Caffeinated Murder

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  Clair raised puffy eyes to me and let out a low groan.

  I took a breath. I could make the trip more palatable, if I was a good friend. I spit out the offer before I changed my mind. “I’ll go with you for moral support.”

  Clair’s hands slapped her thighs as they fell to her sides, and gratitude splashed across her face. “I would love that. Thank you. You’ve been there and know what to expect.”

  Clair was aware of my police station phobia, so I’d hoped she would be grateful but assure me she was fine to go alone. Judging from the grin on her face, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “It’s no problem at all,” I said as cheerfully as I could.

  Actually it might be a treat to be at the police station without occupying center stage. As a simple bystander, Farlow had no reason to suspect me of criminal activity.

  Clair pushed herself away from the food truck and brushed some debris from her shirt. While she primped, my pocket vibrated. I pulled out my phone to find Anita’s picture on the front. As soon as I answered, she said, “Get over to the Java right away. Something’s going on.”

  I said, “Sure.” and hung up.

  “That was Anita. She wants to see us at Ava’s Java.” I flashed a smile at Clair. “We can get a coffee while we’re there.”

  “Great. I’m feeling better already.” She grabbed my arm, and together we wove our way through the crowd until we arrived at the Java.

  Anita waved and motioned us over to where she stood beside the counter. “You’ve arrived at the perfect time. We’ve been rushed for the last fifteen minutes, but things have slowed down a little.”

  “What’s up?”

  She pointed at an empty table. “Take that table. I’ll bring you some coffee and tell you about it.”

  Clair moaned. “I wish we could, but we can’t stay.”

  “Just two cups of Ava’s Killer Blend, to go.” I described the turmoil in the food alley, adding Clair’s summons to the station.

  “Oh, poor thing.” Anita put an arm around Clair in a hug, and then slid behind the counter. She handed us each a cardboard cup of java.

  Clair wrapped her hands around her to-go cup and sucked in a big drink of the steaming liquid. “So, what’s going on here?”

  “It’s Konrad. I’ve been keeping an eye on him all morning, since he’s our prime suspect in the murder. All seemed to be going well, until a little while ago. He snapped at Ava and stormed out the front door. Ava seemed really flustered. She put Melanie in charge of the cash register, and she left. Without another word.” Anita glanced at the counter. “I couldn’t believe they both took off, since we’ve been so busy with the festival crowd.”

  Our friend kept an eye on the door and wrung her hands as she spoke. “Oh shoot. It’s picking up again.”

  A creak of a door drew our attention to the kitchen entrance. Ava entered and hustled to the coffee counter. Anita sighed. “Praise the Lord, she’s back. I didn’t know what we were going to do for the rest of the day.”

  Ava took her place at the cash register and shouted to the customers in line. “Sorry, everybody. Had some pressing business to attend to. All fixed now.”

  Anita scooted into her place beside Ava, where she took charge of the Killer Marshmallow Brownie samples. Clair and I followed and hovered nearby.

  As Ava mixed a specialty coffee drink, Anita leaned toward her, “Are you alright? Konrad ran out sort of suddenly. And when you left too, I was worried.”

  Ava handed the coffee to a customer. “Everything’s fine. It’s even better than fine. I wish he’d picked a better time, but Konrad finally blurted out what has been on his mind. You know we haven’t talked much since he told me he wanted to sell the Java.”

  Anita, Clair, and I nodded and leaned in.

  “It seems he was having a little mid-life crisis. You know men. He was afraid I was working too hard and, being the man of the family, thought it was his duty to help me. So he worked his own job, and whenever he had free time he thought he had to take over the management of the Java. The problem is, he never consulted me.”

  Clair raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Oh. I bet that didn’t go over well.”

  Ava chuckled. “No it didn’t. I’ve been running this place just fine for a long time. When I understood why he was acting so strangely, I told him that I respect him for wanting to help. But I didn’t need it. I love my work. In fact, I thrive on it.”

  I agreed with Ava, since she continued to wait on customers as she talked to us. “All the extra customers today sent him over the edge. But I convinced him I can handle it. Sent him home. I need his support and encouragement but not his presence in my shop.”

  Anita said, “Was that why he was so insistent that you sell Ava’s Java? We thought….”

  Clair and I cut our eyes to Anita, successfully silencing her.

  Ava chuckled. “For some reason he thought I’d be happier retired. Silly man. It took me a while, out there in the alley, but I convinced him to recognize this is my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, he’s decided to stop trying to be in control. In our marriage we are a team with individual roles to play.”

  I snatched a Killer Marshmallow Brownie sample from the tray. “I’m glad Konrad understands.” Popping it into my mouth, I mumbled. “Hmmm. This town wouldn’t be the same without you and the Java.”

  Anita walked with us to the door. “Guess I’ll scratch Konrad off my suspect list. Darn. Not that I wanted him to be the killer, but I thought we had it solved.”

  Clair and I waved good-bye and carried our to-go cups of Killer Blend out into the crowd.

  We took our time covering the three block trek to the police station sipping coffee and dodging countless people browsing the vendors instead of watching where they were going. I’d lost interest in the festivities, contemplating, instead, the seriously disturbed woman who had assaulted my friend. Clair remained quiet and didn’t pass out a single business card.

  When we arrived at our destination, I let Clair take the lead into the building. I followed close behind, so when she put on the brakes. I slammed into her. “Sorry.”

  She whispered to me. “Who are all those people?”

  I peeked over her shoulder. “I have no idea.”

  The room seemed unusually congested, with men and women milling about in the waiting area and peeking into other rooms. At the center, Officer Amos Smith stood with Rosemary Gold, still wearing handcuffs. Sage and Ophelia Gold were at the side, squaring off with Officer Farlow. Everyone in the room witnessed the tirade as they repeated the defense Sage had used in the food alley. “It was a momentary lack of judgment, brought on by a slight medical condition. The whole silly thing was caused by the caffeine. Nothing to worry about now.”

  A group of strangers had congregated on the far side of the room. None of them were familiar to me. I concluded they were visitors in town for the festival. They must have witnessed the arrest and followed the action to the police station. In their eyes, this was probably an exciting mystery event, put on for the festival. A couple of them snapped pictures.

  Irma stepped out of an adjoining office toting a stack of files. She spied Clair and me. “Hey, girls. How’s the festival?”

  We didn’t answer, but Clair’s pitiful expression seemed to convey our thoughts. The clerk scoped out the surrounding activity and carried the files into another office without further comment.

  While Clair and I stood back waiting for Amos to lead Rosemary away, hopefully to a cell, a door opened behind us. I looked over my shoulder to see Evelynton’s librarian, Gloria Belletrist enter the room. Judging from her glassy-eyed stare, I feared she was in distress. I whispered, “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

  Gloria lifted her shoulders and whimpered something indecipherable.

  I concluded the woman was experiencing some kind of emotional episode. “Maybe you should go back to the library and rest.”

  She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “No, I
have to confess.”

  Was it a mental break? “What would you confess? You must be disoriented. I can understand, with all the excitement down at the food alley. Would you like me to call someone to pick you up?”

  This time her voice was strong enough for the entire room to hear. “I’m here to confess to the murder. I killed Giles Gold.”

  I slid back a couple steps. All conversations halted. The Gold clan snapped to attention. A few of the strangers procured more pictures.

  Gloria squared her shoulders. “Officer Smith told me the death was thought to be by blunt force trauma, with cookie dough. I’m here to say I supplied the murder weapon. It was my dough.”

  The only sound in the room was the shuffling of Officer Farlow’s shoes as he pivoted toward her, notebook and pen in hand. He opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and closed it.

  Several scenarios played out in my mind featuring Gloria pelting Giles Gold with raw cookies. None of them believable. Someone had to save the woman. I returned to her side. “You’re over-excited. Maybe we should get a cool cloth for your forehead.”

  But Gloria seemed to be gaining control of her emotions. She glanced at me and huffed, “Move aside and let me explain.”

  “Giles Gold came into the library looking for a street map. I love his blog and recognized him right away. Him, standing in my library was such an honor, I could hardly contain myself. I probably talked his ear off.” Gloria grinned at all of us as she shared her good fortune. “Well I just had to tell him about the cookies my grandmother used to bake, and how I’d been tweaking the ingredients for years. I’d perfected the flavor, but never shared them with anyone. The right time had finally presented itself.” Gloria paused and scanned our faces.

  I’d pulled out my phone, considering a call to Emergency Services, when she continued her story. “As luck would have it, I had a roll of the dough in my freezer, so I ran right home and got it.”

  The librarian took a breath and beamed as she continued. “I presented it to Mr. Gold as a gift. He was very grateful, and promised to bake it and to write a review of my cookies on his blog, as soon as he returned to New York. He took it with him when he left the library.”

  Farlow blinked. “Mrs. Belletrist, thank you for that interesting story, but I’m not sure it implicates you in the death of Giles Gold.” He shifted his gaze to me, standing in the unfortunate position beside Gloria. “I should have known. Halloren, what nonsense have you put into her mind?”

  I raised my hands as a shield and shook my head. “This is all new to me. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

  The officer raised his arm, index finger pointing to the door. “Take the poor woman home.”

  I wasn’t about to argue with him, and prepared to escort Gloria out, when a breeze blew into the room.

  We all turned to see Gladys propping the door open with her hip and dragging in a bucket of cleaning supplies. The cleaning woman straightened and gazed at us. “What’s going on in here? I thought the place would be empty with most of the police force out patrolling the streets. Is this a good time to clean?”

  About this time I’d concluded I was still at home in my bed, and the whole day was a strange twisted nightmare.

  Gladys scanned the room, taking in each person until her eyes landed on Rosemary and Sage Gold at the side of the room conferring with their mother.

  The charwoman’s mouth dropped open. “That’s them. The crooks.” Gladys advanced on Farlow. “Arrest those two. They’re dumpster thieves. I know, because I witnessed the crime. They dumped garbage into a dumpster without authority. It wasn’t theirs to use. The can belonged to Ava’s Java.”

  Officer Farlow closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “We have more pressing matters here than unlawful garbage can use.”

  Gladys waved an index finger in Farlow’s face. “That’s the problem with the world today. You think some crimes are less important, and won’t take the trouble to investigate. That’s how it happens. Today the dumpster, tomorrow a terrorist attack.”

  Farlow rolled his eyes. “Gladys, we don’t need your hysterics. Go home. You’ll have to clean the station at another time.” Having dismissed Gladys and Gloria, he returned his attention to Ophelia Gold.

  If this wasn’t a dream, there were two women in the room who might be having mental breakdowns. I put an arm around Gladys and guided her toward the door. I attempted to coax Gloria to accompany us, but she wasn’t as cooperative. I needed to reconsider my approach with her.

  As I neared the door, Officer Farlow twisted toward us. “Thank you for helping with them, Lauren.”

  I froze and stared at the lawman. Farlow had never thanked me for anything, and he’d never used my first name. Didn’t know he was aware I had one.

  At this point I had no doubt that the entire day had been a dream. What do you do when in the middle of a dream? Play along.

  Chapter Twenty

  G ladys followed me willingly. Gloria was made of sterner stuff. Even after my best persuasion, she planted her feet and refused to budge. I remembered she still had a gun on her, so thought it best to leave her where she was comfortable.

  Outside, the washer woman made it halfway down the steps before she refused to go farther. Using my sweetest voice, I tried to convince her to leave the area. The only response I got was a tirade of police incompetence.

  Finally, she spat out, “I won’t be silenced!” and escaped my grasp to trudge back into the police station.

  I briefly considered going home, but Clair was still inside and I’d promised to stay with her. Truthfully, the action inside was a lot more inviting than the safety of my house, so I couldn’t resist following Gladys.

  Inside, the Golds argued with Officer Smith. Gladys charged at Farlow with her arm raised, pointing at Sage and Rosemary. I searched the room for Clair, and found her hiding behind Gloria. The strangers at the far wall still snapped pictures. I watched the crazy episode play out and tried to stay out of the way.

  Sometimes I’m a little slow, but while I studied the players—still thinking it might be a dream—pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. I left my safe space and stepped over to Sage and Rosemary. “Sorry to interrupt, but it was you at the dumpster, wasn’t it? What were you doing?”

  They turned to me with open mouths and stuttered simultaneously. “We weren’t there.”

  I said, “Gladys is pretty certain it was you. Are you sure you didn’t decide to use the dumpster to clean out your car, maybe throw away some fast-food bags?”

  Sage raised his fist and blurted, “I said we weren’t there. Why are you listening to that old woman? She’s probably blind.”

  Gladys had followed me and hung over my shoulder. “Don’t call me an old woman, I know what I saw. My eyesight is 20/20.”

  “But….” Sage caught his breath and hung his head. After blowing out enough air to deflate a large balloon, he glanced at his sister. “I’m sorry, Rosemary. I can’t deny it any more. I tried, but keeping our secret is too heavy a burden.”

  Rosemary shook her head. “What secret? There’s no secret. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Perspiration had formed on Sage’s forehead. “The woman saw us. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later. It’s best we tell the truth now.”

  He locked eyes with Officer Farlow, and put his hands up in surrender. “Officer, it was my sister and me at the garbage can, but we weren’t dumping garbage.”

  He pulled in a deep breath. “It was our father’s body. Rosemary killed him. I’m telling you because I know it wasn’t her fault. She had one of her medical episodes that caused her to fly off the handle. You saw one of them, so you understand.”

  Rosemary shot a glance at Farlow. “Don’t listen to him. He’s delirious.”

  Ophelia Gold gasped. “Sage Gold, why would you accuse your sister? I don’t understand.” She pulled a wad of tissues from her handbag and staggered to a chair at the side of the room.
<
br />   Sage followed his mother and hovered, fanning her with his hand. “Mother, think about it. You know I’m telling the truth.”

  Ophelia turned red-ringed eyes to her daughter. “Is it true? Is that what happened?”

  Rosemary gazed at the floor and huffed. “Oh crap! I can’t lie to my mom. Alright, I confess.” She shuffled to a chair beside her mother, pulling Amos along, still grasping her handcuffs. The wooden chair spokes creaked as she sat down heavily. “When you hear the whole story, you’ll agree it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t help myself.”

  All other conversation in the room stopped. Officer Smith, Farlow, and I leaned closer. The crowd of strangers edged forward. The room was silent while we waited to hear her story.

  Rosemary cleared her throat. “It began about a month ago. One day Sage was bored and sneaked into our father’s computer.” She landed a kick on her brother’s ankle. “He was always doing that, pretending to be a computer hacker.”

  Rosemary raised her eyes to glare at Clair, who was peeking out from behind Gloria. “This time Sage found something. A whole file devoted to that hussy. There was all sort of information about her and about this town.” The young woman shook her head and snarled. “But the worst part was the photos.”

  Gasps erupted from the group of strangers.

  I glanced at Clair, trying to imagine what kind of photos Giles might have. She popped out from behind Gloria and waved her hands. “No way. He never took photos of me, and I’ve never in my life posed for revealing pictures.” She faced Rosemary. “Those were my photos your father stole from my web page.” Whirling around to the audience of strangers, Clair declared her innocence. “They’re all modest and proper.”

  Rosemary shrugged and directed a response to the onlookers. “What’s it matter what kind they were? They were pictures of her.”

  She turned her attention to her mother. “After Sage found that file, we kept an eye on father. And one weekend he traveled out of town, but he wasn’t where he said he would be. So we traced him to Evelynton. We figured he’d planned a secret liaison with his girlfriend.”