It Cannoli Be Murder (Bread and Batter Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Karoline Barrett

  Piero – killed Rachael because she turned him in to the FBI/wanted to get back at Lucas for telling his wife to turn him in?

  Robert Meara – killed Rachael because he’s a nut

  Sharon Elliott – not a suspect (either that or she’s the killer!)

  Rocco – killed Rachael for Lucas and Piero

  Charlotte McSwain – not a suspect. Maybe.

  I’d taken two bites of my salad and a gulp of milkshake when I saw Sergeant Jacoby come in. I waved.

  He waved back and strolled over to my table. “Hi, Molly. How’re you doing?”

  “Great. Well, except for the recent murders I’m sure you’ve heard about. Care to join me?” I planned to scribble some more notes on the investigation, but maybe the good Sergeant could point me in the right direction, or offer some insight.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sure. For a few minutes.” He slid into the seat opposite me.

  “Hi Sergeant,” Ava scurried over. “What can I get you? The usual??”

  He smiled at her. “Yep. Iced tea, extra lemon, no sugar. Same as always.”

  “Coming right up,” she told him.

  He turned his attention to me. “Something tells me you’re smack dab in the middle of the murder investigations.”

  “Me?” I widened my eyes and tried to look innocent. I don’t think he was buying it. “What makes you say that?”

  “Maybe your involvement in the last two murders?”

  I took a bite of my salad and swallowed.

  Ava dropped off Jacoby’s tea. He thanked her and took a sip. “In case my hunch is right, how is the investigation going? The local papers aren’t saying too much. Neither is the news.”

  “Detective Britton is working hard. I’m not exactly involved, I’m assisting.”

  Jacoby leaned back, his eyes twinkled at me. “So that’s what you’re calling your involvement now,” he teased. “Remember; murder is almost always about money, revenge, sex, greed, or jealousy.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers. “Could be one of those reasons, or all of them.”

  I thought about my list. “I think revenge could pertain to all our suspects. Except one of them who’s just plain crazy.” I twirled my index finger around my ear.

  He laughed.

  “Your iced tea’s on me. Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich or something?”

  His mouth quirked in a smile under his bushy salt and pepper mustache. He looked like a younger Sam Elliott. “Thanks, Molly. That’s very nice of you. No sandwich though,” he rubbed his flat stomach. “I’m supposed to meet my wife for lunch in a bit. She won’t like it if she’s the only one eating.”

  I smiled back. “I’m glad you came into Bubby’s today.”

  He slid out of the booth and stood. “Nice seeing you, too. Good luck with the investigation. If Alex, or you, need to run anything by me, you know where to find me.”

  I finished up my salad and milkshake, paid for everything at the register up front.

  I’d just gotten my seatbelt fastened when I got a text from Alex.

  Sean and I missed one of the staff when we interviewed everyone at Castle Shore. A Sheila Duryea. She was on the list that Ms. McNamara, the manager, gave us, but she must have left early because she wasn’t there She can’t come by until tomorrow morning. Do you want to be there? Maybe you’ll remember some detail about the woman you saw that will click with her. Just a thought.

  Oh yeah, I’ll be there.

  Ten-ish

  See ya!

  CHAPTER 23

  * * *

  Olivia didn’t look too happy when I showed up at Bread and Batter at the crack of dawn the next morning and asked her if she and Kendra could handle things while I went to talk to Alex. After I knocked out a couple of batches of cupcakes, naturally.

  “Molly, you know I support your crime solving efforts a hundred percent,” she said after I handed her a fresh tart lemonade cupcake to try, “but I feel like we’re losing you. We can’t run Bread and Batter without you. Not to mention that we miss you. It’s not the same without you here. No one can do cupcakes and bread like you do. Even our customers want to know where you are. What if, and perish the thought, Kendra moves on, what will I do then?”

  She was exaggerating. Her cupcakes are every bit as good as mine, but I couldn’t help feel guilt tingle through me at her words; like a little electrical shock. I helped her dump the warm, just made bagels into their various bins. I put a chocolate chip one aside for myself and a pumpernickel one aside for Alex, and another pumpernickel aside for Sheila Duryea. “You’re not losing me. And I miss you guys, too. I’m sorry, Liv. Please believe me, I feel horrible doing this. I promise this is the last murder I’m getting involved in. Will that help?”

  She placed a hand on her right hip. “Uh huh. I know you mean that now, but what happens when another dead body shows up?”

  “I’m hoping no dead bodies will show up, but if they do, I’ll let Sean handle it. I promise.”

  She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile attached to said eye roll, so I knew she wasn’t too upset. “Somehow I’m not taking comfort in that. It’s generally not a good idea to make promises you can’t keep. Go do what you have to do, but you know Kendra starts her summer classes soon, so her time here will be limited, and remember, I’m planning a trip to see Anthony.”

  She was letting me off easy. “I know. I can handle things when you’re both away. Don’t give me a second thought.”

  “When I’m with Anthony I won’t, so don’t worry about that. If you get overwhelmed, my sister’s home. She’ll help you.”

  “Ok. I’ll call her if I need her.” I reached out and hugged her. “You’re the best friend and partner I could ever ask for.”

  She eyed me, clearly doubtful of my intentions. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, you have a murder to help solve. Don’t forget your bagels!”

  I grabbed the bagels and threw them into a paper bag along with some cream cheese. I don’t know why she was so good to me. If it was me, I think I’d have excommunicated myself as partner after the last murder.

  I arrived at the Destiny PD a few minutes later. I handed the bag of bagels to Alex. “Hope you have coffee.”

  He peeked inside. “Ah, fresh bagels. Pumpernickel! You know me so well. I’ve got coffee, but it’s not like the designer coffee you and Olivia make.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “She should be here any minute.” He looked at his watch. “I think she’s a little nervous about coming in.” He’d just finished speaking when his phone buzzed. “Britton.” He glanced at me and nodded. “I’ll be right there.” He put the phone down. “She’s here. Be right back.”

  “Would you like a bagel, Mrs. Duryea?” I asked when Alex returned with her. I handed her the bag with the remaining bagel in it. “Cream cheese? We have coffee, too.”

  She sat, her shoulders relaxing. She gave me a tentative smile. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

  Alex handed her a cup of coffee, and I handed her a paper plate, knife, and pushed the cream cheese on Alex’s desk closer to her.

  “What do you want to ask me?”

  Alex flipped open his lap top. “How long have you worked at Castle Shore Hotel?”

  “Five years this October.”

  “Were you working on the day of the murder?”

  “For a while. I’m in housekeeping. I’d been assigned the second and third floors, but I’d left early because I didn’t feel well.”

  “Have you heard any of the other staff talking about the murder?” Alex asked.

  “My best friends work at Castle Shore, they called me right away. We’re all still talking about it! I can’t imagine how the senator’s family feels. Wasn’t that actress who was killed her twin sister? That’s awful! We’re all scared to death. What if he comes back? And I hope it won’t affect business. I need my job.”

  “I can imagine you’re all on edge,” I sympathized. “What a horrible cri
me.”

  “Did any of the staff happen to know Rachael Rydell personally?” Alex continued.

  She gave a short laugh. “I’m pretty sure none of the staff at the hotel travels in the same circle as the senator did. At least not the housekeeping staff. Do you have any idea who killed her?”

  “We’re still sifting through everything,” Alex informed her. “Can you look at some security footage from the hotel? Maybe you can identify the woman on the tape.”

  “I’d be happy to,” she replied.

  He played the tape for her while I concentrated on my bagel. She stared at the screen intently then looked at Alex with a brief shake of her head. “I don’t recognize her. But with the scarf and glasses, it could be anyone. I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry,” Alex said. “What’s the normal uniform for housekeeping personnel?”

  “White dress with a starched light gray and white apron,” she replied.

  “Is that your regular uniform?” I asked, hoping Alex wouldn’t mind.

  She swallowed the piece of bagel she’d been working on and took a sip of coffee. “Yes. I have three of them. All the same. What does that have to do with the senator’s murder?”

  I refrained from answering for the time being. “Does any of the female staff wear a pink uniform?

  “Oh goodness, no. The management is very specific on the uniforms we wear. No one in housekeeping would be allowed to wear a pink uniform.”

  “And no one other than housekeeping would have a pink dress uniform?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not. Can I ask why you want to know?” She frowned. “I thought this was about the senator’s murder.”

  “It is. The woman you just saw in the hotel security film had a pink uniform. Obviously, you can’t tell since it’s black and white film,” Alex clarified.

  “She wouldn’t be an employee. I know everyone on the housekeeping staff. We’re all friends. Another thing, it’s very odd she would go out that door. That’s for caterers and such. That’s why you had to go in that way. None of the staff use that door.

  “We use the one that empties out into the back of the hotel, where the employee parking lot is. I can’t imagine any staff going out that side door then traipsing around to the back of the building.”

  “But you could, if you wanted to,” I said.

  “Well sure, but why? The back door is so much closer.”

  Alex went to one of the file cabinets in his office and pulled a bag from one of the drawers. It held the keychain I’d given him. He took it out and handed it to her. “Does the keychain look familiar, Sheila?”

  She studied it. “No. I don’t recognize it. But that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know what everyone’s keychain looks like.”

  She was right, but I’d imagined Sheila being able to tell us exactly who the keychain belonged to, thereby leading us to the killer. Rachael’s, at least. He worked the tiny belt and opened it. “What about the pictures? Anyone you know?” A longshot, I knew.

  “No. I’ve never seen them before.”

  Alex extended his hand. “That’s all for now. Thank you, again, Mrs. Duryea. I appreciate your coming in.”

  She rose and shook his hand. “You’re welcome. I hope you find the killer soon. Thanks for the bagel and coffee. Good luck! If I can be of help again, you know where to find me.”

  “Thank you,” Alex and I answered at the same time.

  Alex sat back down and he rolled a pen back and forth on his desk, deep in thought. I think he’d forgotten I was there. “Alex? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we need to find this woman in the security footage.”

  “She must have been trying to fit in as a housekeeper,” I mused, “to get into the hotel. She didn’t want to stand out. That’s the only plausible explanation.”

  “Hmmm,” Alex responded.

  “Plus, she must have known her killer. I don’t think Senator Rydell would meet a stranger who called her out of the blue, and why would a stranger have her phone number? I’m telling you, she knew her killer.”

  “Probably correct. Do you still think we have one killer?” he asked.

  “It seems too Twilight Zone-ish to believe we have two, but how was the killer in two places at once?”

  “They weren’t. That would be impossible. Based on the times of death for both women, they probably killed Melanie first and then Rachael. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” I prodded. I could almost hear his brain working.

  “Unless,” Alex stared out into space. “Unless Melanie did commit suicide.”

  “Really? And murder?” I asked.

  “Thinking out loud. So, the question remains. Who’s our mystery woman?”

  “That is the million-dollar question, isn’t it? She obviously hadn’t thought about security cameras. Not that they helped much.”

  “It puts her at the scene of the murder, that’s for sure. And around the same time.”

  I shivered. “Why hasn’t she contacted the police? One reason, right? She has something to hide.”

  He didn’t respond and my thoughts filled with how the senator must have felt in the last few minutes of her life. I couldn’t imagine. “I guess we can eliminate Rocco, Lucas Jardine, Robert Meara, and any other male suspect. That leaves us with Charlotte McSwain. I don’t get the impression she did it. She’s too excited about all the money she’s sure she’s going to rake in from her book. And Sharon Elliott.

  “Speaking of, I forgot to mention. I followed up on Charlotte and Robert’s alibis. They add up, so it’s neither of them.”

  “I’m not surprised. So, cousin, we’re at square one still.”

  “Not really. We may have Rachael’s killer on tape. That’s a plus. We just have to find her. I have a couple of my officers working on the license plate combo from the security tape. Let’s talk to the Rydell’s chauffeur and maid. Maybe they have something meaty to throw into this stew. I have their address and phone numbers. Want to give them a call and see if we can stop by?”

  “No surprise visit?” I asked

  “I’d rather call ahead. If they have any information that will help, being courteous will help get it.”

  CHAPTER 24

  * * *

  Luck was with us. I’d talked to Edward and he’d agreed to meet us. Not exactly with enthusiasm, but at least he agreed. I hoped it would be fruitful for us. My stomach growled suddenly. “Can you go through Rosco’s Drive-In? I’m hungry. That bagel, while the best I’ve ever eaten, didn’t last long.”

  He laughed. “No problem. It’s on the way. I’m kind of hungry, too.”

  I ordered a cheesy bean and rice burrito, onion rings, and a soft drink. I couldn’t wait to dig in. Alex ordered a hotdog with relish and mustard, fries, and a diet something-or-other. We pulled over into a parking space and ate in silence. I pulled out my phone and guiltily texted Olivia that I was going to be gone for a little longer.

  A few minutes later both of us were sated, and Alex got us on the road again. I was ready for a nap to be truthful, but no time for that. We had a killer to catch. We found the Rydell’s home easily. It was a few miles outside of Destiny, in an exclusive development called Laurel Hills. We drove through an open iron gate. There was a guard shack, which I was surprised to find empty, so no need to stop. There was a lovely median running down the center of the street, filled with lush green grass and small trees. The houses were huge and spaced far apart.

  Alex turned right into a long, brick driveway when I directed him to do so. In front of us loomed an off-white, monstrous, two-story stucco house, with green wooden shutters bracketing the windows. Impressive to say the least.

  We followed the drive to the back of the main house, then came to a small, two-story cottage surrounded by pine trees. It reminded me of a house from a fairytale. It was made of the same stucco, and had the same shades, but it looked like a playhouse compared to the main mansion. “This must be it.”

  Alex
parked and we both got out and approached the front door. Before Alex had knocked, it was opened by a tall, good-looking man with short, steel-gray hair, flecked with black. His eyes were an odd mix of green and gray. “I’m Edward Halliday.”

  “Detective Britton, thank you for seeing us.” His eyes rested on me. “My associate, Molly Tyler.”

  “Please to meet you,” I told him.

  “Yes, well, come in.”

  If you must, his tone said. Our conversation had that odd rhythm of people who are thrown together because of circumstances have. I call it awkward elevator conversation. We followed him to the living room, which was done in flowering chintz. You may interpret that as an explosion of chintz. The curtains matched the furniture. Even the two lampshades matched. It didn’t seem to suit Edward. It was too fussy, too feminine. His wife must have been the decorator. Or maybe it had come decorated that way.