Caffeinated Murder

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  Thinking of Rarity, I nodded and kept my lips pressed together. The gossip mill didn’t need me to add fuel to the discussion. Given encouragement, Gladys would talk the entire time she worked. This would double the hours spent in the salon.

  The woman rolled her bucket to the shampoo bowl to fill. “It’s not just the killings. In general, people have no respect for the property of others. Always using things that don’t belong to them, as if they had a right.” She shook her head and turned on the water. “Take that very dumpster—”

  The blessed telephone interrupted Gladys’s monologue. I breathed a sigh of relief and answered. “It’s a lovely morning at The Rare Curl. How can we make your day?” I’d been trying out new encouraging greetings.

  A hoarse whisper came through the line. “Lauren, it’s Ava. Don’t have time to explain. I could use some back-up over here.”

  I hung up the phone and trotted to the supply room to find Rarity. “Ava needs help at the shop. I don’t know what’s going on but it sounded serious.”

  “I’m free. I’ll go.” Rarity wiped her hands on a towel and hustled to the door, greeting Gladys on the way out.

  I was left to stew about the activity next door. Two would be better than one, as backup, wouldn’t it? “Gladys, hold down the fort. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “No problem. I can handle it here. When I was younger, I wanted to be a beautician. Even did my sister’s hair.”

  I stopped with my hand on the door, and glanced back at the chatty woman. “If the phone rings, let it go to voice mail. If someone comes in, ask them to take a seat and tell them I’ll be right back.”

  I caught up with Rarity, and we walked into the Java together.

  Ava stood next to the counter surrounded by tears, squeals, and sobbing. I counted three individuals, spewing emotions, and taking up a lot of space.

  Ava’s relief was evident when she spied us. “My friends. Come and meet the family of that poor man who died.”

  She put a hand on the arm of a rotund woman with a mass of hair the color and the texture of old straw. The older woman stood a good four inches shorter than Ava, but may have outweighed her by twenty pounds. “Mrs. Ophelia Gold, these are my friends. They were here that dreadful day.”

  The lady stared at each of us and sniffed. “How do you do?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that question. Definitely better than she was doing. I said, “Hello.”

  Ava went on to introduce Gold’s tearful daughter, Rosemary. She wasn’t quite the size of her mother but would have been called pudgy, if someone wasn’t being kind. She wore her blond hair pulled back severely, and formed into a bun at the back of her head. The third in the noisy trio turned out to be the son, Sage. The portly young man stood a bit taller than his mother and sister, and was considerably rounder. His hairstyle assumed the shape of a donut, beginning above the ears, and ending in a bare spot on top of his head.

  I can’t say exactly when I began describing everyone by hairstyle, but I suppose it was soon after I became the receptionist at The Rare Curl. Hair was now first on the list of traits I noticed in people.

  Rarity reached into the circle to grab Mrs. Gold’s hand. “Dear Mrs. Gold, I’ve wanted to convey my sympathy to you and your children, but didn’t know how to contact you. And here you are. Let me express how sorry we all are for your loss. How can we be of service during this difficult time?” I should have been taking notes. Rarity always said the right thing.

  The Gold family didn’t respond to sympathy in the way I’d expected. Sage Gold pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. “The only service we’re interested in is justice for the murder of my father.”

  Mrs. Gold dropped Rarity’s hand and focused on Ava. The barista took a step back to avoid a pointing finger. Ophelia growled. “We’ve traveled a long way to discover what my husband was doing in such a place. What purpose would he have in visiting this…hamlet?”

  Rarity smiled. “Didn’t you know? He’d consented to be our celebrity judge for a festival we’re having. Such an honor for us.”

  Rosemary Gold had been sobbing, but seemed to be trying to overcome her grief. She gave a somewhat hysterical laugh. “He’s much too important to waste his time judging anything in a burg this size.”

  Mrs. Gold planted her hands in the vicinity of her copious hips, and studied Ava. “I’m beginning to understand. Giles was a brilliant man, but he had his weaknesses. He could be swayed by feminine wiles.” She paused to scan Ava, head to toe. “I’m willing to bet you threw yourself at him, and being just the kind of tall, slim woman he would fall for, he couldn’t help himself.”

  “Slim?” Ava glanced at her reflection in the display case and sucked in her stomach. Turning her attention back to the irate woman, she looked down at her. “First of all, Mrs. Gold, I assure you I didn’t know your husband, let alone try to seduce him. There was nothing going on between us. Even if I was single, which I’m not,” raising her left hand and displaying a worn wedding band, “I wouldn’t have anything to do with a married man.”

  Rarity slid forward until she’d wedged herself between Ophelia Gold and Ava. “I know this is a stressful time for you all. Won’t you have a nice cup of coffee? Ava’s Java is known, far and wide, for their full-bodied decaf.”

  Rosemary sniffed. “Do you have espresso?”

  Ophelia pulled a handful of tissues from her handbag. “We have no time for coffee. My children and I are here solely to see justice is done. We’ve heard how it works in these small towns. You’ll sweep the crime under the rug to protect your own. Someone will pay for this. If necessary, I plan to take care of it myself.”

  Rarity stepped to a nearby table and pulled out a chair. In the soft, soothing voice, only my boss could muster, she said, “I can see you are distraught. Let us take care of you while you rest here. Coffee? Maybe a sweet roll?” Mrs. Gold sank into the chair and Rarity took a seat beside her. “I have faith, and God assures us, that right will be accomplished.” She glanced up at Ava, who placed a plate of muffins on the table. Rarity continued. “The Evelynton police force is very conscientious, and you may be confident they will do everything in their power to catch the culprit.”

  “We don’t want your coffee or sweet rolls.” Mrs. Gold popped up from the table. “I see I’m getting nowhere. Come Sage. Rosemary, we don’t have time for this. Off to the police station.”

  Sage reluctantly withdrew his hand from the tray of muffins and followed his mother and sister to the door. I waved to their backs. “Nice to meet you. Once again, I’m sorry for your loss. Goodbye Mrs. Gold, Sage, Rosemary.”

  It seemed Giles Gold was a womanizer. That was not good news. I didn’t want to believe it, but could Ava have succumbed to flirtations of the famous food blogger? Was she the reason he’d traveled to our minuscule town?

  Chapter Seven

  Later that afternoon, Clair, Anita, and I occupied the best table in Ava’s Java, next to the widow, affording a clear view of Main Street. The coffee shop was filled, but quiet. I guess it was easy for Evelynton citizens to forget a murder had taken place—or at least to put it out of their minds, in favor of more pleasant topics.

  Not so with Clair and Anita. They grilled me about the Golds.

  “They were an emotional family. The crying was understandable, but a moment later, the tears stopped and they started yelling at Ava. Even Rarity’s magical composure didn’t get through to them. The three finally marched off to the police station. I wonder how Officer Farlow handled them.”

  Anita stirred sugar into her coffee. “To bad Irma’s not here this morning. I bet she’d tell us all about their visit.”

  Clair’s gaze darted to the coffee counter. “I see someone who might be just as interesting to talk to as Irma.”

  She swiveled in her chair and raised her voice above the hum of conversation. “Amos Smith, we don’t see you in here often.”

  The big man glanced at us, paid for his coffee and thanke
d Ava, before ambling over. He stood beside our table holding his to-go cup. “Hi, ladies. I’ve had enough stale coffee, from the station, to last me. Needed some of the good stuff.”

  Anita smiled. “How’s work going?”

  He shrugged. “Jimmy’s had us working round the clock. He’s determined to solve this case before Chief Stoddard gets back from vacation. That’d be a feather in his cap.”

  Amos took a sweeping glance around the coffee shop and lowered his voice. “The family of the deceased, coming to town, didn’t help. They were blubbering and putt’n up a fuss one minute, and threatening to take it to the papers or call the governor, the next. That just added to Farlow’s obsession.”

  Clair patted an empty chair at our table. “Why don’t you sit with us and relax a few minutes? You deserve a rest.” Amos probably didn’t suspect, but I knew Clair had an ulterior motive for the invitation, beyond the deputy’s need for relaxation.

  A smile engulfed the man’s face. “That would be nice.” Amos settled into the chair and slumped over his coffee, cradling the cardboard cup.

  Anita blessed him with a sweet smile. “You do seem tired. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’ve been better. This is a tough case. As I said, we’ve been putting in extra hours, so I haven’t been home much. The wife’s upset about it.”

  Anita’s face crinkled. “I bet she misses you being home.”

  Amos nodded. “She does, but it’s part of the job. She knew I wouldn’t have regular hours when I joined the force.”

  Considering Evelynton’s history of mostly petty crime, I doubted Mrs. Smith expected her husband’s job to put much of a strain on their relationship.

  Amos concentrated on his coffee for a few quiet moments, before he returned his attention to us. “Has the Mentor Group gotten back to regular meetings? I might come by to ask for some domestic advice. You all were helpful the last time I stopped in.”

  Clair shrugged. “Right now, we’re trying to get the Marshmallow Festival underway. It’s been a mess since our main attraction fell through. You might want to hang on until after that so we can devote our full attention to you.”

  Amos gave sort of a sad, manly sigh, but Clair forged ahead with her mission. “By the way, how’s the case going? Closing in on the murderer yet?”

  Amos recovered with the new subject. “We’re working Farlow’s strategy, sorting through the obvious suspects.”

  Anita leaned in. “Who do you think did it?”

  His eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder. I wondered if Farlow had told him to keep quiet about their suspicions. “Too soon to tell. You’ve got to understand, there are a slew of suspects in this case. Farlow’s got a whole list.”

  Anita tilted her head and took a minute. “That many? I can’t think of anyone who would be able to murder the man. We were thinking it must be someone from out of town, since Mr. Gold wasn’t local.”

  Amos took a long drink of coffee and blotted his mouth with the napkin. “It’s true we don’t know if he was acquainted with anyone from Evelynton. Only Ms. Lane, who admitted she contacted him to request his presence at the festival.”

  Clair shook her head rather vigorously. “I never met the man. Found his blog on the Internet and emailed him.”

  Officer Smith leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. “So you said in your statement. In these cases, we begin with known suspects. The most obvious, of course, is Melanie D’agostino.”

  Anita lurched forward and almost fell out of her chair. “No! She’s a child.”

  “Eighteen. And let’s not forget, she’s the granddaughter of a convicted murderer.”

  “That’s true, but you can’t blame Melanie for her grandmother’s mental illness.”

  “Her uncle was in on it, too. Sometimes that sort of thing runs in families. Farlow says they never proved conclusively that the girl wasn’t involved. He thinks the judge let her go because he had a soft spot for young girls. His daughter was about the same age.”

  Amos shrugged. “When you think about it, Farlow has a point. It might not be a coincidence she happened to find the body. First on the scene. Did she arrange that because she knew about the corpse? Who would suspect her if she raised the alert?”

  I’d been listening to the exchange and couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “I’ll never believe Melanie did it. She couldn’t help getting caught up in that other thing with her grandmother.”

  I noticed my cup was getting low and thought about going for a refill, but I might miss something. “How about the murder weapon? Have you found it? Do you know what was used?”

  “Haven’t found anything, but we’re still working on it. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Anita had pulled a notebook from her purse and was taking notes. “You said there were lots of suspects. Who else is on the list?”

  Amos scratched his ear, glanced over his shoulder and whispered. “The next one that comes to mind is Ava Kraus. I suppose you heard she had met the victim?”

  This caught Clair mid-sip and she spit coffee on the table. “No way! Why is Farlow still harping on her? She had a perfectly good explanation.”

  Amos used a napkin to blot the coffee drops. “The evidence speaks for itself. The body turned up right outside this place. It’s the only business to use that particular dumpster. That’s the physical evidence.”

  Amos shifted in his seat. “We’re all aware Ava was entered in the festival contest that Gold happened to be judge of. Maybe she already knew he was against her. Then of course there’s the fact that she changed her original story.”

  “I can’t sit still and listen to this.” Anita stood and turned her back to us, to gaze out the window. The glass steamed up as she spoke. “Those so-called facts don’t mean anything. Lots of businesses here in town were taking part in the contest. Besides, a trophy in the shape of a silver marshmallow wouldn’t be worth killing someone.”

  “People have killed for less.”

  Clair eyed Amos. “You sound like a television detective.”

  Amos’s cheeks grew pink. “I’ve always wanted to use that line.”

  He paused and focused on his cup for a moment. Glancing at me, he said, “The next person on Farlow’s list is you, Ms. Halloren.”

  I dropped my cinnamon roll and had to fish it out of my coffee mug. “Why me? What reason would he have? I mean besides the fact that he’s been trying to arrest me since I moved back to town four years ago?”

  Amos sighed. “I didn’t want to believe him, but Jimmy explained there have only been three suspicious deaths, now four, in Evelynton, in the last fifty years. They’ve all occurred since you arrived.” Amos stared into my eyes. Was he waiting to see my reaction?

  I sputtered, suddenly not feeling so safe with this gentle man. “That doesn’t mean a thing. I can’t help it if bodies drop near me. And you make it sound like I’m a stranger who just showed up. I left after high school and have returned home.”

  Anita turned away from the window to face us. “You know, Amos, Lauren wasn’t the only one at those other crime scenes. Clair was with her when they found two of the bodies.”

  Clair slopped coffee as she pivoted in her chair and reached out to slap Anita’s shoulder. “Hey! Nice way to throw me under the bus. You want him to put me on the suspect list?”

  Amos laughed. “Sorry to say you’re on the list too, but a little farther down.”

  Clair’s forehead crinkled as she mopped up the spilled coffee. The table was going to need scrubbing. “Who else are you looking at?”

  Amos went on. “There’s Konrad Kraus.” He put up a hand. “Before you tell me he’s a great guy, I already know that. He’s on my bowling team. But being Ava’s husband puts him under suspicion.”

  Amos put up the other hand to ward off the coming protests. “We know how protective Konrad is of Ava. What if he believed Gold had romantic designs? He’s a muscular guy, and had easy access to the dumpster.”

  Amos glanced at the
door and downed the last dregs of his coffee. “It’s been nice talking to you ladies, but I better get back to the station. Thanks for letting me sit with you.”

  The policeman ambled out to the sidewalk, and I put my elbows on the table to prop up my head. “Ugh. That was depressing. Why is Farlow considering me? I wasn’t even here when Melanie found the body.”

  Clair glanced at me. “That’s right. You were late to our meeting. Where were you?”

  “What do you mean, where was I? Crawling out of bed. You know very well I have a hard time getting to early meetings. I’m insulted.”

  “Sorry. I know you didn’t have anything to do with this. Guess I got spooked when my friend tagged me as a suspect.” She cut her eyes to Anita. “I noticed he didn’t mention your name.”

  No one ever suspected Anita of anything bad. Even in high school when Clair and I would get into trouble, everyone thought of Anita as innocent.

  Anita slid into her chair, innocent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m sure I’m in there someplace. Amos didn’t get to the whole list.”

  I had a suspicion Anita was jealous that Clair and I were suspects and she wasn’t.

  Anita continued. “This death has everyone on edge. I’ve said it before. We should get the Woman’s Detective Agency back together and solve it ourselves.”

  Clair and I swung toward our enthusiastic friend. In unison, we said, “No!”

  I locked eyes with Anita. “We never formed a Woman’s Detective Agency. It’s something you made up.”

  “Okay. I did, but I still think it’s a good idea.” Anita sat silently for a minute. “We can’t let Farlow blame poor Melanie D’agostino. She’s just now getting over her grandmother and uncle being in jail.”

  Clair leaned back in her chair. “I don’t suspect Melanie, but none of the other people Amos mentioned could have done it either. We know them. They aren’t killers.”

  Anita’s blond curls flew as she shook her head. “This is wrong. If Farlow focuses on the suspects Amos mentioned, and no one else, someone will be wrongfully accused. He’ll never apprehend the real killer.”