by Lynn Cahoon
I stared at Amy. Could it be that easy?
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don’t agree? Whose shakes are better?”
I turned and looked at Lille still at the hostess stand talking to a waiting couple. “No, I mean, yes, I agree with the shake thing. But Amy, what if Lille was the friend?”
“I don’t think Lille has any friends,” Amy quipped. “Wait, what are we talking about?”
“Adam. Maybe Sandra said something to make him think that I had the proof because of the coffee shop, but really, it was Lille at the diner? We’re the only two places in town that serve food. I’m sure Sandra didn’t mean to say anything that would lead him to Lille, so maybe just a funny clue, one she thought he’d never figure out.” My mind was racing now. “Aunt Jackie and I already found a connection between Promote Your Event and Diamond Lille’s. Maybe the real connection isn’t between the two businesses, but the two owners.”
“Which is why he’d be asked to vandalize Harrold’s shop.” Amy tapped her lips with one finger. “So, how do we know if Lille and Sandra were friends?”
“We could wait for the funeral and see if Lille shows up, but who knows when the body will be released to the family?” I looked at the food in front of Amy that had just been delivered. “Or …”
Amy looked horror-stricken. “She’s already mad at us. Now you want to ask her if she was friends with someone who may have ordered The Train Station’s vandalism?”
I considered her words. “It does sound bad, worded like that.” I took a bite of my clam fettuccini. “But, yeah, that’s what I’m planning.”
“Well, at least let me enjoy my last Diamond Lille’s Monster Burger before you torpedo our ability to eat here.”
We finished our meal in silence. I picked at my pasta, running the idea through my head. If Lille was Sandra’s friend, she would have known about the plan to attack Harrold. But she’d seemed as upset for the man as a good neighbor should have been the day we talked. Unless Sandra was acting on her own. Which would keep Lille out of the problem if Sandra had been found out.
I still wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to get the information out of Lille by the time we’d finished the meal and I had my to-go box all packed.
“Maybe she won’t be mad at me if I’m not around when you ask.” Amy scooted out in front of me, hugging me quickly.
“Chicken,” I called after her as she wove her way through the tables. I left a tip for Carrie on the table and headed straight to Lille.
When I arrived at the front, she looked up and then returned to staring at the waitress station board. “What do you want now?”
“I wanted to ask you if you knew Sandra Ashford?” When Lille didn’t respond or look up, I continued, “She ran Promote Your Event with her husband, Michael?”
“Michael didn’t do anything at that business except for show up every day. And he only did that because Sandra drove the car.” Lille studied me. “I don’t know that it’s any of your business, but Sandra and I went to school together. We’ve been friends for twenty years.”
I didn’t move, I didn’t even breathe. This was the connection. I tried to think of a way to ask about the Ashfords’ marriage when Lille spoke again, this time her words a little softer.
“Sandra was amazing. She grew that business from nothing to what it is today. She’d signed papers to sell it for over a million dollars. Not that she lived to see any of that money.” The look in Lille’s eyes was distant. “She could have made a whole new start.”
“Was she leaving Michael?”
Now Lille stared at me like I was a complete idiot. “Why would she take that cheater along with her? He’d just find another floozy in the next town. She was finally going to be rid of that loser.”
Which again pointed the finger to Michael as the killer. My thoughts raced as I wondered if Greg knew about the affair. I could guess who had been in Michael’s sights last: Rachel Fleur, our travel agent. A voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Two of my favorite restaurant owners standing in front of me. Don’t tell me you’re working in cahoots to try to get me to change my mind.” Homer Bell stood next to me, holding up his hands in a defensive move. “Don’t kill me, but I’ve already signed the contract with the other buyer. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I read the write-up in yesterday’s paper and thought this would be a great place for me to celebrate.”
“You sold the truck?” Lille and I both spoke at once.
Homer had the good sense to back up a few steps. “I would have called you later. I didn’t actually expect to run into both of you so quickly.” He adjusted his T-shirt, which was riding up and showing a bit of his belly over the jeans he wore. “I couldn’t pass up the deal. Cash offer and a lot more than either one of you were offering.”
“You said I had time to research the market.” I didn’t want to be the one to tell my aunt we had lost the option of buying the truck. Maybe I could find another one to purchase before she found out.
He shrugged. “I guess I forgot about saying that.”
Lille poked him in the chest. “You told me you’d let me rebid if someone offered more. If I had known, I would have purchased it the day we talked.”
“Ladies, it’s water under the bridge now.” He nodded to the dining room. “Can I get a table?”
“No.” Lille pointed to a sign on the wall. “The sign says I can refuse service to anyone, and I’m going to do that. Get out of my diner and don’t come back.”
I bit my lip, trying not to smile, but man, Lille had him on the ropes. I was mad at him, don’t get me wrong, but Lille was steaming.
“But Lille, can’t we just shake hands and be friends?” Homer held out a hand. I watched, just in case I had to rush him to the hospital once Lille bit it off.
“You need some help leaving?” She called back to the kitchen, “Sam, come out here and escort our guest out, please.”
Sam, the cook for the shift, must have been six-five and a good two hundred fifty pounds or so. Any way you looked at it, the man wasn’t tiny. He took off his apron and looked around. “Who do I need to kick out?”
Homer held up his hands and backed out of the doorway. Lille jerked her head back into the kitchen, and Sam grabbed his apron and disappeared with the grace of a retreating troll.
Lille stared at me. “You’re still here?”
I thought about asking Lille whom Michael had been sleeping with, for about 1.2 seconds, then I decided to leave with my dining privileges intact. Besides, I had to go break the news to Aunt Jackie. “Not anymore.” I weaved through the line waiting to be seated and disappeared.
I lucked out when I arrived at the apartment. Aunt Jackie wasn’t home. I dialed her cell and when no one answered, left a voice mail. “Hey, call me. I’ve got some news on the food truck.”
I left it at that, hoping she wouldn’t think it was good news. Then I decided to stop in to see Greg.
Esmeralda sat at the station’s reception desk. “Jill, I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s been going on over at your house? I see all kinds of activity.”
“I’m remodeling an upstairs bedroom.” I stretched my neck and groaned. “I’ll be glad when the house is completely done. My body is rebelling against me.”
Her eyes glittered as she appraised me. “Somehow I doubt that. But let’s not compare aches and pains. I suppose you’re here to see Greg?”
“See, you really are a fortune-teller,” I teased. “I just popped in, so if he’s busy?”
“He is busy, but that’s not why you can’t see him.” She looked down at the display when the phone rang and ignored the call.
“Go ahead. If you have to get it, I can wait.”
She pointed down to the display. “It’s on the mayor’s line. I’m not required to pick up personal calls, and all business-related calls are supposed to run through the main number. So, no worries.” She turned down the ringer volume as the phone continued to chirp. “Anyway, Greg’s not h
ere. He left for Bakerstown early this morning and hasn’t returned.”
“Oh well, I’ll catch him after work. See you later.” I waved and started to turn.
“Hold on a moment.” Esmeralda dug through the pink messages she had scattered all over her desk. “This is one you can take. She said if Greg didn’t call her back, she’d call you. Something about a cruise refund?”
I took the pink sheet and glanced at the name scribbled on the slip. Rachel. I nodded. “I’ll handle this.”
“Jill, be careful,” Esmeralda called as I left through the side door.
Aunt Jackie had said there was no way I’d see a refund from a cruise no matter when it was cancelled, but especially with the short notice we’d given Rachel. Now I had an opportunity to talk to her about a completely innocent subject while I tried to find out if she was Michael’s little on-the-side girl. Checking my phone, by the time I walked back to the house, got the Jeep, and drove in to Bakerstown, Rachel’s travel agency would be closed.
I’d go tomorrow in between my double shift and take my aunt with me. Maybe she could charm the information out of Rachel. I lacked the charm gene, but my aunt had perfected it to a science.
If Rachel Fleur was seeing the used-to-be-married Michael Ashford, my aunt would find out before the woman knew she was spilling her most treasured secret.
Or she’d be mad enough to kick us out of her agency and rip up Greg’s refund check.
I pondered the two outcomes as I walked home. The first was probable, but if the second happened, I’d be in real trouble with Greg.
I tried to give myself a third option: Go pick up the check and ignore the Michael connection, but somehow, that path wasn’t setting well with the rest of my body, which was screaming that I needed to find the truth.
No doubt about it, I was addicted to the hunt.
CHAPTER 21
On my way into South Cove for my first shift after my so-called vacation, I decided to check in with Harrold. Now that Adam had admitted to vandalizing the store, I wanted to make sure Harrold was up on all the latest developments on the case.
Okay, fine, I wanted to see if Greg had dropped any information to the owner of The Train Station that he didn’t think I needed to know.
Even though it was early, I peeked into the shiny new front showroom window. Harrold stood at the counter, looking at a magazine. I tried the door, thinking it would be locked, but the handle turned easily and the bell over the door hooted with a quick train whistle when I entered.
“Hey, Jill, you on your way to the salt mines?” Harrold’s aged, lined face lit up when he saw me. “Coming in to visit an old man? I’m going to have to tell that guy of yours he has some competition.”
I wandered up to the counter, noticing that the miniature South Cove village was already back in order. Harrold didn’t mess around. If it needed done, he did it. “I’m just checking in to see if you’re all right. Did Greg come by and tell you about Adam and his deal with Sandra?”
Harrold closed his train magazine and leaned on his forearms on the glass counter. “He did. Very bad business, don’t you think? I just don’t know what I ever did to anger that woman.”
“I’m not sure you did anything.” I decided to jump and tell him what I knew. “She was friends with Lille. I’m not saying Lille asked her to do this,” I added quickly.
Harrold sank into a chair and ran his age-spotted hand through his thinning gray hair. “Now I understand.”
“What do you mean?” I watched as tears filled his gray eyes. He wiped the back of his hand across his face.
“Last night, Lille brought me dinner. A fried chicken basket, complete with apple pie. The pie was just like Agnes used to make … but I’m wandering. So, when I asked her why, she said she felt bad about the things that had been happening at the shop.” He shrugged. “I thought she was just being kind.”
“Instead, you think she felt responsible for what happened.” I finished his sentence.
“Exactly.” He quickly lifted his head and stared at me. “She said she never wanted anything like this to happen.”
“So, she probably didn’t know Sandra had set this in motion.” I shook my head. “You may never know why the shop was vandalized, I mean, not really.”
“I believe you just told me. A friend thought she was doing a favor for another. Just because it was a bad idea doesn’t mean the friend didn’t think they were doing the right thing.”
“You’re awfully philosophical about this.” I stared at Harrold, amazed at his compassion and ready forgiveness.
He stood and walked around the counter to stand near me. “If you hold anger in your heart, it just turns to evil. You have to be able to see the good in people, even those people in whom you think there isn’t even a speck of good left. Lille has said her ‘I’m sorry.’ Now it’s time for me to accept the gesture.”
I left The Train Station with two things. One, a commitment from Harrold’s grandson to talk at the Business-to-Business meeting. And two, a deeper understanding of the meaning of forgiveness. Harrold made me want to be a better person.
My phone rang just as I arrived at Coffee, Books, and More. “Jill Gardner.” I turned the key in the lock and flipped on the lights, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder.
“You called and left a message on my machine yesterday? You need promotional assistance?” The man on the other end of the line was friendly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
“Actually, I’m calling about Promote Your Event? I understand you’re purchasing the company?” I hurried to the counter, where I set my purse and light jacket down. I leaned against the edge and hoped.
“I guess it’s not a secret anymore since Michael and I signed the papers yesterday. I am blending the agency with my own to make a more rounded-out service for my customers.” His voice was wary, but I could tell he didn’t want to be rude, just in case I could be a potential customer.
“So, your initial contact was with Michael?” Now I was totally confused. That wasn’t what Lille had said at all.
“No, Sandra came to me with the initial offer and all the paperwork was in her name. When I asked Michael about the sale, once I heard of Sandra’s untimely death, he seemed shocked. A few days later, he called and agreed to the deal.”
I heard papers rustling over the phone line. The man was moving on to his next call. “Thanks for clarifying that. Promote Your Event did some work for a charity event we hosted, and now that I know that you’re taking over the company, I’ll keep you in mind for our next event.”
“I’ll send you over a brochure outlining our services and charges.” He paused. “Give me your mailing address.”
I rattled off the shop’s address and then said good-bye. The phone call had matched up with Lille’s story. Sandra had been making preparations for skipping town. And skipping out on her marriage. Now all I needed to find was the person who, besides the very well-alibied Michael, would benefit from Sandra’s death.
I had an idea, and if I was right, I would know the last clue this afternoon when Aunt Jackie and I visited Bakerstown. I started the first pot of coffee and waited for my commuter customers to start drifting into the shop. Six hours and I’d be on the road. I glanced at the clock, willing the hands to move faster.
Aunt Jackie had been waiting in the shop for Toby to relieve me for a good half hour. I’d called her around ten to fill her in on my phone call from the PR guy and ask if she wanted to be my wingman on the trip to Rachel’s to pick up the refund check. Oh, and to ask her if she was Michael’s secret mistress. But maybe that term was a redundancy. Maybe all mistresses were secret, or they wouldn’t be mistresses? My mind played with the thought, but customers kept me too busy to check out the actual definition of the word.
Toby arrived a few minutes after his official start time. As he washed his hands in the sink, he filled me in. “Sorry, boss. The transport for Adam didn’t arrive until just a few minutes ago, and Greg wanted tw
o of us on site for the transfer. I guess this guy can charm his way out of most situations.”
“Greg was afraid Adam would talk his way out?” I cleaned the espresso machine as we chatted. “Doesn’t sound like him.”
“Nah, I don’t think he was concerned, but the other guys coming from out of town made the request that we have two people on staff ’round the clock for this guy.” Toby slipped on his apron and started restacking the cups on the other side of the machine. “The mayor’s going to go bonkers when he sees this month’s overtime. I might just be able to make a dent in my student loan with this next check.”
“Are we done socializing? I’ve got things to do. It is my day off, you know.” Aunt Jackie checked her hair in a compact mirror, then clicked it shut. Loudly.
“Where are you two going?” Toby slid open the dessert display, checking on the inventory. “Or do I want to know?”
“Nothing bad. We’re going to Bakerstown to pick up the refund check from Rachel at the travel agency. Aunt Jackie wanted to talk to her about a trip next fall.” I grabbed my purse from under the counter and motioned to my aunt to follow me. “I’ll be back at four to relieve you.”
“I never doubted it.” Toby grinned and followed us into the back room. When he noticed me watching, he pointed to the freezer. “I need to grab another one of those lemon cheesecakes. I sold a ton of that stuff yesterday.”
As we left the building and stepped into the bright sunlight, Aunt Jackie slipped on a pair of oversized and overpriced sunglasses. In the Jeep, she turned toward me. “You don’t think she’ll figure out what we’re really asking her, do you? I mean, saying you’re the little something on the side is a lot different from admitting you killed the woman standing in the way of your happiness.”
“We don’t know that Rachel was either one of those things. That’s why I’m not taking this crazy theory to Greg until we at least verify she and Michael were having an affair. Then Greg can check her alibi and we’ll be out of the sleuthing business.” I backed out of my parking spot and turned left onto the road, taking the long way out of town.