by Cindy Bell
“Can I get a house draft?” Bekki asked as she paused in front of the bar.
“Sure,” Doug nodded and set the mug along with the rag down with a sigh. Bekki caught a strange odor from the rag.
“Wow, that's some powerful cleaner you're using,” she cringed.
“I know,” he frowned as he handed her the beer. “These mugs have some kind of film on them. I can't get it off. It's like oil or grease or something. It's the strangest thing. I'm about ready to just toss them and buy a new set.”
“Wait, did you say oil?” Bekki asked curiously as she looked at the mugs.
“I don't know for sure,” Doug shrugged. “I've been trying to get them clean for days, and I just can't seem to get rid of the residue.”
“Could I have one of those mugs, Doug?” Bekki asked and looked up at him to see how he would respond to her strange request.
“Sure, I guess,” Doug replied though he did look at her fairly strangely.
“Could you put it in a plastic bag for me?” Bekki asked and again drew a strange look from Doug.
“Do you suspect something, Bekki?” Doug asked with confusion.
“I just think it would be fun to figure out what the residue is,” Bekki offered casually, she didn't want to sound paranoid or to worry Doug without reason.
“Okay,” he nodded and grabbed a plastic bag. He wrapped one of the mugs up in the plastic bag and then handed it to Bekki. “No charge,” he winked at her.
“Thanks,” Bekki laughed and paid for Tom's beer before carrying it over to him.
“Listen, I want you to lay low,” Bekki said as she stood beside the table. “Just keep to yourself, don't talk to Steven, and don't talk to any reporters.”
“Okay,” Tom nodded and took a swig of his beer. “I really hope you can figure this out, Bekki,” he sighed.
“Well, if I can't, I know someone who might be able to,” Bekki patted his shoulder encouragingly.
As Bekki left the bar her mind was filled with all kinds of crazy ideas. Hearing Doug say that he couldn't get the oil off the glass had made her think wild thoughts. Now that she knew that Brad had most likely gone to the factory to argue with Steven, she had even more reason to suspect him. But first, she needed to run her thoughts by the one person she trusted the most to keep a level head and let her know if she was letting her imagination run wild. When she arrived at the police station Nick had just returned from going out to the factory to interview some of the employees.
“Bekki,” he smiled and hugged her. “What a nice surprise.”
“Maybe,” Bekki smiled and held out the plastic bag with the mug in it. “Do you think that you could have the lab check out what might be on this glass,” she asked sweetly.
“Why?” he cocked an eyebrow and peered at the glass before sitting down at his desk.
“I just have a bit of a hunch,” Bekki smiled and then sat down at his desk across from him.
“Okay, want to share it with me?” he asked hopefully.
“Let's just first see what the results are on the mug,” Bekki suggested and then met his gaze. “Have they found any evidence that Brad was murdered at the factory?”
“No, nothing concrete, but it seems like the most likely scenario,” Nick explained.
“Did you have a chance to talk with Jack while you were at the factory?” Bekki asked.
“Jack?” Nick mulled the name over. Then he grabbed his paperwork from the interviews. “I don't think so,” he shook his head. “I don't see an employee listed by that name.”
“How strange,” Bekki frowned. “I talked to him this morning.”
“You what?” Nick asked with shock. “You went out to the factory?”
“I was just curious,” Bekki smiled innocently. “I wanted to see if maybe I could get a little inside information just in case that warrant didn't come through.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Nick said with a grimace, but Bekki noticed a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “I bet Steven was not too happy about that.”
“No, he wasn't. But I pretended to be there to look at the essential oils and the trip gave me a great deal of information,” she sat back in her chair as if she wasn't going to tell him.
“What information?” he asked as he sought her eyes. “Anything I should know?”
“Oh, just that Steven was at the factory on Sunday night before he went to the bar. Brad probably was too,” she added.
“How do you know this?” Nick asked sternly. Bekki hesitated. She didn't want to keep anything from Nick but she also didn't want to put Tom in the crossfire. If she placed him at the most likely scene of the crime, then he would look even more guilty. If her suspicions didn't pan out, then he would likely be convicted. She couldn't take that chance, as she knew that Nick would have to follow the letter of the law, even if he believed her suspicions.
“Let's just say, I got it from a reliable source,” Bekki said with a nod. “Also,” she held out a business card to him, the one the reporter had given her. “This is the reporter who was loitering outside the salon, I saw him outside the factory this morning, too. I thought you might want to check him out.”
“Do you think he might have something to do with all of this?” Nick asked as he took the business card.
“Honestly, no,” Bekki replied with a shrug. “But he seems to be up to something. I don't think it would hurt to look into him.”
“Okay, well at least it's something,” Nick shook his head. “The interviews at the factory turned up nothing. Everybody loved Brad, and nobody would say anything against Steven.”
“Well, my advice,” Bekki leaned forward so that she could whisper, “is to see if you can hunt down an employee, his name is Jack. He was working there this morning, and it seems like Steven must have wanted him gone before you got there.”
“Okay,” Nick agreed and then studied her expression. “But you're hiding something from me.”
“Not exactly,” Bekki replied carefully. “Nick,” she met his gaze head on. “You know I love you. You know I trust you. I also know you're very good at your job, and if I tell you some things before I know if they're true, you'll feel obligated to do your job.”
“What are you trying not to say, Bekki?” Nick narrowed his eyes. “It's not something that's going to put you in the middle of trouble, is it?”
“I don't think so,” Bekki replied thoughtfully. “But if it is, you'll be the first one I call.”
“I better be,” Nick said firmly. “Please try to stay out of this, but seeing as we know that you are not likely going to do that keep me up-to-date on what you find. I'll look into this reporter and see if I can hunt down Jack.”
“Oh, I have another name for you,” Bekki snapped her fingers as she had almost forgotten. “His name is Mr. Blake, all I know is he was interested in buying the company. If he saw Brad as a problem, he might have done something about it.”
“Good,” Nick nodded as he scribbled the name down. “I'll look into him right away.”
“I'll let you get back to work,” Bekki said as she stood up from the chair. “And Nick, remember to get that mug analyzed, okay?” she smiled.
“Sure,” he nodded and stood up to give her a quick kiss.
“See you at home later?” he asked hopefully.
“See you at home,” Bekki replied and kissed him softly. As she left the police station she was reminded of just how lucky she was. Every time she had the chance to lay eyes on Nick she was certain she was dreaming. But there was no time to be distracted. A man's freedom was on the line, and she was determined to protect Tom from the mess he had stumbled into.
***
On her way home Bekki stopped by the salon to check in with Sammy.
“How's everything going?” she asked as she walked in. There was one customer under the dryer but it seemed fairly quiet.
“Good,” Sammy said with a smile. “Did you get the picture I sent?”
“Oh yes, I'm sorry, I forgot abo
ut that,” Bekki shook her head. “My mind has been going crazy over the past few days.”
“I can understand why,” Sammy said as she gave Bekki a quick hug. “You come back from your honeymoon to a good bit of chaos. Which brings me to my next question. Why are you here?” Sammy demanded with a laugh. “It's your day off. Go home!”
“Okay, okay,” Bekki laughed. “I just wanted to check in. But you're right, maybe I'll make a nice dinner for Nick and me.”
“Sounds like a fantastic idea,” Sammy nodded and tilted her head towards the customer. “Better get over there before her curls are extra crispy.”
“Sammy, can you do me a favor and schedule Minnie for tomorrow afternoon? I'm going to look up some of the ingredients from the shampoo and see if I can single out the oil that is helping with the color so much. If I can get it more concentrated then we might get her hair back into shape faster than I thought. But I'll need some time in the morning to hunt down the oils, so if you can make sure there are no morning appointments that would be great.”
“No problem,” Sammy nodded. “It's been pretty quiet. We shouldn't get much of a rush until the weekend.”
“All right. Call me if you need anything, okay?” Bekki called over her shoulder.
“I know, I know,” Sammy laughed before her voice was drowned out by the sound of the dryer.
Chapter Seven
Bekki stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items she could use to make dinner. She knew that Nick enjoyed pasta so she bought everything she needed to make an easy but delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs. She knew she wouldn't get the results from the mug until the next day, and she wanted to see what Nick turned up about Mr. Blake before she took the next step she was planning.
When Bekki started to prepare dinner in Nick's kitchen, she was a little thrown by the situation. She wasn't really sure where anything was. Most of the time if she had cooked Nick dinner it had been over at her place. Even though Bekki had moved a few kitchen things in with him, she hadn't really paid attention to where she put them. When she looked for a pot for the water she went under the sink. But the only things under there were extra containers. She looked in the cabinets and eventually found a pot she could use. When she tried to find the strainer for the spaghetti she looked everywhere and was just about to give up, when she remembered Nick's height. She looked at the upper cabinets. It made no sense to her to put a strainer in there but she looked anyway. Sure enough, it was there, right next to the cans of vegetables which certainly should have been stored closer to the stove.
Bekki resisted reorganizing the kitchen. It was hard to find that balance between hers, Nick's, and theirs. When she finally got the water boiling and the sauce warming she prepared some garlic bread to go along with the meal. When she sprinkled the garlic on the bread the strong scent filled her nostrils. It reminded her of the essential oils in the shampoo that she wanted to look up. She left the sauce to simmer and opened up her computer in the living room. She pulled up the picture of the label on the bottle of shampoo. She began searching the different ingredients included in the shampoo. While she was looking them up she heard Nick walk in the front door.
“Smells delicious!” he called out as he headed straight for the kitchen.
“I'll be right there,” Bekki called back. She was distracted by all the information that she was discovering about the oils included in the shampoo. So far she hadn't been able to determine exactly which one was responsible for the effective stripping of the hair dye.
“Would that be before or after the kitchen is painted red?” Nick called back. “Because this sauce is bubbling so much I think it might have hit the ceiling.”
Bekki gasped and glanced at the clock on her computer. She had been so caught up in her search an entire hour had passed. She jumped up and hurried into the kitchen.
“Oh Nick, I'm so sorry,” she gasped out as she saw the stove covered with spatters of red sauce. “I'll clean all this up,” she promised and grabbed a rag from the sink.
“Relax,” Nick smiled as he pulled her into his arms. “There's nothing to apologize for. This is your kitchen, too, and if you want it red, it can be red,” he laughed as he continued. “I might advise paint instead of spaghetti sauce though.”
“Very funny,” Bekki grinned and they shared a slow, soft kiss. When Bekki pulled away to dish out the spaghetti Nick leaned back against the counter.
“So, I found out a little information about Mr. Blake,” he murmured as he breathed in the scent of the sauce. “He's a stand up businessman with a clean record. I'd be very surprised if he was involved in this.”
“What about Jack, did you hunt him down?” Bekki asked hopefully.
“No, I did speak to his wife, but she said she hasn't heard from him all day, and as far as she knew he was at work,” Nick filled two glasses with sparkling water to go with their meal.
Bekki paused with the spoon hovering just above the sauce. “So, he's missing?” she asked hesitantly. She hoped nothing had happened to him as a result of talking to her.
“I haven't been able to find him yet, Bekki, but that doesn't make him missing. It could be that he didn't want to speak to the police for other reasons. Maybe he has a past not even his wife knows about,” he carried the glasses to the table and Bekki followed with their plates.
“Maybe,” Bekki sat down at the table and Nick sat beside her. “I just hope he's okay.”
“I'm sure he's fine. As for that reporter,” he narrowed his eyes. “He's been threatened with nuisance and harassment charges more times than I could count. He might be a pest, but that does prove he's a reporter, if he's managed to make that many people angry.”
“Good point,” Bekki laughed and swirled some spaghetti onto her fork. “So that leaves us with Steven...”
“Tom,” Nick spoke at the same time she did. He sighed at who she suspected. “Bekki, you know Steven has a solid alibi.”
“Maybe not as solid as we think,” Bekki set her fork down. “I happen to know that he was at the factory until after eight. My father says he arrived at the bar about ten minutes after nine.”
“The factory is at least forty-five minutes away. He would have had to kill Brad, stash the body in the truck and get to the bar in about an hour,” Nick said thoughtfully. “It would be very tight.”
“Is it possible that the predicted time of death could be off?” Bekki asked.
“Yes, it is still just an estimate. It depends largely on where he was killed and when the body was put in the truck because the temperature inside the truck is different to the temperature in the warehouse or outside. We will know more once the tests from the autopsy are complete?” Nick frowned and then raised his eyebrows. “I'm guessing you know about Steven being at the factory because of your secret source?”
“Did you get any results on that mug?” Bekki asked in an attempt to change the subject. She wasn't expecting much from it.
“Yes, actually,” Nick pursed his lips with confusion and leaned forward. “It tested positive for traces of brinwood. It's some kind of oil.”
“Brinwood?” Bekki's eyes widened. She remembered seeing that oil on Steven's shelf. She also remembered reading a warning about it when she was looking up the list of oils in the shampoo. “That can be a dangerous oil if too much is ingested,” she was breathless as she spoke, the pieces beginning to fit together. “It can cause severe disorientation. Why would that be in a mug from Doug’s?”
“I don't know,” Nick took a bite of his spaghetti and chewed it quickly. “But if it was in the mug, I'm guessing it was no accident. Brinwood doesn't just happen to show up in a test. It can be pretty hard to come by.”
“Steven has a collection of oils,” Bekki murmured as she stared down at her food. She simply could not get the whole picture in her head. Sure, Steven might have put the brinwood into the beer, but why would he? By the time she and Nick went to bed that night her brain was working overtime as she attempted to fit in the
final missing piece.
***
Sunlight was filtering through the window of the bedroom. She could feel it warm against her cheek. Bekki moaned quietly in her sleep and turned over to snuggle up to Nick. She found herself in a large empty bed. As she slowly opened her eyes she realized that she must have overslept. She felt an immediate panic that she would be late to open the salon and customers would be waiting. Then she remembered asking Sammy to schedule only afternoon appointments. As soon as her mind settled from that scare, brinwood popped up. She abruptly knew exactly what the brinwood had been used for. She snatched up her cell phone and called her father's number.
“Pick up, pick up,” she pleaded as she waited through each shrill ring.
“Hello?” her father finally answered.
“Dad, I want you to go to the hospital right now. Any of your friends that were at the bar with you on Sunday, I want them to go, too,” she said swiftly, her heart pounding.
“Bekki? Why?” her father asked, obviously confused. “I feel fine.'
“You might feel fine now,” Bekki offered grimly. “But you were poisoned, and I want you to be checked out.”
“Poisoned?” her father chuckled as if it was all some elaborate joke.
“Dad, I'm serious,” Bekki insisted as she jumped up and tried to dress while she was still on the phone. “You weren't drunk. Steven put brinwood in your beer, so that you would think you were drunk.”
“What?” her father asked in a louder voice. “Why would he do something like that?”
“So, no one would notice when he left the bar!” Bekki replied. “Please Dad, just go get checked out. I know you probably think it's crazy, but it's worth looking into.”
“Okay, okay,” he finally said. “I'll go right now.”
“Please make sure you tell your friends, too,” Bekki insisted. “I'll call you later to check in.”