“Where were you on the night that Andrew was killed?” I asked.
Paulie jumped on the defensive. “I didn’t do it.”
Wow. I hadn’t asked him that question because I suspected him of murder. What was he so jumpy about?
I had to calm his nerves a little. “I wasn’t accusing you of killing him.”
He let his guard down a little, but there was still reticence in his eyes.
“I was just thinking that if you happened to be around here on the night of the murder, maybe you saw something suspicious that could help identify who did kill Andrew,” I said.
He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t around.”
I became discouraged. “That’s a shame.”
“Says you. If I was around, I could have been killed too.”
“You’re right.” My mind drifted to another subject. “Is this the first time you have been back here since the murder occurred?”
He gave me a leery look. “Why?”
“Relax. I was just wondering if you might have spotted anything out of the ordinary in or around the dumpster.”
Paulie threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. It’s a dirty alleyway—no different from any other back alley I have ever been in.”
“I meant did you see anything in this alley that stuck out to you? Like, a pink earring for example?”
He shook his head. “No.”
There was something very off about our entire conversation. Paulie had been very defensive and jumpy with me. In addition, he had tried his best to avoid eye contact with me. My gut was telling me that he wasn’t sharing everything he knew.
Before I gave up, an idea popped into my mind. I pulled a ten-dollar bill out of my purse.
“Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anything that could help me identify Andrew’s killer?” I asked.
Paulie stared the ten-dollar bill down then let out a sigh. “A buddy of mine saw Andrew arguing with a woman in this alley a few hours before he was killed.”
Paulie reached for the bill.
I pulled the bill back. “What did this woman look like?”
“My buddy told me she was in her twenties and had long blond hair.”
Only one suspect matched that description—Melissa Wilcox.
“Did your buddy hear what they were arguing about?” I asked.
“No. But it must have been something serious because the woman ended up storming off.”
Paulie reached out for the money again.
“Is that all?” I asked.
He nodded.
I handed him the ten-dollar bill.
“Thank you,” I said.
Paulie shoved the bill in his pocket then focused all of his attention on the dumpster. “Can I go back to collecting my cans now?”
I let him get back to his can collecting.
Suddenly, paying Melissa Wilcox a visit seemed urgent. So naturally, that was when I found my progress interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.
Once again, I was on high alert. I reached into my purse to grab my can of pepper spray, worried that I would need it.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
“Sabrina,” my mother said.
I spun around and saw Elizabeth standing in the back doorway of my family’s coffee shop. She was holding a bag of trash in her hand. I didn’t know how long she had been standing back there, but judging by the wrinkle in her forehead, she had heard enough of my conversation with Paulie to have become concerned.
“Can I have a word with you?” Elizabeth asked.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My mother may have asked me a question, but based on the tone of her voice, it came across as more of an order. She put her bag of trash in the dumpster then went back inside the coffee shop. The stern look on her face made it quite clear that she expected me to follow her.
I didn’t put up a fight. As I joined her in the storeroom of the coffee shop, I sensed that a lecture was coming my way.
Ugh.
I was not looking forward to this. Unfortunately, I only had two choices. I could either play dumb, or I could come clean. Knowing how much it would bother my mother to hear that I was putting myself in danger by interviewing murder suspects alone, I tried to keep a safe distance between myself and the truth.
“What do you want to talk about, Mom?” I asked.
The dimwitted act did not work on my mother. “Who do you think you’re fooling? What was that about?”
After the awkward suspect interviews I had conducted, the roles were suddenly reversed, and it wasn’t pretty. Despite my mother’s forceful nature, I tried to keep her in the dark. “It was nothing.”
“Sabrina, I’m your mother. You can’t hide things from me. You know that, right?”
Uh-oh. My mom really meant business.
“Who says I was trying to—?”
Enough small talk. My mother wanted answers. “What were you doing in a back alley asking Paulie Milton about Andrew’s murder?”
I grimaced. She had heard far more of my conversation than I had thought. So much for deflecting. Since I had been forced into a corner, I didn’t see any choice but to tell the truth, no matter how painful that was.
Before I was able to give her an explanation, she was able to figure it out for herself.
“You’re investigating Andrew’s murder, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked.
I remained quiet, but the truth lingered in the air. With each passing moment that I didn’t shoot down her theory, it became more obvious that she had been spot-on. It turned out that keen instincts ran in the family.
Now that she knew the truth, the next obstacle was getting her to accept the fact that I was playing the role of an amateur sleuth. That was no tall task. I had a feeling she was going to go bananas on me. Clearly, she didn’t approve of my actions. The disappointment was written all over her face.
Not that I blamed her. She had already lost one daughter. The idea that her other daughter was throwing herself into danger by questioning murder suspects wasn’t the most comforting thought. My only shot was to get her to see where I was coming from.
As I tried to find the words to explain myself, my mother fired another question my way.
“What does your boyfriend think of you investigating the same case he’s working on?” Elizabeth asked.
My mother sure knew my pressure points. It was like she was singling them out one after another.
I broke eye contact. “He doesn’t know.”
Disbelief came over my mother’s face. “You haven’t told him you’re doing this?”
I reluctantly shook my head.
“You do realize how thin the ice you’re skating on is, right?”
“Unless I find the killer—in which case he’ll be thanking me instead of scolding me.”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think it’s a big ‘if’?”
I threw my hands up. “Hey. It’s not like I wanted to do this.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Then why are you doing this?”
“I gave David a crack at it,” I said. “He was the one who got stumped. Ultimately, I don’t care who solves it. But I can’t let this case go cold. I won’t let Andrew’s murder go unsolved.”
My mother sighed. “I guess this is what I get for raising a highly independent daughter.”
“I know you are worried about me—”
“What mother wouldn’t be?”
The concerned look on her face really tugged at my heart strings.
“Look. It’s not my intention to make you worried sick. I just want Andrew’s killer to be brought to justice,” I said.
My mother couldn’t disagree with that. The only thing she could argue with was my involvement in the case.
I could tell that she wanted me to give up investigating. However, unlike when I was a kid, she couldn’t just send me to my room or tell me what to do. What my mom could do, though, was try
to persuade me to stop investigating by other means. Namely, by making me feel guilty.
Elizabeth got choked up. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
My heart sank as I looked into my mother’s eyes. This wasn’t just manipulation at work. I could tell that this was genuine concern pouring out of her. Never had I felt more torn. Naturally, I was sympathetic to the worry that my mother was wrestling with. But as I weighed that against the possibility of Andrew’s case going cold, my yearning to catch the killer outweighed the turmoil my mom was experiencing at the moment.
“I know you aren’t on board with this, but it’s just something that I need to do,” I said.
Fear was all over her face. “Just be careful. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
My emotions swelled. “I’m doing my best to stay out of danger.”
I gave my mother a big hug. When the time came for me to pull back, she didn’t want to let go of me. As much as it pained me to do so, a few moments later, I said good-bye.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It took me nearly the entire drive over to the south end of town, but I finally got my emotions under control as I turned right onto Melissa Wilcox’s street.
Her redbrick rental townhome was halfway down Cherry Street. There was an old-growth maple tree in the front yard that gave her place a generous amount of shade. I saw a blue compact car in the driveway, so I felt confident that Melissa was home. Imagine my surprise when I knocked a few times on her front door and received no answer.
I began to question myself. Had I read the situation wrong? Was she out for a walk? Perhaps one of her friends had picked her up and they’d gone somewhere—explaining why her car was still in the driveway even if she wasn’t home. The most logical explanation to me was that she was at home and was just refusing to answer her door. I prayed that wasn’t the case.
After waiting a few moments, I gave her door one last round of knocks.
Thankfully, she finally opened the door—although not all the way. Melissa was a tall, thin woman in her late twenties with an angular face, long blond hair, and green eyes. I found her outfit choice to be peculiar. When I was just hanging around the house, my go-to was a T-shirt and some yoga pants. I definitely did not put lipstick on. Melissa was wearing a navy-blue cocktail dress and a deep-red shade of lipstick.
The only way her clothing choice made any sense to me was if she was headed out. The question became, where? Before I could get an answer to that, I had another hurdle to jump over.
The confused look on Melissa’s face made it quite clear to me that she couldn’t figure out why I was on her doorstep. After all, we weren’t friends, and during her time working at the chocolate shop, I had only spoken to her in brief spurts.
Sensing that she was about to ask me what was behind my visit, I was determined to get the first word in.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
Just like I anticipated, my question put her right back on her heels. Unfortunately, she wasn’t thrown off for long. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t long before she looked at me with suspicious eyes.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she replied. “As a matter of fact, I don’t even know why you’re here.”
So much for avoiding that question. I had only succeeded in delaying it. There was a serious confrontational streak to her. It was important to try to get her to warm up to me.
“I just want to talk to you,” I said.
She remained wary. “Why me?”
“I know you and Andrew were close. You must be going through a lot right now.”
“What do you mean, we were close?”
Getting her to drop her guard was proving to be an insurmountable task. That was especially troubling, given the fact that I hadn’t even broached the topic of her affair yet. Before I did so, it was imperative that I made one last attempt to calm her down.
“I was just saying that you two had a good rapport. That you were friends,” I replied.
Melissa was no longer on high alert, but she still wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy with me, either.
“It’s terrible what happened to him,” Melissa said.
“It has been a really rough few days,” I replied.
Just as I seemed to be making progress, she clammed up again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I understand that the wound is fresh, but I was just hoping you might have some helpful information.”
She squinted with confusion. “Why me? And what kind of information?”
“Well, you worked for Andrew. Do you know anyone who might have wanted harm to come to him?”
“I would prefer to leave that sort of speculation to the police.”
I couldn’t figure out how she was managing to stay so restrained. It would be like pulling teeth, but I had to get more out of her. At the same time, I had to walk a delicate line. While obtaining insight was crucial, I didn’t want her to explode at me.
“Just so you know, other people haven’t been so tightlipped,” I said.
A look of curiosity came over her face. “What are you talking about?”
“People have been saying some unsavory things about you.”
She stared me down. “What kinds of things?”
“That you and Andrew were having an affair.”
Melissa snarled at me. “Did Leah tell you that?”
“It doesn’t really matter who told me,” I replied.
She got even more fired up. “It was her, wasn’t it? Like Leah should talk. She had more reason to kill Andrew than anyone.”
How quickly Melissa’s mood had switched. She had been keen on leaving the speculating to the police. Yet now she was all too happily pointing the finger of blame at Leah.
I had some bad news for Melissa. “Leah has a verifiable alibi.”
Melissa became deflated.
I turned the tables on her. “From what I hear, the same cannot be said for you.”
She shot me a glare. “Are you accusing me of murder?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m just trying to find out the truth.”
Melissa looked highly offended. “I didn’t do this.”
I peered deep into her eyes. “I didn’t hear you deny that you and Andrew were having an affair. That gives you a motive.”
“No.”
“An affair is one of the oldest motives in the book.”
Melissa shook her head. “Normally, I would agree, but Andrew and I had stopped seeing each other.”
“Because Leah found out you were together?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. It just wasn’t working out between us.”
“A bitter breakup gives you even more of a motive,” I said.
“There was nothing bitter about it.”
“So you’re telling me that you two had an amicable breakup?” I scoffed. “Come on. That’s an oxymoron.”
Melissa’s voice began to crack. “It’s the truth.”
It was time to pull out the information I had obtained from Paulie Milton. “Then why did I hear that you and Andrew had a heated argument in the alleyway behind the chocolate shop just a few hours before he was murdered?”
An accusatory look came to her eyes. “Did Leah tell you that, too?”
“That part is irrelevant,” I said. “What I want to know is what you and Andrew were arguing about in that alley.”
“Like I said, we were on the outs.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What about this so-called amicable breakup of yours?”
Melissa became defensive. “It was amicable.”
“Let’s say I believe you. There’s one more problem. What about the fact that you told me you two had stopped seeing each other before the night of the murder?”
I could see the gears spinning in her head. “Right. We had.”
“What were you arguing about, then?” I asked.
“I’d rather not discuss this.”
She tried to close th
e door on me.
I stopped her. “Maybe you’d rather discuss it with the police.”
Melissa groaned.
“What were you two arguing about in that alleyway?” I asked.
“My job.”
“Did he threaten to fire you?” I replied.
She remained quiet.
“So much for an amicable breakup,” I said.
When Melissa opened her mouth with a scowl on her face, I had a feeling she wanted to give me another earful about how I had gotten her breakup wrong.
I called her out. “And yet you still insist that you don’t have a motive.”
“That argument was hours before the murder,” she said.
“So what, you expect me to believe that you happened to calm down between then and the time that the murder took place?”
Melissa nodded. “Yes.”
I gave her a critical look. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“You weren’t there. You don’t know.”
The stubborn look on her face made it clear that she was determined to cling to her flimsy argument. Instead of hitting the same point again, I switched things up.
“If you really did calm down, you were the only one who was able to manage that feat. I mean, days after Andrew’s death, Leah was still so upset about you having an affair with her husband that she fired you.”
Melissa threw her hands out. “That speaks to Leah’s motive, not mine.”
“Only Leah has an alibi,” I said. “Not only do you have no one to verify your whereabouts for the time of the murder, but you’re the only suspect who was seen arguing with the victim shortly before the murder. If that isn’t enough, you’ve actually been standing here trying to convince me that you were able to cool your temper down.”
She cringed. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so good—”
“You’re right. It sounds terrible.”
“But it’s the truth. You have to believe me.”
I stared her down. “That’s the problem. Not only do I have a hard time believing you, but you’ll have serious difficulty convincing anyone else of that.”
She folded her arms. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Luckily, I knew exactly where to go next. “Do you own a pair of these earrings?”
Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Page 12