Apple Pie With A Side Of Murder

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Apple Pie With A Side Of Murder Page 4

by Meredith Potts

Betsy reached for the container that was on the counter. “If we’re going to start talking about ghosts again, I’m going to need another caramel,” she wisecracked.

  Chapter Nine

  Before David headed off to work, he wanted to talk to me privately. We left Daley Buzz and walked over to a bench that was located on the sidewalk about twenty feet away from the shop. There was a serious look on David’s face, which made me curious about what he had to tell me. I was about to ask him what was on his mind, but I wasn’t able to stop a much different observation from rolling off of my tongue first.

  “That conversation certainly took a turn for the wacky,” I said.

  David’s eyes were wide. “Especially considering it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “The crazy part is, as wild of a discussion as that was, I can only imagine what that conversation would have been like if a little alcohol had been thrown in.”

  “Let’s be glad that there wasn’t any.”

  “My family really is a trip. Then again, name one that isn’t.”

  “I guess you’re right. Nothing brings out zaniness like family.”

  “I don’t know that the odd circumstances going on around Treasure Cove are helping. Things are getting crazy around here. Why wouldn’t the conversations?”

  “True,” I said. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “Those license plates we took pictures of last night.”

  “Did you do a search of the DMV database?”

  He nodded. “I sure did.”

  “And?”

  “A lot of familiar names came up.”

  “Like?”

  A disturbing expression was on his face. “Are you ready for this?”

  I got a bad feeling in my stomach. “Please tell me none of these people are our friends.”

  “They aren’t.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “All right. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  David began going through his list of names. “Tom Dillon.”

  Tom was a prominent local real estate developer.

  “William Bolton.”

  William ran an import and export business.

  “Seth Taylor.”

  Mr. Taylor owned a number of car dealerships in the Treasure Cove area.

  “Doug Stevenson.”

  He was an investment banker.

  “Eric Bonner.”

  Mr. Bonner was a high-powered defense attorney.

  “Trevor Kitteridge.”

  Trevor owned a local accountancy firm.

  “Dr. Robert Campbell.”

  Campbell was a surgeon at Treasure Cove General Hospital.

  “Gregory Morton.”

  Morton was a popular hypnotherapist in town.

  “And Steven McFarland.”

  Steven owned one of the local television stations.

  Mercifully, David was done listing off names, but my anxiety was just ramping up. I was breathless as I thought about all the men on that list. This was more than just a secretive group of men.

  Each of them had one very big thing in common—deep pockets. If money equaled power, these were some of the most powerful men in Treasure Cove.

  I thought the list of names might give me some answers. Instead, I just had more questions. To start, who else was a member of the group? After all, David and I had only managed to get pictures of about half of the cars that had left the parking lot the night before. That meant there were almost a dozen more members who had not been unmasked yet.

  My thoughts raced as I considered the possibilities. There was so much going on in my head that I could have easily remained lost in thought were it not for David pulling my head out of the clouds.

  “Honey, are you okay?” he asked.

  I glanced at him and saw a concerned look on his face.

  I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”

  “It’s a pretty jaw-dropping list of names, isn’t it?”

  “It’s safe to say there are a few more heavy hitters there than you’d find at an average chamber of commerce mixer,” I deadpanned.

  He chuckled. “Not to mention this group is far more secretive than the chamber of commerce.”

  “And more powerful,” I added.

  “That’s the scary part.”

  “Are you saying that being secretive and powerful doesn’t make for a good mix?”

  David grimaced. “For them, I’m sure it does. For the rest of us, not so much.”

  “I can only imagine what kinds of things they might be up to.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling that none of those things are good.”

  “Yeah. It’s not like they’re just getting together to organize a bake sale,” I joked.

  “You’re really letting the zingers fly this morning, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t help it. I make jokes when I’m nervous, and that list has got me feeling more on edge than ever.”

  “The craziest part is that it’s only a partial list. It makes me wonder who else is a member of that group.”

  I shrugged. “I have no clue.”

  “It’s a shame I don’t have probable cause to search that banquet hall.”

  “Since you don’t, what’s the next step?” I asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about paying a visit to Seth Taylor,” David replied.

  “The owner of the hall?”

  David nodded. “You interested in coming?”

  I smiled. “Are you kidding? I don’t want to let you have all the fun.”

  Chapter Ten

  A big inflatable gorilla greeted David and I as we arrived at Seth Taylor’s car dealership. Why Seth had chosen a fifteen-foot-tall blowup gorilla to sell cars, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like the gorilla was holding a pun-heavy sign that read “You’d be bananas not to buy from us.” It was just a gorilla standing there, doing nothing remarkable.

  Perhaps Seth figured that the sheer sight of gorilla would draw eyeballs to his dealership. Then again, I hadn’t been selling cars for nearly thirty years like Seth had, so maybe he knew some secret that I didn’t. He certainly had other secrets he was keeping. The question became, could David and I get any answers from him?

  My query would have to wait, at least for the time being. David was barely able to park his car before a fast-talking, twenty-eight-year-old salesman approached us. The man was like a hawk ready and eager to swoop in and attack unsuspecting prey.

  “Man, you look like you could use a new ride. You’ve come to the right place,” the salesman said.

  I recognized him from high school. His name was Adam Miller. We used to be in the same physics class together. In those days, he was just a shy, awkward kid. What a difference ten years made. Of course, the same could be said for me as well. A decade ago, I never would have pictured myself as a coffee shop manager turned amateur sleuth.

  Instead of taking a walk down memory lane, David and I just wanted to get Adam off of our backs.

  “No, thank you,” David replied.

  “I think you’re making a big mistake here. There has never been a better time to buy,” Adam said.

  “We’re here to talk to Seth Taylor.”

  “The big man, huh? Cool. I get it. Just do me a favor, all right? Tell him I referred you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Sweet,” Adam said.

  Thankfully, another car pulled into the parking lot. Adam strode right over to the car with his sales pitch ready. That shameless opportunism allowed David and I to finally head into the building.

  Once we were inside the main lobby of the dealership, Seth Taylor wasn’t a hard man to spot. He had a way of standing out in a crowd. And not just because I knew what he looked like from his ridiculously schlocky television commercials.

  It was more his attire. The six-foot-one, lean-bodied fifty-seven-year-old was decked out like he was about to go bull riding. He wore a pair of leather boots, a cowboy hat, blue jeans, a matching denim shirt, a brown leather
vest, and had the biggest silver belt buckle that I had ever seen. He also spoke with a pronounced drawl that really stuck out in a Northern California town like Treasure Cove. The crazy part was that he had grown up here, so I had no idea where he had gotten the accent from.

  At that moment, his speech patterns were the least of my concerns. David and I had some serious questions for Seth. Unlike when we were questioning murder suspects, we would need to operate with more finesse when talking with Mr. Taylor.

  This wasn’t an official police investigation. Seth didn’t have to answer our questions. He could cut our discussion short at any time if he wanted to and David and I had no way of stopping him. Under those unenviable terms, David began the conversation.

  “Seth Taylor. Just the man I have been looking for,” David said.

  Seth looked him up and down. “Let me guess. You’re in the market for a new pickup truck?”

  David shook his head. “No.”

  “SUV?”

  “That’s not really why we’re here.”

  “Why not? This sell-a-thon won’t last forever.”

  “I’m here about another matter,” David said.

  Seth’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s more important than making sure you have the best car for the right price?”

  David held his hand out with his palm facing Seth. “Mr. Taylor, I’m interested in making a booking.”

  Seth’s face went blank. “A booking? What are you talking about? I sell cars.”

  “I understand that you purchased the old banquet hall,” David said.

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I don’t know anything about a banquet hall.”

  “Then you have a real problem on your hands.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone purchased the banquet hall in your name. So if you didn’t do it, there is someone out there posing as you. If that’s the case, you should contact the police.”

  Seth took a deep breath. “Where did you get all that information from?”

  “I know someone in the city clerk’s office,” David said. “Now was it you who purchased the banquet hall or is someone out there trying to impersonate you?”

  Seth ignored David’s question in favor of satisfying his own curiosity. “What made you even ask the city clerk about the banquet hall in the first place?”

  “Are you saying you did buy the banquet hall, then?”

  “Just say I did. What’s it to you?”

  “My girlfriend and I are here because we would like to rent out the banquet hall for an event. It’s my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary, so what better place to hold the party than at your banquet hall?” David asked.

  A leery expression came to Seth’s face.

  When a few seconds went by without receiving a reply from Seth, David spoke up. “So, what do you say?”

  “I’m not booking any events right now,” Seth replied.

  “Why not?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Is the place not ready yet? Because the anniversary party isn’t for a few months.”

  Seth raised his voice. “I just told you that I’m not booking any events there.”

  “I don’t know that you want to turn down a booking like this. I assure you, I can compensate you generously.”

  “I already said no. Now don’t go beating a dead horse.”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t get why you would turn down business.”

  “That’s for me to know and for you to stop hassling me about. Now, I have a sell-a-thon to conduct, so why don’t you two be on your way?”

  “I know you’re a busy man.”

  “I sure am. You don’t get to be the largest volume dealer in the county by being lazy.”

  The conversation was slipping away. Despite David’s best efforts, finesse had gotten him nowhere. I knew that David wanted to leave his police badge out of this conversation, but was he really going to leave it in his pocket and let Seth walk away?

  “I’ll let you get back to your work,” David said. “But first, I want to make you aware of some very strange things that are occurring at your banquet hall.”

  Seth’s muscles tensed up. He stared David down. “What kind of strange things?”

  “Are you telling me you don’t know about the invite-only, black-tie meetings that are being held there?” David asked.

  “You sure have an active imagination, don’t you?”

  “I saw them with my own eyes.”

  I chimed in. “We both did.”

  Seth narrowed his eyes. “Have you been snooping around my private property?”

  I shook my head. “No. We were just driving by the place last night to see if it was big enough for our party. The whole parking lot was filled with men in suits.”

  “Are you saying they were illegally trespassing on your property? Because the police will be happy to look into that,” David said.

  “You two need to learn to mind your own business,” Seth replied.

  “Mr. Taylor, you never did answer my question. Did you know about this meeting?” David asked.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “No, you don’t. But I don’t see why you’re being so secretive. Unless you’re hiding something,” David said.

  Seth shot him a glare. “You have a lot of nerve coming to my dealership and talking to me that way.”

  David remained calm. “Look, I’m just asking you a few simple questions. You’re the one getting all bent out of shape.”

  “Last time I checked, America still has privacy laws. And that’s just the way I like it.”

  “I understand, but when a bunch of men in suits hold a meeting in the middle of the night at a once-abandoned banquet hall, I can’t help but be curious about what kinds of things were discussed.”

  Seth lost his grip on his temper. “That’s it. We’re done here. I want you out of here—now!”

  “Wow. I must have really hit a nerve.”

  “No. You’ve just gotten on my nerves. Now don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  David made a proposal of his own. “What if I told you I was in the market for a new car?”

  “I don’t want your business,” Seth replied.

  “Really?” David asked.

  Seth nodded. “Yes. Now get out of here!”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was hard for me to hide my discouragement as I walked back to David’s car in the parking lot. My boyfriend was equally troubled. Unfortunately, our moods didn’t get any better as we took our seats in the car. There was plenty of introspection to go around. Words were in short supply, however.

  For the moment, all I could muster was a sigh.

  “Yup. That about sums it up, doesn’t it?” David said.

  “I don’t think we got a single straight answer from him,” I replied.

  “True. Then again, car salesmen aren’t exactly known for straight talk.”

  “No. I’ve seen lawyers who are more honest than car salesmen.”

  “That’s saying a lot.”

  “But even by the slippery standards of the average car salesman, he managed to bend the truth in all kinds of uncomfortable ways.”

  “I can’t deny that,” David said.

  “The crazy part was that for a car salesman, Seth was actually pretty tight-lipped throughout most of the conversation,” I replied.

  “That’s because he was busy biting his tongue.”

  “Not that it did him any good. His silence just ended up confirming my worst suspicions.”

  “Look. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s a really shady guy. But that doesn’t change the fact I still don’t have probable cause to search the banquet hall. He managed to toe the line just enough to keep me from being able to open an official police investigation.”

  “By that same token, there’s a flip side to toeing such a fine line,” I said. “If he does take a misstep in the future, you’ll be able to pounce on him. Same with the
other members.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to be keeping my eye out in case any of the members of the group slip up. The problem is, what if they don’t?”

  I grimaced. “I’d rather not think about that.”

  “You might have to.”

  “Hey. You’re the one who keeps preaching to me about the value of patience. Let’s just keep the pressure on each of the members of the group. If we’re lucky, one of them will eventually cave.”

  “That’s a big if.”

  “It’s also all we have to go on right now.”

  David groaned. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Is it too early to get a slice of pie?” he deadpanned.

  Before I had a chance to reply, David got a call on his police radio.

  I heard the female voice of the 9-1-1 dispatcher address David. “Detective Carlson,” she said.

  David grabbed the radio and replied, “This is Carlson. What is it?”

  “Possible 1-8-7 at Home Away From Home Cooking restaurant,” the dispatcher replied.

  David’s face went white.

  Unlike my boyfriend, I didn’t have every police code memorized. But 1-8-7 was one of the few codes that I did know by heart. It was the code for a homicide.

  My jaw dropped as my muscles tensed up. While I clammed up in shock, David spoke into the police radio.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Unfortunately, the car dealership and the restaurant were on completely different sides of town. Thankfully, David and I lived in a mid-sized town and not some congested big city. With only twenty-five thousand full-time residents in Treasure Cove, traffic jams were completely unheard of in this part of Northern California.

  Still, David wanted to get over to the restaurant as soon as possible. If the operator was correct and a murder had occurred, time was of the essence. The first forty-eight hours after a murder took place provided the best opportunities to gather evidence and solid leads. The longer a case stretched on, the less likelihood there was that it would ever be solved.

  David knew that all too well. That was why he fired up the siren of his car and put the pedal to the metal. During potential emergencies like this, the speed limit did not apply. I would have checked the speedometer, but I was too busy gripping the passenger-side door handle to brace myself. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I had been inside a car going that fast.

 

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