by Holly Plum
Ten minutes later, Mari and Tabasco pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. A gently beaming woman in the front lobby directed her to the room where June had been taken.
“Hi,” June said, rising slightly in her bed. “I remember you from my brother's office. I was shocked when my nurse told me I had a visitor." She eyed the flowers. "Oh, you are very kind."
“Honestly, it's not much, but I hope they brighten your evening,” said Mari said, setting the bouquet down on the table. “I drove by right after the accident. Do you know what happened?”
June cupped the side of her head as Tabasco let out a soft bark.
“Sorry if I seem a little out of it,” June said. “Apparently I hit my head really hard. I stopped at a red light, and a car pulled up behind me with its lights off which I thought was weird. The car honked at me, but I waited for the light to turn green."
Mari nodded. "And the car hit you?"
“I came out of nowhere," June explained. "The car rammed me over and over again and then just sped off. I was too out of it to get a good look at it."
Mari listened thoughtfully, her head filled with questions. Had June been in the killer’s crosshairs because of her connection to the victim? Or had she been just the accidental victim of road rage?
“I need you to answer a question for me,” Mari said, deciding to employ the same frank and direct tone that Jemina used when she spoke with Mr. Chun. “I need you to be completely honest with me. Where were you headed when the car hit you?”
June frowned as if looking for a way out of the question. “I’m not supposed to be talking about it—”
“Please. It’s really important that you tell me.”
“I was on my way to a meeting with Dale’s attorney," June admitted. "We were going to discuss possibly selling some of his businesses and properties.”
“Of course you were,” Mari muttered. “Did anyone else know about this meeting?”
“Not that I know of,” June replied. She paused and spoke again. “Wait. There was one other person."
"Who?" Mari eagerly asked.
"I told Yvette Johnson.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As she was pulling out of the hospital parking lot, Mari called Jemina.
“Mari?” Jemina asked, struggling to stifle a large yawn.
“I'm glad you're still awake,” Mari said. “I think we may have found our killer.” As she drove toward Woofles Snack Company, Mari told the story of how June had nearly been killed. “Yvette was the only person who knew about June's meeting with the lawyer. She also knew where Dale kept his epi-pen so she could have hidden it. She was also around the time my chimichangas were laced with peanut powder, and she could have easily placed the epi-pen on your desk while Andre was yelling at you that day.”
“What are we going to do?” Jemina asked, sounding drowsy. “What if she kills one of us first?”
“She won’t,” Mari said. “Not if I have anything to say about it. I know you're tired but meet me at Woofles as soon as you can.”
Jemina scoffed incredulously. “But I’m not even dressed.”
“See you there.” Mari threw down the phone, pressed her foot down on the accelerator, and sped off into the night.
When she pulled into the parking lot of Woofles Snack Company a few minutes later, Jemina was already standing at the door wearing flannel pajama pants. She looked unbearably annoyed as she stumbled over to the front door, disarmed the security system, and unlocked it.
Mari reached into her glove compartment and pulled out a pair of flashlights. It would have been senseless to risk drawing attention to themselves by turning on the lights. There was something majestically eerie about the hallways seen this late at night. Mari held her breath as if fearing that the slightest whisper might alert the authorities to their presence.
After what felt like an eternity of creeping, they reached the door of Dale’s former office. While Jemina fumbled with the keys, Mari knelt down in front of Tabasco.
“I need you to keep an eye out,” she told him. “You let me know the moment you hear anything suspicious.”
Tabasco growled low in agreement.
“So what are we looking for, exactly?” Jemina asked as they dug through the contents of Dale’s desk in the dim light.
“We are looking for anything suggesting that Yvette might have been involved in his murder,” Mari said, who for once sounded more enthusiastic than Jemina. “Anything that would indicate she had a reason to kill him.”
But although they sifted thoroughly through his desk drawers, they found only the same assortment of papers as before. Mari wasn’t too surprised. If there had been anything incriminating on the desk, the police almost certainly would have found it.
“Have you ever thought about doing this full-time?” Jemina asked as she shuffled through the filing cabinets.
“You mean become a detective?" Mari replied. "No way."
“Right, because you kind of already are,” Jemina said. “But having watched you in action for the last week, I can totally see you making a career out of it. You ought to at least be compensated for your contributions to the safety and protection of this city.”
Although it was chilly in the office, Mari felt strangely warmed by Jemina’s words. She had been sleuthing part-time for about a year, but not on purpose. No one had ever suggested that maybe she could do this for a living.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” Mari commented. “The restaurant needs me, though. I can't give up working there.”
“You should talk you dad into starting a little P.I. firm,” Jemina said. “He's always complaining about money. He could partner with you. Wouldn't that be comical?"
Mari snorted. She couldn’t imagine her dad ever agreeing to be the second half of a private detective business. “That sounds more like a television show than real life.”
“Ture,” Jemina said, shuffling a set of loose papers and holding them up to the light. “Here’s something you might want to look at.”
“What is it?” Mari asked, stepping over the drawers and striding over to the filing cabinet.
“It’s a form for an active lawsuit,” Jemina responded. “Looks like our friend Yvette was in the process of suing Dale for sexual harassment.”
“I’m amazed she is still working here,” Mari said. “How much was she suing him for?”
“Not an earth-shattering amount, but enough."
“Huh.” Mari stroked the side of her face with the cold edge of the flashlight. “I guess she must have seen an opportunity and took it.”
“This would have been very bad for Dale, of course,” Jemina continued. “Yvette wasn’t the only woman in the office who thought Dale was a pig. This lawsuit could have been the start of many if Yvette had won."
“But if Yvette stood to win a small fortune from suing him,” Mari added, “then why would she go through the trouble of killing him?”
“Exactly.” Jemina agreed. “Who kills the goose that lays the golden egg?”
“If she didn't do it then we are back to square one again.”
Jemina shook her head. “Darn. You were really starting to sound brilliant just then.”
There was a brief silence during which Mari heard the distinct rumble of Tabasco’s growling. They both turned to the door.
“Do you hear that?” Jemina asked, and Mari nodded, the hairs on the back of her arm rising. Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside as Tabasco trotted to join them.
“Whoever it is,” Mari whispered, “they’re probably headed straight for this room.”
“We don’t have time to leave. What are we going to do?”
Mari grabbed Jemina’s arm and pulled her underneath the desk. Tabasco joined them looking less alarmed. He wagged his tail as if Mari had been playing a game.
“Don’t breathe too loud,” Jemina whispered. "And cover Tabasco's mouth."
A second later the door to Dale's office creaked open, and footsteps ente
red the room.
There was just enough light spilling in from the hallway for Mari to see the slender silhouette of a man framed in the doorway. It was unmistakably the outline of Andre - his hair, his arms, and his shoulders. Mari hoped that the three of them would go unnoticed, but that depended on what Andre planned on doing.
Any second now, she thought, he’s going to come around this desk and find us.
Mari held onto Tabasco and waited.
Just as they had done, Andre spent a few minutes shuffling through the contents of Dale’s desk. But then, apparently not finding what he was looking for, he turned around and walked out the door.
The moment he was gone, Jemina exhaled loudly. She grabbed a file of papers from Dale's desk and tucked them in her purse.
“He was the person I suspected least,” Mari said as they left the room together a few minutes later. “Besides you, of course. I wouldn’t have figured him to come snooping in here late at night.”
“Neither would I.” Jemina pushed open the front door and a cold blast of night air hit Mari in the face.
“Either he’s taken up sleuthing too, or he’s hiding something,” Mari commented.
“Well,” Jemina responded, coming to a halt, “I guess we can ask him ourselves.”
She pointed to Mari’s car.
There, leaning against the hood with his arms folded, stood Andre.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mari froze, her eyes darting back and forth from Jemina to Andre. She felt her tongue sticking in her mouth. It seemed clear that he had known they were hiding in Dale's office all along and had been waiting for them to leave.
“Are either one of you going to offer me an explanation?” Andre asked.
“Let’s go somewhere where it’s warmer,” Jemina said, who was shivering in her thin t-shirt. “Please? I can’t think when it’s this cold.”
“Can we not?” Andre responded in a sharp voice. His temper appeared to be rising with every word he spoke. “Let’s have this out here and now. I have no way of knowing you won’t just drive off.”
The two parties seemed to be holding each other under mutual suspicion. Andre could have killed his boss, and the threatening way in which he was looking at Mari didn’t sit well. She reached into her purse to pull out her phone. She wanted to text her parents and let them know where she was, but her fingers were stiff, and she fumbled over the buttons.
“Put it down,” Andre stated.
“But—”
“Drop it!” he yelled.
Mari glared at him, but she dropped the phone back in her purse.
“Are we actually going to talk or are you just going to stand there?" Jemina asked boldly. She didn't seem as threatened by Andre's behavior.
“Sure, let’s talk,” Andre answered. In the light from a flickering street lamp, Mari saw the frustration in Andre's eyes. “Let’s talk about how the two of you murdered Dale Roberts.”
“What?” Jemina said.
“What?” Mari agreed.
“Andre, you’ve got this all wrong.” Jemina waved her hands around. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Andre stamped his foot impatiently against the cold asphalt. “Then tell me what you were both doing up there.”
With a mixture of amusement and frustration, Mari and Jemina shouted over each other trying to explain how they had snuck into the office hoping to find out who had really killed Andre.
“We didn’t kill him,” Mari insisted. “You did.”
Andre’s face went pale. “Me? Murder Dale? Why?”
“We were hoping you would tell us,” Jemina commented. “What were you doing snooping around in his office?”
“Is that a crime now?” Andre shot back. “Because if it is, both of you are going to have some explaining to do.”
Mari saw that this double-sided interrogation wasn’t getting them anywhere. Looking across the street, she saw a diner that was still open. A single customer sat in a worn yellow booth, watching the altercation through a foggy window. Mari wondered if he was going to call the police. She envied him for being able to sit there enjoying a cup of coffee.
“So,” Jemina said, pulling Mari from her thoughts, “are you going to tell us why you were in there, or not?”
“If you must know,” Andre finally said, fixing them both with an unblinking stare, “I was trying to find the killer.”
“Oh, whatever, Andre” Jemina shouted. “You are full of it. Why don't you tell the truth for once in your life.”
“I find it awfully hard to believe that the three of us all went to Dale’s office at the same time, in the middle of the night, with the same purpose,” Mari commented. “Do you want to know what I really think? I think you’re lying.”
“Prove it then,” Andre blurted out.
“If you insist,” Mari replied. “Your hands are shaking. Your eyes have been shifty this whole time, and Tabasco doesn't like you." Mari looked down at her dog. Tabasco had been giving Andre the stare down for the past five minutes.
“Well …” Andre said weakly. “I …”
“Nice on, Mari," Jemina said. She gave her a high-five.
“So let’s hear it,” Mari insisted, still glowing from Jemina’s praise. “And remember that if you lie to me, I’ll know. Immediately. Don’t even try.”
“She can read minds,” Jemina added.
“Fine.” Andre put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. I wasn’t trying to find the killer. I thought if I praised Dale enough, the police would never suspect me. Instead, Detective Price saw right through it. I’ve become his number-one suspect.”
“So you thought you would try and frame someone else for murder?" Mari guessed.
"That's low even for you," Jemina added.
“I’m not talking about the murder,” Andre said, fumbling nervously with his hands. “I'm talking about something else I don't want that detective to know.”
“What is it, Andre?” asked Mari. “What is so important that you've been acting like a maniac to try and hide?"
“Dale knew but no one else did,” Andre replied. “I’m a spy for a rival company.”
"You're joking." Mari couldn't help but wonder if Andre, like Jemina, had had one too many drinks that evening.
“Excuse me?” Jemina said.
“It's true,” Andre continued, breathing heavily. “I can’t disclose the name of the company I work for. Even though Dale is dead, I’m still sworn to secrecy. I had nothing to do with his murder, believe me. That wasn’t the plan at all.”
“A rival company?” Jemina repeated, still struggling to get her head around it. “You mean, like, another company that sells dog treats?”
“It’s hard to believe, I know. They sent me to work here and figure out why Woofles has skyrocketed recently. I went in there tonight hoping I might find the formula for the maple bacon treats. I can't go back empty-handed.” Andre shrugged.
Mari could hardly believe what she was hearing. If this was true, then it explained all of Andre’s strange behavior like his theatrical displays of grief. He might not have been the killer at all but just a corporate spy.
“Okay, so let me ask you this,” Mari said. “Who do you think killed Dale Roberts and why?”
“There’s no question in my mind who killed him,” Andre replied. “It was Yvette. She was the only person, other than Jemina, who even knew where he kept his epi-pen.”
"Hold this." Jemina handed Mari her purse containing the files from Dale's office. "Your eyes are better than mine at the moment."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning Mari woke up in a world of slush. She could hardly believe what she was seeing as she crawled out of bed and opened her curtains. From one end of the parking lot to the other was covered in wet sleet. This hardly ever happened but it had been cold enough lately.
Local drivers didn’t seem to know what to do, and even from her bedroom, she saw cars stranded in ditches along the roadside. But the childr
en, freed from the burden of school for a day, loved the weather. The cold didn’t stop them from playing in it, throwing it, and pouring it down each other’s jackets. Tabasco climbed onto the windowsill and barked at the happy sight.
Instead of getting dressed, Mari called her dad’s cell phone to confirm that the restaurant would still be open. Mari's dad hadn't taken a day off in years, and Mari doubted that he would start now.
"We may not get any customers, but I still want you to come in today," Mari's dad requested.
“Why me?” Mari asked, her dream of lying in bed all day drinking hot cocoa and reading slowly deflating like a withering balloon. “Why do I have to be the one who comes into work on a snow day?”
“It's not a snow day,” Mr. Ramirez said, holding the phone too close to his mouth so that it sounded like he was yelling. “I don't care if it got below freezing last night, I can still pull out of my driveway. I'm calling an emergency staff meeting.”
There were few phrases in English that provoked more dread in Mari’s heart than the words emergency staff meeting.
“What’s going on?” she asked with a knot in her stomach.
“You’ll find out when you get here,” her father replied. “And do it quickly.”
"Why do I get the feeling you are about to do something rash?"
“I'm doing something I should have done a long time ago.” He hung up the phone.
Mari scraped the frost from her windshield and began her journey to Lito Bueno’s Mexican Restaurant with Tabasco in the front seat. The whole way there she was filled with a sense of dread. She felt sure she knew what was going to happen. Her father was going to make some crazy claim and send the staff into chaos.
“What are we going to do?” she asked Tabasco, who was standing up on his hind legs with his pug nose pressed against the window. “I feel like the whole town is counting on us fix things. Okay, maybe just the restaurant.”
Tabasco barked, although not at her. A brave jogger passed by with a yellow lab. Mari let out a sigh and focused back on the road.