Mayhem at the Orient Express

by Kylie Logan

  “I didn’t know Peter Chan was here on the island,” he said, as if he were following my train of thought as it veered from one track to the next. “I moved up here last fall to get the building ready and get everything in line. He never showed up until a couple months ago. When I saw who’d opened the restaurant across the street from mine . . . well, I couldn’t have been more surprised.”

  “That’s not what the cops will think. They’ll think you moved here to keep an eye on Peter.”

  “There’s not much I can do about that. They’re going to think what they’re going to think. If they look at when I bought my building and when Chan opened his place . . . well, I guess that would tell them I was here first.”

  It was the only piece of good news I’d heard since I walked in, and a tiny one at that, but I was ridiculously comforted by it. Just so I didn’t get carried away by the euphoria, I needed to know more. “Peter must have seen you around. He didn’t know you?”

  Levi shook his head. “Back when Gram died, I was just a college kid, and of course, my last name is different from hers. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me. Besides, just from the times I saw Peter in court, I knew he was so full of himself, he never would have even remembered Gram. I’m sure he put her out of his mind the moment she was wheeled out of his restaurant by EMS.”

  “You never forgave him.”

  “Would you?”

  My own grandmother is the doyen of lunching ladies in a small town along the Hudson River, a patroness of the arts, and charming enough to talk the birds down from the trees. That is, unless you cross her. Then she’s so terrifying, she can drop a grown man at twenty paces with just one icy glare.

  “I adore my grandmother,” I admitted.

  I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed hold of the bars again until Levi’s hand closed over mine. “Then you know how I feel.”

  I might, if the touch of his hand didn’t have a crazy sort of effect on my brain that made it impossible for me to think about anything but how warm his skin felt against mine. The next second, I told myself to get a grip, slipped my fingers out from under his, and clutched my hands in my lap.

  “That’s why you told me you were busy last Monday night when you weren’t. That’s why you said you didn’t see anything happening across the street. You wanted to stay as far away from the investigation as you possibly could. So Hank wouldn’t find out that you knew Peter.” Since he didn’t argue with me, I knew I was right. That also meant . . .

  I was afraid I swallowed a little too hard and that it sounded a little too much like relief when I said, “That’s why you were leaving the B and B. You weren’t leaving—”

  “To get away from you?” For the first time since I’d arrived, Levi smiled. “First you thought Kate and I had a thing going, then you figured I couldn’t wait to put some distance between you and me. What I said the other day, Bea, about how I thought you’d be a success at running the B and B, that was the truth. You’re a good businesswoman. But I’ll tell you what, you’re a lousy judge of people.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say, I only know that whatever it was, it wouldn’t make its way past the sudden tightness in my throat.

  Maybe Levi realized it, because he went right on. “Back at the B and B, there was a little too much talk about Peter’s murder. A few too many questions. I thought if I steered clear—”

  “Did you see something the night of the murder?”

  The question brought Levi up short, and again, I braced myself. I’d all but come out and called him a liar, so if there was ever a get the hell out of here moment, this was probably it. I guess that’s why when he said, “I saw someone leave the restaurant,” I replied with a intelligent and levelheaded, “Huh?”

  “I saw someone leave the restaurant.”

  “And you never bothered to mention that to the cops?” I was already out of my chair before I realized this sounded way too confrontational, but by then, it was too late. “If you saw the murderer—”

  “I saw someone. And I couldn’t describe that someone if you paid me. It was snowing hard, remember. And visibility was lousy, even from just across the street. At one point in the evening, I looked over there and I saw Peter leave the building. He was carrying a couple big shopping bags, like he was making a delivery. A few minutes later, I saw him come back with what looked like the same shopping bags.”

  “That’s odd.”

  Apparently, Levi didn’t think so. But then, he was in the food service business, too. He’d probably seen all sorts of variations on the same theme and he explained it away with a, “It happens. You get to the place where you’re making a delivery and the person doesn’t have the money to pay for it. Or they tell you you brought the wrong stuff. Or—”

  “Or someone wanted to get Peter out of the restaurant. Because that same someone wanted to get into the apartment upstairs and get the jewelry.”

  Levi’s brows dipped low over his eyes. “You think—”

  “It’s a possibility. More than a possibility. Someone wanted him gone, but maybe he didn’t stay gone long enough. Then when he came back—”

  “I didn’t see anyone walk in there while Chan was gone, but then, I really did have a couple customers.” The steady way he looked at me when he said this dared me to challenge him. “Then, a while later, I was behind the bar and I happened to notice someone walking out. Like I said,” he added before I could jump in with the same ol’ questions, “I couldn’t tell who it was. I couldn’t say if it was a man or a woman. All I saw was a figure. Bundled. You know, like the person was wearing a heavy coat. And one of those colorful knit hats. You know, the kind with the earflaps. That person walked out of the restaurant right before you and your friends arrived.”

  I plunked back in the chair. “You saw the murderer?”

  “I saw someone.” Levi emphasized that last word.

  “And you didn’t bother mentioning this to the cops?”

  Was my voice really that sharp and accusatory? Apparently, because Levi shot me a look that said he wasn’t wounded, just disappointed. “As a matter of fact, I told Hank about it last night,” he said.

  “But before that—”

  “What difference would it have made?” His question bounced off the institutional gray walls. “I couldn’t describe the person, so that wasn’t going to help. And it’s not like the cops needed to know there had been a murderer in the restaurant. They already knew that because they had Chan’s body. So maybe I should have said something. I just didn’t want to get too close to the situation.”

  “It’s a little late for that now. Now you’re plenty close.”

  “Yeah.” He sat back down on the little bunk, his head in his hands.

  Close, huh?

  It may have been what we were talking about, but right about then, I’d never felt further from anyone in all my life.

  18

  “Well, if you ask me, he couldn’t have done it.” Chandra’s chin jutted at a stubborn angle. “That Levi is far too cute to be a murderer.”

  I’d been looking over the bills I was making out for my guests, and I glanced up at her over the rims of my glasses. “I’m thinking the court isn’t going to take that into consideration.”

  “But he is cute. You do finally admit that?” Kate sidled by. With all the excitement at dinner the night before, we hadn’t had a chance to clean up, and slowly, the props were being returned to their owners. Well, except for Levi’s bedroll. That had been confiscated by the police.

  Kate put a wineglass in the dishwasher and a matchbook that we’d never had a chance to use as a clue back up in the cupboard where it belonged. For now, Luella was up in Suite #6 taking care of little Isabelle while Meg went home to check on the house and pick up some pediatric fever reducer.

  “Cute has nothing to do with any of this,” I reminded Kate and Chandra. “The facts do. And the facts—”

  “Is he gone?” Amanda peeked around the kitchen door and, seeing that the
coast was clear, walked into the room. “Ted isn’t around, is he? I thought I heard him go out.”

  “You can’t hide from him forever.” She looked so relieved, I’m pretty sure she didn’t care about this, and I guess that’s why I took pity on Amanda and told her, “Ted said he’d be gone at least a couple of hours.”

  Amanda’s bottom lip puckered. “I just don’t know what I’m going to say to him when I see him. How I’m going to explain.”

  “Well, explain is something you’re going to have to do.” Hank strode into the room just in time to join in the conversation. “The fact that your ex-husband forged your name on the lease papers for the restaurant, that’s something you’re going to have to discuss with the county prosecutor over on the mainland. It may be relevant to our murder case.”

  She didn’t look enthusiastic about it, but Amanda nodded. Right before she stuck her head in the refrigerator to root around for something to eat.

  “That’s the whole thing, isn’t it?” I asked everyone, and no one in particular. “What’s relevant, what isn’t. It’s all so confusing. All these little bits and pieces, and none of them seem to lead anywhere.”

  “Or they lead somewhere you don’t want to go,” Hank suggested.

  Did everyone on the island think I had some burning love for Levi Kozlov? It was ridiculous. I hardly knew him, and what I did know, I wasn’t even sure I liked. Apparently, I was going to have to take out an ad in the local newspaper, disavowing myself of the man—and the crazy tingling sensations he conjured up as if by magic.

  I gave Hank a level look just so he’d know he was barking up the wrong romantic tree. “I’m not ducking the truth,” I told him. “I’m just saying—”

  “That Levi’s too cute to be a murderer,” Chandra piped in.

  I sighed. “That all the pieces just don’t line up. Levi says he never knew anyone named Chuck Anderson. So if Chuck really did steal the bracelet and hide it in the apartment, how could Levi have known it was there?”

  “Well . . .” Hank scratched his chin. “Maybe Levi’s not telling the truth. Or maybe he has some other connection. I asked him about it, of course, and he denied it, just like he denied knowing Chuck. But I’m thinking that maybe Levi knew a guy by the name of Wally Rowe.”

  Her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open, Amanda whirled away from the fridge and promptly dropped what she’d gathered into her arms. A glass jar of pickles hit the ceramic tile and shattered. A plastic jar of mayo rolled my way. A package of American cheese hit the floor with a thwack.

  “Wally?” Amanda’s breaths came hard and fast. “How do you . . . What do you know about Wally?”

  After the initial moment of shock, we all sprang into action. Kate picked up shards of glass. Chandra got paper towels and sopped up pickles and brine. The mayo jar wheeled to a stop at my feet and I grabbed it.

  Hank . . .

  His head cocked, Hank eyed Amanda just long enough to make her nervous, and once he was sure he had, he stooped, picked up the cheese, and set it on the nearest counter.

  “What do you know about Wally Rowe?”

  Hank echoed Amanda’s question, and that was all it took. Her expression dissolved from surprise to oh boy, I stepped in that one, and, hoping to hide it, she stared at her shoes.

  Silent, his expression blank, Hank crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Long enough for Chandra and Kate to finish the cleanup. Longer. Until the atmosphere around us felt as it were a rubber band being pulled tight. Tighter.

  It snapped when Amanda said, “Wally . . . Wally used to work for Peter. At the restaurant Peter owned in Toledo. The place he ran last year.”

  “Really?” Thinking this over, Hank narrowed his eyes. “Well, a few years ago, Wally lived up here, and when he did, he was a known associate of a guy named Chuck Anderson.”

  I listened to all this along with the kerchunk of the pieces falling into place inside my head. “That means if Wally knew Chuck and Wally knew that Chuck stole that jewelry, Wally might have said something to Peter, right? And if he mentioned it to Peter—” I sucked in a breath as the fog lifted.

  Her already pale face suddenly ashen, Amanda burst into tears and her voice bumped over the story. “One night back at the restaurant, I was helping to clean up, and Wally and Peter were having a couple drinks. I heard Wally . . . I heard him tell Peter that he knew about buried treasure. It sounded crazy.” Amanda’s laugh was filled with nervousness, not amusement. “I mean, really, who talks about stuff like that, right? And later, I asked Peter about it, and Peter, he told me I was nuts, that I’d heard Wally all wrong. I knew he was lying. But then, that was something Peter was really good at.”

  I slapped a hand against the table. “Then I was right. About the apartment!” I sat back and, yes, I looked right at Kate. There’s no time like a murder investigation for a little one-upsmanship. “Peter wasn’t remodeling. He was searching. He was tearing apart the apartment to find the jewelry. But if Wally knew it was there—”

  Amanda shook her head. “He knew there was jewelry. He didn’t know where it was.”

  She didn’t need us to ask what I was sure both Hank and I were about to ask; Amanda went right on. “If he knew where to find the jewelry, Wally would have come for it. And if Peter knew where it was . . . I’ll tell you what, he wouldn’t have wasted a single minute, the low-down, no-good scumbag. He would have been up here on the island and in that apartment in a heartbeat.”

  “But he waited.” This really wasn’t as big a mystery as it seemed, and after I had another moment to consider it, I knew why. “Wally knew the jewelry was hidden, but not where, and he told Peter the story. Like you said, Peter would never let something like that alone. So he did some digging. It couldn’t have been any big stretch for Peter to find out Wally used to live up here. Or that Wally knew Chuck.”

  Hank confirmed this. “That was mentioned in the local papers because once, we charged Chuck and Wally as accomplices in a robbery.” His face twisted. “Had to drop the charges when we couldn’t get enough evidence.”

  “So that’s it!” I rubbed my hands together. “Peter did some research. He found out Wally and Chuck were connected, and of course, once he knew that, he would have known Chuck ran the bait and tackle. And that he lived upstairs. I’d bet anything that’s why Peter came to the island, and why he opened the Orient Express.”

  Amanda’s voice was sour. “Well, that would certainly explain it. Peter always thought of himself as some big city restaurateur. When I heard he came up here, I thought it was fishy. Then I remembered the story about the jewelry.”

  I made sure I caught Amanda’s eye before I said, “So that’s why you showed up here, too.”

  She hung her head. “To look for the jewelry. Okay, I admit it. Once I heard Peter was here, I figured out what he was up to. I thought maybe I’d come have a look. Then when I found out how that no-good lowlife signed my name to the lease . . . well, it just made me madder than ever. I wanted to scare him. But I’m telling you . . .” She looked up at Hank, her eyes pleading. “I didn’t kill Peter.”

  “But you did go out the night of the murder.” Oh yes, I said this as if it were common knowledge, but it surprised Amanda, all right. Just in case she was going to deny what I knew to be true, I reminded her, “That night when you came down for tea, you were wearing your boots. They left a wet spot on the carpet.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” she insisted, even though she knew it did, and caved instantly. “All right, I did go out. I was going to leave another note for Peter. I thought maybe I’d sneak into the kitchen while he was up front with a customer. I figured that would really scare him, you know, walking back into the kitchen and realizing somebody had been there, somebody who didn’t like him. I waited across the street in front of that empty store, the one that’s for lease, and I watched for a while. I didn’t see Peter behind the counter so I figured he was in the kitchen, and so I waited some more. I never did see Peter, but I saw .
. .”

  She glanced up at Hank, then looked away again, unsure of how he’d take this piece of news that she’d never bothered to share with the police. “I saw somebody leave. Somebody big, all bundled up in a coat. And wearing one of those bright knit hats. You know, the kind with the earflaps.”

  It was exactly what Levi told had me, and what I knew he’d told Hank when he was questioned at the station.

  Hank and I exchanged glances. We didn’t have to say a word because we both knew what the other was thinking: Amanda couldn’t have known what Levi told us. It looked like Amanda was telling the truth.

  “The person you saw . . .” I stared at her in an effort to get her to concentrate. “Could it have been Ted?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It could have been. Maybe. I guess. But . . . I dunno.” She gave up with a frustrated sigh.

  “And when you went back the other day to try and break into the restaurant, you were there to look for the jewelry?” Amanda didn’t really need to confirm; I knew it was true even before I asked, and she nodded in response.

  “And Wally?” Hank asked. “Could he be the one who showed up here last week? The guy you saw walking out of the restaurant that night?” He didn’t add and who killed Peter while he was at it, but Amanda dismissed the idea instantly, anyway.

  “Wally’s dead,” she said. “He has been for nearly a year. One night when he was leaving the restaurant, he stepped out in front of a bus.”

  “So Peter thought he was the only one who knew the secret.” I thought this over. “Which means he probably wouldn’t have shared it with anyone. That still doesn’t explain how Levi ended up with the bracelet.”

  “Or what happened to the other stuff Chuck Anderson swiped.” Hank shook his head. “I’ve had my guys go over that apartment with the fine-tooth comb. If the rest of that jewelry was ever there, it sure isn’t there now. And it’s not in Levi’s things, or back at his bar. Believe me, we know. We looked there, too.”