Flat White

by Sandra Balzo

  Pavlik shook his head. ‘Property investment and management. Anthony asked the same question and his wife laughed. Said he was about as non-techy as they come.’

  Techy enough to find his way onto a dating app, though he probably hadn’t wanted his wife to know that. ‘Did Kelly tell her why her husband was here?’ I asked. ‘About Christy, I mean?’

  ‘No,’ Pavlik said, moving on to the beef. ‘It’s not our place.’

  ‘To tell her the truth?’

  ‘Not our place,’ Pavlik said again. ‘Unless the fact is integral to the investigation and she needs to know.’

  ‘But won’t she ask why he lied?’

  ‘That’s not for us to answer. For all we know, Margraves may have had a business reason for being here. Or not. But that is up to Mrs Margraves to look into. If she wants to.’

  I supposed it made sense. It was bad enough to get a call that your husband is dead. But to compound the pain by hearing from a stranger that he was cheating? Ugh. And the fact was, Margraves had not actually cheated – at least physically – yet. With Christy.

  ‘Barry Margraves apparently travels – or traveled – a lot. Maybe his wife is used to him popping into different cities at a moment’s notice and won’t question it.’

  ‘Maybe. Or if she suspects, she may not want it confirmed. It’ll change nothing at this point. Her husband is dead.’

  ‘Once you know, you can’t unknow.’ Even if your first instinct is to protect yourself by pretending it didn’t happen. Or would not happen again.

  Neither was an option in my case, since Ted broke the news to an unsuspecting me and went off and married his hygienist in less than six months. Ted is a dentist, by the way, not some patient who fell in love in the dental chair. That would be creepy.

  ‘Damn, just hit a pepper!’

  ‘I ordered hot,’ I told him.

  ‘Good,’ said the masochist, taking a sip of his Riesling. ‘Anyway, before you ask: Helena Margraves is flying in late tomorrow afternoon. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t share that information.’

  ‘With Christy, you mean? Never.’

  ‘Or with Sarah. Who might just tell Christy for kicks.’

  ‘I don’t think Sarah’s quite that cruel.’ But I was not willing to bet my relationship with Pavlik on it. ‘Neither will hear it from me.’

  I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of beef. ‘It’s terrifying to me that a quick decision any of us might make – like Harold leaving the truck for what he thought was going to be a minute – can affect so many lives: Harold, Barry Margraves, Helena Margraves, Christy. All broken.’

  ‘And it can’t be undone.’

  ‘Hopefully, something is wrong with the truck.’ Always better to blame a thing than a person.

  ‘Like I said, it’ll be checked over.’ Pavlik took my plate. ‘Are you finished? I’ll give the dogs some.’

  ‘Not the pad thai,’ I warned. ‘It’s too hot.’

  Frank looked disappointed. I picked up the container of beef. ‘Both beef and basil, on the other hand, are fine for dogs. Just don’t give them the green onion garnish.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ Pavlik said, leading the three of us to the kitchen.

  ‘I keep hoping it wasn’t Harold’s fault,’ I said, watching the sheriff at the counter, divvying up the beef leftovers into two bowls – one papa bear-sized, the other baby bear.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said without turning. Or commitment.

  ‘He found the space to safely park the truck in front of Clare’s, so even if he left the engine running …’

  Pavlik set down the two dishes and turned to me as the two dogs tore into the beef and the basil. No onions. ‘Is that the end of your sentence?’

  ‘Yes, but not of my thought.’

  Pavlik returned to the living room to retrieve the wine glasses and handed one to me. ‘Elucidate, please. Before it’s time to go to bed.’

  I took a sip. ‘So here’s what I’m thinking. Clare’s is half a block away on our side of the street, but it was only when Barry was backing away from us toward the street that I registered the sound of the truck engine.’

  ‘And tried to warn him by yelling “come”.’

  Both dogs left their bowls and came to sit obediently on the floor in front of him.

  ‘They never do that for me,’ I said. ‘And don’t say it’s because you’re alpha.’

  ‘I would never say that,’ Pavlik said with a grin. ‘Having already made that mistake.’

  Though the fact was that Pavlik was alpha, dammit, at least as far as Mocha was concerned. Frank still humored me occasionally.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, picking up the empty bowls. ‘My point is that Christy and I were out on the porch talking to Margraves, and I don’t remember hearing an engine idling or any engine noise at all.’

  ‘Until it was too late.’

  There was that.

  SIX

  ‘Sorry,’ my partner said the next morning. ‘Can’t help you. Wasn’t there until after the guy was smooshed, remember?’

  ‘You can at least listen to me.’

  ‘I have been. You’ve been saying the same thing over and over. You don’t remember the sound of the garbage truck-cum-snowplow. But I will point out there was a howling blizzard going on.’

  She went to the condiment cart and snagged a newspaper, holding up the front page. ‘“Alberta Clipper Brings 18 inches of Snow”, remember?’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, but—’

  ‘See?’ Sarah said, throwing down the paper and tilting the lid of the cream pitcher up to peek in. ‘When I do contribute a thought, you argue with me.’

  ‘But the argument adds value,’ I said, taking the pitcher from her to fill. ‘You help me to talk it through.’

  ‘Argue it through, you mean.’ She opened the door of the condiment cabinet and pulled out a box of sweetener packets.

  I set the pitcher on the counter of the service window. ‘You see, I assumed I became aware of the snowplow again because it was coming closer. That maybe it had come around the corner to clear this side of the street.’

  ‘Then maybe you should have warned the poor dead guy,’ Sarah said, as footsteps sounded on the porch steps.

  ‘I told you that I tried. Belatedly.’

  ‘For the now permanently be-late Barry Margraves,’ Sarah said, as the chimes on the door sounded.

  ‘Yes.’ I leaned across the counter to snag the carton of cream. ‘Thing is, if the truck was parked half a block away, idling the whole time, why didn’t I hear it? I wonder if Christy was aware of it.’

  ‘I’d advise you not to ask her for a while,’ Rebecca Penn said, pulling off her gloves as she closed the door behind her. ‘I’m afraid I told her about Barry being a married man this morning.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ I straightened with the cream carton in my hand and turned to her. ‘But she has to know, right?’

  She slumped into a chair at the nearest table. ‘I suppose. I just … just feel so responsible for this whole awful thing.’

  ‘Please tell me you ran down Margraves with the plow,’ Sarah said. ‘Maggy’s been picking at scabs trying to make something bleed all morning. You could be it.’

  ‘I have no idea what that means,’ Rebecca said, looking confused.

  ‘Join the club,’ I said, pouring cream into the pitcher and letting the lid drop with a clink. ‘But I assume what you mean is that you feel responsible for suggesting Christy use the dating site in the first place.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Rebecca removed her knitted beret and set it on the table, shaking out her dark hair. Snow was melting off her boots creating a puddle under the table, but I let it pass. ‘That, and I encouraged her to answer Barry’s ping or ding, or whatever they call it, from the dating app when it first came in.’

  I went to set the pitcher on the condiment cart and then came back to her table. ‘Can I get you something?’

  ‘Flat white, please.’

  Sarah lifte
d her eyebrows at me. ‘See? I’m not the only one.’

  ‘I’m not judging even you,’ I told her. ‘We ordered pad thai last night.’

  ‘I’m starting to remember why I stopped coming in here,’ Rebecca said, her eyes shifting between the two of us. ‘I’m never quite sure what you’re talking about.’

  ‘And let’s keep it that way.’ Sarah went in the service door and reappeared behind the service window. ‘One very flat, very white coming up.’

  ‘See?’ Rebecca appealed to me.

  ‘I do. More than you can possibly imagine.’ I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. ‘What brought you back anyway?’

  ‘Here?’ She looked around. ‘I wanted a cup of coffee. So sue me.’

  I ignored the hostility. Rebecca had taken Christy off our hands yesterday. I was grateful, which was why I was pretending to care about her life. ‘I meant why did you come back to town. You went to New York to paint, right?’

  ‘That was the plan, such as it was.’

  ‘It didn’t work out?’ I asked.

  ‘Small fish, big pond,’ Sarah, ever sensitive to other’s feelings, suggested above the steamer noise.

  Rebecca didn’t seem to mind. ‘More like I was an amoeba in the ocean. When Michael and I were together, I convinced myself that he was the only thing holding me back from reaching my potential as an artist.’ She pronounced it ‘arteest’. ‘That all I needed to do was pack up my watercolors and go to New York, where they’d recognize my talent.’

  ‘You were only gone for a year or so,’ I said. ‘Do you think you gave it a fair chance?’

  ‘I gave it all the chance I could afford. Expensive place, New York.’ She tried to smile. ‘Apparently it wasn’t Michael preventing me from reaching my true potential. I just plain didn’t have any.’

  I frowned. ‘That’s nonsense – I’ve seen your work. You’re good.’

  ‘Good’s not enough. At the very least, a little luck helps in the art world. And being dead wouldn’t hurt at all.’ She laughed a little bitterly.

  ‘I don’t recommend the latter,’ I said.

  ‘No.’ She was gazing out the window. The sun had come out today, starting to melt the snow. In the center of the road, where Barry Margraves had been struck, a rusty red tone was mixed with the gray packed-down snow now turned to ice. ‘Poor Christy. Maybe I should have let her believe that Margraves loved her. At least she could mourn … uncomplicatedly, you know?’

  ‘Just because he was married to somebody else,’ I said, ‘doesn’t mean he didn’t love her.’

  Rebecca seemed surprised. ‘That’s very generous of you, Maggy.’

  Given my cheated-upon and dumped status, I was surprised, too. But the truth was that Ted had genuinely loved Rachel Slattery, the woman he had left me for. It had gone badly, and he’d paid, but there it was.

  ‘Bullshit.’ A flat white thudded on the table; Sarah’s contribution. ‘The guy was married and went cruising on a dating site. This wasn’t a chance romance.’

  ‘Well, regardless. Eventually somebody had to tell her.’ And I was eternally grateful it hadn’t been me. ‘Did Christy stay with you last night, Rebecca?’

  ‘No, I stayed at her house, thinking she’d sleep better. I was wrong about that, too.’

  ‘Her married lover was just mowed down by a snowplow,’ I told her. ‘Doesn’t really make for sweet dreams.’

  ‘I didn’t tell Christy that Barry was married until this morning, but the rest of yesterday’s events were enough to give her nightmares.’

  ‘Did you get any sleep?’ I asked as Sarah plopped into the third chair.

  ‘Not once she climbed into bed with me. That was after she checked every door and window against imaginary intruders and cleaned the kitchen. Again.’

  I was trying to imagine what Christy wore to bed. A hypoallergenic onesie? ‘And this morning you broke the news?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rebecca looked miserable. ‘She was about to call the morgue to claim the body. I kind of blurted it out.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Good thing. It would suck to have the current Mrs Margraves and unofficial future Mrs Margraves meet over the body.’

  ‘Hopefully the twain will never meet,’ I said, mindful of my promise to Pavlik.

  ‘Christy was scheduled to work today,’ Sarah said. ‘Might be good for her to get out of the house.’

  Rebecca glanced out the window. ‘There she is now.’

  Christy had stepped out onto the porch to get the newspaper. As the carrier returned to his truck, Christy seemed to sense us watching and shielded her eyes to see across the street.

  I went to wave and then realized she was staring at the bloodstain.

  ‘I should probably go,’ Rebecca said, getting up. ‘I told her I was just coming over to get coffee for us.’

  ‘I’ll put that in a to-go cup, shall I?’ I stood up and took her untouched drink. ‘And one for Christy?’

  ‘Please.’

  Christy had disappeared inside as Rebecca avoided the brownish stain by going to the corner by the train tracks to cross with the two drinks.

  ‘I’ve never been that fond of Rebecca,’ I said, watching, ‘but it is good of her to take care of Christy like this.’

  ‘So we don’t have to, you mean?’

  ‘Well, yes. Neither of us is particularly good with this stuff.’

  ‘You mean sensitivity?’ Sarah asked, joining me at the window. ‘Think she took the hint about Christy coming to work today for her own good?’

  I rest my case. ‘You mean your own good.’

  ‘I had to open. On my day off.’

  ‘Yes, I know. You have whined about it all morning. I was here by seven.’

  ‘And I was here at six. That means getting up at quarter to.’

  ‘Wait. You get out of bed fifteen minutes before you start work?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure. Five-minute drive here. That leaves me ten to shower and dress.’

  I was happy to hear about the shower part. And I had to admit that choosing a wardrobe of Uncommon Grounds T-shirt and jeans didn’t take long.

  ‘Will you look at that?’ A tall blond man had paused by the mailbox across the way to wait for Rebecca. ‘Michael Inkel.’

  ‘What about him?’ Sarah asked as I watched Rebecca hand Michael the to-go cups to hold as she went to pull something out of her purse to mail.

  I shrugged. ‘The two seem civil.’

  ‘Christy said they’re off and on.’ Sarah flung open the door and leaned out. ‘Hey, Rebecca?’

  ‘Yes?’ she said, twisting around.

  Sarah cupped her hands: ‘Tell Christy she starts work at three.’

  Rebecca cocked her head like she hadn’t heard.

  I took the opportunity to elbow Sarah aside. ‘She said, tell Christy love from Sarah and me.’

  I got a nod from Rebecca and a grin from Michael as he handed Rebecca back the to-go cups.

  SEVEN

  ‘“Tell Christy love from Sarah and me”?’ Sarah repeated, ducking back into the shop.

  ‘“Tell Christy she starts work at three” is so much better? How uncaring can you be?’

  ‘But it doesn’t even make sense,’ Sarah said, waiting for me to get in and slamming the door behind me. ‘If you’re repeating what I supposedly said, wouldn’t it be, “Tell Christy love from Maggy and me”?’

  ‘Well, yes. I guess so.’ Damn.

  ‘Unless I, Sarah, am a complete idiot, that is.’

  I know when to keep my mouth shut.

  ‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘you’re just as uncaring as me. You just repress it. Which isn’t good for you.’

  ‘Really?’ I picked up a used plate from a deuce table and swept errant crumbs onto it. ‘The way I see it, I close my mouth and whatever I’m repressing shoots out yours.’

  ‘Then you admit it. You don’t want to be here at the shop any more than I do.’

  ‘If it means having this conversation with you? Hell, no.�
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  ‘I can always leave—’

  ‘Trouble in paradise?’ Caron stuck her head around the corner. She must have come in the door from the train platform.

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Sarah grumbled. ‘Want your partner back?’

  ‘Not on a bet.’ She grinned at me.

  ‘Did Bernie make it back yesterday?’ I asked.

  ‘Nope, but he caught an early flight into Milwaukee today. I’m here to pick him up from the train.’

  ‘What train?’ I frowned at the Brookhills clock overhead. Just past ten and it was a Wednesday. The commuter train did two round-trip circuits into Milwaukee and back each morning and evening. Weekends and holidays, the trains started later and ran throughout the day.

  ‘They added a ten thirty today, because of yesterday’s cancellations. People were left stranded.’ Caron sat down at the table I had just cleared. ‘I guess I missed all the action yesterday. Is it true what I’m hearing?’

  ‘The man was hit and killed by a county snowplow,’ I said, setting down the crumby plate and picking up a rag to wipe the table. ‘Though I think it’s strange that—’

  ‘Here we go,’ Caron said.

  ‘I’ve had to listen to it all day.’ Sarah’s voice pitched higher in what I assume was supposed to be mimicry of me: ‘“But why didn’t I hear it, Sarah? Why?”’ She held her hand to her heart dramatically.

  ‘I just said that if the plow was sitting in front of Clare’s shop idling, I should have been aware of it when Christy and I stepped out on the porch. But I wasn’t.’

  ‘Clare’s shop is close by,’ Caron admitted.

  ‘I want her back,’ I told Sarah, pointing at Caron.

  ‘She’s missed the last three or four murders,’ Sarah said. ‘She comes back, she’ll find you tedious, too.’

  ‘Been there and done that,’ Caron said. ‘But I have to admit I’m intrigued. The man who was hit was the boyfriend you said Christy was so excited about?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, sitting down on the chair across from her. ‘Barry Margraves from Denver.’

  Caron leaned forward, as if relaying a confidence. ‘Margraves stayed at the Morrison the night before.’

  Monday. Now there was news.