by J. R. Ripley
‘And I brought you an old copy of the paper with my story on Herman in it. I thought you might like to read it.’ He waved the folded paper in the air.
‘Thanks. I’ll read it later. Highsmith told me something interesting,’ I said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Nancy’s laptop has been wiped clean.’
Brad whistled. ‘That is interesting. That makes finding the flash drive all the more important.’
‘Assuming the killer hasn’t destroyed it already.’ I knew that anything I told the police was on that flash drive would only be considered hearsay and inadmissible as evidence. Finding the flash drive, if it still existed, could prove crucial.
‘Yeah. Where is the note?’ Brad tossed his newspaper on the kitchen table.
‘Right there on the sofa.’
I returned to the living room as Brad picked up the envelope and thrust his hand inside. ‘Interesting,’ he said after giving Nancy’s note a read. ‘And cryptic.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I had brought us each a margarita.
Brad set the envelope on the table beside the couch and took a glass from my outstretched hand. He sat on the arm of the couch. ‘I sure wish I knew what it all meant. The flash drive, the note to you …’
‘I don’t know. But it must be related to her murder.’ I ran my tongue along the edge of my glass before taking a sip. I had coated the rim with sugar. ‘Have you managed to find Veronica Vargas yet?’
‘No. As a matter of fact, I went by her condo right before stopping here. There was no answer.’ He sighed and took a gulp. ‘I’ve left several telephone messages for her through her office, too.’
‘Sounds like she doesn’t want to talk to you.’ I knew VV lived in a fancy co-op downtown. She occupied one of the two penthouse units. It was a security building with an electronic lock at the entrance.
‘One way or another,’ he said firmly, ‘she’s going to talk.’
Brad was right. But I knew where to find her and it was me she would be talking to.
‘I did learn that Nancy Alverson had a boyfriend,’ Brad continued. ‘I managed to track him down.’
‘Jakob?’
‘Yeah. Jakob Waltz. Do you know him?’
‘Sort of.’ I explained how he had done some art-related work for me at the café. ‘In exchange, I let him hang his paintings in the café.’
Brad was nodding. ‘I’ve seen them. He’s pretty good. Not that I’m an art expert or anything.’
‘Me neither, but I agree with you. He comes in the café now and again.’ I hoisted my near-empty glass. ‘Can I get you a refill?’
‘Sure. Thanks.’ Brad followed me to the galley kitchen where I put together two more drinks. I handed his glass back to him and we sat down at the kitchen table.
‘As a matter of fact, Jakob came into the café the night of the murder.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘He was looking for Nancy.’
‘Interesting. Did he say why? Did he and Nancy have a date?’
‘No, he told me he wanted to surprise her.’
‘Maybe surprise her is exactly what he did,’ suggested Brad.
My hand went involuntarily to my neck.
Brad stirred the margarita with his finger. ‘Jakob told me he last saw Nancy a couple of days ago. According to him, they had lunch. He didn’t mention anything about the day of the murder.
‘Jakob said he was home working. He even showed me the painting he said he’d been finishing.’ Brad frowned. ‘Why would he lie?’
‘Not everybody likes talking to reporters,’ I chided. Carole Two mrowled. She had made herself at home atop one of the empty kitchen chairs.
‘According to Detective Highsmith, Jakob had plenty of reasons to reveal as little as possible,’ I said.
‘Care to elaborate?’
‘I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later. The detective said that Jakob has a criminal record.’
‘Murder?’
‘No, nothing like that. He and some friends stole a car when they were kids. Plus, he was apparently, at one time, a marijuana dealer.’
Brad whistled brightly. ‘Very interesting. I’ll look into that. Thanks, Maggie. Jakob certainly wouldn’t want the newspaper to print anything about his troubled past.’
Brad went into reporter mode, pulling a pen and pad from the inside pocket of his jacket.
I laid my hand over his, stopping his pen. ‘You aren’t going to put that in the paper, are you?’
‘No. It’s history but it isn’t news. I won’t print it unless he turns out to be Nancy’s killer.’
‘Good.’ If he had murdered Nancy, his criminal past would be the least of his worries. If he hadn’t murdered her, there was no sense drudging up his less-than-stellar past.
‘What time was it when Jakob went by your café that night, Maggie?’
‘A little before closing. And Jakob stopped by here at the apartment last night.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. He dropped off that painting for the café.’ I pointed to the brown paper-wrapped canvas on the floor near the front door.
‘While he was here, I asked him if he had found Nancy that night. He said he hadn’t. He seemed upset. He said that maybe if he had found her, she might still be alive.’
‘Or,’ Brad said, raising his brow meaningfully, ‘he did find her, and that’s why she’s dead.’
‘You really think he did it?’ It was a chilling thought, especially since I had been alone with Jakob in my apartment. I thought of what Detective Highsmith had told me about the young artist.
Brad slapped his notebook down on the table. ‘He’s a strong suspect. Do you have a better one?’
‘No. But I must say, I didn’t like the high priest and priestess very much. I didn’t like the way that van followed us.’
‘It might have been a coincidence – the van, that is. That was the only road heading into Table Rock from that direction.’
‘I suppose. I can’t picture either of them with their wild hair, dressed in their outlandish purple and green robes and cloaks, sneaking in and out of Nancy’s apartment to murder her.’
‘Are you forgetting?’ Brad smiled. ‘It was Halloween. Those two would have fitted right in.’
‘You’re right.’
‘Then there are those other people I told you about. The same ones we saw entering the high priest’s HQ at the Sacred Church of Witchkraft.’
‘The two guys and the lady?’
‘Like I said, they were in the café the day Nancy was killed and she didn’t seem happy about it.’
‘I wish I knew who they were,’ Brad said, thoughtfully. ‘Had you ever seen them before?’
‘Not that I can remember. They may not be local.’ I realized I hadn’t mentioned them to Detective Highsmith. I wondered if he was aware of them.
‘You know, no offense,’ Brad began while tapping out a beat with his pen against his pad, ‘I had been wondering why Nancy chose to send that flash drive to you instead of Jakob. He was her boyfriend, after all.’
‘She certainly knew Jakob better than she knew me.’
‘That’s my point. Maybe she knew him too well.’
Then it dawned on me. ‘You mean she might have known about his criminal past?’
Brad nodded.
There was a loud knock on the door, followed by another. Carole Two shot off for the bedroom.
For a moment, I wondered if it could be Jakob Waltz returning. Then I remembered that Mark Highsmith had said he would be stopping by. I pushed back my chair and rose. ‘That will be Detective Highsmith.’ The pounding started up again. ‘I had better let him in.’
Brad wrapped his hand around my wrist. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘He’s come to get that.’ I pointed to the envelope on the table beside my couch. The note Nancy had scrawled stuck to the outside. ‘He said it could be evidence. He’s got my laptop, too. He said they want to check it for fingerprints.
’
‘Ms Miller! Are you in there?’ Highsmith hollered through the door.
‘Coming!’ I scurried to the door, fluffing my hair as I went. I yanked the door open. ‘Hello, Detective Highsmith. You came.’ I glanced back inside. Brad was moving around.
‘Yeah. Where are the envelope and note? I’m sort of in a hurry.’
I stepped aside. ‘Come on in, I’ll get them for you.’
Highsmith preceded me.
I spotted Carole Two peeking from behind the bedroom door. ‘You two—’
I was about to say ‘know each other’ but the kitchen table was empty. Brad’s chair was vacant. Only the newspaper remained. ‘Hello?’ I called.
‘Who are you talking to?’ Detective Highsmith was looking at me funny.
I chewed my lip. Where the devil had Brad gone? Bathroom? No, the door was ajar … unless he was hiding behind the door or in the shower. But why would he do that?
‘Nobody,’ I answered. ‘I mean, the cat.’ I wiggled my fingers at C2. ‘You remember Carole Two, don’t you, Detective?’
Detective Highsmith’s funny look got even funnier and his brow furrowed deep enough to plant corn. His eyes took in the room. ‘Ah. Is that it there?’
Even as he pointed, he crossed the short distance to the end table. He picked up the envelope. His lips moved as he read Nancy’s note. Next, he pushed open the envelope and took a look inside. He slid the note back into the envelope and stared at the address and postmark on the outside. ‘Anything else?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, is this it?’ He waved the envelope. ‘Nancy didn’t leave you anything else, did she?’
‘No, that’s it.’
Detective Highsmith moved to the kitchen table. He looked at the two margarita glasses. ‘Am I interrupting something?’ He did a turn around the room. ‘Have you got company?’
The truth was I didn’t know if I had company or not.
I walked to the front door without addressing his comment. ‘Thanks for stopping by, Detective. If you learn anything, I hope you’ll let me know.’
Detective Highsmith didn’t respond.
I opened the door. ‘Will I be getting my laptop back soon?’
‘A day or two at most.’ Highsmith’s eyes were still moving around the apartment as if looking for hidden menaces. Finally, he opened the door and stopped, one foot in, one foot out. ‘I mentioned to VV that you would be dropping by tomorrow afternoon. Does that work for you?’
I muffled a sigh. Despite my misgivings, I was determined to go through with it. ‘Her office or the penthouse?’
‘Neither.’
‘I heard your girlfriend has been hard to find lately. Where is she hiding?’
Highsmith bristled. ‘Who told you she was hiding?’
‘Brad Smith.’
‘He’s wrong.’ Highsmith was quick to reply. ‘VV hasn’t been in the mood to talk to reporters. She’s been laying low at Casa Mirasol.’
‘Her father’s house?’
‘Yeah. I’ll get you the address.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Practically everybody in Table Rock knew where Casa Mirasol was.
We agreed a time for me to go pay a social call on VV, then the detective drove off.
When I got back inside my apartment, I searched the bathroom and the bedroom. Brad was gone. I went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. That was when I noticed the sliding glass door to the patio was ajar.
That explained how Brad had disappeared, but not why.
FIFTEEN
Kelly called in sick and mom was teaching a morning yoga class at Sol Serena, so it was only me and Aubrey running things at the café in the morning.
Fortunately for us, if not my bank balance, business was slow.
With only two hours left before closing, I was filling a large cola order when the soda dispenser started making a strange whirring sound. Cola sputtered from the spout then stopped, the cup less than half full. I pulled the cup back from the valve lever then pressed it against the machine again. The machine sputtered and whirred some more. Another ounce or two of caramel-colored liquid spat out – mostly onto my arm.
Then the soda machine stopped completely.
I peered into the cup. A little more foam but still hardly more than half a cup of soda. I turned to my customer at the counter. ‘Sorry, ma’am. The machine seems to be on the fritz.’ I snapped a lid over the drink. ‘My treat.’
She nodded a thanks, took the cola and went out the door. Straight across the street to Karma Koffee.
I banged my fist against the soda dispenser. ‘On the fritz, again. That’s the second time in as many months.’
‘I’ll call Mr Hooper.’
‘Good idea.’ Mr Hooper ran Hooper Commercial Equipment Repair. ‘His card is in back.’
‘I know.’ Aubrey sighed.
She should. His magnetic card was affixed to the refrigerator in back and we had had too many occasions to call him.
‘Uh, Maggie?’
I turned to see Aubrey looking at me. ‘Something more on your mind? Spit it out.’
‘It’s about this.’ She rubbed her hand against the metallic water reservoir of the espresso maker.
‘What about it?’ The machine now sat on the counter beside the soda dispenser. We had completed its once-over. It looked beautiful sitting there, taking on a golden hue as the rays of sun bounced off its shiny surface. Kelly had been right when she’d claimed it looked something like a steampunk spaceship. I could imagine it blasting off into the big blue Arizona sky.
As good as it looked, the espresso maker would look even better once our coffee cup shipment got delivered and I could start seeing a return on my investment.
‘I truly, truly wish you’d get rid of it.’
‘Get rid of it? Let’s not start this again, Aubrey.’ I tucked my hands under my armpits. ‘You don’t really believe that thing is cursed?’
She lowered her eyes.
‘Do you?’
‘Well …’ She set her hand atop the malfunctioning soda dispenser. ‘How do you explain this?’
‘You think the espresso machine is responsible?’
Aubrey blushed but didn’t deny it.
I walked over with a smile on my face. ‘It’s just a coffee maker. A fancy one, I grant you. But that’s all.’ I tapped it. ‘Nothing magical or malevolent or cursed about it.’
Aubrey pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure …’
‘Fine.’ I could see the poor girl wasn’t going to let go of whatever was gnawing at her. ‘Tell me, why do you think it’s cursed?’
She shrugged with an accompanying blush. ‘It just is, that’s all. Ask Lee. Ask Terry and Chris. Ask Mr and Mrs Gregory.’
I pulled my brows together. Those were all names of Karma Koffee employees, plus the owners.
Aubrey continued speaking. ‘Ask practically anybody at Karma Koffee, for that matter.’
‘What do you mean? What does Karma Koffee have to do with my espresso machine?’
Aubrey’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Because your espresso machine used to be Karma Koffee’s espresso machine,’ she explained. ‘Didn’t you know? I thought you knew?’
I shook my head side to side. A coldness grew in the pit of my stomach.
‘They only got rid of it because of the curse.’
I looked at the floor, waiting for a gaping black hole to open up and swallow me. Maybe one of those vortexes the New Agers were always talking about.
Nothing happened.
I was stuck right where I was.
‘Are you trying to tell me I bought Rob and Trish Gregory’s old espresso machine?’
Aubrey nodded.
‘Rob and Trish’s cursed espresso machine?’
She nodded once more, looking uncomfortable. ‘I thought you knew,’ she repeated at a whisper.
‘Are you serious?’ I slapped my face with my icy fingers. ‘I had no idea! I would never—’
Aubrey and I spun around together.
I tried to contain my surprise. It was the woman and the two men, one of whom had been seen arguing with Nancy and all of whom Brad and I had seen at the Sacred Church of Witchkraft.
I smiled. ‘Good afternoon, folks. I’m sorry, but the espresso machine is not quite ready yet. Rather, it is, but we’re waiting on our shipment of glassware.’
I grabbed the ordering pad, ignoring Aubrey’s snort of derision – or was it fear? ‘We should be getting them in anytime now.’ I tapped my pencil against the counter. ‘What can I get you?’
The three of them conferred, settling on three orders of pumpkin spice beignets, two coffees and a soda. ‘I’m sorry,’ I explained, ‘the soda machine is temporarily on the fritz. How about some tea or lemonade, ma’am?’
‘Do you have green tea?’ she asked sternly. Dyed brown hair draped around her heart-shaped face. Her lipgloss was pale pink. Her eyes were blue and a couple of shades lighter than her fancy wool business dress. The men wore dark suits and sunglasses.
‘As a matter of fact, we do.’ My sister had insisted on it. We got more requests for it than I would have imagined.
The taller man pulled out his wallet to pay for all of them. Clearly, he was the man in charge. I took his twenty and handed him some change. I’d been hoping he’d pay with a credit card so I could learn his name.
Desperate to know who they were, I tried striking up some conversation as I fried up their order. ‘Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?’ I called. ‘I suppose this is normal for this time of year.’
I looked at them expectantly.
‘I suppose,’ the tall, older man answered.
‘I’ll get a table, Alan,’ the woman said. Taking her tea from Aubrey, she moved to the table in the corner at the window where Nancy had been sitting the day she was murdered.
The shorter of the two men, narrow-shouldered, with curly, black, longish sideburns that came to a point near his jawbone, glanced at me then went with her, carrying two coffees.
I tried again. ‘I haven’t been here that long. I’m still getting used to what the seasons are like.’ When no response was forthcoming, I took a more direct aim. ‘Are you folks from around here?’