by Holly Plum
"Thank you." June nodded and entered the room while Andre retreated toward the break room. Tabasco sniffed the air and spotted a counter of product samples. Andre sped back to his desk before Jemina could comment on his behavior.
“Flirting with the boss's sister," Jemina muttered. "He has a serious problem."
"What's with the papers all over the floor?" June asked.
"Oh." Jemina eyed the mess in Dale's office. "Well, we haven't touched anything since the incident. Police orders. But I guess we could have cleaned up a little after they finished their search. Sorry about that."
"I was looking for an epi-pen," Mari added, hoping that it would help June understand why her brother's belongings were strewn across the floor.
"I see," June replied. She picked a few things up.
"If you don't mind me saying," Mari continued. "You seem too upset by everything."
“That's life,” June said with a tranquil voice. “My brother was a huge risk-taker, and he had made some enemies. I warned him not to make that big announcement.”
“You mean the announcement about Andre's promotion?” Mari asked.
"Promotion?" June replied, looking slightly confused. “No. Dale was about to sell Woofles Snacks to an anxious buyer in California.” She studied the shocked looks on both Jemina and Mari's faces. “Wait, did none of you know this? Everyone here would have been in danger of losing their job.”
“Did anyone else know about this?” Jemina asked.
“At least one person,” June answered. “Andre knew. I know my brother told him.”
"Excuse me for a minute," Jemina said with a hint of fire in her eyes. She turned toward Andre's desk.
Ignoring Mari’s attempts to calm her down, Jemina marched straight for Andre, catching the attention of the rest of the office in the process. She slammed her fist on his desk to get his attention.
It worked.
“You knew,” Jemina said with disdain. “You knew Dale was about to sell and you didn't say a word. What is wrong with you, Andre?"
“What’s going on?” Yvette chimed in as the room erupted into whispers. “What are you talking about? Dale was going to sell us out?”
“I’m sorry,” Andre responded. He rapidly recovered his composure. “Dale asked me to keep it a secret. I lied, yes, but I didn’t hurt anybody.”
Jemina threw up her hands in the air. It looked like she wanted to punch Andre and was having trouble thinking of a reason not to.
“If it helps,” June interrupted, emerging from the doorway and stepping into the center of the room, “Dale’s announcement was that he was thinking about selling the company. Before his death, it seemed likely that Woofles was going to move to California, but now that deal is up in the air. I have no idea what’s going to happen to the company, but you won’t necessarily lose your jobs.”
“So we might lose our jobs,” Jemina replied. “Terrific. So, who do we have to suck up to now if we want to stay put here in Texas?"
"Me," June answered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“And that wasn’t even the strangest thing that has happened today,” Mari said as she stood in the back office of Lito Bueno’s Mexican Restaurant a few hours later sipping coffee with David and Alex. “Did you know Abuela has been lying about that sewing group she attends on Thursday nights?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” David said with a laugh.
“What else could she be doing?” Alex asked. “Something wild like quilting without a pattern?”
“I wish that were all,” Mari said, stirring creamer into her coffee.
She told her brothers about how she had returned to the restaurant after leaving Woofles Snack Company that afternoon. On her way to the door she had run into her grandmother who said she was on her way to the sewing group. Mari could tell by Abuela's shifty eyes that she'd been lying, so she and Tabasco had followed her in secret to the senior center.
“I tailed her into the building,” Mari said, continuing her story. “Let me tells you, boys. Abuela and her friends were not sewing.”
“The suspense is killing me, Mari,” Alex said mocking her.
“What were they doing?” David asked.
“They were playing poker,” Mari stated.
She looked at her brothers expecting them to erupt with laughter. Instead, David shrugged, and Alex struggled to stifle a loud yawn.
“I hope you didn’t confront her in front of everybody,” Alex said.
“Of course I didn’t.” Mari was outraged at the suggestion. “Come on, guys. She was gambling. Remember all of the lectures she used to give us about gambling and what a sinful habit it is?" The boys exchanged blank expressions. “Really?”
“Why are we mad about this, again?” Alex asked.
“Because Abuela is lying," Mari said. “She’s in a secret poker club or something. I’m just trying to figure out why she’s been hiding it.”
“Who knows, really?” Alex responded. “I’ve never understood what old people get up to.”
“Me, either,” David commented. “Maybe she’s just looking for some excitement. Maybe lying to people makes her feel like a spy.”
This seemed as likely an explanation as any, though it was decidedly more mundane than the reasons Mari had envisioned. But before she could continue, the door to the office opened, and Chrissy came in.
“Mari,” she said with an earnest look, “there’s someone here to see you.”
Chrissy stepped out of the way, and Detective Price entered the room, tipping his hat.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” he said, “but I need to have a look around your kitchen.”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Mari replied, who was already texting her father. “I doubt you’re going to find anything incriminating. My dad, on the other hand, might give you some grief.”
Detective Price looked visibly irritated. “And where is your father at this late hour?”
Without looking up from her phone, Mari said, “He’s just pulling up.”
Detective Price seated himself at a small table and waited. A minute later Mr. Ramirez came stamping down the hall into the office, looking out of breath.
“What’s going on?” he asked the detective. “I heard you wanted to search my kitchen.”
“Well, yes,” Detective Price said, unruffled.
“No, it’s not alright,” Mr. Ramirez argued. “You march in here in front of my customers and demand to tear apart my restaurant like it’s some common crime scene. Do you have any idea the message that sends?”
“Sir,” the detective answered with an amused smirk, “I could call my whole team over and force you to let me search the place with a warrant.”
This was indisputably true, but Mr. Ramirez didn’t like being reminded of the fact. “Fine,” he said flatly.
“Then I suppose I’ll just have to come back with a warrant,” Detective Price replied.
“If you don’t mind my saying,” Mari interrupted, setting down her coffee in a calming manner, “there are other places in town that are more worth your time like the headquarters of Woofles Snack Company, for example.”
“We’ve been over every inch of that place." The detective shook his head disappointedly. "We found nothing out of the ordinary except for some leftover catered food that appears to have been contaminated. Food that came, I might add, from your kitchen.” He shot Mr. Ramirez a narrow glance.
“It wasn’t us,” Mr. Ramirez shouted. “We are not murderers."
"Detective Price," Mari went on, trying to keep her father from saying something he might regret. "Did you know that Dale Robert was about to sell his company to some guy in California?"
"How did you find this out?"
"Rick Kinney taught me a few things about reading body language and such." Mari smiled. "Okay, and Dale's sister told me."
“Mari, take my advice,” Detective Price said with a grim shake of his h
ead, “and don’t listen to Rick. He's the worst at weeding out liars.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jemina came by the restaurant again that evening for a drink. Mari told her about her conversation with Detective Price.
“Did he visit your office again after he left here?” Mari asked.
Jemina took a sip of her margarita and shook her head. “Nope.”
“I expect he’ll be breaking down the door of the kitchen any minute now with that warrant,” Mari commented.
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Jemina said. “How much harm could he possibly cause by searching the kitchen?”
“It’s going to make my dad very unhappy, and you know how he gets when he’s cranky. It affects all of us.” Mari took a deep breath, hoping that Mr. Ramirez would be out when the detective came back with a warrant.
“I know,” Jemina responded. “That is half the fun of coming here. You never know when the police are going to show up, or when someone in the kitchen will start yelling. It's a nonstop soap opera.”
“I guess,” Mari said with a sad slump of her shoulders. “I just think the police have a much better chance of finding that missing epi-pen at your work. That will shift the blame a little, you know?”
Jemina coughed, and her cheeks went rosy. Mari looked at her curiously. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Honestly?” Jemina took another sip of her drink.
"What is it?"
Jemina quickly glanced around the room, leaned forward, and whispered. “I can't hold it in anymore. The stress is killing me. I know where the missing epi-pen is. I have it.”
For a moment, Mari’s thoughts spun out of control. She had come to trust Jemina the last few days, and she'd been glad to have an old friend living back in town. But now, she couldn't help but feel betrayed.
“I can’t believe this,” Mari said. “All this time you’ve been withholding evidence. Why?”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Jemina blurted out with a guilt-stricken look. She pushed her margarita away as if it was somehow to blame. “I should have told you. I should have told the police.”
“Why didn’t you? Unless you have something to hide?”
“I think someone is trying to frame me for the murder,” Jemina responded.
"Well they're succeeding because you look as guilty as ever right about now," Mari commented. She raised her eyebrows. “I think you’d better start at the beginning or I might be forced to call Detective Price myself.”
"Alright." Jemina nodded. “The day after Dale’s murder, I was running late to work because they messed up my order at the coffee shop. It took me about twenty minutes to get there, and when I did, Andre yelled at me, of course.”
“I guess he'd already decided that he was the boss?” Mari guessed.
“Andre doesn't normally do things like that,” Jemina replied. “It surprised me. But given the circumstances, I guess it shouldn’t have. He was on edge the entire day, and he spent much of the day locked away in the bathroom.”
“So he lectured you in front of everyone, and then what?”
“I went back to my desk," Jemina went on. "And when I sat down I noticed Dale’s epi-pen was just sitting there. I have no clue how it got on my desk. It hadn't been there earlier. I thought I was dreaming.”
“What did you do with it?” Mari asked.
Jemina’s cheeks turned scarlet as she said, “I … I kept it because I thought contacting the police would paint a target on my back.”
“Jemina,” Mari scolded her.
“I know. I wasn't thinking straight.” She turned away from Mari, unable to look her in the eyes. “I regret what I did, but it's too late for that now. What do I do?"
“What you should have done but didn't," Mari answered.
“How was I supposed to explain to Detective Price that it had just shown up on my desk? He would have never believed me.” Jemina gazed out the window. “The killer did it. I am being framed. I just know it.”
Jemina looked back at Mari with desperate, glossy eyes.
"I guess it's possible," Mari admitted. "But let's not jump to conclusions." Although, Mari knew that Jemina was in some serious trouble. But she thought it best to keep her friend as calm as she could.
“Ever since Dale's death I’ve been questioning my own motives.” Jemina looked genuinely stricken. She unhappily kneaded her hands together. “What if I was responsible for his death somehow? I mean, I ordered the food and …"
Mari reached for Jemina’s hand. It was cold, and Jemina instinctively jerked it away without thinking. She had no idea that Jemina had been living with so much guilt since Dale’s passing.
“Jemina, listen to me,” Mari said. “Stop blaming yourself, and stop making up things that aren't true. We will find out who killed Dale and who put his missing epi-pen on your desk.”
“I want to believe that,” Jemina responded. Mari couldn’t help noticing that Jemina still had trouble looking her in the eyes. “I must be going crazy. I mean, I can't even remember much about the day Dale died.”
“You were with me most of the day,” Mari reminded her. “The other part of the day you were giving a tour. A pretty darn good tour at that.”
“I feel much better telling someone," Jemina confessed. "If anyone can help me catch this guy it is you, Mari. Nothing gets past you."
"I'm going to have to disagree with that statement." Mari bit the side of her lip. She took a deep breath and tried to push aside her memories of Dale falling to the floor. One thing nagged at her brain. “You know, only one other person in the office seemed to know where Dale kept his epi-pen."
"Huh?" Jemina frowned.
"Yes." Mari replayed the moment in her head. "I went looking for the epi-pen, and someone at your office told me exactly where to look for it. Dale's desk drawer."
"Who?" Jemina asked, trying to come up with the answer herself.
She didn't have to.
At that moment the doors of the restaurant flew open, and Yvette came speeding toward them in her high heels as if she had been summoned by Mari’s almost mention of her.
Jemina opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out Yvette pointed a finger at her.
“You listen to me," Yvette shouted. "Both of you listen to me good. Stop digging around into things that don’t concern you. Quit playing Nancy Drew, and mind your own dang business.
“What—” Mari said, but Yvette turned and pointed at her too.
“I’m tired of the police poking around in my personal life,” she interrupted. “I’m tired of being interviewed and questioned. I’m tired of having my house searched. You need to drop this. I don’t care if I go to jail, you need to drop it now before someone else gets murdered.”
Whirling around on her heels, Yvette stormed back out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air while customers looked on in shock.
CHAPTER TEN
Jemina ended her evening with one too many drinks in hand. Mari ended hers by closing the restaurant, forcing Jemina to eat something, and then driving her friend home.
“I honestly don’t know what her deal is,” Jemina said. “I would never have expected an outburst like that from Yvette.”
“Yvette? Really?” Mari asked as she drove away from the restaurant. "She never struck me as the friendly type."
“What?" Jemina rubbed her forehead. "She’s always been the sweetest girl in the office. So quiet and polite. I guess Dale’s death is pushing people over the edge.”
“Are we talking about the same Yvette?” Mari responded. Her experiences with Yvette had been less than pleasant. “People aren’t always what they seem to be. Sometimes dramatic events like this show you a person's true colors.”
Jemina contemplated this in silence for a few minutes. They drove past a few street lights as the sky grew darker. Tabasco lay snoring in the back seat, and Mari was looking forward to getting home and crawling into bed with a mystery novel and a pot of hot chocol
ate.
Mari pulled into the parking lot of Jemina’s apartment building. She got out and gave her a quick hug, which she certainly needed. Jemina thanked her and stumbled quietly through the rows of cars to the steps leading up to her front door. She watched Jemina disappear inside, and she shook her head. It was a shame that she and her friend were mixed up in a tricky case like Dale's. Mari only hoped that the real killer would be caught before anything else happened.
The streets were empty as she made the short drive back to her own apartment. Mari was surprised when she saw flashing lights in the distance and heard the whir of an ambulance’s sirens. As she got closer, it became clearer that there had been an accident on the road. Two paramedics lifted a slender figure onto a white stretcher.
The victim turned toward Mari, and she brought the car to a startling halt.
It was June Roberts.
Mari parked and got out of her car. Tabasco followed behind her as she tried to reach June before she loaded into the ambulance. She didn't make it in time and bumped into a surprised paramedic instead.
“Sorry,” Mari said. “I was just wondering what happened. I know that woman on the ambulance.”
“Oh, you do?” the paramedic responded. “Apparently, some driver tried to push her off the road. We have no idea who it was. They had driven off long before we got here.”
Mari's chest pounded. A hit-and-run. It could not have been a coincidence.
“Is she conscious?” Mari asked frantically. “Can I see her?”
“I suppose so,” the paramedic replied. “We haven't been able to get ahold of any family members. But you will have to wait until after she has been evaluated at the hospital."
"She is visiting from out of town," Mari informed him. "Okay, I can wait."
Mari got back into her car with Tabasco and followed the ambulance through the winding, narrow streets of town. Tabasco was wide awake in the passenger's seat, and he stared intensely at the lights on the ambulance. Realizing that she didn't want to enter the emergency room empty-handed, Mari pulled over at the nearest grocery store and bought a bouquet of daisies. The last register was just closing by the time she reached checkout, but she managed to talk the man at the register into letting her through.