A Cold Brew Killing

by Lena Gregory

  “Sure.” Gia looked around as she waited. Flowers adorned every available surface, including large arrangements scattered around the floor and bins of lilies crammed together in the refrigerator. Tall stems with multiple flowers on each filled several more bins.

  “Okay, sorry about that, last minute rush order.” Donna Mae rounded the counter and approached the refrigerated case where Gia stood contemplating her options. “Now, what can I help you with?”

  Gia smiled. “Hi there, Donna Mae.”

  “Oh, Gia. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “No problem.”

  “My mind has been a million miles away lately.”

  “It’s okay, I know the feeling. And I’m not sure what you can help me with. Willow told me you came by the café when I was out, so I figured I’d stop in and see if you wanted anything special and maybe pick up some flowers.”

  “You didn’t have to come all the way over here, but thank you. I’m glad you did.” She gestured toward the counter. “Come on and sit down. We’ll talk while I’m not busy, then I’ll help you pick out something perfect. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  The conversation with Hunt had left her jittery enough. Caffeine was the last thing she needed. “No, thank you.”

  “Tea?”

  “Nothing, thanks, I’m good.” She started to follow her, then paused. “What are these tall flowers?”

  “Gladioli.”

  “They’re beautiful. You must go through a lot of them, though, to stock so many.”

  “Actually, that’s not even half of what I will have. My mother asked me to provide the flowers for Ron’s funeral service, and people have already started ordering arrangements to send to the family.”

  “Are you and Ron related?”

  “Ron was my cousin. He’s younger than me, and we weren’t ever close, but his death still came as a shock.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you know when the services will be held?”

  “The wake will be on Friday and Saturday night, as long as the police release him, which they’re expected to. Sunday will be a private viewing for family only, then the funeral mass will take place on Monday morning.” Donna Mae flipped up a section of counter and led Gia to a couple of stools at a long worktable behind the counter. She offered Gia a seat, then stood opposite her. “I was hoping to see you. I wanted to talk to you again about Harley.”

  “What about him? Is he okay?”

  “So far. Do you mind if I work while we talk? It’s easier for me if I stay busy.”

  “No, please, go ahead.”

  She laid out a green sheet of tissue paper on the table and spread lacy, white baby’s breath across it. “Even though everything seems to be okay so far, I’m worried about him, and he won’t contact me.”

  “He’s close, though, keeping an eye on you. Seems he’s just as worried about you.”

  She nodded and added half a dozen red roses, rolled the tissue paper, then stapled a business card to it, and set the bouquet aside.

  “Look, Donna Mae, I’d be happy to help, but there’s nothing I can do if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for being so secretive. It’s just a difficult situation to talk about, something I haven’t talked about in a very long time.”

  “You obviously came to me for a reason.”

  “Yes. I can’t get close to Harley, but you can. He’ll listen to you, I think.” She took a bowl from beneath the counter, set it on the table, and dropped a foam ball into it. “At least, I hope he will.”

  “Listen to me about what?”

  “He needs to get off the streets. I understand he has a problem going inside buildings, or anything enclosed really, but from what I hear, he did it for you once before.”

  “That was different.”

  “But it’s not safe for him to be wandering around out in the open. Do you think you could talk to him, maybe talk him into leaving town for a while?”

  Although Gia would never want to see Harley in danger, especially after everything he’d done for her, Donna Mae was going to have to be honest with her about what was going on if she wanted her to intervene. “How do you know Harley? He said something about you being his girlfriend.”

  She started arranging artificial flowers in the foam, jamming the spikes in with more force than seemed necessary. “It was a long time ago. A lifetime, really.”

  She set the bowl and flowers aside and dropped onto the stool. She smiled, though her eyes held only sadness. “Harley was such a quiet guy when we were in school, stayed to himself mostly, didn’t play sports or join clubs or attend school functions. He even cut out of the pep rallies and assemblies. But he was able to go inside buildings back then, and he did attend school.”

  “Did something happen to change that?”

  She nodded and swiped a tear from her cheek. “Yes. But not until after we graduated.”

  “Did you two date in high school?”

  “We started hanging out together toward the end of our senior year, not long before graduation. My boyfriend at the time had broken up with me, said he was going away to college and didn’t want to be burdened by a girlfriend back home, and blah, blah, blah…” She waved a hand. “You know how it is when you’re seventeen and you get dumped.”

  Gia smiled. “Pretty much the end of the world.”

  “Right before prom and graduation parties and all the things we thought were important once upon a time.”

  Gia hadn’t bothered with proms or parties, but she just nodded for her to continue.

  “A few nights later, I was sitting alone in the park, crying, and Harley appeared out of nowhere. He sat on the opposite end of the bench from me, didn’t say anything, just sat for a while. I wasn’t sure what to do, so once I got my emotions under control, I introduced myself and asked if he recognized me from school.” She shook her head. “I’ll never forget how sweet he was. He nodded and said he recognized me and that I was pretty. He wanted to know why I was crying, so I told him what happened, and he offered to take me to the prom and to the parties if I wanted.”

  “So, you said yes?”

  “I told him I’d like that, but it would just be as friends.” She laughed. “He looked so appalled that I might have taken his offer any other way.”

  Gia could imagine Harley as a boy, doing whatever he could to make a young girl stop feeling sad. He was such a sensitive soul.

  “Anyway, we went to all of the senior events together and found we enjoyed each other’s company, so while most of our friends went off to college, we spent the summer together. We started dating sometime around Christmas and were together for a few years. He even asked me to marry him.” She pulled a thin gold chain from beneath her shirt, and gently cradled the gold ring with the tiny diamond chip that hung from it. “All these years later, I still keep it close to my heart.”

  “What happened?” Gia forced the words past the lump in her throat, since she already knew this fairy tale wouldn’t have a happy ending.

  “His brother and his posse.”

  “Mitch?”

  “And my cousin, Ron, and that other kid they used to hang out with.”

  Gia’s heart sank. “Trevor?”

  “No, not him. Trevor was always a sweetheart. I’m not sure how he ever ended up hanging out with those three. The other kid…” She snapped her fingers. “Fischetti.”

  “Bobby?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” She picked up a broken scrap of stem from the table and started peeling it apart. “The three of them had a party one night. Harley and I were in his room, sitting on the couch watching TV. We couldn’t hear anything over the racket they were making, but it didn’t matter. It was still nice sitting together, his arm arou
nd my shoulder.”

  She tossed the shredded stem in the garbage pail beside the table. “Then the screaming started.”

  “Screaming?”

  “Horrible screams, like someone was getting killed.”

  “What happened?”

  “Harley told me to wait there, then vaulted over the couch and ran into the other room.” She stared past Gia, a faraway look in her eyes, as if reliving what must have been the horror of that night.

  “Did you follow him?”

  She nodded. “I found him kneeling over a girl who seemed to have been beaten pretty badly. He was trying to revive her when Mitch and his buddies started harassing him, kicking him, hitting him, asking him why he did that to her.”

  Donna Mae sobbed, and Gia got up and handed her a paper towel from beside the sink. Donna Mae dried her face with the paper towel and blew her nose before she resumed her story.

  “It was awful, and when I tried to help, Ron shoved me away. Then the other two dragged me out to the car and drove me home. They dumped me out in front of my house without even stopping all the way and yelled after me to keep my mouth shut if I knew what was good for me.”

  “And did you?”

  “No. I told my parents what happened, and they called the police. By the time they got there, the girl was gone, and so was Harley.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I have no idea. I never saw her again, and no one ever talked about it. When I did see Harley afterward, he was different, wouldn’t even speak to me.”

  “Did he break up with you?”

  “No. He never did, just stopped coming around or calling, disappeared for longer and longer stretches of time. I’m not even sure he ever went home after that. I don’t know what they did to him that night, but Harley was never the same.”

  “So, what happened between the two of you?”

  “Nothing. Eventually, when I realized he wasn’t coming back to me, I gave up trying to reach him. I dated other men, but never seriously, and I never married, never found that one man who could take Harley’s place in my heart.”

  “I’m so sorry, Donna Mae.”

  She nodded and wiped her cheeks. “I just want you to understand why I’m so worried about Harley. Whatever those goons did to him that night made something in him snap.”

  “And Ron? What happened with him?”

  “I never spoke to him again after that night. If we ended up at the same function together, I ignored him as if he didn’t even exist, until last week.”

  “You saw him last week?”

  She nodded. “And now he turned up dead a few days after I”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“ran into him.”

  “Ran into whom? Ron?”

  “Yeah. He happened to be in the parking lot out back when I was leaving last week, asked me if I remembered what happened all those years ago.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I told him I had no clue what he was talking about and if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d call the police.”

  “Did he leave?”

  “Yup. Muttered something under his breath as he walked away, something about keeping it that way. The next time I saw him was on the news the next morning.”

  “The morning he was found in Storm Scoopers?”

  She nodded, sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  “Did you tell the police any of this?”

  She looked a Gia like she was crazy. “What was there to tell them?”

  “He threatened you?”

  “Did he? There’s no law against running into your long-lost cousin in a parking lot, asking if they remember a night long past, or mumbling as you walk away. And yet, I knew without a doubt it was a threat.”

  Gia couldn’t really argue the point. She was right. He hadn’t broken any laws. “What about after he was killed? Did you tell them you saw him the night before?”

  “No.”

  No point in pushing that discussion any further, since she was obviously not going to the police. “Do you remember any of the other kids Mitch hung out with?”

  “Not really. I remember Trevor, but only because I know him from the ice cream shop in town. Mitch and Harley weren’t close, and I never knew his other friends.”

  A bell rang, and Gia jumped, startled, as a man walked into the shop.

  “Excuse me.” Donna Mae hustled over to the front of the shop. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I have to pick up a bouquet for my wife.”

  “Ah, Mr. Kelly?”

  “Yes.”

  She scooped the roses she’d put together off the table and rang him up, before sending him on his way with a “happy anniversary” and returning to Gia. “Anyway, will you try to talk to Harley?”

  “Yes. If I can find him, I’ll talk to him.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. First, I have to find him, then I have to try to make him listen.”

  “Believe me, it’s a relief to know you’re going to try.”

  Gia nodded and stood, sure their conversation had come to an end.

  “Can I help you with anything else? You said you needed flowers; are you looking for anything special?”

  “That depends. Do you have anything that says I’m sorry I screwed up your vacation to the Keys?”

  Chapter 17

  Gia sat in her car in front of Skyla’s house. The blinds in every window had been closed. Skyla’s was the only car in the driveway, so she was probably home alone, and yet, Gia hesitated.

  Skyla had definitely given the impression she didn’t want to talk, and she and Gia weren’t all that close.

  But Gia and Willow were, and Willow was beyond upset about her mom’s behavior. Truth be told, Gia was just as concerned, especially after talking to Donna Mae.

  Leaving Savannah’s huge bouquet of daisies on the passenger seat, she climbed out of the car. Willow would still be at work for a few hours, so now was probably the best time to catch Skyla alone. She locked the car door, walked up the front walkway to the porch, and rang the bell.

  A second later, Skyla’s quiet voice came through the closed door, so muffled Gia could barely hear her.

  “Skyla? It’s me, Gia Morelli. Can I come in?”

  The door whipped open. “Gia. What happened? Is Willow okay?”

  “Willow’s fine, Skyla. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” It hadn’t occurred to her what Skyla might think when she found Gia standing on the doorstep. “She is upset, though, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes?”

  Skyla shoved her hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. “Yes, yes. Of course. Come on in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Skyla scanned the street before shutting the door, locking it, throwing the first deadbolt, and then securing a second, shiny, brand-spanking-new-looking deadbolt. When she was done, she finally turned to Gia. “Please, come sit.”

  Gia followed her through the small living room and into the kitchen, then took a seat at the table.

  “Would you like something to drink or anything?”

  “No, thank you, Skyla. Why don’t you sit down a few minutes, and let’s talk?”

  She nodded, pulled out a chair, and perched on the edge, as if ready to run with only a moment’s notice.

  Gia didn’t know how to start.

  Dark circles ringed Skyla’s eyes, and her hair hung in limp, stringy strands.

  “Are you okay, Skyla?”

  “I’m fine.” Even she didn’t seem convinced that was true, the statement lacking any conviction.

  “You don’t seem fine. You seem strung out. And Willow has been upset at work about it.”

  She clasped and unclasped her hands on the table in front of her. “I’m sorry abou
t Saturday. It was completely my fault Willow didn’t show up or call. Please, don’t penalize her for it.”

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly. Willow is a wonderful employee, whom I’d hate to lose, but she’s also a friend, and she’s scared.” Gia laid a hand over Skyla’s, stilling them and refocusing her attention. “That’s why I stopped over. Willow was hoping maybe you’d talk to me.”

  Skyla rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head between her hands. She remained quiet, staring down. “Please, Gia, I appreciate you coming over, but I don’t want to talk.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She swiped the tears from both cheeks with her palms and a bit more force than necessary. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Sure.” She had to come up with some way to reach her. Or at least stall until she could connect with her. Maybe a more indirect approach would work better. “You know what? I think I’d love a cup of tea, after all.”

  Skyla bolted from the chair, filled the teakettle, and set it on the burner.

  The first time she’d noticed Skyla acting strange had been in the café when they were discussing the election. “So, who do you think will run against Mitch Anderson now?”

  Skyla’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I heard something about a woman named Moira Banks. I don’t know anything about her though.”

  “Do you think it’ll change the outcome of the election?” That was an angle Gia hadn’t thought too much about yet. Mitch Anderson was favored to win, but now there was a big shake-up in the opposing campaign. That certainly wouldn’t hurt Mitch. Unless, of course, people sympathized over Ron’s death, or it turned out someone connected to Mitch Anderson had some involvement in his murder.

  “Who knows? I hope not.” With the water on the stove to boil, Skyla busied herself filling a plate with cookies.

  “Even though Mitch Anderson was in the lead last I heard, it seems others agree with you that he shouldn’t become mayor.”

  She stiffened. Something was there but what? “Oh? Why do you say that?”

  “I was talking to the Bailey twins, and they didn’t seem to care much for him.” Not to mention Donna Mae’s feelings about him, but that wasn’t her story to share.