He ignored me and gobbled down his food.
The doorbell rang, and I set my wine down on the kitchen table and went through to the entryway of the cottage. “Who’s there?” I called, catching my frazzled reflection in the mirror over the table. My blonde hair was tied back in a hastily made ponytail, and the wrinkles around my eyes were more pronounced than they had been a few months ago. That was what going through a divorce did to a person.
“Sunny?” A female voice. “It’s Emilia from next-door. May I come in?”
“Of course.” I opened the door and let my neighbor in.
Emilia’s hair fell past her shoulders, loose and free, and the exact opposite to mine right now, but her face wore concern. “Sorry, I just wanted to check on you. I put Justin down earlier and I heard a commotion. I had to wait for the hubby to get back from work before I could come over and check you were OK. What happened? There was a police car outside.”
“Yeah,” I said, and broke down the night’s events for her, briefly. “It was pretty scary.”
She nodded along.
“Do you want a glass of wine? I’ve got extra.”
“That would be heavenly,” she replied.
I shut the door and checked it was locked before leading her through to the kitchen. Bodger acknowledged the new arrival with a flick of his tail and muted hiss around a mouthful of kitty food.
“And hello to you too, Bodgy,” Emilia said, accepting a glass of wine.
We sat at my aunt’s quaint table in the center of the kitchen, and Emilia let out a breath. “Well,” she said, “what a crazy month we’ve been having. Everything’s gone wild.”
“It feels like it’s my fault. I arrived and suddenly…”
“Don’t be silly, Sunny,” Emilia said, offering me a warm smile. “Sometimes these things happen.”
“I feel like I have bad karma.”
Emilia took a sip of her wine. “I wish I had known Jasmine was in trouble. I didn’t hear a thing.”
“No screaming or… anything?”
“Nothing,” Emilie replied, with a shake of her head. “But I did… hmm, see something.”
“What?”
“I thought nothing of it at the time, but a car pulled up outside the cottages earlier in the night. I peeked out our front curtains in the living room because I thought maybe Jonas had gotten home early. But it wasn’t his car. It was a silver one, and it parked between your cottage and Nick’s.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows rose. A silver car. “You don’t think…”
“Maybe,” Emilia replied. “I thought it was just one of Jasmine’s friends—you know, she teaches yoga so she has a lot of students who are also her friends—but now that I know what happened, I’m starting to think differently. I’ve never seen that silver car around the cottages before.”
“It must’ve been the attacker,” I said, wracking my brain for whose car it could be.
Did I know anyone with a silver car?
I took a sip of my wine, thinking hard, and then it struck me. Frances!
On the day she visited us in the café, the very next day after Trisha’s murder, Frances had pulled up in a silver Honda. Or was it a silver Volvo? I couldn’t remember the details, but the car had been that color. Frances had brought us drinks while we were cleaning up the place.
“Sunny? You just went still as a board.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry. I just… remembered something.” And it was a something that would, potentially, help me solve the murder. Frances and Michael had to be involved. The fact that his boots had been at his mom’s place, that he’d had a relationship with Trisha that had ended badly, and now the silver car had arrived at Nick and Jasmine’s, and Jasmine had been attacked—it all added up.
Emilia finished her glass of wine. “Sorry to drink and run,” she said. “But I’ve got to get back. Justy’s a light sleeper and Jonas will worry about me if I don’t come back soon. You know, with the murder and now the attack. Parfait’s feeling a little unsafe.”
“Yeah.” But I would change that. I had to.
I wasn’t about to fail again, and let Aunt Rita down, and watch this town and all the lovely people I’d met in it suffer because of me.
36
“Are you sure about this, darling?” Aunt Rita asked. “Because the cruise ship puts into port on Friday and I need to know what you want to do. I’m more than happy to come back and help you run things if you can’t handle them.”
“No, auntie, I want you to stay out there. I want you to have fun with your friends and let me handle this. I’m onto something here. I’ll have everything back to normal soon. Promise.” I’d never been this determined.
“I knew you weren’t a quitter, Sunny,” Aunt Rita said, pride shining through in her tone. “And I’ll be glad to spend some extra time out here. You know, I’ve been having the time of my life. Exactly what I needed.”
“Good,” I said, standing in the cottage’s tiny living room, my gaze on the books which I’d stacked neatly back in their bookcase. Insurance had covered damages to all the furniture, and new stuff had already been delivered. “Because I’ve got everything under control now. I’m sorry I ever worried you.”
I’d panicked because of what Mr. Schwartz had said. He’d been right about the finances, right about everything, but I had been wrong to give in so easily. The past few days had taught me I couldn’t give up when the going got tough.
“Oh, Sunny, you didn’t worry me. It will take a lot more than a few mishaps to do that. I trust you, darling.”
“Thanks, auntie.” I didn’t know where she got her confidence in me from. I’d hardly proved myself over the past few years. Marrying a man who she didn’t approve or like, then winding up without a degree or job or career and moving in with her when I was at my lowest.
“All right, well, I’m off to have a cocktail,” Aunt Rita said. “Love you.”
“Love you. Bye.” I put my phone on silent and slipped it into my pocket. I had big plans for this morning, and I had needed to get that conversation out of the way so I could undertake them without it weighing on my mind.
Aunt Rita would enjoy herself, and I’d be stuck running the Sunny Side Up and being terrible at it, but it didn’t matter. If I could figure things out here, I was confident I could do anything.
I checked Bodger was well-fed and watered, then set the alarm and slipped out of the house. Aunt Rita’s VW Beetle gleamed sunny yellow in the Floridian morning light. I got inside, started it, and took to the road.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled up next to the entrance that let to Frances’ house, my pulse fluttering along.
Her car, the silver Honda, was parked out front, and her cottage door was closed, the curtains drawn. She was home, but if I was quiet as a mouse sneaking under a sleeping cat’s nose, I might do what I’d come to do.
Scratch that, I had to do it.
I checked the long winding road that led past her cottage’s secluded driveway. Her neighbor was hidden from view behind shrubbery, and the entrance to their driveway was a few paces away. If they came out while I was snooping around, all they’d see was my aunt’s car. Troublesome, since everyone in town knew who Rita Jackson was, and she was out of town.
They’d probably assume I was visiting Frances, though.
You’re overthinking this.
I squared my shoulders then hurried up Frances’ driveway, suddenly aware of my limbs and how I was holding them at my sides. Did I usually walk like this? Did I look natural?
I reached the back of the car and checked the house. No movement yet. It felt as if my heart was about to pound out of my chest.
The inside of the Honda was empty, no extraneous trash or work out clothes, no incriminating men’s clothing or shoes lying around. It looked like a normal car with a pine air freshener hanging from the mirror.
I tried the door handle, but it didn’t open, then moved to the trunk and tested if it was unlocked. It clicked open, and I swayed o
n the spot, forcing myself to remember to breathe. I checked inside, but it was empty too. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Disappointment sidled into place in my chest.
What did it mean? Possibly that Michael had used the car and then cleaned up after himself. There should have been a weapon in here? Or a mask or something. Right?
My pocket buzzed and a merry tune burst out of it. My cellphone!
I nearly fell over myself trying to silence it. I wormed it out of my pocket, spotted Nick’s name flashing on the screen, and hit a button to quiet the ringtone, hurriedly glancing up at the house. Still no movement. Strange but good, given the circumstances. I turned on my heel and rushed back down the driveway, hitting the green phone icon as I went.
“Hello? Nick? Is that you?”
“Yes,” he said, his deep voice traveling down the line. “Hi, Sunny, how are you? Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“No. Great time. Why do you ask?”
“You sound, uh, out of breath.”
“Oh, I was just doing a workout.” Technically true.
“I can call you back later when you’re free.”
“No, no, now’s a great time,” I insisted, and got into my aunt’s car. I shut the door as quietly as I could manage, but it still made a tinny slam.
“All right, well,” Nick said, and took a breath. “I wanted to let you know that Jasmine is doing great. She’s awake, and she wanted me to extend her gratitude to you for finding her when you did. If you hadn’t come over, she might’ve been in serious trouble. The police seem to think that you chased off her attacker.”
That was news to me. “Wait, what?”
“That’s what they said. Apparently, you arrived at just the right time.”
Her attacker had been close by when I’d found her. “OK,” I said. “Well, I’m glad she’s all right. That she’s awake. She’s going to make a full recovery?”
“Yes,” he replied. “She will. She’s pretty keen to get out of the hospital.”
I chewed on the corner of my lip. “That’s good, Nick. Listen, I was coming over there because I found something at the café that—”
“Sunny, before you say anything, I wanted to give you an apology of my own. I shouldn’t have been so rash about quitting. I was stressed and angry, and Jasmine was putting pressure on me to make more money. I thought that leaving would open up more opportunities for me, but… look, I hoped that if the offer still stands, you might want me to work at the café again?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Nick said. “I shouldn’t have quit. It wasn’t your fault. I took offense to what you said, but I’m usually coolheaded. And I love your aunt too. She’s been a great employer, and I didn’t give her the time of day because of what happened. Look, the pressure’s off for me now. The cops think that I’m clear because I had an alibi for last night.”
So that meant they thought that the killer and the attacker were the same person. A man. That narrowed things down a bit.
“That’s great news, Nick,” I said. “Great news. And I would be so happy to have you back at the café. Do you want to meet up later and talk about it? I need to go to the café, anyway. Start getting things set up for when we open again.” I’d planned on cooking everything myself if I had to. We would open next week come high water or hades below.
“Sure. I can meet you there in an hour?”
“Great!” I frowned, a thought occurring to me. “Wait a second, Nick, what about your influencer stuff? And Tom?”
“Oh, right, yeah. Well, I wanted his advice on it and he basically told me it’s a dead-end job in this town. Not much money to be made. I was going to do it because Jasmine wanted me to, but the more I thought about what happened between you and me, the worse I felt. I’m not coming back because I think I can’t make it anywhere else,” Nick said, quickly. “That’s not what this is about.”
I laughed. “Even if it was about that, I wouldn’t care. Nick, the café needs you. And I really am sorry for questioning your moral fiber.”
“No way. I get it. You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
“See you in an hour.” I hung up.
I hadn’t found anything in Frances’ car, but at least something good had happened today. I had the Sunny Side Up chef back on the staff, and my promise to Rita was finally coming to fruition.
37
Opening the doors to the Sunny Side Up Café felt like a victory, even though we weren’t technically open for business yet. It was only so I could meet up with Nick. I entered the warmth of the café, fanning myself and making yet another mental note to sort out the air-conditioning. When I’d gone up to see the folks from the company the last time, I’d been distracted by Eddie Martinez.
If only I knew who the killer was.
That didn’t matter now. At least one piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Nick would return to the café.
I hummed under my breath and fixed myself a cup of coffee to prepare for the meeting, checking my watch as I went. He was due in about a half hour. That gave me some time to think about what I’d say and what type of organization was needed.
Maybe we could do a grand reopening? If Nick was right, the cops no longer suspected he was the murderer. Gosh, I hoped he was right. But who did that leave? Another unknown man who might’ve—
“Hello, dear!” Mildred stood on the threshold of the café, wearing another moth-eaten sundress. She fluffed her limp gray hair. “I thought I heard your aunt’s car pull up.”
“Hello, Mildred.”
“Oh, you must call me Milly. Everyone else does.” She took two hesitant steps into the café. “Are you opening again?”
“Soon,” I said. “Not today, though.”
“That’s great,” Milly said, slowly, looking around the restaurant. “I have some good news too. My nephew has arrived! I’d love it if you came next door to the shelter to meet him.”
“Oh sure.” From what Frances had said, Milly’s nephew wasn’t real. This ought to be interesting in the very least, and I had some time to kill before my meeting with Nick. “Shall I bring some coffee with?”
“No, no, we’ve got plenty.” Mildred shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, dear. Let’s go.”
I frowned at her urgency but followed her out of the café and into the shelter next door. A massive man sat in an armchair in the shelter’s reception area. He looked almost too big to fit in the small space—with dark brown hair, dark eyebrows, and sharp eyes, he studied me like he was the predator and I was the prey.
This was Mildred’s nephew?
“Alexei, this is my friend, Sunny. Sunny, this is my nephew Alexei.” Mildred bore a sweet smile, unaware of how what she’d just said had affected me.
My blood ran cold.
Alexei was a Russian name, and while I wasn’t one for profiling, the coincidence was too great.
“It’s good to meet you,” Alexei said, his accent tinged with hints of both American and Russian. He squeezed himself out of the armchair, his leather jacket squeaking, and towered over me. He extended a hand that dwarfed mine. “My aunt has told me much about you.”
“Oh wow, that’s nice.” I shook his hand, too freaked out to be ashamed about how clammy my palm was.
“Very good. Very good,” Milly said. “I’ll make us some coffee.” She set to work behind the reception desk, humming pleasantly under her breath, while Alexei’s gaze bore into the side of my face.
“You are new in town?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Milly mentioned that you wouldn’t be coming out. What changed your mind?”
“My aunt has told me that people are stealing from her business. I can’t allow that.”
“Oh.”
“Alexei’s been helping me with my little problem,” Mildred said.
I colored. “Gosh, Milly, I totally forgot about that. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here to—”
Mildred waved a hand, facin
g me again and bringing the cookie jar with her. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough. You know, Alexei’s already canceled the card on your suggestion, and he’s helped me gather a list of all the volunteers who have worked at the shelter in the last few months.”
“Oh,” I said, relaxing a little. “Could I see it? Maybe I can help.”
“Sure.” Alexei brought out his phone and walked it over to the desk. He put it down, then unlocked the screen. “Here is the list.”
I joined him, keeping a distance but unable to avoid the aromatic scent of his cologne. It wasn’t unpleasant. “Let’s see.” I scanned the list. Most of the names were unknown to me, but a couple stood out. Didi was one, but she’d worked here infrequently, and then there was another, Tom Miller, the food critic. “Tom,” I murmured, something scratching at the back of my brain. “Tom.”
“What is it, Sunny, dear?” Mildred asked.
“I don’t know. How long has Tom been volunteering at the shelter?” I asked.
“Oh, a few months,” Milly said, uncapping the cookie jar and holding it out to me. “He’s been a great help in his spare time. Apparently, he’s got a lot more of it now.” Milly’s voice lowered. “He’s been struggling to get work, you know. The Parfait Platter has discontinued his column because people are more interested in what these new-fangled vlogger’s have to say. Everything’s on the internet nowadays, so the paper had to cut costs. What’s wrong, dear? You’ve gone pale. Alexei, isn’t she just as white as a ghost?”
I took a halting step backward, my eyes widening. “Tom lost the column?”
“Yes, a few weeks ago. I think his last review was of the Sunny Side Up, actually.”
My heart thudded away against the inside of my ribcage. Tom had been outside the café on the morning of the murder—I’d nearly run him over with my car. He’d convinced Nick not to become a vlogger, as well. And hadn’t I seen him talking to Bebe at one point too? Tom had been fired. Tom was low on cash. Tom may have been desperate enough to get rid of a vlogger so that he could take her place or—
Murder Over Easy (A Sunny Side Up Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 15