anything about that?”

  I heard Charlene noisily tap a cigarette out of a pack. She seemed to be done answering questions. “Got a light, sweetie?”

  Pete stammered, “N-no…sorry. So about these guys…”

  Sneaking a look behind me, all I could see was Charlene’s ass in my face as she leaned across the table to get closer to Pete. I could just imagine her boobs nearly bursting out of the tight-fitting shirt she was wearing as she tried to give Pete a view. Yucky.

  Charlene sighed. “There were a couple of guys he did time with who were always trying to get him to run with them. Dave got into a fight with one of them here at this very bar, actually—just last weekend.”

  “What was the fight about?” asked Pete.

  “Probably over me,” she said boastfully. “He would beat up any guy who so much as looked at me. It was hot, and it always got him laid. I took good care of my man, if you know what I mean.”

  Upon hearing that, Pete choked on his drink. I felt really bad about putting Pete through this, but it was working so well.

  Lowering her voice, Charlene said, “Speaking of getting laid, what do you say you follow me home, sweet thing? I could take good care of you, too.”

  “Uh…thank you for the offer, Charlene, but…uh…I have a meeting to get to in a few minutes.” I could hear the terror in Pete’s voice. I snuck another look. Charlene was draped across the table, her face inches from Pete’s.

  She whispered, “Skip it,” and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt.

  Oh, shit. If I didn’t do something soon, this fiasco was going to end in a lap dance. Thinking fast, I grabbed my drink and got up. As I passed their table, I “tripped” and emptied my drink all over Charlene’s head. I sprinted to the door without looking back. I could hear Charlene cussing me every step of the way, and once outside I made a mad dash for my car. Peeling out of the parking lot, I zipped over to Java Jive.

  Once more in the safety of the coffeehouse, I was finally able to catch my breath. My crazy plan of having Pete flirt the information out of Charlene had worked like a charm. We learned that Ron Hatcher (Dave’s sleazy bookie), Billy McClintock (Dave’s sister’s unstable baby daddy), and an unidentified prison buddy had all had recent run-ins with Dave. It shouldn’t be difficult to return to The Dirty Duck and bribe a bartender to give me the prison pal’s name. That made three suspects who weren’t me! I was so relieved that I happily went back to cleaning the kitchen, whistling as I worked.

  A few minutes later, I got a call from Pete. “I hope you got what you wanted, because I’m never going to do anything like that again.”

  Imagining him pouting on the other end of the line, I smiled. “I did. And I can’t thank you enough. You were a spectacular prostitute.”

  “You take that back!”

  I laughed, but sobered quickly, suddenly remembering something. “Hey, you know that guy on the Harley, the bookie Ron Hatcher, who you said argued with Dave? Did that really happen, or were you trying to get Charlene to talk?”

  “It really happened. Last week I heard some arguing out the office window. Dave was out back with that scary guy, Ron. I only heard bits and pieces, but one thing I remember Ron saying was, ‘If you let this shit get out of hand, I’m gonna kill you. If it blows up in your face, you’re back in jail, and I’m left high and dry.’ ”

  “Whoa! No way! Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I guess I had kind of forgotten about it in all of the craziness.”

  “Did you tell the cops?”

  “Yeah, I mentioned it when they questioned me.”

  “And?”

  “And they said they’d look into it.”

  A lightbulb suddenly flicked on in my head. “You said he was on a Harley, in the alley?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I gasped, “He was there!”

  “Huh? Where?”

  “In the alley the night Dave was killed! Someone on a motorcycle nearly ran me over!” Ron Hatcher had to be our guy!

  “Did he look like the guy Charlene described—bald, bearded, with sleeve tattoos?”

  “I don’t know. It was dark. All I saw was a person on a speeding motorcycle.”

  “Then how do you know it was him?”

  I whined, “I don’t know. It’s a good theory.”

  “Good as any. Are you going to call the police and tell them your theory?”

  “Um…sure.” Not until I had more facts. I changed the subject. “So did you make another date with Charlene?”

  “Hell no! Are you nuts? I’m just glad you threw that drink when you did. That cooled her off, but only a little. She had the nerve to grab my junk as we were leaving.”

  I erupted into laughter. “I am so sorry. I really owe you one.”

  “Yes, you do. Now I’m going to take several showers, drink several beers, and take a nap.”

  “That should help.”

  “Jules?”

  “Yeah?”

  I could practically hear him gritting his teeth as he said, “We will never speak of this again.”

  “Roger that.”

  I went back to my cleaning, and after not too much longer, I was finished. The place was spotless and smelled clean. After my day, I figured I could treat myself to some dinner, or at least a giant tub of ice cream. As I was putting my cleaning supplies away, I heard a knock at the door. Seriously considering not answering it, I quickly realized that was pointless since my car was now outside, in plain sight. If it was Detective Cromwell, he wouldn’t go away without getting what he came for.
I sighed and headed for the front of the house.

  I was relieved to see that it wasn’t in fact Cromwell at the door, but unfortunately my caller wasn’t much more appealing. It was Seth, the sexy guy I had yelled at last night.

  I walked up to the door but didn’t open it. Pointing to the CLOSED sign, I yelled, “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” I turned to head for the kitchen, but he knocked again. I stopped and went back to the door.

  Seth yelled, “I came to see you.”

  I figured that, but I didn’t want to see him. Yesterday, I had resolved to apologize, but I was tired and grouchy and didn’t really feel like doing it now. “I’m very busy,” I replied.

  He smiled. I liked his smile a lot. “Look, Juliet, I wanted to come by and apologize for being such a dick last night, but I really don’t want the whole neighborhood to hear.”

  Oh. Well, that was pretty sweet. Men weren’t generally big on apologies, since it usually involved admitting they’d been wrong. I guessed I could hear him out. I opened the door and let him in.

  “Thanks,” he said, coming in and standing way too close to me.

  I took a step back. “I believe you said something about an apology?”

  “Right. I was rude to you last night.”

  “I was rude to you, too. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. I provoked you. I guess I was a little jealous.”

  That surprised me. “Jealous?”

  He grinned bashfully. “I was going to ask you out. But when I saw you with your boss, I figured I’d lost my chance.”

  So he was interested. I had thought so, but it threw me when he busted me for supposedly drooling all over Pete’s song last night. There was no doubt that tall, dark, and handsome Seth was hot. Going out with him would probably be fun. And I didn’t see anything wrong with a little distraction.

  I replied, “Seriously, like I told you—there’s nothing going on between us…nor will there ever be. So, yes, I would be happy to go out with you.”

  “As a consolation prize,” he said quietly.

  Boo-frickedy-hoo. I didn’t even know his last name, and he was wounded about not being my first choice? I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you a drama queen? Because I don’t go out with drama queens.”