Death Before Decaf

by Caroline Fardig

  “Are you Juliet?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered cautiously.

  “I’m Patty Fortune, from the Tennessee Star. How do you feel about Don Wolfe’s allegations that you are the lead suspect in the murder of David Hill?”

  I froze, and my heart skipped a beat. I breathed, “I’m…what?”

  “Didn’t you read his article this morning in the Gazette?”

  “N-n-no.” How could this be happening?

  “Is it true, then? Are you suspected of murdering one of your employees?”

  “No!” I whispered furiously. “And keep your voice down!”

  “I’d love to tell your side of the story. How about an exclusive?”

  “No. Absolutely not. I want nothing to do with this.” I turned to leave.

  “You’re knee-deep in it, sister, whether you want to be or not. If I were you, I’d be trying to clear my name, not hiding.”

  Heading for the sanctuary of the office, I allowed myself to have a little freak-out. Cromwell didn’t say that I was the lead suspect, he said I was one of the best leads they had. To me, that was a big difference. Why in the hell would Don Wolfe tell a flat-out lie in the newspaper? Couldn’t I sue him for that? Or what if he had a source inside the police department and now I was considered the lead suspect? Regardless of the danger (and my promise to Pete), I had to find the real killer.

  I peeked out into the front of the house to see if the reporter was gone. She was, but Seth was there instead, chatting up Gertie at the counter. I really wanted to talk to Gertie, because she was the closest thing I had to family here, except Pete. However, I didn’t especially want to talk to Seth, so I spent most of my time in the kitchen until he left.

  When the coast was clear, I headed out to see Gertie. She was still at her usual stool, sipping coffee.

  I grabbed the coffeepot and topped off her cup, and then leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Have you ever seen so many people in here, Gertie?”

  She snorted in disgust. “Damn stupid gawkers. Don’t they know there’s not diddly shit to see now? Although it’s not bad for business.”

  “That’s true. We’re definitely raking in the profits. Too bad about the reason.” I hesitated. “Did you by any chance read the Gazette this morning?”

  “Yes, I did. That bastard dragged your good name through the mud! If I were you, I’d sue him till his eyeballs bled.”

  “I’d love to, but I don’t want to make anything worse.”

  She patted my hand with her wrinkled one. “Well, try not to worry your pretty little head about it, dear. At least it wasn’t in the Star. Nobody reads the Gazette anyway.”

  I knew talking to Gertie would make me feel better. She understood me. We were both from small towns in the Midwest, so she would always say we Yankees had to stick together against all these Southerners, especially the snooty Southern belles. In college, I had always gone to Gertie with my problems. I was happy to have her to turn to again.

  I sighed. “I hope not.”

  Gertie shook an arthritic finger in my face. “Juliet, I tell you, this murder doesn’t sit well with me one bit. You be careful around here, missy. I don’t want you or my Pete getting hurt. I never dreamed this damn place could be so dangerous. I guess it killed my George, though. The stress of running this place ruined his ticker.”

  Poor Gertie. George was her only child. He’d had a year’s worth of heart problems, until one day his heart just gave out. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I kept quiet and listened.

  She shrugged and chuckled. “That, or pining over his bitch ex-wife was what did him in.”

  Leave it to Gertie to ruin a sad moment with a crass remark. I smiled. “Oh, Gertie.”

  Actually, she had handled George’s death fairly well. She had never stopped coming to the coffeehouse every day, despite the painful absence of her son. She did it to support Pete. She’d practically raised him. Pete’s mom had left when he was seven, not long after his sister was born. That left George alone with two children, but luckily Gertie was more than happy to jump in and help.

  She eyed me and asked, “What’s going on with you and that sweet piece of man-meat, Seth? He said you two went on a date. Did you get to see what’s under that tight little T-shirt of his?”

  I blushed. “No, I did not see what was under his tight little T-shirt. We went out on one date, and then lunch yesterday. That’s all. I’m not even sure I like the guy.”

  “What’s not to like? Hell’s bells, I bet his pecker is a foot long.”

  I put my head in my hands and wished I could unhear that.

  “Shit. If I were fifty years younger, I’d have him fixing my plumbing.”

  I couldn’t take much more of this. Thankfully, I heard the phone ringing. “Gotta answer the phone. Later, Gert.”

  “Prude!” she called after me.

  Retreating to the innuendo-free sanctuary of the office, I answered the phone. “Java Jive, this is Juliet. How can I help you?”

  “Is this Juliet Langley?” asked a heavily-accented voice.

  Damn it, not again. I didn’t know if I could handle another reporter. I sighed. “Yes.”

  “Good. This is Paolina Ghirlandi.” Thank goodness it wasn’t a reporter. “I got your message, but I am confused. I’ve never been to your Java Jive, so I don’t know how I could have lost something there.”

  “I found a Visa card with your name on it.”

  “A Visa card? A moment, per favore.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then she said, “I have my Visa card in my hand, so I don’t understand how you also have my Visa card. What is going on?”

  I was at a loss. “Do you know of any other Paolina Ghirlandis in the Nashville area?”

  “No, and Ghirlandi is not a terribly common name. I am probably the only one.”

  I was grasping at straws. “Do you by any chance have duplicate cards? Or maybe two different accounts?”

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t we get together so that we can discuss it further? I can meet you at three.”

  “Three o’clock would be fine. Would you like to come here to Java Jive?”

  “My class schedule is very busy today. Is it possible you could meet me on campus? Maybe at the Vanderbilt library?”

  “Yes, that would be fine.” A field trip would probably do me some good. It would be nice to get out. And it would do me even more good to get to the bottom of this credit card issue. Besides, if someone on my staff had stolen Paolina’s card, it was probably best to discuss the matter elsewhere.

  Lunch wasn’t as rough as it had been the day before, probably because I actually knew what I was doing. The time passed quickly, and once the lunch rush was over, Pete came in through the back door. He looked like death, but…sexy death. He hadn’t shaved, his hair was messy, and judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept. This wasn’t normal Pete. This was like a hard-partying rocker version of Pete, only I knew he hadn’t been out carousing last night.

  “Pete, are you okay?” I asked worriedly.

  Brandon looked up and said, “Yo, Pete.” Brandon didn’t need to hear our conversation, so I ushered Pete out of the kitchen and into the office.

  He sprawled in a chair and wiped a hand down his face. “I didn’t sleep.”

  “I gathered that. Wanna talk about it?” I had left him high and dry with an extremely pissed-off Cecilia last night, so there was no telling what had happened.

  Pete groaned. “My damn hand was hurting all night, and I kept having nightmares about you and that guy at the motel.”

  I went over and sat across from him, taking his good hand. “I’m so sorry. I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  “That’s because it is,” he said sarcastically.

  I chose not to engage. “Anything else happen?”

  Shrugging, he said, “Cecilia dumped me.”

  I didn’t think that was a bad thing, but it hurt to get dumped, even if it was for y
our own good. “That was probably partially my fault, too. Sorry.”

  He grinned. “Nah. Our relationship has been rocky for a while. It was time.”

  “I never liked her anyway.”

  “I know.” He was obviously done talking about it, because he abruptly changed the subject. “How’s business today?”

  “Busy, just like yesterday. But we’re managing.”

  “Good.” He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “Jules?”

  “Yes?” I replied warily. He wanted something.

  “Would you make me one of your famous waffle tacos for lunch? I could use some comfort food.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Gross, Pete! I haven’t made one of those in years. I don’t think your thirty-one-year-old stomach can handle it.” I had come up with the waffle taco when we worked here in college. I’d make a waffle with some of the batter we used for our dessert waffles, then stuff it with our taco salad fixings: taco meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, salsa, and hot sauce. It was gastrointestinal distress on a plate.

  “Please?”

  I shook my head. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re farting fire later.”

  He laughed. It was good to hear that. I was responsible for Pete’s crappy day, and if a waffle taco was the only thing that would cure it, then that’s what I would give him. I went to the kitchen and quickly made the nasty dish, getting a few strange looks from Brandon. I didn’t explain.

  Pete was going through the mail when I returned with his waffle taco. As soon as he saw the ungodly concoction, his eyes lit up.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talking about!” he cried, grabbing the plate from me. He took a big bite and moaned, “Jules, this is so good.”

  I turned up my nose at him. “I’ll leave you alone with your lunch. I’m going to help with the shift change while you have your foodgasm.”

  “I might just have multiple foodgasms. What do you think about that?” he called with his mouth full as I closed the door.

  My evening crew members were beginning to trickle in, and Camille and Rhonda looked more than ready to go home. I caught them before they could leave, wanting to make sure I asked everyone about the mysterious credit card.

  “Hey, ladies. I found a credit card in the pastry case yesterday. Either of you have any idea how it got there?”

  “What are you trying to say?” huffed Rhonda. You generally didn’t want to try to stop Rhonda on her way out the door.

  “Nothing, Rhonda. I just need to know why it happened so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Well, I don’t know. And I don’t care. It’s 2:01. Now let me out of here, or I’ll charge you for overtime!” Rhonda pushed past me and swept out the door.

  Camille smiled at me. “She’s a bit gruff sometimes. Don’t take it personally.”

  “Thanks, Camille. Do you know about the card?”

  “Sure wish I did. Sorry.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  When I turned back to the counter, Jamie, Brianna, and Cole were already in place and doing their thing. Luckily, we were not quite as packed as yesterday, but we still had a nice crowd. They wouldn’t miss me when I went to meet Paolina.

  Hoping that Pete was done with his lunch, I went back to the office. He had his hand on the back door, ready to leave.

  “Hey, I gotta bounce, but thanks for lunch, Jules. I’ll think of you when the diarrhea comes later.”

  I choked on a laugh. “Please don’t.”

  Happy to see him joking around again, I started to feel a little better about my whole situation. Things were actually starting to look up around here. I had received a call earlier and had a potential candidate coming in for an interview for Dave’s job. Having an extra set of hands around here would relieve a lot of my stress. Also, in an hour I’d have the credit card mess put to bed, and then I could focus all of my efforts on Java Jive…and trying to solve a murder.

  Chapter 13

  I knew from experience that it only took thirteen minutes to walk from Java Jive to the library at Vanderbilt, but I decided to leave a little early to make sure I didn’t miss Paolina. Besides, getting a little autumn sun would probably do me some good. These days, I didn’t get outside much while the sun was still out.

  Taking off my apron, I said to the baristas, “Guys, I’m going to be gone for about an hour. I tracked down the owner of the credit card from yesterday, and I’m running over to Vandy to meet her. I’ll be back before the dinner rush.”

  “Cool. Whatever,” was Cole’s answer.

  Brianna looked uneasily at the line of customers waiting and bit her lip. Jamie went to the kitchen window and yelled for Shane to come out and help them. My night shift baristas couldn’t have been any more different if they tried, but somehow they made a pretty good team. Working out front with them was a lot easier than working with Camille and Rhonda in the mornings.

  Grabbing Paolina’s credit card from the safe, I set out for the Vanderbilt campus. It was beautiful, but I always felt there was something more charming about the Belmont campus, probably because of the size. A person could easily get lost at Vandy and never find the way out, but I remembered my old route to the library like I had been there yesterday. I found a spot to sit on the short stone wall facing the library and waited for Paolina. I had my Java Jive T-shirt on, so she could easily find me.

  What I didn’t count on was someone else finding me first.

  “Juliet! Hey, Juliet!”

  I turned to see Seth waving at me from across the library lawn. Aw, hell. Really? Of all the people to run into, it had to be him? I still hadn’t had time to sit down and think about whether I wanted to continue our relationship, such as it was. Not knowing what else to do, I waved back. He started walking my way. Great. Maybe we could have another awkward conversation, like last night. Or maybe, thanks to Gertie, I’d be thinking about his penis. Why did she have to say those things?

  Smiling, he asked, “Are you following me?”

  No, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of avoiding him. “No, I’m here to meet someone.”

  He sat down next to me, very close. “Not another guy, I hope.” He was totally flirting with me. And I was totally thinking about his penis. Damn you, Gertie!

  “No, I’m here on official Java Jive business. I’m returning a lost credit card.”

  “To a college student? I’m not surprised. These kids don’t take care of their stuff. They all lose their phones and their money and their backpacks on a regular basis. They aren’t as responsible as we were at their age.” He winked at me.

  I chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but I was their age not so long ago.”

  “Do I look old? I’m only thirty-four.”

  “You, sir, are a dinosaur.”

  Laughing, he took my hand.

  It was difficult to concentrate with him smiling at me and touching me, but I needed to bring up my suspicions one more time. “Seth, you never got a chance to tell me what classes you—”

  “Excuse me, are you Juliet from Java Jive?”

  Son of a bitch. I was so close. I looked up to see a beautiful girl, who most certainly looked like a Paolina Ghirlandi. She might as well have been an Italian model.

  “Yes, I am. Are you Paolina?”

  “Yes.”

  Turning to Seth, I said, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “You bet.” He squeezed my hand and ambled back in the direction he had come.

  “He is handsome, no?”

  “He is.” Aha! A Vandy student might know whether Seth was a real professor or not. Duh. I was around Vandy students all the time, and I never thought to ask one of them. “Do you know him? He’s a professor here.”

  “I see him around sometimes.” That was a decent confirmation, but not proof. “Did you bring my card with you?”

  “Do you mind showing me your ID just so I know I have the right person?”

  “Here it is,” she said. Her Vandy student ID
photo matched her face, and the names were the same. Good enough for me.

  “Here’s your card.” I handed it to her.

  She examined the card and took another one out of her purse to compare them. “They are different numbers. I know I only have the one Visa card, because I just got it when I moved here this semester. How could this be?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t have a clue. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how it could have happened, and why this other card would end up in my coffeehouse.”

  “I’ll contact my card company and ask them. I appreciate your help, Juliet. Grazie.”

  I stood up. “You’re welcome.”

  I thought I’d feel some kind of relief after I gave Paolina back her card, but nothing had actually been resolved. What was up with the extra credit card that Paolina had no knowledge of? And more importantly, who left the card in the pastry case? It couldn’t have been a customer, because the area behind the counter was blocked off. It had to be one of my employees. I hated to bother Pete with the situation, but I needed someone to talk to about it. Sighing, I headed toward Java Jive.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Howdy, neighbor!”

  Turning around, I found my apartment neighbor, Trevor. “Hey, Trevor. Funny meeting you here.”

  “It is. Taking a break from work?”

  “Oh, I had to return a lost credit card to a student.”

  He nodded. “Cool. I’ll let you get back to it. Gotta get to class.”

  “Wait, Trevor. I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know a professor here named Seth Davis? He’s in the film studies—”

  Trevor turned red and started shaking. “Oh, I know Seth Davis all right, the bastard.” That didn’t sound good. “He’s the one who…who…” He looked away.

  “Did he do something to you?”

  His eyes anguished, he said, “He stole Christina from me.”

  I groaned inwardly. “Bastard!”