by Joyce Tremel
“Welcome to the Reggie Hates Everyone Club,” she said. “You’re in good company.”
“So I hear. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”
“I have nothing but time right now. There’s a little coffee shop a few blocks up.” She gave me directions. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
I found the coffee shop with no problem. It had been more of an issue getting away without Elmer tagging along. I stood my ground and told him he had to wait for Candy in case she needed help. His nosiness almost won out until I brought up what he’d said earlier about a paratrooper never leaving his post.
Linda was already seated at a battered wooden table near a window when I entered. This coffee shop was nothing like Kristie’s Jump, Jive & Java. The ancient black-and-white linoleum floor was scuffed and pitted. The tables and chairs were also remnants of another era. I generally liked vintage, but this was just old stuff thrown together. The only thing going for the place was that it was clean. The glass case holding a few baked goods sparkled. I told Linda I was buying. All she wanted was black coffee, which I ordered along with an iced latte for myself.
Linda watched as I put two packets of sugar in my glass. “How can you do that to your coffee?”
I smiled. “I’ve actually cut down. I used to use three.”
She shook her head, took a sip of her drink, then put the cup down. “What did you want to talk to me about? I assume it’s something to do with my ex and his murder.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re looking for. That bimbo witch did him in. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Why are you so sure?” I didn’t disagree that it was possible Melody killed him, but Linda could have as well. After all, she’d been the one who had threatened him.
“She married him for his money. Despite the fact he wrote for a newspaper, Reggie had money. I always assumed he inherited it. It wasn’t something we talked about.”
“You didn’t find it odd that he didn’t tell you?” I sure would have.
Linda shrugged. “A little, I guess. It should have been a warning sign that he wasn’t the man I thought he was. Believe it or not, Reggie could be very charming when it suited him. He wasn’t good-looking, but there was something about him I fell in love with. That changed over time. His reviews weren’t all that got nastier and nastier. He became a bitter, unlikable man.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“I’m glad you are.”
“I guess I just needed someone to talk to. Don’t get me wrong—I have friends, but they’ve heard it all before. They kind of zone out when I mention Reggie’s name. And my son . . . well . . . I don’t want him to know what a jerk his father was. Although he probably has a pretty good idea. He’s a smart kid.”
She went on to tell me her son was ten and had some health problems, which was one reason why she needed her ex to help out. I hated to think it, but it was no wonder someone killed him. As much as I’d have liked Melody and Dwayne to have committed the murder, the fact that Linda and her son needed some financial help moved her up on the suspect list. Surely even someone as despicable as Reginald Mobley wouldn’t write his ten-year-old child out of his will. I didn’t want Linda to be the killer, though. I liked her.
“Anyway. Back to your original question. That woman wanted his money and I’m sure she’s the reason why Reggie refused to increase his child support. He never had an issue with it until he married her. Even though we were divorced for a few years and he didn’t see Stevie much, he always paid the medical bills I sent him. After the wedding they all came back to me marked ‘Return to Sender.’”
I pushed my empty glass aside. “That doesn’t mean she killed him. It could have been any number of people.”
Linda shook her head. “It was her. I’m sure of it. I just wish I could prove it.” She seemed as sure of her theory as Vincent Falk was about his. “I don’t care what it takes, but she and that brother of hers won’t get another dime of Stevie’s inheritance.”
“Brother?” I didn’t know anything about a brother.
“Melody’s brother was Reggie’s new best friend and business partner.”
I had a funny feeling in my stomach. It couldn’t be. Could it? “I wasn’t aware she had a brother.”
“You might even know him,” Linda said. “He was at that festival over the weekend. A weird-looking guy by the name of Dwayne.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Dwayne? Dwayne Tunstall?” I said. That explained a lot—Dwayne’s great review, him acting like Reggie was his best friend, and the hug he’d given Melody in the parking lot. Candy would be disappointed that they weren’t lovers.
Linda nodded. “Yep. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I answered. “He calls himself a brewer, but he has a lousy reputation.” I told Linda about his history with Dave and Cory.
“I knew he was a little creepy, but I didn’t realize he was a thief, too.” Linda leaned back in her chair. “If he’s underhanded enough to steal those recipes . . .”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I was thinking the same thing. I’d been wrong about the nature of Dwayne and Melody’s relationship, but the fact they were brother and sister didn’t change the notion that they could have planned Mobley’s murder together. The good reviews hadn’t been enough for Dwayne. He wanted his brother-in-law’s fortune as well. If Mobley was eliminated as his business partner, he’d have it all to himself. And Melody would have the house, the bank accounts, and who knew what else.
Before we parted, Linda and I exchanged phone numbers and she promised to call if she thought of anything else. I considered asking her to call Vincent Falk—if she hadn’t talked to him already—but if he found out she’d spoken to me, he’d think we were in cahoots like he had when he saw me with Ginger. I’d call my dad later and he could talk to Linda.
My phone buzzed as I got into my car. I barely had time to say hello when Candy’s voice barked, “Where are you? What’s going on?”
I suggested she meet me at my apartment and we could fill each other in. When I got there, she was standing in the parking lot tapping her foot and looking at her watch.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
It hadn’t been long at all and I told her so. Hops greeted us with a very dissatisfied meow as soon as I unlocked the door. She strutted directly to her empty dish in the kitchen and gave me her equivalent of the evil eye. I couldn’t help laughing.
“Someone is hungry,” Candy said. “You’d better take care of her first or we’ll never have any peace.”
“We may not anyway.” I opened the kitchen cupboard where I kept the cat food. “I have some iced tea in the fridge, if you want some.” I fed Hops and refreshed her water, and Candy found two glasses and poured us both some tea. While the kitten ate, we headed to the living room area and took seats on my hand-me-down sofa from Grandma O’Hara. I knew Candy was itching to hear what I’d found out and I was dying to tell her, but I wanted to hear her story first. “What happened at the funeral home after I left?”
“You first,” she said.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Your mother didn’t do a very good job at teaching you to respect your elders.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her,” I said with a laugh. “Now spill.” Hops meandered into the living area, ignored me, and jumped onto Candy’s lap, where she proceeded to knead her thighs before circling and settling down. “See? Hops wants to hear it, too.”
“You are no fun at all.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She put her glass down on the coffee table. “After you were gone, Melody ranted about how that woman was trying to ruin her life. She yelled at the poor funeral director for severa
l minutes, wanting to know what kind of a place he was running where anyone could just walk in. The poor man was almost in tears when he left the room. I heard a few words I hadn’t heard in years in the process, too. She swears like a trucker.”
I could only imagine.
“After that spectacle, the few people who were still in the room made a hasty exit. When she calmed down enough to be coherent, I asked her who the woman was. She told me she was Mobley’s ex-wife and she was after his money.”
“That’s interesting,” I said. “Linda accused Melody of the same thing.”
Candy picked up her glass and drank some of her iced tea. “She told me the ex was faking her son’s illness to get more child support.”
“That’s pretty despicable.”
“I agree. What kind of a mother would do something like that?”
“No, I meant what Melody said was despicable. I don’t believe it’s true.” I told her Linda’s side of the story.
“Let me get this straight,” Candy said. “According to this Linda, she sent her child’s hospital bills to Mobley and he paid them?”
“Yep. But after he married Melody, the bills kept getting sent back.”
Candy thought for a moment. “Maybe Reginald Mobley never saw those bills. Melody may have been the one returning them. When Linda came around asking for more money, he thought she was just being greedy. He had no idea the bills were being sent back.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. I think there could be more to it. Wouldn’t he wonder why all of a sudden he stopped getting those bills?” I wished I had asked Linda what kind of medical issues her son had. Was it something that could have been fixed or cured, so that Mobley would think all was well? Or was it a chronic condition? Maybe it didn’t really matter. Even though it was possible that money was the reason Mobley was killed, I told Candy I didn’t think it had anything to do with Linda’s son’s illness.
“Why not?”
“Linda told me something else. I found out why Dwayne was hugging Melody.”
“An affair?”
“Nope. It turns out Dwayne is Melody’s brother.”
“That’s quite a surprise,” Candy said. “Are you sure?”
“According to Linda, they are definitely brother and sister. She said Mobley was also Dwayne’s new business partner.”
“That would explain why Dwayne was the only one who got a positive review. Don’t you think it odd, though, that Dwayne wasn’t at the funeral home? You would think he’d want to be there to support his sister.”
I nodded. “Unless for some reason they don’t want anyone to know they’re related.”
“I can think of one good reason for that.”
“I can, too,” I said. “They could have planned and carried out the murder together.”
“Exactly.”
I was still thinking about it after she left. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I’d made two months ago and have my mind so set on someone I was sure was a killer only to find out it was someone else. I’d even gone so far as to tell a couple of people I thought they were guilty of murder. Not exactly a brilliant move on my part. Dwayne and Melody were the most likely suspects, but I wasn’t going to rule anyone out at this point.
Linda had a strong motive, too—money and protecting her son. The fact that I liked her wasn’t a good reason to think she couldn’t have killed her ex-husband.
There were others who hated Mobley, too. There were numerous other restaurant and pub owners who had received scathing reviews and lost business. I also had to consider some of the other brewers. Dave, Randy, Cory, and Brandon had all voiced their loathing of the man. Even if they hadn’t exactly wished him dead, they had certainly rejoiced in his death. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think one of them could have taken that a step further. I didn’t like the idea, but I had to keep it in mind. I hadn’t planned on attending the monthly Tri-State Brewers Association meeting tomorrow night, since it was sandwiched between the two weekends of the festival, but I changed my mind. Dave and Randy rarely missed a meeting. I knew for sure that Dave would be there since he was hosting, and I hoped Randy, Cory, and Brandon would attend as well. It would be a chance for me to question them before the weekend.
When Jake called to say good night, I filled him in on the events of the evening. Then we talked about his parents and other things, and soon I’d pushed all thoughts of murder out of my mind. By the time we ended our thirty-minute call, I was smiling and felt like all was right with the world.
* * *
As usual, I was the first to arrive at the brew house on Wednesday morning. After I finished checking the fermentation tanks, I parked myself in my office to do some paperwork. I paid some bills and prepared next month’s schedule for the waitstaff. I wanted to get it to them as soon as possible so there would be time to make changes if necessary. Once that was out of the way, I concentrated on the report I had to fill out for the state every month. Or tried to concentrate. It wasn’t a coincidence that my mind wandered about a third of the way through the report.
My thoughts went back to something Linda had said about her ex-husband that I had forgotten to tell Candy. Mobley had been well-off when Linda married him, but she hadn’t known how or where the money came from. She thought he might have inherited it. Why wouldn’t he have discussed this with his wife? It might not matter where he got his money, but I wanted to know anyway. If he’d somehow gained his fortune illegally instead of inheriting or earning it, it would be worth looking into as a possible motive. I just had to figure out how to do that. I was sure his widow wouldn’t tell me. If she even knew, that is. If Linda hadn’t known, maybe Melody didn’t, either.
But there was someone who did—Dwayne. I didn’t for a minute buy Mobley tolerating Dwayne just because he was his wife’s brother. I’d previously thought that Dwayne had to have something on the critic and that made even more sense now. I’d seen firsthand the way Mobley looked at his brother-in-law. It didn’t match up with he’d said or what he’d written in his review.
Dwayne knew something no one else did. And I meant to find out exactly what it was.
* * *
I didn’t have to wait long to see Dwayne. After the lunch rush, Jake and I were behind the bar in the pub, replacing an empty keg with a fresh one of lager. Usually Nicole and I did this, but she was working the evening shift, so I had enlisted Jake. He was more than happy to oblige. Work duties seemed to be the only way we had been able to see each other so far this week. Not that I was complaining. Things would settle down again.
I had just finished telling Jake the theory I’d come up with that morning about Dwayne when he strolled into the pub. Jake spotted him first and he nudged me. “Speak of the devil,” he said.
“That could be an accurate description.” I rinsed my sticky hands in the bar sink and dried them on a paper towel. I greeted Dwayne politely instead of saying “Look what the cat dragged in,” which was one of Grandma O’Hara’s favorite expressions.
Dwayne wasn’t nearly as polite. He didn’t bother with a greeting. “This place is nicer than I thought it would be,” he said. Coming from him, that could almost be construed as a compliment.
“What brings you here?” Jake asked. “I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”
It took everything in me not to laugh.
Dwayne looked at Jake like he was a complete idiot. “Dwayne Tunstall.”
Jake slapped himself on the forehead. “That’s right. You were friends with the dead guy.”
“Yes, very good friends,” Dwayne said. “The best.” He slid onto one of the barstools and studied the taps. “I think I’ll have one of the lagers. It won’t be as good as mine, though.”
“I’m sure you’ll let me know.” I handed Jake a glass.
Jake drew the beer and placed it in front of Dwayne. “That’ll be four bucks. Or do
you want to run a tab?”
Dwayne’s eyes widened. “You’re making me pay for this?”
“Of course,” I said. “This is a place of business, you know.”
“You don’t give freebies to fellow brewers?”
“Do you?” I figured he didn’t and it likely wouldn’t cross his mind. If it had been Dave or one of the other brewers, I would have comped his drink. If I did that for Dwayne, I had a feeling he’d expect it all the time.
“Not usually,” he said. “I would have made an exception for you, but don’t expect it now. Sheesh.” He took out his wallet and slapped four ones down on the bar.
I guessed I wasn’t getting a tip.
He sipped his lager. “This really isn’t bad.”
Wow. Two almost-compliments. That was high praise coming from him. I couldn’t help but think he wanted something.
Dwayne took another drink and set down his glass. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”
I knew there had to be a reason he was being so nice. I waited.
“I’ve been trying to join the Brewers Association for three years and keep getting turned down. From what I hear, you got right in. Everyone seems to like you, so I thought maybe you could put in a good word for me.”
It didn’t surprise me in the least that he’d been blacklisted. I doubted there was anything I could do about that even if I’d wanted to. Dave Shipley was the current president and there was no way he’d ever let Dwayne be a member. “I don’t think that will help,” I told him.
“You could at least try,” he said. His whiny tone made him sound like a petulant two-year-old.
“I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about? All you have to do is talk to Shipley and whoever else makes these decisions.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Jake asked.
“It’s not,” Dwayne said. “It’s just that it would sound good when I’m telling people about my beer. And I feel left out. Like I’m not part of the community.”