by Carly Winter
"No," I replied. "That's who we're talking about. Since I found the body, Byron wants to go over my statement again."
"Do you care if I'm here?" Derek asked, his gaze hardening as he stared at Byron. "I can go home if you like."
"Of course not," I answered quickly. When the police had thought I’d killed his father and had searched my house, Derek had offered to hire a lawyer for me. I knew he was on my side.
Byron finally met Derek's stare, and neither looked away. As the tension between them rose, I became terribly uncomfortable. The testosterone flowing within the room was enough to make me grow a mustache.
"Can we get on with it?" I asked as my heart rate increased. "The sun is getting ready to set, Byron, and you don't want to be driving back to town in this weather in the dark."
"Fine," he growled, which surprised me. He'd always been a bit of a... doormat. "Tilly, tell me what happened the day you found Jake Martinez."
I repeated my story from earlier in the week, almost word for word. "It's identical to what Carla and I told you at the restaurant."
Byron jotted down some notes on his pad then met my gaze. "Actually, Carla's story has changed quite a bit."
A sinking feeling settled around me... as if I'd been thrown into a lake and everyone stood on shore, watching me, to see if I'd drown.
"How so?" Derek asked.
"Well, there was the fact that she had a fight with Martinez before she left on the eve of his murder and she was the last one to see him alive according to the camera recordings in the restaurant."
Both Derek and I gasped in unison.
"We're looking into it," Byron continued, "but so far, she's suspect number one."
He stood and headed for the front door as I scrambled after him. I had to know more.
"What else did she say, Byron?" I said as I opened the front door and he stepped outside.
He didn't answer, but instead glanced in the direction of the kitchen where Derek still sat, then back at me. "That guy in there is a drug addict," he hissed. "Once a drug addict, always a druggie, Tilly. Don't be stupid about who you tangle with."
"No one is tangling anywhere, Byron," I said through clenched teeth. How dare he tell me who I could and couldn't hang out with? "We're neighbors. Friends. Get over yourself."
He gave me one last glare as lightning raged over his shoulder. In that moment, with the darkening sky and the light flashing behind him, he reminded me of a serial killer and I slammed the door.
Not that I'd ever seen a serial killer in real life that I knew about, but he definitely reminded me of the ones in the movies.
Derek came up behind me and laid his hands on my shoulders. "Are you okay?"
I nodded but the dread wouldn't leave me. Carla hadn't called for a reason, and now I realized what it was.
The police were questioning her about the murder. I knew exactly how helpless and desperate that felt.
Did I think Carla did it?
No.
But the fact that she may have been the last one to see Jake Martinez alive and she'd argued with him didn't bode well for her.
I laid my hand over one of his and gave it a squeeze. "Do you think they're trying to pin this on her?"
Derek sighed and slowly spun me around. "Beats me. But we'll help out any way we can, okay? In any way that won't put us in danger."
I stared into his green eyes and wanted to collapse at his feet with the sympathy and caring I saw there. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. Did that mean him hiring a lawyer? Us taking care of Carla and Mac's cat? I didn't know.
However, I did appreciate the strong arms around me and the calm feeling they gave me.
It was our first hug, which terrified me, yet felt wonderfully comforting.
With a sigh, I stepped away. Carla needed my help.
I wouldn't let her go down for a murder she didn't commit.
4
The next day, I went into work early to plan Carla's defense. Oak Peak Avenue remained quiet in the early fall morning, and I scrunched up my nose at all the Re-elect Sheriff Connor signs that had been put up overnight. He wouldn't get my vote if he were the last man standing.
I didn't know much about Jake's death, but the fact that Byron had said Carla's story had changed and she’d been the last one to see Martinez alive didn't sit well with me at all. I had to find out what Carla had told the police, figure out a plan of action, then help her in any way I could. That Sheriff wouldn't want to go into the last weeks of his reelection campaign with an unsolved murder. Instead, he'd want to run on his pristine record of fighting for justice and keeping the Tri-Town area free of crime.
Or something stupid like that.
After filling my coffee cup, I sat at my desk and redialed Carla for the third time that morning. When she picked up, she didn't bother to try to hide her annoyance with me.
"What is wrong with you, Tilly? Has someone died or something?"
"I've been trying to get a hold of you for a week and you haven't returned any of my calls."
"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "I've been so busy. The police gave Jake's daughter permission to open up the restaurant, but we don't have enough staff. Some went and found other jobs. I'm scrambling."
"Jake has a daughter?"
"Yes. Her name's Sophia. She just turned eighteen. The restaurant is hers now."
My heart ached for the girl. I recalled my own father’s death when I was ten, and it had been a horrible, difficult time. Even at eighteen, the loss would be insurmountable.
I'd never met the girl, but I wanted to help her, as well as Carla.
"What positions do you need to fill?" I asked.
"Mac is going to do the dishes tonight. I hired a guy for that job, but he can't start right away. Thank goodness José is here to cook, or we wouldn't be able to open. Jake's brother, Tony, is here to help José in the kitchen, I guess I need one more server and someone to hostess."
"Hmm... let me call you right back. I have an idea."
I quickly dialed Derek, who unlike Carla, picked up on the first ring.
"This is a nice surprise," he said. "What's up?"
"You said last night you'd worked as a restaurant server."
"Yes, for many years."
"Do you think you can do it again? For Carla? She's trying to reopen the restaurant but needs some help."
"Sure. I can do that. Just let me know when to be there."
I loved how he didn't hesitate for a second to help my friend.
"Thanks, Derek. I really appreciate it. I'll call you back and let you know what time."
I immediately returned the phone call to Carla.
"Derek has serving experience and I can take over the hostess job," I said without preamble. It was evident that Carla was under a lot of stress and didn't have time for chit-chat. "What time should we be there?"
"Oh, wow," she said with a sigh. "Thank you. This will help so much. Can you guys be here at four? We're opening for dinner at five."
"Yes, Ma'am. We'll see you then."
At some point in the evening, I would corner Carla and find out what she told the police. But for the time being, I had to concentrate on work.
Harold walked in and I revealed Jake's death being declared a murder.
"Here we go again, huh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "We've got to move our output into high gear."
"Yep," I said with a sigh. "Here we go again."
I'd never done a day of hostessing in my life, but I had been a server for a short time when I lived in Louisiana. I'd always thought the hostesses had the easy job and I could do it in my sleep. When Derek and I arrived, Carla introduced us to José, the chef, and Jake's brother, Tony. Neither seemed overly friendly, but both expressed their thanks for us helping out.
After Carla introduced us to Jake's daughter, Sophia, who would be waiting tables with Derek, we were ready to go. She seemed sweet and was one of the prettiest girls I'd
ever seen with her long black hair and wide brown eyes.
"I'm really sorry for your loss," I said.
"Thanks. It's been a tough week, but we've got to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it is."
Sweet, pretty, and I was a little surprised by her maturity. I could see the pain in her eyes, but they remained dry. No tears for her.
As Carla opened the front door, my hands shook with nerves. I hoped I wouldn't mess up, but really... how hard could it be?
A line of customers filed in and I smiled and greeted them. After grabbing a few menus, I sat the first group of people, and went back for the second. Carla jumped in and helped me, and everyone was seated within minutes. Almost every table was full.
"What about that booth where we found Jake?" I whispered. "We can sit someone there if anyone else comes in."
Carla shook her head. "No. Not tonight. We never sat anyone there before. It's kind of out of the way and he always used it for himself. Let's leave it empty."
The restaurant was packed, and I wondered if people knew that someone had been killed there, or if that was the reason they'd come. We'd published an article about Jake's death earlier in the week, but nothing had come out then about it being a murder. I assumed the small-town gossip vine in Cedarville was as active as the one in Oak Peak, so people could definitely be aware of the tragedy. I didn't hear much about it as I hustled during the evening, which surprised me. Should I be impressed that very few talked about the untimely death or horrified that they remained silent about it? If it were me or anyone I knew, we'd be talking about it non-stop and trying to figure out where in the restaurant Jake had died.
I pitched in where I could—busing tables, wiping them down, passing drink orders to the servers—which also gave me the opportunity to watch Derek in action. He smiled and joked with the patrons and everyone seemed to like him. He was quick, efficient, and friendly. My heart melted with appreciation for him helping out.
Overall, I didn't make too many mistakes. I miscounted how many tables were available a couple of times and had to lead people back to the front door instead of seating them. I did drop some plates in the kitchen, but with Mac's help, I quickly cleaned them up, and thankfully, no one had been hurt.
The night remained steady. Everyone seemed to need their Mexican food fix and I even saw some people from Oak Peak. Although we were supposed to close at nine, Carla gave us the go ahead to keep seating people. At 9:30, I had to turn people away and ask them to come back the next evening. I couldn't help but wonder what it would do to the customer influx when they found out Jake had been poisoned. Would they stay away, or keep coming?
As I was busing a table, I heard men yelling in the kitchen. I glanced over to find Derek also staring that way, and Carla ran through the restaurant to see what had happened.
I followed to find Mac trying to calm another man who I'd never seen. Wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and a denim jacket, I pegged him to be about fifty years old. The stench of booze emanating from him was so strong, it smelled like he had more whiskey than blood coursing through his veins.
"Lower your voice, Jerry!" Mac said through gritted teeth. "We've got customers out front!"
"Where is it?" he yelled. "Where's my check?"
"Jerry!" Carla hissed. "Please! Stop this now!"
"No! Jake owes me money! He said he'd have it to me a week ago, and then he died! I need to get paid!"
"I know," Carla said as she laid her hand on his arm, obviously trying to soothe the man. "We're doing the best we can. It's our first night open since Jake's death. Let me settle up after the customers leave and I'll see what I can do, okay?"
Jerry shook his head as he pursed his lips. "I thought things would be different after Jake died. You seem like an honest woman, Carla. I expected more from you, but I can see you're no different from that slimeball."
"Get out before we call the police," Mac growled, stepping between Carla and Jerry. "You don't talk to my wife that way."
Jerry mumbled something under his breath, then turned and stalked out the back door. Carla glanced around as tears welled in her eyes. "Let's finish up the service. Please, everyone, go back to work."
Her stare landed on Sophia. "We need to pay him," Carla said. "It's not right."
"He can wait," Sophia said, then walked out into the dining room.
José and Tony went back to cooking and Mac returned to the sink. Carla and I were left staring at each other.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"It's one of the vendors. He's a local farmer. I made a deal with him and got some of the meat we use at a discounted price. Jake owes... I should say, owed him money."
"A lot?"
"A good amount," she said with a shrug.
"Why doesn't Sophia want to pay him?"
"She says she needs a paycheck and so does everyone else who works here."
I nodded, understanding that Sophia wanted to pay the employees first. But I imagined the farmers would be talking and word would get out that Jake hadn't paid, and neither had his daughter. That wouldn't bode well for supplies.
"You know you don't have to give me anything,” I said. “I'm here because I want to help you out."
Carla's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thanks so much, Tilly. I really appreciate that."
I'd ask Derek if he'd be willing to work tonight without a paycheck. I had a feeling he'd say yes—he certainly didn't need the money—but I didn't feel comfortable telling Carla that he would do so before I made sure.
I returned to the dining room and glanced around. The crowd had finally thinned out and we only had a couple of tables left. I helped bus the dishes and scrub the tabletops. My feet hurt, and I couldn't wait to get home and snuggle with Tinker and Belle.
For a brief moment, I imagined throwing Derek in that mix, like we were a couple. My stomach twisted, my cheeks warmed, and I became so nervous, I dropped a handful of silverware.
"What was the deal with that guy?" Derek asked as he bent over and picked up my mess. Then he grabbed some cups from the table and placed them in the busing tub.
"Thanks for helping me out," I said. "Jake owed him money. Well, the restaurant owes him money."
"The guy looked like he'd been hitting the bottle hard."
"Yeah, I thought I smelled alcohol."
"He's a local guy?"
"Yes. A farmer they used for their meat supply."
Derek nodded then glanced around the restaurant. "Did you hear what he said?"
I replayed what I remembered about the conversation, then shook my head. "About what?"
"About Jake's death. He said that he thought things would be better once Jake was dead."
I gasped and set down the rag I'd been using to clean the table. "Oh, my gosh. You're right!"
"But what does it mean? Does it mean he killed Jake and thought he'd get his money from Carla and Sophia, or that he heard about the death and only then figured he’d receive his payment?"
"I... I don't know."
"Me neither, but it's something we should let the police know."
"Yes. Thanks for pointing that out."
"Just please promise me you're not going to get involved, Tilly. You don't need to be solving this murder. Let the police do it."
"Don't worry, I will. I have no intention of confronting another killer."
He smiled, winked, then walked away.
I wished the thought of the two of us being a couple didn't make me so nervous. Derek cared for me, and it both terrified me and warmed my soul. I had thought Tommy cared as well, but I'd been wrong. Or maybe he'd had for a little while, then lost interest. I just wished my insecurities didn't hold me back in considering a relationship with Derek. It was so much easier just being neighborly friends. In the end, I wanted to move beyond the current situation with him, but I panicked at the thought of being hurt again.
I sighed as Carla walked over and laid her hand on my shoulder. 'We're about ready to close," she said. "Everything oka
y?"
"It's fine, Carla. Except, when we shut this place down, you and I are going to take a seat and you're going to share with me exactly what you told the police."
She furrowed her brow and shook her head. "No. I'm going home. I'm exhausted."
"I’m tired too, but Byron told me you're suspect number one. We need to talk, Carla, or you may go down for Jake's murder."
5
"Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you?" Derek asked with a yawn. "It's not a big deal." I'd told him I needed to talk to Carla in private, so I'd spend the night at her house. "I really don't mind."
"Seriously? You'd do that for me?"
"Yep. I'll just take a snooze in the parking lot. I'm either getting old or I didn't remember how hard serving is."
I smiled as he squeezed my hand. "Thanks. We shouldn't be very long."
After Derek left the building, I turned and found Carla sitting in a booth with a stack of papers while the kitchen staff finished up in back.
"What's all that?" I asked as I slid on the seat across from her.
"Bills that I don't know how I'm going to pay."
"Why is it your responsibility? Sophia is the owner now, right? Shouldn't she be in charge of that?"
"She's barely eighteen," Carla said with a sigh. "She's begging me to help her navigate all this."
I folded my hands on top of the table, the din of José and Tony chatting in the kitchen wafting through the now empty restaurant. Carla had far more important things to worry about than someone else's bills. "What did you tell the police? Byron said your story changed."
"Not by much. I told the truth. That Jake and I had argued and he was here when I left."
"What was the argument about?"
"My pay. I told him I felt like he was taking advantage of me."
That's because he was, but I didn't voice my opinion.
"Byron told me the sheriff likes you for the murder."
Carla rolled her eyes. "That's just stupid, Tilly. Byron's probably just trying to get under your skin because you’re spending so much time with Derek."