Deep Dish Murder (A Greenville Mystery)

by J R Pearson

  His hard voice startled me, nearly making me drop my phone. My goodness, I’m such a weenie.

  “Whoever is there, I have caller ID and I can hear you breathing.”

  Shit! Wait, am I really breathing that loud?

  “Sorry! Sorry, it’s Jennie… from yesterday.”

  “Ms. Peterson?”

  “Yes. You said to call if there was anything else?” I hedged.

  “You would like to add to your statement?”

  “Yeah. It’s something Anthony told me.” I let out a breath. “Before he died.” Evans didn’t say anything for a minute. I looked at the phone to see if we got disconnected.

  “I’m new here. What’s the name of the café by the inn?” he asked.

  “Sweeney’s Café,” I said slowly, not sure where this was going.

  “Do you mind meeting me there? We can discuss this further over some coffee.”

  More coffee? I looked down at my empty mug. One more cup wouldn’t hurt. It just meant I’d pee like a racehorse later.

  “Okay.”

  “In twenty minutes?”

  “Sounds good.” I nodded, not sure why. He couldn’t see me.

  “All right. See you then.” Click.

  Okay, I had twenty minutes to get out of my monkey print pajamas, brush my teeth, play tug of war with my hair, put on something cute, and drive across town to Sweeney’s.

  Easy.

  “Jen, those jerks fired me!” Mandy wailed, bursting through the front door.

  Crap.

  “You knew they would,” I said, starting toward my room. She pulled me back to the couch.

  “Mandy I have to go—”

  “Stay. I’m having a tough time.” She pouted. Good grief. Mandy getting fired from a job was a tale as old as time itself. She knew that. I knew that. I peeked at the clock on my phone. I now had eighteen minutes to get ready.

  “They didn’t even give me a chance to explain. I mean, I tried telling them my best friend found her boss murdered—”

  “Mandy!”

  “Don’t worry, no one believed me.” She rolled her eyes then perked back up. “But I have good news. My coworker—well, now ex-co-worker—Josh said I was a badass for walking out and he asked me out tonight. Can you believe it, Jennie? I’m a badass!” She beamed.

  Evans’s handsome, waiting face popped in my mind.

  Along with an idea.

  “How about I go to the Donut Hut, get a dozen glazed and sprinkled, plus a few eclairs to celebrate your badassness,” I suggested, inching away.

  Her eyes lit up.

  “Perfect! Oh! I heard they’re selling funnel cakes for a limited time! Get like five of those.”

  “Will do.”

  She’ll forgive me. Eventually.

  I walked into Sweeney’s and spotted Detective Evans immediately. It wasn’t difficult; he was the only man in the entire café surrounded by a flock of women.

  “Excuse me,” I said to a tall redhead who kept flipping her hair as if she were in a shampoo commercial. She didn’t move. I peered around her, catching the detective’s eye, and waved.

  “Ms. Peterson.” He beckoned me further.

  “Excuse me,” I said again to Red. She looked down at me and curled her lip. How lovely. I silently apologized to her pretty pink-studded sandals before stepping on them.

  “Ow!”

  “Third time’s the charm, isn’t it? Excuse me.” I elbowed my short self through a few more desperate housewives and took a seat in front of Evans. Once everyone saw he was with someone, they wandered off. Except Red, whose eyes were narrowed at me.

  “You’ll pay for these,” she said.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about. If you don’t mind, we’re having an important business meeting here.” I smiled innocently at her. With one last smile at Evans and a huff at me, Red limped off.

  “I went ahead and ordered you a vanilla latte,” he said, smiling.

  “Thank you. That’s perfect.” I nodded, and he dropped his shoulders, apparently relieved.

  He was dressed in another gray suit with a dark purple tie. The purple made his hazel eyes shine brighter. I decided on skinny jeans, a light pink T-shirt and hoop earrings. I may not be tall and slim-figured like Red with slow motion long hair, but I know I can work a pair of jeans. A waiter came by and dropped off our order. Evans ordered a cup of black for himself. Clearing his throat, he leaned toward me, smelling of soap and cologne.

  “I—”

  “Wha—” Our words collided and we both stopped to laugh awkwardly. Off to a good start.

  “Detective Evans—”

  “Caleb,” he insisted. “What did Mr. Genova say to you?” he asked, getting straight to it.

  “He said to ‘watch your back.’” I took a sip and sighed inwardly. Heaven. After a few more gulps, I realized my eyes were closed. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was moaning, but that didn’t stop embarrassment from heating my cheeks. I glanced up at Caleb.

  Big mistake.

  He looked pissed.

  Very pissed.

  Chapter Three

  “You didn’t think to mention this sooner?” His voice started to rise. People at surrounding tables glanced over at us. Great.

  “I forgot,” I whispered, hoping he’d get the point to do the same.

  “How?” Caleb asked more calmly.

  “My boss died at my feet, Caleb. I was too upset to think about anything else.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Are you sure? Do you need another twenty-four hours to tell me?” He narrowed his eyes.

  Ouch. I deserved it.

  “No, I’m sorry. What now? Do you think what he said is true? Do I need protection?” I asked. “Am I connected to all this?”

  “Your name hasn’t come up—”

  “Do you have any leads? Suspects?” I interrupted.

  Caleb gave me a funny look. Am I not allowed to ask that?

  “It’s an ongoing investigation. I’m not at liberty to say anything.” His tone was hard.

  “Can you least tell me how he was killed?” I leaned forward.

  His jaw clenched and unclenched, contemplating what to say.

  “Please?”

  “Fine.” He also leaned forward, his lips mere inches from my ear. To others in the immediate area, we seemed like a couple having an intimate conversation. If only it was just that. Us whispering lovely things and not murder.

  “Anthony was shot by a 22. caliber handgun,” Caleb revealed. I shivered, and not because his breath was tickling my ear. I must have arrived at the restaurant after the killer left. I would have remembered hearing a gun going off.

  Or was the killer still around when I arrived? Was he or she watching me?

  “You okay?” Caleb’s mouth was still close to me. I nodded.

  I wasn’t, though.

  “For now on, Jennie, you are to tell me everything. This isn’t to be taken lightly. Got it?” he said sternly.

  I sat back in my seat, needing space.

  “Have you interviewed anyone?” I asked.

  “I can’t say anything else—”

  “Luca! The head cook! He wasn’t there yesterday morning,” I suddenly remembered.

  “Jennie, you don’t need to worry over this. I’m taking care of it,” he pressed. I really wanted to dwell on the fact that Caleb had stopped calling me Ms. Peterson. Maybe later. Abruptly, he stood and placed some money on the table.

  “I need to head back in,”

  “To find Luca?” I said. He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Be careful,” he replied. I watched him walk away.

  Satisfied?

  Nope.

  Back in my car I noticed I had ten missed calls and four unread text messages from Mandy.

  —HELLLLLOOOO??

  —where r u?

  —how dare u deprive me of deep fried orgasms!!!!

  -Oh, shit. Were you kidnapped b
y the killer?!?!??!?! Call me if you need me to whoop ass. Unless he/she took your phone. Then ignore this message.

  I have no words for that girl.

  Car started, I quickly rolled down the windows. The humidity was at its worst, and the air reeked. Or was that my car? I sniffed around me. Sure enough, something in my car smelled very bad.

  I wonder—

  My cell vibrated with an incoming call.

  Mom.

  “No, I didn’t forget about Sunday night dinner,” I immediately said. Silence on the other end.

  “What makes you think I’m calling you about dinner? Can’t a mother just call to see how her only daughter is doing?” she snapped.

  I sighed. “Because you always call on Fridays to remind me about dinner.”

  “Oh. Well, you’re right. But I also called to tell you to invite that handsome man you were having coffee with.”

  “How did you know I was having coffee?” I asked, swiveling around in my seat to see what bush she was spying on me from.

  “I got a call from Veronica. She works behind the counter at Sweeney’s. She said she saw you getting cozy with a new man in town. And I know my daughter doesn’t just snuggle with anybody. He’s got to be special. Why haven’t you told me about him? Did you tell your father? Who is he? Where’s he from? Did you ask him to dinner this Sunday? Do I need to make reservations at the reception hall—”

  “Mom! It’s not like that.”

  “What do you mean? Is he not coming to dinner?”

  I love my mom. I really do. I would die for the woman, but each time we have a conversation and the topic of men comes up, which is all the time, I feel like I’ve run a 5K marathon. Sounds dramatic, I know.

  I could really use a funnel cake.

  “Mom, he’s—”

  “Don’t be a little punk. I didn’t raise no punks. I know damn well living in a house with four brothers did not make you no punk,” she said. I rolled my eyes.

  “Stop rolling your eyes! I can feel it through the phone. You’ll go blind. Your brother Kevin’s best friend’s sister, Megan, went blind from rolling her eyes all the time.”

  “Megan didn’t go blind, Mom. She became nearsighted and needed glasses.”

  “Who can confirm that?”

  “She told me!” I closed my eyes and counted to ten. This phone call had passed its expiration date. However, I had a question to ask.

  “Have you gotten any other phone calls? About me?”

  “No. And don’t tell your father about this one. He and I made a deal that he would take over the shop for a whole week if I stayed home and wouldn’t answer any phone calls from my gossipy friends—his words. Do I gossip? I don’t gossip. I have no clue what that man is talking about.”

  My mom and dad own an antique shop called Who’s Who in the center of town. They sell oddly shaped and sized handcrafted owls, ranging from wood carvings, clay, crochet sewn, to taxidermy. To mine and brothers’ surprise, our parents make a really good profit. Who would’ve thought in the dozen homes of Greenville, people had creepy owls sitting on their nightstands and coffee tables. My parents were proud of their little store and that’s all that mattered.

  If mom wasn’t picking up the phone, word hadn’t gotten to her yet about the murder. It will somehow. Someone will probably send her a letter and when that happens, I’ll make sure my suitcase is packed and ready.

  So long, Greenville!

  Hello, whatever the hell country my mom isn’t currently residing in!

  “Why do you ask, honey?”

  “No reason.”

  “Why are you acting so strange? Stop acting strange. Anyway, your father and I will see you and your boyfriend Sunday at six.”

  Click.

  I stared at my phone as if it sprouted little arms and legs. Boyfriend? She can’t be serious. That was a stupid thought. Of course she is. There’s no way I’m asking Caleb to dinner.

  But why not? Other people have met and gotten to know each other under stranger situations. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? Who am, I to him? Another name and face that is involved in a case he’s working on. Once this murder is solved, I’ll be filed away in a cabinet like all the other closed cases.

  I shook off a weird, sad feeling and pulled away from the cafe. I could meet someone else when I was ready to. I wasn’t a bad looking chick. I’d been told I was cute and pretty. And I loved to laugh and have a good time. There had to be tons of guys with decent personalities in Greenville looking for a pretty cute girl like me.

  Okay, but do they look, talk, and smile exactly like Caleb?

  Not sure if Enzo’s was closed or not, I headed in that direction. My fellow employees were gathered in front of the entrance, yellow crime scene tape crisscrossed the door.

  “Hey, Jennie,” Debbie, a waitress, walked over to my car and bent her tall frame in the window. “Sad, isn’t it?” she mused, shaking her head. I nodded. In the crowd of employees, I noticed Luca wasn’t among them.

  “Deb, do you know where Luca is?” I ask. She cocked her bony hip, looking back at everyone.

  “Uh, no. I thought he was here.”

  That did not settle me. Luca was the only other person who was supposed to be in that morning. What if he was there?

  As the killer?

  Or did something happen to him?

  “You don’t look so good. Head on home. We’re all about to leave too,” Debbie said. My shaky hands restarted the car.

  “Call me if you want to talk, or grab a drink,” she offered. Her invitation surprised me. Debbie and I had fun working together, making the best out of chaotic night shifts, but neither of us attempted to be outside-work buddies. Now that she looked at me with a hopeful smile, it made me regret not wanting to extend the friendship.

  “Thank you, I will.” And I meant it.

  “We could go shopping for car air fresheners.” She winked and walked away.

  She’d noticed the smell.

  Well, that’s embarrassing.

  Nothing else to do, I stopped at the market to get a few toiletries and a couple of ocean breeze-scented car fresheners. Once I was in my car I hung them up. Ah, better.

  Walking through my apartment door, I braced myself for Hurricane Mandy.

  “You bitch!”

  “Hello to you too.” I set down the market bags on our small kitchen counter.

  “I’ve been sitting here all morning, starving—”

  “Hold it!” I held up a hand. Stepping closer to her, I sniffed near her mouth.

  Sugary.

  I could see a light dust of white powder covering her upper lip and dark green shirt. She followed my eyes to her powdered boobs. I looked into our small living room. Several white boxes with Donut Hut’s logo scattered the floor.

  “I can explain,” she started.

  “Save it. I need to talk to you about something that’s been bugging me.”

  Chapter Four

  On the couch I told her about my meet-up with the detective, what had killed Anthony, and Luca’s sudden, suspicious absence.

  “Is he cute?” Mandy asked.

  “Luca?”

  “No! I’m talking about Detective Evans,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “Uh, I didn’t notice.” I shrugged, playing dumb.

  “So Luca shot Anthony and skipped town,” Mandy stated.

  “But why would he kill Anthony? They got along just fine,” I said. When things got hectic during a dinner rush, Anthony and Luca never butted heads. Anthony hovered, making sure orders were correct like any good manager would. Other cooks in the past would end up getting aggravated and storm out. Not Luca. To me, he and Anthony seemed like old buddies.

  “Maybe they weren’t friendly behind closed doors,” she countered, brushing powdered sugar off a pillow. That could’ve been true.

  After half an hour more of debating, I abruptly dropped the subject due to the headache that was brewing in the back of my head. Mandy left to go job hunt
ing—translation: donut hunting. I, for one, couldn’t stomach anything at the moment.

  Talk of murder, or sugary treats.

  I crashed onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. What to do now? It felt like an entire day has gone by, and yet it was just a quarter past noon. I stripped out of my jeans and shirt and shoved my head through an oversized hoodie sweatshirt, then crawled underneath the covers.

  Something isn’t right….

  “Oh, duh.” I knocked the heel of my hand on my forehead. I shimmied out of my bra, letting the girls sigh in relief. All was right again in the universe. The plan was to take a nap until… well, I don’t know. A call from the police saying they caught the killer would be super nice. However, I ended up finishing the continuation of ‘Let’s Stare at Our Apartment Ceiling until Our Eyeballs Fall Out.’ I know, that’s a long ass title and I’m still working on it. A surprising plot twist of discovering a new water stain resulted in me notifying the landlord. The second I hung up with him, the phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call.

  Please don’t let it be Mandy asking for bail money because she’s been arrested for holding up the Donut Hut.

  Josie.

  I hit the green answer button.

  “When do I finally get to see your face on a daily basis?” I immediately asked.

  Josie Rizzo and I are cousins on our mother’s side who are more like sisters. Josie lives in JewelCove and recently made the decision to move to Greenville, showcasing more tasty dishes on her popular food blog. She also has an overbearing mother like mine, but ten times crazier, and she wanted to untangle herself from that. She and I have been coordinating for her to live in one of the apartments in my building.

  “In two weeks. That is if my mom doesn’t hog-tie me and stuff a sausage egg and cheese biscuit in my mouth before then.” She snorted. “And you’re sure your building allows pets? There’s no way this can happen without my corgi, Petey,” she asked for the hundredth time, which I completely understand. Petey was her furry baby.

  “One hundred percent. I double-checked with the landlord, who, by the way, needs to put up a sign that says so. Beware though. The lady in 3B on the third floor lets her hairless cats ride the elevator all day. It’s weird. When the elevator stops and the doors ding open, they start humping each other in the corner.”