by Hillary Avis
“Don’t you have police work to do?”
“I’m doing it,” Charley said grimly. She put her hands on top of the items in the cart to keep them balanced as Bethany pushed the cart toward the car. When they were out of earshot of any partygoers, she sighed deeply. “I’m really sorry, Bethany. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Oh no,” Bethany said, her heart going cold. “Not Amara. It can’t be. Please tell me she’s not hurt.”
“It was Todd, Bethany. In the tower.”
Bethany skidded to a halt just feet from Kimmy’s blue Honda. “Todd shot Amara? Why?!”
“Listen to me.” Charley grabbed her by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Todd has been shot. Todd is the victim.”
Chapter 15
Wednesday
“I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE this,” Kimmy said, pacing up and down the length of their small living room holding a tattered piece of paper in her hand. She sat down on the couch beside Bethany and put her arm around her, and then abruptly stood up and began pacing again.
“I know.” Bethany brushed the tears from her cheeks, but they were immediately replaced with new ones. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. I should have gone with him to help him with his suit instead of doing that stupid cooking demo to save face!”
“No, honey.” Kimmy plopped down again and gave her a squeeze. “You did what you thought was right. I’m not even that surprised—Todd had a lot of enemies on Hosanna Street. I just can’t believe this.” She shook the piece of paper before handing it to Bethany.
Bethany smoothed out the paper and tried to decipher the spidery cursive handwriting on it. She held it up to the light to make out the words, but half of the note was soggy and shredded. “Sharky is sure living up to his name, isn’t he?”
Kimmy glared at the little dog, who cowered under the coffee table. Then she relented and scooped him up, laughing as he began gnawing on her watchband. “He can’t help it. He’s full of beans, as Auntie would say.”
“Well, near as I can make out, this note says ‘Take good care of Sharky. I’m going to—’ and then the rest is chewed up. You don’t think she had anything to do with Todd being shot, do you?”
Kimmy made a skeptical face. “No, it’s probably a coincidence. I’ll text her and see what’s going on.” She pulled out her phone and thumbed a quick message. A few seconds later, they heard a ping from the kitchen counter. Kimmy groaned. “Of course, she left her phone here.”
“Is that a coincidence, too?”
Kimmy bit her lip and didn’t answer. Sharky whined and pawed at her arm. She put it back down where he could reach it, and he resumed chewing on the leather part of her watch.
Bethany rubbed her forehead. This all seemed so surreal, like she was in a waking dream. Her ex-boyfriend was murdered, the murder weapon was found in her soup pot, and now her newest roommate was the prime suspect. When had Amara sneaked away from the food table to do the deed? During the demo?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on the door. Sharky yammered his tiny reply, and Kimmy ran to answer the door with Sharky tucked under her arm, still barking. She returned, looking resigned, with Charley and Coop. She motioned to them and sat back down on the couch. “Cops.”
Bethany tried to smile in greeting, but the most she could manage was quirking one side of her mouth. “Hey.”
Coop shifted uncomfortably as he scanned the room. “Mind if we sit?”
“Suit yourself,” Kimmy said. Bethany nodded, and Coop took the armchair.
“I’ll stand.” Charley shifted uncomfortably. “We came to give you our condolences. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” Bethany had a hard time even looking at Charley’s sympathetic expression. She was afraid if she did, she might start crying all over again.
“We just need to review a few things,” Coop said. “Were you at the food service table all evening? No bathroom trips, no breaks?”
Bethany shook her head. “No, none. I unloaded, did the demo, served, then loaded up and came back here.”
“And you, Ms. Caldwell? Where were you?”
Kimmy jutted out her chin. “I was working all night at Café Sabine. I had nothing to do with the event.”
“But you helped prepare the food for the gala, didn’t you?” Coop leaned forward in the chair, and Sharky growled a warning at him.
Kimmy stroked Sharky’s head, but it did little to soothe the savage beast, who pulled back his lips to show Coop his teeth. “I did a little to help Bethany prep, but I had my own food to worry about.”
“Do you own a gun, Ms. Caldwell?”
“No!” Kimmy put down Sharky and stood up. Coop eyed the dog warily as she strode into the kitchen and began filling the kettle. “Can I get anyone some coffee or anything?”
“No, thank you. Is Amara here?” Charley asked. “We’d like to talk to her, too.”
Bethany shook her head. “She went somewhere. It must have been related to the phone call she got. It seemed pretty urgent.”
Coop and Charley shared a meaningful look. Coop cleared his throat. “Ms. Caldwell, does your aunt own a gun?”
Kimmy dropped the kettle with a crash and then fumbled in the sink trying to right it. “No! I mean, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her with a gun. She isn’t that type of person.”
“The type of person who carries a weapon for self-defense, you mean?” Coop asked.
“The type of person who want to hurt other people.” Kimmy put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “She doesn’t hold grudges.”
“Witnesses at the gala say that she was pretty upset with Todd.” Charley flipped through her notebook, scanning several pages. “They report that she threw food and screamed at him. Seems like she might have a grudge there.”
“Sit down,” Kimmy snapped as she returned to the living room. “You’re making me nervous, hovering around like that.” Bethany winced and hoped the cops wouldn’t take offense, but Charley didn’t say a word an took a seat opposite Coop.
“She thought Todd might have had something to do with the arson,” Bethany explained. “But she didn’t throw food at him. That was an accident.”
Charley glanced over her notes. “So she disliked him, had a fight with him, and then disappeared after he got shot. Not to mention that the murder weapon was found where she’d been working all evening. It kind of paints a picture of someone who’s guilty.”
“She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Kimmy said stubbornly, as she sat down beside Bethany and picked up Sharky again, cradling him like a baby. “Look, she left a note telling us where she was going. Why would she do that if she was trying to evade the law?”
Coop cocked his head to one side. “This is the first we’ve heard of a note. Can we see it?”
Kimmy pushed it across the coffee table toward him, and he picked it up gingerly by the corner.
“Are you kidding me?” he said. “Look at this, Perez. ‘The dog ate my alibi.’”
“If we knew where she was, we’d tell you,” Bethany said earnestly. “We’re worried about her, too. She left her phone here.”
Charley nodded. “Let us know if you hear anything from her. Obviously, we have a few more people to talk to, but we want to make sure she’s safe. My instinct is that the arson was due to Amara’s support of the development project. Her life could still be in danger.”
It was ironic that the fire was the reason the whole project was approved, if the arsonist was against the development. But someone who had accidentally helped the condo development move forward might then decide to stop it—by killing Todd.
“You should check George’s shed,” Bethany blurted out.
“Why?” Kimmy asked.
“Todd said he helped George put his lawnmower in the shed that night. If he has a mower in there, he probably has gas and other stuff in there, too—what accelerant was used in the arson?”
Charley shook her head. “W
e can’t tell you that. Anyway, we don’t know; it’s still being analyzed.”
“Well, check the stuff in George’s shed to see if it’s a match.”
Kimmy frowned. “I don’t think George has that much ill will toward my aunt. He’s a good guy underneath that gruff exterior.”
A good guy who said more drastic measures might be necessary to stop the development—and who sent Amara a very threatening note. Bethany didn’t want to hurt her best friend’s feelings, so she kept her suspicions to herself. “I didn’t say George did it. But whoever did it might have used an accelerant from his shed. Todd’s shoes smelled like gas when I saw him on Monday.”
Coop and Charley shared another look.
“What?” Kimmy asked.
Coop shook his head. “Nothing. Just let us know if you hear anything from Amara.” He and Charley stood up from their chairs.
After the two cops had left, Kimmy made cups of chamomile tea and sat with Bethany on the sofa as they sipped. Sharky lay between them, wedged between the two cushions, and they took turns petting him. He whined and wagged his tail whenever they stopped.
“Poor little guy. He misses Auntie.”
Bethany chewed her lip. “Do you think she maybe was involved in Todd’s murder? I’ve been going over the evening again and again, trying to remember when she was there and when she wasn’t. I can’t remember whether or not she was there during the cooking demo.”
Kimmy sighed and scratched Sharky between the ears. “We don’t even know when Todd was killed, so there’s no point in obsessing over it. I know she didn’t do it. I’m sure she’ll call tomorrow and tell us the whole story: where she is, why she left so suddenly, and when she’ll be back.”
“But what if she doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t prove anything. All we can do is get some rest and see what happens tomorrow.” Kimmy stood and picked up Sharky. “You’re sleeping with me tonight, mister.”
“Is that the first time you’ve said that?” Bethany attempted a grin.
“For your information,” Kimmy said, sticking her nose in the air, “yes. But Sharky is a very special man.”
“He is. Night-night, you two.” Bethany smiled, but a lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Todd had been a special man in his own way, and she’d miss him, despite his flaws.
Despite Kimmy’s instructions to get some rest, Bethany tossed and turned, unable to shut off her brain. She couldn’t make sense of what had happened. She’d somehow lost her job and her relationship on the same day that Todd lost his life, and now Kimmy’s aunt was missing. Was there one explanation for all of these things? Or was it all just a terrible coincidence? Kimmy thought Amara might have the answers, but Bethany had her doubts.
Why would Amara run away and leave her phone behind?
She has more to hide than anyone else.
Chapter 16
Thursday
HER PHONE BUZZED AT 6:30 a.m.
Bethany was already awake and making french toast for breakfast, but she didn’t answer. A few minutes later, it buzzed again, and Bethany sent the call straight to voicemail.
Kimmy fed Sharky and poured them both some coffee, then sat down at the table. “Who are you avoiding?”
“Mom.” Bethany slid plates of piping hot, cinnamon-y goodness onto the table and drizzled syrup over the top of each. “She doesn’t need to know that I lost my minimum-wage job—at least not until I get a new one. Plus, she loved Todd, and I do not want to have that conversation right now.”
“Totally understandable,” Kimmy said. She stood up and headed for the front door. “Hang on, I think the newspaper just hit the porch.”
Bethany put the french toast pan in the sink and ran water in it, then slid into her seat at the table just as Kimmy returned with the paper. “Any headlines about the gala?”
“Oh no,” Kimmy said, her eyes fixed on the front page. “Oh no.”
Bethany tried to grab it out of her hand, but Kimmy jerked it away. “You don’t want to see this!”
“Well, now I do!” Bethany got up and circled behind Kimmy’s chair to look over her shoulder. She was horrified to see a huge, unflattering picture of herself on the front page. Her mouth was open, and she was clearly in a heated discussion with someone, but that person was cropped out of the photo. “When was this even taken? The newspaper reporter didn’t have a camera.”
Kimmy shrugged. “It was definitely at the gala last night.”
Bethany snapped her finger. “I bet it was Fancy Peters. She had a huge old antique camera that she said was to document the event. She probably took this when I was talking to Alex—he accused me of trying to steal Don’s investment out from under him.”
“Jerk,” Kimmy said. She folded up the newspaper and put it under her napkin. “You don’t need to read that.”
Bethany pretended she was headed back to her seat, but at the last minute nabbed the paper from under Kimmy’s napkin. Kimmy squawked in protest, but Bethany shushed her. “I need to know what’s being said about me. Plus, I have to look at the classifieds—mama needs a new job, remember?”
She unfolded the paper and scanned the article.
CRIME CHOWDER
By Robin Ricketts
Newbridge, CT—Residents of Hosanna Street were shocked last night when prominent developer Todd Luna was shot and killed at a gala celebrating his newest project.
The murder weapon, a Browning pistol, was found in a pot of clam chowder that was served to gala guests by the victim’s girlfriend and event caterer, Bethany Bradstreet.
As Luna’s body was loaded into the ambulance, Bradstreet expressed concern for her reputation.
“Who’s going to want to eat my food now that a murder weapon was found in it?” she asked this reporter.
Is Bethany Bradstreet a black widow spider who has devoured her mate? Or is she merely a ruthless businesswoman looking to profit after a tragedy? Whichever web she weaves, she’s full of spin.
Officers investigating the case are interested in the whereabouts of Amara Caldwell, Bradstreet’s catering assistant, who may have information related to the crime. Residents with any related knowledge should contact the Newbridge Police.
BETHANY’S HANDS SHOOK and her breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so,’ but...” Kimmy sighed sympathetically.
“It’s all lies!” Bethany blurted out.
“I know. You didn’t say that stuff. It’s just sensationalist journalism.”
Bethany stared out the window at the fishing boats in the marina. “Well, I did say that, but I didn’t know that the body was Todd at the time! She makes it sound like I didn’t care about him at all. Plus, it says I’m his girlfriend, and we were already exes!”
“Not sure that detail would improve the story, though,” Kimmy said dryly. “The breakup might strengthen your motive to off Todd. Don’t worry about it too much. The cops know you didn’t do it. You’re not in any trouble.”
Bethany let out a deep breath and tried to ease the tension in her shoulders. “You’re right—you’re right. I need to shake it off.”
Her phone buzzed again. Mom. Bethany realized with horror that her mom had probably gotten the newspaper, too. She groaned and sent the call to voicemail. “That’s why she’s calling so early! She saw the story.”
“At least the article doesn’t say you lost your job?”
Bethany made a face. “That’s not exactly the silver lining I was looking for.”
Kimmy took the paper back and paged through until she got to the classifieds. “I’m going to find you some great jobs—better than the Grotto. You’re going to get a new gig, you’re going to get a new man, and we’re all going to live happily ever after.”
Bethany nodded. She could tell Kimmy was worried, too, but she was thankful for her friend’s brave face. They couldn’t both fall apart at the same time. Kimmy perused the help-wanted
ads while Bethany finished her coffee. By the time she reached the bottom of the mug, Kimmy had circled three ads in red pen. She pushed them across the table.
“That’s a start, anyway. You should stop by those places today—it’ll keep your mind off the whole Todd thing. And by the time you get back, Auntie will have called to set things straight with the cops.”
Bethany scanned the ads. The circled jobs were all at places on the same trendy street downtown. It’d be easy to visit them on her bike. “Thanks, Kimmy. I owe you one.”
Kimmy pushed back her chair and cleared their dishes to the sink. “You can buy me a root beer float when you get one of those jobs.”
“Deal.” Bethany smiled, enjoying the first surge of hope she’d felt in more than twenty-four hours.
Chapter 17
Thursday
THE MANAGER OF HOLE Foods peered at Bethany’s resume. “Says you have fryer experience.”
Bethany nodded, twisting her hands nervously. “I’ve been working the fry station for about six months at my current job—I mean, my last job.”
“Any desserts?”
“Seafood, mostly. But I’m sure I can fry a doughnut—frying isn’t rocket science.”
The manager looked at her doubtfully over his thick-framed glasses. “We’ll see about that. Why don’t you fry up a couple and then glaze and decorate them. You can use any of our doughs or toppings—I want to see some creativity!”
“You got it!” She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Never thought I’d be thankful to Alex for putting me on the fry station.
First, she fried a chocolate éclair and a vanilla doughnut to puffy perfection. She filled the éclair with salted caramel cream and topped it with chocolate ganache and edible rose petals. She chose a simple orange glaze and candied-ginger sprinkles for the doughnut and presented both to the manager while they were still warm.