“More like you were thrilled,” Mark said, “you’ve been itching to get that roadster since he bought it.”
By the time the waitress returned with the dessert cart I had eaten enough for twenty of me. I was leaning back, listening to Joe and Sarah trading stories about bad hair in the eighties. Jimmy pulled out an old photo album to show us photographic evidence of his mullet. There were even a few racy pictures of my aunts in bikinis at the top of a cliff.
Neil eyed that one for a minute and then stared at my aunts. “You two haven’t aged a bit,” he told them. “Especially you Joe, you’re breathtaking.”
“Don’t hit on Joe,” Jimmy said. “I was going to do it.”
“No chance, boys,” Auntie Joe said sweetly.
Rory, who hadn’t said a word to me all night, leaned over and said, “Can I talk to you outside?”
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
We excused ourselves and stood outside by a whiskey barrel full of red petunias. He looked good but tense. I felt tense. I hoped I looked as good as he did.
“What’s up?”
“I hate that we keep having misunderstandings and I thought maybe we could just talk,” he said, stumbling a bit over his sentence.
“I hate it too, but honestly I don’t know why you’re so upset with me. I’m just following the clues and seeing where they lead,” I said.
He grimaced. “But you’re not,” he told me. “You’re jumping to conclusions early and you seem to think the people most likely to commit murders are poor people.”
“I do not! I have good evidence against Thomas.”
“But you have evidence against other people, too,” Rory insisted. “So why is Thomas at the top? Why was Leanne?”
“Why are you bringing up Leanne? She was cleared. But she was stealing from the family next door…”
Rory huffed. “I’m trying to make you understand my point of view. Money doesn’t make you better than me.”
“What? I don’t think that,” I told him hotly. “I have money, okay? I have it and I use it and sue me, but I like what I can do with it! But that doesn’t mean that I think badly of people without it. That’s not me, that’s you. You’re the one with a chip on your shoulder, and I won’t be held responsible for your bias against people with money.”
I took a deep breath. “I like you,” I said slowly. “I wanted to go out with you. I still want to go out with you. But your pride is getting in the way.”
“My pride?” His eyes flashed. “Yeah, maybe a little. Maybe when a woman I take out to a fancy restaurant keeps questioning how I’m going to pay for it with my poorness, it does sting my pride a little bit. It’s rude. I can handle my own finances, Ella. I don’t need you to worry about it for me.”
I bit my lip. I understood that. I’d made him feel like a child. That was low and thoughtless and I felt bad for it. I opened my mouth to say as much but when I leaned forward the envelope Mother had given me slipped out of my purse and landed at Rory’s feet.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking it up. The little card was peeking out of the envelope.
“Oh, just an invitation that Mother wanted me to accept.”
“For a date with another man,” Rory said slowly as he read the card. “Did you agree to this?”
Another man? A date? I’d thought it was another one of those country club parties…
“I—”
“Great,” he said. “It figures. Why wouldn’t you accept this invitation from Van Sinclair? Ugh, Van? Really? I’m sure your parents will definitely approve of him.”
Oh gosh, I wanted to slap him. “Maybe they will,” I heard myself say.
“Good,” he said. “Great!”
He walked away.
Chapter 7
I didn’t go home after dinner. When the Aunts got out at the house and handed the keys to Eric, I stayed behind and told him to take me to Carl’s restaurant. I needed to get a look in his office and thought I’d have a better chance alone.
I hopped out and walked up the carefully manicured walkway to the door of La Beck. I reached for the doorknob, but before I could touch it, the door swung open. Thomas slammed into me, throwing me back several steps.
“Hey,” I cried, almost tumbling down the steps.
Thomas steadied me. “I didn’t see you,” he said by way of apology.
He stomped down the steps and stormed off, tossing his apron back towards me. I turned to follow him.
“Thomas? Where are you going?”
“Away from here,” he shouted.
I turned back to the door and saw Carl standing inside, leaning against the bar. I took a deep breath and entered the restaurant. Well, now I sure had the perfect opening. I felt bold and sure of myself as I approached Carl.
“What just happened with Thomas?” I asked.
“He’s a hothead. Don’t worry about him. He’ll calm down and come back,” Carl said with a smile. “But for now I need to find a new waiter. Come and have a drink with me.”
And just like that he led me right where I wanted to go; to the back office. I kept my eyes peeled the entire time. I stared at the spot on the floor where the body had been. I looked up at the ceiling and through the kitchen doors where people were working. A blast of jambon persill��-scented air hit me in the face, and even though I was full my stomach rumbled.
Carl waved me into a chair opposite him and I had a curious feeling. Was this the chair that Hank had been sitting in the night he died?
Carl sat down behind his desk, a large mahogany beauty with a marble green top. The surface was clean, controlled, and made my desk at home feel ashamed of itself. He had a blotter with dates neatly detailed, and a pen cup with several red and black pens— but no blue. In the corner sat an in/out box that had more out than in, with yellowing envelopes sitting on top. The envelopes had all been opened, but someone had taken care to put the letters neatly back in the envelopes.
My stomach tingled. Those had to be the love letters that June’d written to Carl. I wanted to read them. The romance of it all!
Beside the inbox was a heavy amber glass ashtray with a cigar burnt out in it. Was that what was on Hank’s fingers? Cigar ash?
“Red or white?” Carl asked.
“White,” I answered. “You have a beautiful office,” I told him.
“Thank you.” He pulled a bottle of Gew��rztraminer out of a small wine cooler behind him. “I find that an office should be a place of calm where you can take care of business and not let the rest of the world weigh down on you..”
He popped the cork and poured the wine into a fluted glass and offered it to me. It smelled crisp and spicy with a hint of citrus. I took a sip and grinned in appreciation. Carl winked, held up his glass, and we toasted. I glanced back at those letters, my fingers itching to get into them. I could only see the address on the top one, and it was from June to Carl.
I was being silly. Those love letters were private. Not clues, although I tried to convince myself that they were just because I wanted to snoop.
“Carl,” I began.
“Going to grill me about Hank?”
“Not exactly,” I told him. “Not about you and Hank. Everyone says the two of you were the best of friends.”
“We were,” Carl said wistfully.
“I’m more interested in the bad blood between Hank and Thomas and Hank and Neil.”
Carl laughed and sat back in his chair. “Where should I start?”
“Thomas?”
“You have to understand,” Carl began, “that Hank never meant to bilk Thomas’ father out of anything. He got it on good authority that these stocks were going to go through the roof. He didn’t have enough liquid assets to snap up all the stocks so he brought some friends in.”
“The stock was a bust,” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” Carl told me. “But at first it seemed like a good investment. There was even a return on it, initially. Hank decided to sell out then because he was b
ored and wanted to buy into some drum making business. As luck would have it, Hank sold out on the day the stock tanked.”
“No,” I gasped. “So Thomas’ father lost everything?”
“Lost his shirt,” Carl sighed. “It was just the capricious nature of a rockstar that saved Hank, but it looked like insider trading.”
“Did anyone ever try to indict him?”
Carl snorted. “No. Oh, a few FBI boys came sniffing around but nothing ever came of it.”
He topped off my wine glass. “So the kid’s old man was broke. He poured everything into the stock because he trusted Hank and he never forgave him for it. Thomas lays all the blame on Hank.”
I nodded. “I probably would too,” I told him. “Especially if I was young when it happened….”
“Thomas is a good kid,” Carl said.
“Is he? Then why was he storming out of here tonight?” I asked.
“He’s a good kid. Short-fuse, but a good kid.” Carl repeated. “We’ll work it out.”
It seemed like that was all he was willing to say on the matter.
“And Neil?”
“Nothing to say,” Carl told me. “They’re best friends. They fought like brothers. They’d make up and live to fight another day. I’m surprised you’re not looking into that crazy neighbor of Hank’s, Linda. She hated him. Was actually in here the night of the murder.”
“I didn’t see her,” I said, surprised.
“She was in right before you two came into the restaurant.” Carl nodded, as if remember. “You know, Rory’s a great kid. You picked a good one with him.”
“Why was she here?” I asked. I didn’t want to get off topic, now that he’d brought up this new tidbit of information. And even more than that, I didn’t want to think about Rory and our relationship— or whatever it was between us at this point.
“Oh, that’s easy. She was here to harass Hank. He had blocked her request for a permit to build a higher wall around her property. She didn’t want to have to see his house at all but Hank said it would block his view. So he called Davey downtown at the housing commission and had her permit thrown out. She shouted at him and went to the bar.”
“Did she threaten him?”
Carl laughed. “Sure she did. Hank ate here at least once a week and she threatened him every single week.”
The phone rang. Carl picked it up. He hung it up, said, “Mmhmm,” a few times and stood up.
“I’m sorry Ella, someone’s here to see me. I’ll be right back,” he told me as he left the office.
As soon as the door shut, I sprang into action. I grabbed the invitation from my purse and dumped some of the ash into it. It might be a clue. Maybe I could have it tested? I wasn’t sure. I just needed to take it while I had the chance. Then I dove for the letters. I opened the one on the top and a picture fell out.
A much younger Carl with a ridiculous amount of hair spilling down his shoulders had his arm around a smiling girl who looked vaguely like Hank.
“June,” I breathed.
She was beautiful. They were holding hands and she had a class ring on her finger. It looked familiar to me. Carl was wearing cutoff jeans and an old Run of the Indifferent Band tee. On the back it was a handwritten note.
Best night of my life. I’ll treasure it forever
— June
I listened but Carl wasn’t coming back yet, so I gently eased the letter out of the envelope. My heart was pounding. I had to be quick. I didn’t want to get caught and I had no right to be reading this, but I just was too curious. What would Livvie and Trouble say to that, I wondered.
I managed to read, “You are the only one for me. When we sat under the oak tree listening to the sounds of nature I felt like we were a part of it. You and me and the tree and the grass. One more year and we can get out of here. One more year until all we’ll have is each other… I can’t wait. Nothing can stop us. No one can stop us.”
I heard footsteps. Heart pounding, I replaced the letter in time to turn around and greet Carl. Only it wasn’t Carl. It was Detective Garza.
“Oh, hi Detective,” I said brightly.
“Ella Sweeting,” she said, as if she had been expecting me. “Please stand up and follow me outside.”
Without waiting for me, Garza turned on her heel and headed outside. I grabbed my purse and followed her outside the restaurant. My car was still waiting. It was actually parked next to her unmarked police car. I seriously considered jumping in my car and making a fast get away, but Garza was scary.
“I could almost like you, Ella,” she began. “You’re determination is admirable. If you were a cop I would have no problem letting you investigate. But you’re not. You’re an aromatherapist.”
“Which reminds me,” I said and scrounged around in my purse for a little bottle I had made up last week on a whim. “This is for you.”
She took the tiny bottle and stared at me. Hopefully she was bemused and not very angry.
“What is it?”
“It’s a blend of rosemary, basil, and sage oils,” I told her. “It’s for concentration.”
“It sounds like it’s for a nice pasta sauce,” she said, but she did remove the cap and inhale. “Smells like it, too.”
“I thought it could help you catch the killer,” I told her. “Clearer heads solve crimes faster, right?”
“Thank you,” she said, and there was a hint of a smile that played around her lips. “But that doesn’t stop me from what I am about to do.”
Garza opened the back door of her car. “Please get inside.”
“Am I being arrested?”
“Get in the car or I use my cuffs,” she told me.
Heart pounding, I climbed inside the car and she closed the door, effectively locking me inside. I bit my lip. Garza got in the driver’s side. I waited to see if she was going to just threaten me and send me home. But she didn’t. After several seconds she turned on the car and drove us to the police department.
In minutes she had me inside and had placed me in a holding cell.
“Why are you doing this? Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked.
“I can hold you without charge for twenty-four hours,” Garza told me. “I figured this would be a powerful motivator for you.”
“To do what?” I asked, horrified.
“To butt out of my cases,” she growled. “I have a full team of investigators looking into Hank Stillwater’s murder. And what does one of my guys see when he goes to interview the members of Hank’s band?”
“Me,” I said.
“You,” she agreed. “And what do I find when I come to the murder scene to ask the owner a question regarding his relationship with the deceased?”
“Me,” I whispered.
Garza smiled at me, but it was not a friendly smile. It was frosty and frightening. “That’s right, I find you. Well, Ella Sweeting, I am tired of finding you when I am really more interested in finding facts and killers. So tonight you will be enjoying the hospitality of the county jail. In the morning maybe you will see the light and go back to aromatherapy.”
“But I can help,” I protested.
“You can help by not helping,” Garza told me. Then she left me there, her footsteps clacking against the concrete floor, even when she was out of sight.
“Don’t I get a phone call?” I called.
But no one answered.
Aunt Hazel showed up an hour later. She was frantic and Ruby let her right in to see me. I was laying on the rock-hard bunk when she crashed into the room.
“Ella dear, are you all right? Eric came back to the house and told us that he’d seen you leave in the back of the detective’s car. What happened? Are you under arrest? Should I call a lawyer? Put a file in a cake?” Aunt Hazel asked, her cheeks flushed with color.
“Oh no, did my parents hear about me being here?” I asked, heart sinking.
“We all heard,” Aunt Hazel told me. “Sorry, dear. Also, Detective Garza called your mother herse
lf.”
“Can she really do that? I am an adult,” I muttered, even though I was still nervous about Mother’s reaction to her newly minted jailbird daughter.
“Never mind about Jeanie,” Aunt Hazel said with a wave of her hand. “What about you? How do I get you out of here?”
“Oh, Hazel,” Ruby said, crossing her arms, “the detective will let her go in the morning. She just wants to keep Ella’s nose out of cop business.”
“But I just want to help,” I said with a sigh.
“Well, I know that, and even I think Garza knows it, too. I’ve told you that before, but you’re really being conspicuous. She can’t tolerate that, Ella. You better get on her good side fast. Otherwise she can charge you with obstruction of justice,” Ruby told me.
“But I would never obstruct justice,” I protested.
“Not purposely, but believe it or not there is a reason we do things the way we do. And she can’t have you meddling.” Ruby sighed. “Think about it from her point of view.”
“I don’t care about her point of view,” Aunt Hazel said, slapping the bars of my cell. “If she’s not going to charge Ella, you tell her to release her this instant.”
“No way,” Ruby exclaimed. “I like my job. Sorry, Ella. It’s not that bad. I made us sandwiches. I’ll leave you two alone. Just don’t tell anyone I left you two alone.”
When she was gone Aunt Hazel stared at the bars.
“I could open the lock,” Aunt Hazel told me.
“With magic?” I asked.
“No dear, with my lock pick set. But with magic I can do this.” She pulled an apple out of her purse and handed it to me. “Practicing your changing spell will help you pass the time.”
“Thanks, Aunt Hazel,” I said, eyeing the apple hungrily. I’d rather just eat it, but hey, it was the thought that counted.
She promised to get me a lawyer, blew me a kiss through the bars, and then left me alone. I sat on the prison bunk and imagined what it would be like to stay here. I’d go crazy! No, I had to get Garza’s confidence. Maybe then she would let me continue to investigate. I was so close. I was sure of it.
A Spell of Murder: An Ella Sweeting Aromatherapy Magic Cozy Mystery (Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies Book 2) Page 6