Caffeinated Murder

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Caffeinated Murder Page 6

by Lynne Waite Chapman


  “I’m asking around to see if Giles Gold stayed at this motel.” Once more, I pulled out the picture. “Frank said he recognized him but he’d used an assumed name.”

  Cheryl’s eyes softened. “Oh, I remember him. He was nice.” She twinkled when she described him as older, but a cutie.

  “We talked for quite a while.” She glanced toward the office where her boss could be seen in his desk chair. “Probably longer than Frank would approve of, but he wants us to be nice to the customers.”

  “His name wasn’t Giles. I’d remember that. I think he said it was Bob. He asked me for advice.”

  Cheryl chuckled. “It isn’t often a guest wants to talk to me, the maid, let alone ask my opinion.”

  “He said he had a crush on a woman in town, so he flew in from New York to surprise her. Imagine a man traveling all the way here from New York, just to show her he loved her. Isn’t that romantic?”

  I was impressed. I hadn’t been on the receiving end of that kind of attention for a long time. “That was certainly romantic. What kind of advice did he need?”

  “He wanted to know how to make the best impression when he saw her. I told him the best thing he could do was to take flowers. No woman could resist him if he showed up with a bouquet. And he had to get the flowers from George and Larry’s Florist on Main Street. He wasn’t to stop at a filling station or grocery store.”

  “Good advice. Who was the lucky lady?”

  “Wouldn’t tell me her name. He asked me for a phone book so he could look up her address. Took me a while to find one. Who uses phone books anymore?”

  “I thought it was funny he didn’t know her address. Must not have known her very well. When I think about it, that’s even more romantic.”

  “Was he successful with the woman?”

  “I don’t know. He checked out. I got the impression he might stay a few days, and even thought he’d make a point of telling me how he got along with his girlfriend. But the next day, Frank called me to clean the room. Bob didn’t even stick around long enough to let me know what happened with his lady friend. Maybe the woman of his dreams broke his heart. I hope he finds someone else.”

  “When you went in to clean, did you find anything? Had he left anything behind?”

  “Nothing unusual. It was just the regular room cleaning.” After a moment, Cheryl shook her head. “There was one funny thing.”

  She stepped closer, and whispered. “A blanket was missing from the room. I never would have pegged him for someone who would steal. Silly thing to take. It was old, threadbare. It wasn’t worth anything, so I didn’t tell Frank. I just got a replacement from the cupboard.”

  She shifted her gaze down the walk to the office. “I protected him, even though he didn’t think enough of me to stick around long enough to let me know what happened.”

  The maid hefted a mop from the cart. “Guess I’d better get to work.”

  Cheryl let herself into one of the rooms. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that her friend, Bob, was dead.

  Chapter Ten

  H ow many scoops for a carafe of coffee? It had been a while since I brewed a whole pot at home. I added ground coffee. Three heaping spoonfuls. Crap. That didn’t look right. I threw in another and punched the start button. Better too strong than wimpy. Soon the aroma of brewed coffee drifted through the house. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was in Ava’s Java.

  At Clair’s insistence, the Woman’s Detective Agency had moved our meeting place to my house. So many of our friends at the Java were actually suspects in the death of Giles Gold. Our investigation needed to be kept secret.

  Mason trotted to the front door and sat down to stare at it, so I prepared to receive guests. Scarcely a minute later, I heard Anita’s singsong voice and Clair’s laugh on the porch. I nudged the cat with my toe, moving him aside to provide room for the door to swing open. He was incredibly useful when it came to foretelling the future, but not so aware of personal space.

  Clair reached down to scratch Mason’s ear and sauntered to the sofa to make herself comfortable. Mason followed and curled up on her lap. About a year earlier, Clair had decided to be an animal person, and no longer worried about cat hair on her designer suits.

  Anita dove into the subject of the day, as she hoofed it to the kitchen. “If Carl, from Burgers ‘N Bean Sprouts, could be a suspect, we also have to consider Ava and her husband. Everyone who was at the Java that day, or the day before, is a possibility.

  She grabbed the carafe and filled three mugs. “For that matter, one of us could have done it. No playing favorites.”

  I carried two cups to the living room. “Let’s not get paranoid. We know none of us is homicidal.”

  Once I’d served Clair and taken a chair, she held her notebook above the sleeping cat. “Let’s get started. My first suspect is Carl Rocco. His motive? The burning desire to win the marshmallow competition. More importantly, he confessed to wanting his pal the mayor to be the celebrity judge. That position was conveniently vacated with the death of Giles Gold.”

  Anita put her coffee cup on the end table and studied her notes. “I checked on Rocco’s window of opportunity, but I’m not clear on it. The waitress said he was working at the time we think Gold was killed, but she didn’t actually see him, so how do we know?”

  Anita put a check mark on her notes and continued. “I went to Carl’s home on the ruse of asking his wife to be part of the church rummage sale. She said no. Probably thought I was crazy since we’d never met, but we had a nice conversation.

  She told me Carl arrived home late on the day of the murder. That would be the day before Gold’s body was found. She said there was nothing odd about the late arrival. He’d been working a lot of hours, getting ready for the festival.”

  I cleared my throat. “I have new information. It might change the direction of our investigation.”

  My friends turned expectant eyes to me, and I related the details of my visit to E-Town Gardens.

  Anita’s eyes got big and she shrieked. “Giles Gold had a girlfriend? That is exciting. It opens up all sorts of possibilities.”

  Clair didn’t shriek, but close to it. “Why didn’t you tell us this as soon as we got here? It changes everything.”

  The ruckus woke Mason and prompted a dramatic leap from Clair’s lap. He galloped to the dining room and crouched under the table. The sudden departure caused Clair to drop her notebook.

  Anita cut her gaze to me. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Who is she?”

  I blew out a breath. “Sorry, I don’t know. Still working on that.”

  “Oh. At least it’s a lead.” Clair retrieved her notebook. “Another woman. That’s interesting. I wonder if his wife know about it.”

  Somewhat deflated, I said, “I don’t know that either. Guess my next move is contacting Mrs. Gold. But from what Cheryl, the maid, said even the girlfriend was unaware of his infatuation.”

  It was time to pull out my prize. “I do have something tangible.” I held up the earring.

  Clair snatched it from my hand. “Isn’t that pretty. Where did you get it?”

  “I thought you’d like it. Sort of your style isn’t it?” I related the details of my search, and confessed to the doubtful origin of the jewelry. “There was a lot of dust under there, so it could have been lost weeks ago. Months?”

  Anita stirred sugar into her coffee. “I bet it belongs to his girlfriend. That’s proof there was a woman in his room. Maybe she killed him.”

  I held out my hand. “I’m going to put it in an envelope for safekeeping.”

  Clair handed over the bobble, shaking her head. “Ladies, let’s not get too excited. This might not have anything to do with the murder. Like Lauren said, it could have been dropped by some tenant months ago.”

  Anita took a moment to write in her notebook. “Great work, Lauren. You can keep working on that angle. Is there any point in discussing anything else?”

  Clair put up a
hand. “Let’s not get stuck on one lead. There are other suspects.”

  She waited a moment and then continued. “What do you think about Melanie D’agostino? Could she be a murderer?”

  Anita stiffened. “We’ve discussed her involvement before. I don’t think she’s a killer and the girl’s certainly not big enough to overpower a grown man. If she did manage to kill him, how would she move his body to the dumpster? She had to have help.”

  Mason crept in from the dining room and crawled into my lap. I pulled my notebook from under him. “Anita’s right. No way could she have done it alone. And her criminal relatives are in jail, so I don’t see how we can consider her. Besides, she’s a sweet young girl.”

  Anita tapped her steno pad. “I confess, I already checked with some of Melanie’s friends. There’s no boyfriend in the picture. I don’t consider her a suspect.”

  Clair glanced at her friend. “You’ve been busy.” She flipped a page of her notebook. “Next suspect—Ava. I won’t believe she did it. She’s not capable of murder. But what about Konrad? None of us know him well. He’s big enough, and would have had motive if he was protecting Ava.” After a moment, she raised her pen. “And opportunity.”

  Anita leaned forward. “What if Ava was the girlfriend? Konrad could have found out, and been jealous.”

  Clair added. “Or Giles might have made a pass at her? Maybe got aggressive. I imagine Konrad could be violent.”

  I felt like sinking into my chair, but needed to add my thoughts. “What if Ava rebuffed Giles? He could even have threatened to ruin the Java’s reputation on his blog.”

  I lifted Mason into a hug. “Crap. Everything seems to point to Ava or Konrad, or both.”

  Anita shook her steno pad. “We aren’t helping. Nothing in our investigation is apt to divert Farlow’s attention from his prime suspects.”

  Clair gazed at me. “In fact, we’re making everything worse. One of our friends is going to go to jail.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I heeded the call for another meeting of the Woman’s Detective Agency right after my shift at The Rare Curl. This time we met at Ava’s Java. As soon as I joined my fellow sleuths, Anita planted her elbows on the table and locked eyes with me. “So, tell us what you’ve discovered about the earring.”

  Clair leaned in next to her and whispered. “Does it belong to Ava?”

  I stared back at them. “How would I know? I’ve only had it a day, and I worked at the reception desk this morning.”

  Anita narrowed her eyes. “Oh. I thought you would have been working out the details. You know—in your brain.”

  Would they never give up on the idea that I’m a genius crime-fighter? “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Anita sat back in her chair, shaking her head. “It doesn’t belong to Ava. I’ve been thinking about it. She would never wear such gaudy jewelry.”

  Clair cut her eyes to Anita. “Gaudy? I’d call it bold. And she might wear something like it when she got dressed up. Maybe if she and Konrad were to go on a date.”

  Anita smirked. “Not a chance. Ava has a classy, dignified vibe. I see her in understated eighteen carat gold earrings.”

  “Bold jewelry can be classy. Right Lauren?”

  I wrapped my hands around my warm coffee mug. “Don’t pull me into that discussion. I don’t even wear jewelry.” That would mean I’d have to dress up. And I hadn’t been on a date in months.

  “But getting back to the investigation, let’s remember the earring might not mean anything. The important evidence is the news of the girlfriend.”

  Anita sighed. “You’re right. We have reliable testimony of that. What’s next on your agenda?”

  “I’ll drive back over to the motel later and ask questions. Maybe someone noticed a woman around Gold’s room.”

  Clair nodded. “And if they saw a tall woman, we’ll know it was Ava.”

  Anita glared at her friend. “It wasn’t Ava! She’d already taken care of his advances at the food conference and would never have gone to his room.”

  Clair put up a hand. “Just trying to be objective.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Let’s keep our voices down. Remember where we are.”

  We sat at our favorite table at Ava’s Java. Small round, plenty of room for three, next to the window. It had been our spot since I’d joined my friends, four years earlier.

  Anita ducked her chin and whispered. “We should have chosen another location for our meeting. Maybe at Lauren’s again.”

  Clair shook her head. “We can’t do that. We always meet here. Ava would suspect something if we didn’t show up.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t want her to think we’re avoiding her. We’ll just have to be careful.” Anita sat back, looking innocent while whispering. “Have you told Farlow about your discovery of the girlfriend?”

  I put up a hand. “No, and I won’t. First of all, Officer Farlow would never believe me. I’ll wait until I have a name. He knows Gold flirted with Ava at the food conference. We don’t want to supply another reason for him to suspect her.” I leaned back and pulled my coffee close. “I’ll let the police department do their own investigation. They‘re the professionals.”

  “It seems dishonest to withhold information. I think you should tell them.”

  “Do you know how many times Farlow’s told me to stay out of police business?”

  Anita’s blond curls bounced as she shook her head. “Lost count.”

  “Someday he’ll find a reason to put me in jail. I won’t talk to him unless I have solid evidence.”

  Anita continued. “I know how we can prove Ava’s innocence.” When both Clair and I gave her our full attention, she said, “What if we drop the earring on the floor for Ava to find? If she claims it, we’ll know she was in the hotel room. If she doesn’t, we’ll know she’s not the girlfriend.”

  I shook my head. “We don’t even know it belongs to the girlfriend.”

  Anita shrugged. “True. But it’s a start.”

  Clair pointed an index finger at Anita. “If the earring isn’t hers, she’ll put it at the counter to find the owner.”

  “Perfect! Then when someone claims it, we’ll have our suspect.”

  “That’s actually a good idea.” I pulled the envelope, holding the earring, from my bag.

  We all jumped at Ava’s voice. She stood next to us holding the coffee carafe. “What are you girls whispering about? Must be some good gossip and I need a distraction. What is it?”

  We stared up at Ava with wide eyes. I slid the envelope into a pocket and put my other hand to my throat. I whispered-hoarsely. “Unfortunately not gossip. I have laryngitis. Woke up with it. Been getting worse all day.”

  “Oh no. It must have been difficult answering the phone at Rarity’s.” Ava’s concern pinged my guilt at the lie.

  Anita bobbed her head. “Isn’t it silly? Lauren can’t help but speak like that. Clair and I just end up whispering too.” She gave a short, sort of hysterical, hiccup of laughter.

  Ava’s eyebrows drew together as she refilled our cups. “I hope you feel better soon, Lauren. Why don’t I get you some tea and honey?”

  I croaked. “Oh, no. I have throat lozenges. But, thank you.”

  “Take care of yourself and get some rest.” Ava stepped away.

  As the barista mingled with her other customers, Clair glared at me. “What kind of excuse was that? I bet she didn’t believe a word of it.”

  “It’s the first thing that came to mind. I’m a terrible liar.”

  Clair closed her eyes and shook her head. “And Anita, you didn’t help any.”

  Anita stifled a nervous giggle. “Sorry. Got caught off guard.”

  I gasped as Anita snatched the envelope from my pocket, pulled out the earring and tossed it under a neighboring table.

  I stared at her, speechless.

  Watching the bobble slide across the floor, Clair took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess that’s taken care of. Let’s work on other
areas of the investigation.” She shifted her gaze to the coffee counter and whispered. “No mention of Ava or Konrad.”

  Anita nodded. “Good idea.”

  After taking a moment to come to terms with the theft, I mouthed, “Let’s discuss alternative suspects.”

  My friends leaned in. “What?”

  I pointed at my throat, and mouthed the words again.

  “Very funny.” Clair leaned back in her chair.

  “Oh, I got it. I know what she said.” Anita whispered. “Alternative suspects.”

  Clair sighed and flipped to a new page of her notebook. “Gold had thousands of readers. He could have made any number of enemies from a review of a restaurant they liked, or didn’t like, or by giving a bad rating to their own establishment.”

  I hissed. “Maybe someplace here in Evelynton, or nearby.”

  Clair tapped the table with a newly manicured nail. “Did he ever write a negative review of a place in or near Evelynton? If he did, I missed it.”

  Anita waved off the question. “I’m one of his faithful readers. Love his blog. He posts so many great cooking ideas. But he never mentioned any place here in town. I’d remember.” She added sugar to her coffee. “Too bad there won’t be any new content.”

  Clair kept tapping the table with her polished red nails. “We didn’t even know he was in town. How would someone else know?”

  Anita looked to me for a comment. I pointed to my throat and mouthed. “Don’t want to strain my voice.”

  My friends narrowed their eyes at me.

  Anita sipped her coffee. “What about family members?”

  I widened my eyes, smiled, and pointed at her.

  Clair glanced at Anita. “They say it’s usually the spouse or someone close to the victim.”

  I nodded vigorously.

  I was enjoying the charade, although I think my friends were tiring of my humor.

  We were startled once again when Ava hurried to our table, a twisted a dish towel in her hands. “Guess what. Beverly, from B’s Bed and Breakfast, just picked up an order and wanted to let me know. The Gold family is coming back to town. They just booked a reservation with her for the three days of the festival.”

 

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