Roux the Day

by Linda Wiken

  “A what?”

  “You know, like those things the church ladies used to make and drop off at the home of a congregational member going through difficulties.” She laughed. “Okay, maybe not a casserole chain, but we should see what we can do to help out. Will Alison be there? She might have some news about how the police are progressing.” She held up her hand. “I know that it’s unlikely she’ll share, but just saying, you never know.”

  “I had to leave her a message also. It might end up being just Evan and Michael, and you and me.”

  “No matter. We can still come up with a plan. I think it’s a good idea, by the way. Now, you may not think this is such a good idea, but before I tell you, I want you to know I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  Oh no. This sounds ominous.

  “I want you to agree to be my mystery diner.” She held up her hand to stave off anything J.J. might say, but J.J.’s mind was blank. She had no idea what Beth had in mind.

  “I’m hoping you’ll have time to come in on a regular basis for lunch every weekday and just sit, eat, and observe. The lunch will be on me, of course.”

  J.J. could think of a couple of reasons it wouldn’t work but asked, “What would I be observing?”

  “A thief.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, unfortunately, I am. Things have been going missing, and you know it’s just too busy at lunch for me or my helpers to keep an eye on everyone. But you need to eat, and it doesn’t take long to get here, so you won’t be using up huge chunks of your time. You just sit over in that other corner”—she pointed to the one farthest from the window—“because we don’t have a clear line of sight here. As I said, you eat, observe, and if you see anything suspicious, you tell me, and then I keep an eye on that person until I have solid proof. It might not even take more than a couple of lunch hours to track him down.”

  “Him?”

  “Or her.” Beth had a small smile on her face, but her mouth looked rigid. J.J. could tell her answer was important.

  “What’s being stolen?”

  “Nothing major that I can call the cops about. You know, napkin holders, salt and pepper mills, menus.”

  “Menus? Who’d take those?” J.J. quickly scanned the room.

  “That’s what I want to know. They may not be big items, but they start to add up even though it’s just one item a day.”

  J.J. did some quick thinking. It would be good if she kept to a regular lunch schedule, and it wouldn’t be for long. How many days could it take anyway?

  “I will do it, but if something with a client pops up, I’ll have to skip lunch.”

  “Fair enough. Maybe we can bring Evan into the loop for days like that, if it drags on for any amount of time. But I’m sure it won’t.” She reached across the table and squeezed J.J.’s hand. “I’m so grateful, J.J. I already feel much better.”

  Well, she couldn’t get into trouble doing as Beth requested, and if it would help Beth, then what would be the harm?

  CHAPTER 7

  J.J. was the first to arrive at the restaurant that night. There was a definite nip in the air, which was bound to be even more so later in the evening. She pushed open the glass door and took her time looking around the room, wondering if the owner, Gina Marcotti, had hired a new hostess yet. Gina had temporarily taken over the task herself, as she tried to adjust to recent changes in her life, but J.J. knew it wouldn’t take long for equilibrium to set in again.

  The place was crowded, but J.J. spotted Gina talking to a table of six in the far corner. Gina glanced over and gave J.J. a small wave, then pointed to a table quite close to the bar with a Reserved sign on it. J.J. chose a seat that allowed her to see the front door and be able to get the others’ attention.

  Alison showed up right on the heels of Beth and Evan, who’d met in the parking lot and walked in together. By the time they had been sipping at their drinks and were well past wanting to order their meals, Connor still hadn’t shown.

  “Connor is coming, isn’t he?” Alison asked, looking over her shoulder toward the door.

  “I haven’t spoken to him, but I left messages at work, on his cell, and at home.” J.J. joined the search, which the server took to mean a signal to him.

  Evan glanced at his watch. “Let’s go ahead and order. He’ll just have to catch up.

  “No Michael?”

  “He sends his regrets. He thought it would be better if it was just us tonight.”

  Gina Marcotti appeared with a server in tow. She smiled warmly at J.J. “I’m happy to see you all here again.” She touched J.J. lightly on the shoulder. “Buon appetito.”

  When the food arrived, J.J. pulled out her smartphone. “I’ll just try reaching him again.” They all waited and could hear the rings until J.J. gave up. “Should we be worried? He was pretty upset by what happened.”

  Alison finished chewing the mouthful of seafood lasagna she’d just taken. “I know he was at the station for quite a while with Detective Hashtag, er, Hastings, earlier today.”

  “Can you just check to see if he might still be there?” J.J. took one look at Alison’s face. “Pretty please?”

  Alison sighed as she pulled out her cell. “Okay.”

  After a brief conversation, she filled the others in on what she’d learned. “He left the station around four.”

  Beth took a sip of her wine. “You know, he’s been through a lot and no matter how long ago it was they were engaged, her death had to impact on him. Maybe he just wants some quiet time alone. I think we should allow him that.” She pushed her lamb ragout around on her plate with her fork.

  The others looked a bit uncertain.

  “However,” she continued, “it might also be thoughtful of us to go over to his place after dinner and see if he might want to talk. We could take a dessert with us. He needs to keep up his energy, you know.”

  J.J. felt better that a decision had been made. She took another mouthful of the linguine with clams she’d ordered and found it tasted much more flavorful this time.

  J.J. looked around for Gina as they were getting ready to leave, but she was nowhere to be seen. J.J. must come by sometime on her own, or maybe even with Devine. The thought brought a small, wicked smile to her lips.

  They’d just finished paying their bill when Beth said, “Did you walk, J.J.? Would you like a ride to Connor’s?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She followed Beth out to her car, and they made arrangements to meet the others there.

  By the time they’d reached the lobby of the five-story condo Connor lived in, Beth was starting to second-guess herself. “I hope this is the right thing to do, and I hope Connor agrees. I’d hate to have him think we’re butting into his life.”

  But J.J. was anxious to talk to him. “He won’t think that. And if it sounds like he does, we’ll just back off.”

  She punched in the code to number 505. They waited a minute and then she did it again. When there was still no response, Evan volunteered to go around back and check if Connor’s red Mazda CX-3 was in the underground parking lot.

  “How will you do that?” Beth asked. “You can’t get in without a code.”

  Evan winked. “It may be underground, but it’s not fully enclosed. There’s a two-foot gap all the way around the building, protected by bars, of course, and I know where his parking space is located. Right across from it and in full view.”

  He was out the door and along the walkway before anyone could answer. The others waited in silence, shuffling feet and trying to see into the lobby.

  “No car,” Evan reported. “I guess there’s nothing more to do here.”

  “So, do you prowl around here often?” J.J. couldn’t help but ask. She felt uptight and wanted to lighten the mood.

  “Only when necessary,” he answered with a grin that quickly faded.

  J.J. couldn’t shake her feeling of anxiety. “I hope everything’s all right.”

  “Of course it is,” Alison answered. �
��He’s obviously out for the evening, maybe with close friends. We’re not the only ones in his life.”

  “Point taken. Somehow I feel like we’ve let him down, though.”

  CHAPTER 8

  J.J. walked briskly down the hill toward the office the next morning. It was a great day to be out getting some fresh air and exercise. She’d meant to get up early and walk all the way down to the lakeshore and back before getting ready for work, but best intentions don’t always make things happen.

  That was one of the reasons she’d made the move from Montpelier to Burlington. She’d been drawn to the shores of Lake Champlain since the first time she’d visited Skye’s home, that first year in college. Of course the primary reason was to leave her old job and two-timing fiancé behind, but she thought the lake was a fine substitute. She also loved the small-village feel of Half Moon Bay and had opted to live close to where she worked, a short walk, rather than in the heart of the city. And when she had the time, a slightly longer walk took her down to the lake. But not this morning.

  She’d checked her messages, both phone and e-mail, before leaving the apartment, hoping that Connor had gotten in touch. When she’d picked up her latte on the way to work, Beth had said she’d also not heard from him and was getting worried.

  J.J. tried to shake off her unease as she climbed the stairs to Make It Happen. She unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch, then made a beeline to her computer. Skye would be out most of the morning, and J.J. was determined to have most of her long to-do list tackled by the time she started on her new career as a private eye at lunch.

  She checked for messages and responded to the work-related ones. By the time she’d finished a second coffee, this one from the Keurig, she’d progressed to proofing the handout sheet she planned on using when teaching the event planning course at the community center, starting later in the fall. When she thought about it, she realized she’d enjoy teaching, which came as a big surprise to her, although she wasn’t about to change careers anytime soon.

  She glanced up as the door opened. Detective Ozzie Hastings, or Hashtag, as Alison said the others at the station referred to him, filled the doorframe. Despite the fact that his hair was longer and blonder than Ness’s, and he had to be at least twenty-plus years younger, he did remind her of her neighbor. Maybe it was that certain cop thing about him, a weary yet alert look in his eyes. All comparisons ended immediately when Hastings opened his mouth. Hard to disguise that British accent.

  J.J. tried to keep a friendly look on her face, although her insides had turned to jelly. This could not be a good thing. She’d been through this before.

  “Detective Hastings, what can I do for you?”

  It took just three steps for him to make it to her desk and hover while looking around the office. “You’re on your own today?”

  “For the morning, anyway.” She tried not to sound defensive. It was an innocuous question, after all.

  “Good. I thought you might rather do this in your office than in mine.”

  She gulped. “More questions?”

  He pulled over a chair and sat back in it, looking fairly relaxed.

  J.J. felt herself do the same. This might not be so bad after all. She actually felt emboldened to ask, “How did Miranda die?”

  Hastings frowned. “I’d really like to be the one asking the questions, Ms. Tanner. But I can tell you that she was stabbed.”

  J.J. gasped. All of a sudden, she saw knives and dripping blood. Not again. “That’s dreadful.”

  “Murder usually is. Now, tell me again why you chose Miranda Myers to be a co-emcee at the casino night.”

  J.J. shifted in her chair. Funny how uncomfortable it had become. “As I mentioned last time, Megan Spicer, the chair of the board for People and Causes, suggested both Miranda and Connor Mac. I followed through, and they both accepted.”

  “Did she give you a reason for picking them?”

  “Not really. She may have mentioned something about them being so well-known in the community, being media personalities and all.”

  “How well did you know Ms. Myers?”

  “Not at all. Of course, I knew her name because she really is quite the celebrity, but we’d never met before I asked her, which I did in person.” There was that twinge of guilt again.

  “So, how did you feel about asking the ex-fiancée of your boyfriend to work with him?”

  J.J.’s jaw dropped. She felt flustered and tried to gather her thoughts before talking. “For starters, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re good friends and we go out on occasion, but there’s nothing more to the relationship. And I didn’t know about their past until that night.”

  “Mr. Mac hadn’t told you before that?”

  “No. There was no need to. We weren’t serious. We hadn’t exchanged dating histories or anything. Ask Connor.”

  “We’re trying, but he seems to have run off.” Hastings leaned forward, one elbow propped on her desk, his chin resting in his hand.

  “What? I know he wasn’t at home last night, but you make it sound almost like he’s avoiding the police.”

  Hastings’s smile was not a pleasant one. Cynical might be a good description. “That’s what I call it when a suspect is told to stay in town and doesn’t. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “No. In fact, a bunch of us—you remember my dinner club, the Culinary Capers—well, we met for dinner at a restaurant last night, and were worried when he didn’t turn up. That’s not like him. And I know he was really upset about Miranda’s death.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  Hastings stood and started pacing, stopping to read Skye’s collection of certificates and diplomas on the wall beside her desk. He turned back abruptly to J.J.

  “What’s bothering me right now is that I have only your word that you didn’t know about their relationship. And that it was a continuing one. Are you the jealous type?”

  J.J. sputtered. “No. Not a jealous bone in my body.” She flashed briefly on the scene she’d made when she found her then-fiancé in bed with a client. Maybe she should qualify that statement. “As I told you, we weren’t seriously involved, so there was no reason to be jealous, even if I’d known.”

  “I find it hard to believe. I’ve never known a woman who wasn’t a small bit jealous of previous girlfriends.” He sighed.

  This was interesting. A personal tidbit? She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. She did not like where this was going. “Like I said, I wasn’t jealous. You don’t suspect me of murdering her, do you?”

  He stared at her a few moments before answering, just long enough for her to start squirming. “Let’s just say you’re not off the list.”

  “But that’s, that’s …” she sputtered.

  “How it is. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone on the list.” He allowed a small smile.

  She perked up. “Can you share some names?”

  He shook his head. “Although I would be concerned with us not being able to locate Connor Mac, if I were him. Are you sure you don’t know where he is?”

  “No, I don’t know, but I am sure that he’s unavailable because he’s upset, not because he’s a murderer in hiding.” She bit her tongue. She shouldn’t even mention those words together. Who knew how Hastings was connecting the dots? She tried for some composure. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No. That takes care of it for today. Just don’t go into hiding.” Now he did smile. He stood and exited so quickly she didn’t have a chance to think of a smart retort. Not that she should make one, she realized.

  What a mess. Connor would, of course, be a prime suspect, and it appeared, so was she. How did these things happen? That’s two murders to her tally as a suspect. Me. I don’t get it.

  She had just logged into her computer again when the office door opened. Now what? Only it wasn’t Detective Hastings. Ty Devine stood with the door open, looking at her.

  She cleared her throat. �
��And it continues. Please, come in.”

  “What continues?”

  “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” Not likely, since she’d turned him down for dinner a couple of months ago, and he’d never tried again. Not even called.

  He closed the door and sat where Hastings had been. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “Is it about the murder? Does Detective Hastings know you’re doing this?”

  Devine grinned. “So, he’s grilled you, has he?”

  “He just left.”

  “Did you tell him where Connor Mac is hiding?”

  She was sure he could tell how affronted she felt. “I don’t know where he is. What business is it of yours anyway? Why are you here?”

  “I’ve been working for the television station, and now they want to make certain Miranda Myers’s death isn’t part of a plot against them.”

  “Conspiracy theory? Really? What makes them leap to that conclusion?”

  “The fact that another of their employees was almost run down by a vehicle a few nights ago, some attempts at vandalism, and the station has been receiving harassing telephone calls.”

  “Aren’t those calls something that media get on occasion? Like, when they report something wrong. Oops, that never happens.”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say they like to cover all their bases. Now, do you know where Mac is?”

  “No. I really don’t. As I keep telling everyone, we’re good friends, nothing more. We do go out together once in a while but as good friends. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” His face looked somber but his eyes sparkled.

  She sighed. “I’m really getting tired of this. Okay, new topic. Who was your date at the casino night?”

  She could have given herself a head slap. The last thing she wanted to be asking him was that. He just sat there grinning.

  “Jealous?”

  “I am definitely not. It’s just that I think you should be sharing if I’m forced to explain my personal life.”

  “Nobody is forcing you, but in the interests of fairness, the lady is Candice Edmonds, widow of the late Hunter Edmonds, heir to the Edmonds resorts empire. I did some work for her a while ago and she needed a date for the event. She asked, I said yes. Okay?”