‘Special customers?’ I said when he returned.
‘They’re all special,’ he said with a smile. ‘We have a lot of regulars who live around here. I’m good at sensing what they need. I like to think of this almost like a private club for them. Sorry for the interruption.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to interfere with your work.’
‘To get back to what I was saying.’ He pointed to the seat and repeated that it was where he and Rachel had met. ‘And it was all about a special pink squirrel.’
‘What’s a pink squirrel?’ I asked, trying not to wrinkle my nose, imagining it was some weird delicacy.
‘It’s a drink,’ he said, ‘very pink and girly. And the one she wanted was alcohol free. I’d heard of the alcohol version. It was popular a long time ago, but we don’t even stock some of the ingredients anymore. She insisted she’d gotten it at the bar before and had me check the recipe file. Apparently, the bartender at the time had created the special version for her. She apologized for being so much trouble, but said it was her birthday. She explained it was a special drink she’d gotten when she and her mother stopped at the bar after shopping. Her mother always had a martini with two olives, and she had the pink drink. She was very friendly and I was glad to make the drink for her.’
While he was talking, he pulled out some bottles and began pouring things into a shaker. ‘I asked her if her mother was meeting her and her smile faded as she explained that her mother had died a year ago. I always get along with our patrons, but something about Rachel touched me.’ He added some ice to the shaker.
‘She came in a few more times,’ he said, now giving the concoction a shake. ‘By the third time I made her the drink without her even asking. She said it had been a happy time for her when she’d come to the bar with her mother and when she’d had a rough day, having the pink squirrel reminded her of that time and was somehow comforting. She mentioned dreading some affair she had to attend. It came out that she didn’t have an escort and I offered to go with her. I had no idea who her family was or what kind of event it was.’ He poured the drink in a cocktail glass and pushed it across the bar. He smiled thinking back. ‘Everybody was in tuxedos but me. We sat at a table with the mayor and a lot of CEO types. The dinner was honoring her father for the donation he’d made for a new library for Wright University.’
I looked at the drink in front of me. It was indeed pink and frothy. ‘No alcohol, right?’ I said, before explaining that it made me uncomfortable. He nodded and I took a sip. A wow went off in my head – it was like a delicious milkshake. He showed me the recipe card and I saw that it was made from almond syrup, clear chocolate syrup, heavy cream, grenadine and ice.
More people had come in and I realized I was keeping him from his work. I’d also realized he was much more than just the bartender. He was clearly in charge of the place.
‘Thanks for the story and the drink. Now that I’ve tasted it, it will be easier to write about.’ I drained the last of the rich drink. ‘By the way, I located the dance gym that Rachel went to. It morphed into a job for me. I hope it doesn’t bother you,’ I said.
‘No problem. I’m sure Rachel would be happy.’
‘I’m going back there to take another class and to see if I can get something else for the book. You were right, she had some friends there,’ I said and told him about Kat and Kelly and the story Kat had told me. I also mentioned that they’d said that Rachel hadn’t looked well.
Luke’s expression darkened and he leaned in close. ‘Don’t include that last part in the book. Nothing that would imply it was anything other than an accident. Don’t look into anything about Rachel too much either. You wouldn’t want to do anything to cross Camille Parker.’
The way he said it gave me goosebumps. It almost sounded like a warning.
THIRTEEN
Time had flown by and I had to speed walk back to the dance gym. I got there just as the class was about to start. Darcy was behind the reception counter and gave me a wave. She looked down at my shoes. ‘You know it’s a ballet class,’ she said. I nodded and then I understood her point. I might have gotten away with street shoes for the tap class, but they wouldn’t do for ballet.
I noticed she had a selection of dance wear and shoes near the counter. She handed me a pair of pink ballet slippers and I gave her my credit card. ‘That’s Debbie Alcoa,’ she said, pointing to the teacher. ‘She’s the dance coordinator and my partner in this place.’
I realized she’d been the teacher for the tap class. I’d been so intent on trying to follow the steps that I hadn’t noticed anything beyond her feet. Now that I knew who she was, I regarded her with new interest. Debbie had the muscular, graceful body of a dancer and her dark hair was pulled back into a low bun. She seemed completely comfortable in her dance wear and her ballet slippers seemed well-worn. I made a mental note to talk with her after class. There was certainly no time now.
I barely had time to hang up my jacket and shove my valuables in one of the cubbies before the music started. This time everyone was standing at one of the bars running along each of the side walls. I went for the one with the smaller group.
I had actually taken some ballet classes when I was very young, while my mother was still alive, so it wasn’t as foreign to me as the tap had been. I checked out the others at the bar, thinking about what I would write about the class for the publicity piece.
Everyone was in leotards, some with dance skirts and leg warmers. As I watched them, I got it. They’d probably had ballet lessons when they were kids and had dreams of being in Swan Lake someday. They were reliving the fantasy even though we were just doing the basic steps. Maybe I’d write something like another chance to get your ballerina on.
When the class ended, I went to get my notebook before I approached Debbie.
‘Hey, New Girl,’ Kelly said, catching up with me.
I smiled at the nickname. ‘You don’t remember my name, do you? It’s Veronica Blackstone.’
‘Sorry, I’m terrible with names,’ she said. ‘OK, then, Veronica Blackstone, how’d you like the class?’
‘I liked it, but I’m really here so I can write about it.’
‘Tap is fun, ballet builds grace.’ She did a move with her arms to demonstrate.
‘I like that,’ I said. ‘Could I quote you for the piece I’m writing?’
‘For sure,’ she said, brightening and apologizing again for not remembering my name. ‘And I know you’re looking for stuff about Ray. I thought of something. She was always on time for class.’
I thanked Kelly, but explained I was looking for something a little more emotional. She shrugged it off and walked on ahead. I rushed to grab my notebook. When I approached Debbie, she had already changed into her street shoes and appeared about to leave.
I quickly introduced myself and explained what I was doing. She seemed surprised. ‘Didn’t Darcy tell you about me and what I was going to do for Dance with Me?’ I asked.
‘No, but she’s the bigger partner and she handles the business end of the place. She does stuff without checking with me all the time.’ Debbie dismissed it with a smile. ‘But then I make all the decisions about the dance classes.’
‘I was hoping to get some background information about you. The big appeal of a place like this is that it isn’t corporate and part of a big chain. It’s owned and run by two women with a love of dance.’ I started to ask her about Rachel, but she cut me off.
‘Married with two kids,’ she said. ‘I’m a professional dancer and have been in a lot of local shows.’ She kept glancing toward the door, and I sensed she was impatient to go.
‘Oh,’ I said with interest. ‘It would be great to include the names of some of them.’
She let out a quick breath and turned to me. ‘Could we finish this another time? I have to be somewhere.’ I barely had time to nod before she was on her way out the door.
Well, there was always next time.
I
went to get the rest of my things feeling only slightly less sore than I’d been the day before. And now to get the cat.
Suddenly not sure what I’d gotten myself into, I felt a wave of trepidation as I went into the pet store. I’d never had a pet besides a goldfish, and it hadn’t turned out well. Melissa had a cardboard carrier ready to load the big cat in, along with a shopping bag with some cans of food. There was no way I could manage all that on the train, so I decided to spring for an Uber to get us home. Melissa helped me out with the carrier and shopping bag to the car waiting at the curb.
It turned out that Rocky didn’t care for the car ride and spent it banging against the sides of the carrier and making the most terrible yowling noises. I noticed the driver checking the rear-view mirror from time to time to keep an eye on what was going on.
‘The cat can’t get out of that box, can it?’ he asked nervously. I could see his point. The carrier did seem to be rocking around and there was loud scratching coming from inside.
He pulled up in front of my building and barely gave me time to step away from the car before driving away. I could feel the cat shifting his weight around in the box. I switched from using the handle on the carrier to holding it from the bottom, afraid the cardboard handle would break. I had my tote bag, my purse and the shopping bag of food to manage as well. I made it up the stone stairs outside and went into the small vestibule. I struggled to push open the outer door noticing at the last minute that someone was standing in the door’s path.
‘Sorry,’ I said, trying to see over the top of the carrier. I was surprised to see that the someone was Ben.
‘You’re not here for the writing group, already?’ I said. I strained to check my watch, juggling my load so I didn’t drop everything. I’d been pretty occupied and lost track of the time.
‘No. You know that I usually have dinner at my sister’s first?’ he began. I knew very well that he did. She’d tried on numerous occasions to get me to join them. ‘It turns out Sara’s not home. I got a text just now that Mikey stubbed his toe or something and she went rushing to urgent care.’ He noticed my concerned expression. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. She overreacts in case you haven’t noticed.’ He turned his attention to the carrier in my arms.
‘What’s that?’ Rocky let out a yowl and the box moved in my arms. ‘I guess I mean who’s that?’ he said, moving closer and I struggled to keep my grip on Rocky’s box. ‘Let me help you,’ he said, taking the box from me. He seemed a little surprised at the weight of it. ‘I’m guessing it’s not a loud kitten.’
‘Right,’ I said with a relieved smile. ‘Thanks for the help.’ I shook my arms, glad to be able to move them freely. I unlocked the inner door and we walked inside.
‘Looks like that’s for you,’ Ben said, indicating a padded envelope sitting on the newel post at the bottom of the stairway. He grabbed it and led the way up the stairs. As we went up to the third floor, I told him the story of the cat.
‘And you just went and adopted him?’ he asked. ‘No preparations or anything.’
I shrugged. ‘The manager gave me some cat food and I have a bowl I can use for water. I always heard that cats were pretty independent.’
His usual flat expression broke into a smile. ‘Did you consider that the food and water are going to go through him and need to exit?’
I thought for a moment. ‘The manager said something about a box?’
He shook his head in a scolding matter. ‘That’s right. Cats need a box with sand or litter,’ he said.
‘I’ll just take care of that tomorrow,’ I said, putting my key in my door. ‘In the meantime, I can take him for a walk outside.’
‘You don’t know much about cats, do you?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He needs a box now.’
I opened my door and he followed me in. ‘Of course, you’re right.’ I looked around. ‘I probably have a shoe box and maybe I could put in some shredded paper.’
He put the envelope on the coffee table and set the carrier down on the floor before opening the top. Rocky popped his head out and then leapt over the side. He stayed put for a moment and then cautiously began to look around.
‘No problem. I’ll go get what you need now,’ Ben said. He looked at Rocky. ‘Wow, he’s big boy.’
‘Let me give you some money,’ I said.
‘Even if you have it kind of wrong, you’re doing a nice thing. Consider it my contribution.’ He left before I could thank him.
I dropped my things and took off my jacket. Rocky had begun to move toward the long hall, and I followed him to see what he would do. He checked out every room on the way back to the kitchen. I set up a bowl of water and another bowl for food. He checked them out and then followed me as I went back to the front. We’d just finished making the tour of the place when the doorbell rang, and Ben announced himself through the intercom. He’d gotten more cans of cat food, a bag of dry food and several bags of litter along with a cat box, and a cardboard scratching pad. He helped me set everything up. ‘You might have figured that, unlike you, I’ve had pets.’ He opened one of the cans of cat food and spooned some in one of the bowls and had me get another bowl for the dry food as Rocky observed.
As soon as Ben stepped away Rocky went straight to the wet food and began noisily eating.
I glanced up at the clock and saw that there was still an hour before the group would be arriving. ‘I should really feed you after Sara dropped the ball and all you’ve done for me. How about the place on the corner – my treat?’
‘The place is fine, but it’s on me.’
He had the serious expression, but I couldn’t help but say, ‘Is all this some play for me to go easier on you when we discuss your work?’
He cracked another rare smile. ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’
We left Rocky to get used to his new home and went across the street to the coffee shop on the corner. ‘Their burgers are supposed to be great,’ he said, as we walked in.
The place was a neighborhood fixture and had been there forever. It was frequented by students, neighborhood people and cops.
‘That’s the word on the street,’ I began. I considered leaving it at that, but if I didn’t order a burger, I felt like I owed him some explanation. ‘I’m a vegetarian, so I’ve never tried them,’ I said.
I hoped he would let it go and not give me the usual grilling about what I ate if I didn’t eat meat. How about everything but meat, fish or fowl. Then it usually turned to ‘so you eat a lot of tofu?’ I got ready for the onslaught, but he just shrugged and said, ‘Whatever floats your boat.’
We took a booth with a window that looked out on the street. The Metra station was just down the way and there was a constant flow of foot traffic as people came home from work. I ended up ordering a Greek omelet. I noticed him looking at it with interest and offered him some. He gratefully cut off a piece and put it on his plate. ‘Good choice,’ he said after tasting it. It felt a little weird sharing food with him when he’d always been so distant.
Silence hung over the table after that, making me nervous. I knew from the mystery I’d written that cops used the silence to get suspects to talk. I wasn’t a suspect, but I felt obliged to say something. Or ask him something. I thought back to what now seemed like a long time ago when I’d been at the bar with Luke and he’d told me about Rachel’s mother. ‘Since you’re a cop, you probably know this. If a family has a lot of clout, can they influence the coroner to rule something as an accidental overdose?’
‘It’s not supposed to work that way,’ he said. Before he could elaborate, the door whooshed open and Sara came in with Mikey. The toddler saw Ben and pushed away from his mother and ran to the booth we were sitting in. He climbed next to his uncle and hugged his arm. Sara arrived a moment later. She looked at the table and smiled at me. ‘We don’t want to interrupt,’ she said, going to grab Mikey, who started to protest.
‘Nonsense,’ Ben said. ‘Sit, join us.’
I’d watched
Ben’s face as Mikey climbed in next to him. His expression softened as they playfully wrestled, making me believe there might be some life underneath that flat tone of voice and blank expression.
I was glad for the company, and it took the burden of trying to make conversation off of me.
‘How’d this come about?’ Sara asked, looking back and forth between us. I knew what she was thinking, that all her efforts at matchmaking had paid off and we’d suddenly discovered each other. I hated to poke a hole in her balloon of hope, but it was never going to happen.
‘I adopted a cat and Ben helped me get some supplies,’ I said. ‘And since you weren’t home, we decided to come here and grab dinner.’ I left off the part about me wanting it to be my treat for his helping, but he wanted it to be his treat like giving the teacher an apple. She’d read way more into it than there was. She ordered some food for Mikey and herself and the conversation turned to Mikey’s trip to urgent care.
‘I overreacted,’ Sara said. She reached over to give Mikey a snuggle.
‘I figured,’ Ben said. He’d eaten his burger in a couple of bites and noticed me watching him. ‘You get used to eating in a hurry when you never know when a radio call will interrupt your meal.’ He crumpled his napkin and put it on the plate.
Mikey lost interest in sitting as soon as he’d finished his grilled cheese sandwich. Sara was anxious to get home so Mikey could unwind before bedtime and they took off.
I looked at my watch. ‘It’s almost time for the writing group.’ I signaled the server and got the rest of my meal packed to go. ‘I still have to set up.’
‘Right,’ he said, taking the check and putting his credit card on it. ‘I suppose I can stop at my sisters to kill time. Maybe I could read Mikey a story or something, even though Sara complains I make them sound too exciting and then he can’t go to sleep.’ He shrugged. ‘Or I could just sit in my car until it’s time for the group.’
The hints were too obvious, and he had helped me with the cat. There was no choice but to invite Ben to my place to wait until the others arrived. This was going to be awkward.
Murder Ink Page 10