MY FAIR LATTE

by Vickie Fee

  “There’s a fresh towel and washcloth laid out for you in the bathroom, and an unopened toothbrush courtesy of George’s dentist.”

  I crawled into bed and quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep. I awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee, and the sound of George complaining.

  “Did you see this? Those blood-sucking leeches on the city board are proposing a tax hike—again.”

  “George, shush. You’ll wake up Halley.”

  Hearing them squabble was somehow comforting. The aroma of bacon might have had something to do with it, too.

  I dressed and went in the kitchen. George brought me coffee and orange juice. And Trudy served me a plate of pancakes arranged in the shape of a bunny, with a medium pancake for the head, a larger pancake for the chubby body, smaller ovals for the feet and elongated ovals for the ears, with a scoop of butter where the tail should be. Of course, she served it with syrup and a side of bacon. I gave them both an appreciative smile.

  “Y’all are so good to me. Thanks for letting me stay over. I just wasn’t quite ready to face the apartment last night.”

  “Hon, you’ve been through a lot and you’re welcome to sleep on our sofa for as many nights as you need,” Trudy said.

  “What she said. Plus if you’re on the sofa, Trudy can’t kick me out of bed and make me sleep there.”

  “Oh, when have I ever?” Trudy said, swatting at George with her napkin.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. George jumped up to refill my coffee before my cup was empty.

  “As he was leaving the station, Joe told me the gist of what happened last night leading up to Marco’s arrest, but said he didn’t know the details of what happened before you ran into him in the alley. Do you want to tell us what happened?”

  “If you’re not up to talking about it, it’s okay, hon,” Trudy said.

  I hesitated a moment.

  “I was so scared,” I said, my voice quavering. “I’d just worked it out that Marco must be the killer, and I was struggling to wrap my head around that when I walked into the apartment and found him standing in my kitchen making spaghetti.”

  “So, he’s the one who made that mess—which I cleaned up, by the way. After Mrs. Chang called us, I sent George down to the police station to wait for you and I ran up to check on the apartment.”

  “Marco said he wanted to cook dinner for me, and that you had let him in so he could surprise me.”

  “He said I had let him in? I would never let anyone into your apartment without your permission.”

  “I figured as much. He was really there because he knew he’d made a slip of the tongue earlier during the matinee when he referred to Vince as a blackmailer. I had told Marco about Kendra’s buried treasure theory and the boot, but I never once mentioned blackmail. What he had said didn’t hit me until later. Then other pieces started falling into place, like Marco being behind the bar on opening night. And the autopsy finding evidence of some heart medicine mixed in with the coffee in Vince’s stomach contents. I also remembered Marco mentioning that his dad has a heart condition.

  “When I saw him in my apartment, I tried to play it cool. But, as he pointed out, I don’t have a poker face. I practically jumped out of my skin when he took a step toward me. He admitted to me that he killed Vince. Told me Vince had blackmailed his dad and had even come back for more money after his dad paid him off. As he was telling me everything, I knew he intended to kill me.”

  “Oh, Halley. I’ve got a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. Did he come at you with that big knife he was using to chop vegetables?”

  “No. That’s what I assumed he was planning to do. But then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a scarf and started winding it around his hands. He was going to strangle me.

  “Eartha was lying on the top of the recliner in front of me. She must have, I don’t know, sensed my fear. She suddenly leapt claws first at Marco’s face, and I took off running for my life.”

  My breathing was labored just remembering how terrified I’d been. Trudy got up and stood beside my chair, wrapping her arms around me and cradling my head against her chest. I leaned into her embrace, both our bodies shaking as we sobbed. I caught a glimpse of George dabbing a napkin to the corner of his eye.

  The tears subsided and Trudy gave my shoulders a final squeeze before letting go. The three of us lingered over another cup of coffee before I decided it was time to go home. They offered to go with me.

  “I’m happy to spend the night on your sofa tonight, if you’d like,” Trudy said.

  “Thank you, but honestly I’m not afraid to be in the apartment, knowing Marco is locked up. Plus, I have an attack cat, you know.”

  “All right, hon. If you change your mind all you have to do is call. And don’t worry about the hour. Oh, and be sure your windows are locked. I noticed one of them was open when I went by last night, so I closed it. That’s probably how Marco got in—up the fire escape and through the window,” Trudy said.

  After walking the few blocks home, I entered through the alley door, but headed straight to the lobby, remembering I had left my cell phone under the counter. It was almost dead and showed two missed calls from Kendra. I needed a little time to myself before I went through the details of the previous night again, so I went upstairs.

  Despite my brave front with Trudy and George, I hesitated before turning the doorknob to the apartment. I was grateful Trudy had cleared away everything and washed up the dishes. But the vision of Marco standing in the kitchen and the glint off the large knife were still sharp in my mind. I took a deep breath, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a Red Stone beer from the fridge as a way of reclaiming this territory for myself. This was my home, and I wasn’t going to let Marco rob me of that. I sat down and leaned back in the recliner, raising my bottle to Derek before taking a big swig. I pulled my nearly drained cell phone from my pocket, reached over and plugged it into the charger on the side table. Then I closed my eyes and tears began to roll down my face again.

  I didn’t know why I was crying. I truly wasn’t afraid anymore. After puzzling over it for a few minutes I realized I was grieving. Grieving the loss of the relationship I had thought was beginning to blossom with Marco. Grieving that I never had a chance to know Uncle Leon. And grieving that I couldn’t talk about everything I was feeling with Josh. I guess coming up against your own mortality stirs a lot of emotions. After a good cry I gave Kendra a call.

  “I talked to Joe. I’m really glad you spent the night at George and Trudy’s. How are you?”

  “I’m going to be okay, but I’m really tired. Do you mind if we don’t talk about last night? I told it all to the cops. And I went through it all again with George and Trudy. If you want the scoop you can talk to Trudy.”

  “I understand. Do you want some company? We can talk about anything you like, or about nothing. I suck at gin rummy, so we can play cards and you can win,” she said.

  “I appreciate the offer—and I’ll remember that if we’re ever playing for money—but if you don’t mind I think I just want to be alone for a while. I’m going to curl up and watch some old movies.”

  “Sounds good. Call me later if you want.”

  After thumbing through a box of DVDs and ruling out Dial M for Murder and Roman Holiday, I flipped on the TV. The old movie channel was running a marathon of The Three Stooges and I decided that would be perfect.

  CHAPTER 29

  I had taken Monday off as a day of recuperation—and bereavement. But I resolved that today the pity party was over. I had a new life in Utopia Springs and a business to run. I washed my face, tamed my hair and even slapped on a bit of makeup. After dressing in a black top and black jeans, I gave myself a once-over in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.

  Not bad, I thought.

  As I jogged down the stairs and out to the lobby, it occurred to me I sh
ould come up with a logo—and a proper name—for the coffee bar and print it on t-shirts, like Kendra had done with the Hidden Clue Escape Rooms logo.

  While I got things ready for service behind the counter I mulled over names for the coffee bar.

  Star Palace Coffee Bar? Too long. Palace Coffee Bar? Maybe. Café Cinema? Hmm, I like the sound of that.

  At about five till eight I was still weighing name options when someone tapped against the glass on the front door. I hurried over, ready to greet customers. I was a little let down, and frankly annoyed, to see Detective Stedman peering at me from the other side of the glass. I unlocked the door anyway.

  “Good morning, Detective,” I said, turning and walking back to the bar as soon as I’d let him in.

  “Good morning, Ms. Greer. I know I’m probably not your favorite person due to the somewhat adversarial nature of our conversations since you arrived.”

  Somewhat?

  “But I’m hoping we can make a fresh start now, if you’re open to that. Utopia Springs is a small town, after all. We’re bound to run into each other. I hope we can be…neighborly.”

  The stern-faced detective was actually smiling. That was a first. So I returned the favor.

  “Okay, Detective. I understand you were just doing your job. And with the stress of the murder investigation I wasn’t exactly at my best or most neighborly either. What kind of coffee would you like? It’s on the house.”

  “No, no, I’ll pay. I don’t know that much about coffee. I like it strong, so maybe an espresso?”

  “An espresso shot coming right up.”

  I made and handed him his coffee and he paid for it.

  “This tastes good.”

  “Thanks, it’s what I know. I don’t want to spoil our fresh start, Detective, but maybe you could tell me one thing I don’t know that’s been bothering me.”

  “If I can,” he said noncommittally.

  “Marco indicated that he tried to frame Joe to take me off the radar for the police and, let’s face it, to help himself, too. But why did he pick on Joe?”

  “Joe was in the perfect position to get set up. Marco, of course, knew Joe was here opening night, and that he left the theater a couple of times. He knew Joe’s dad had a heart attack last year, and he likely knew Joe’s sister is in pharmacy school.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  “But anonymous tips always give me indigestion. Plus, we couldn’t come up with any motive for Joe to kill Vince. And the pills were in Joe’s glove compartment, but his fingerprints weren’t on the baggie. In fact, there weren’t any fingerprints on it. Why would he wipe off the fingerprints then leave the pills in his glove box? It would’ve been easy to just toss the pills in a drain or flush them down the toilet. The whole thing seemed a little too convenient.”

  I started to ask why they locked Joe up overnight when it seemed so bogus, but I decided not to tarnish our new good neighbor policy.

  “Thanks, Detective.”

  “There are some things I could ask you. Some things I’m pretty sure you knew but didn’t tell me that could’ve saved us both some trouble.”

  I started to speak, but he cut me off, holding his hand up like a traffic cop stopping traffic.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask. I get that you were new in town and in a difficult situation. I hope we can foster the kind of neighborly relationship that will make you feel you can talk to me next time.”

  “Next time? The murder rate in Utopia Springs is super low, right?”

  “No, no, I don’t mean murder,” he said with a laugh. “Just little problems that sometimes arise.”

  The door opened and some tourists, easily identified by their fanny packs and souvenir t-shirts, walked in. Detective Stedman finished off his coffee and rose from the barstool.

  “I’ll see you around, Ms. Greer,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “Call me Halley,” I said to his back and he shot me a little wave over his shoulder.

  After morning coffee service was over, I felt a need to stay busy, and I truly wanted to show appreciation to my new friends. I wasn’t sure if a party was exactly appropriate, but I certainly wasn’t going to hold a wake for Vince—or Marco. I did want to thank the dear, wonderful people who had been there for me during a tough time, so I decided to call it a gathering instead of a party. To accommodate Kendra’s schedule, I set it for eight thirty Wednesday night.

  I quickly made up some cute theater-themed invitations on the computer and printed them out on cardstock. I hand-delivered invitations to Kendra, Joe, and the Mayfields and e-mailed one to Bart.

  I walked over to Ozark Trail and Stream to invite Nick. He politely declined the invitation, mumbling some excuse about needing to catch up on things.

  “If you finish up work in time, please come on over.” I said, leaving his invitation on the counter.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon making arrangements for my not-really-a-party party.

  The lobby of the Star Movie Palace is a fabulous entertaining space.

  Maybe I could rent it out for private parties on non-movie nights.

  Wednesday morning after closing up the coffee bar, I went shopping and bought party supplies along with some beer—Uncle Leon’s favorite brand—and a variety of liquors for cocktails. No Carvello wine. Mr. Carvello’s assistant had called to inform me they would be discontinuing our arrangement—which was probably for the best. I planned to approach one of the other wineries to see if we could come to a similar agreement.

  I ordered several appetizers from Jade Garden, including their delicious spring rolls and crab Rangoon. I argued with Ling when she refused to accept payment for the order, but she said I’d have to take it up with her boss. Joe had told her it was on the house.

  Joe was the first to arrive for out little get-together just before eight thirty and I gave him grief about not accepting my money.

  “Hey, Joe, you should let me support my favorite local restaurant. It’s the least I can do after luring a killer into your office,” I said.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m getting so much mileage out of this. My mom and dad are bragging to everyone that their son is a hero who captured a dangerous killer twice his size by wrestling the villain to the floor and holding him until the police arrived.”

  “All that is true,” I said.

  “Yeah, it kind of leaves out the part where you knocked Marco semi-conscious and the cops arrived like a minute later,” he said with a laugh.

  “Joe,” I said, touching his arm, “you are a hero. I was terrified, running for my life, and you were there for me. Thank you.”

  “By the way, the phone company finally got the landline working again today,” Joe said, eager to change the subject from any talk of him as a hero. “Cutting the phone line to the restaurant wasn’t the worst crime Marco committed by any means, but it was still inconvenient.”

  “I’m glad everything is in working order again.”

  Within minutes the whole gang had gathered, minus Nick. I had set up the alcohol on one side of the counter and a buffet along the other side of the theater’s L-shaped bar.

  “Bart, would you do the honors of mixing some fancy cocktails? Kendra tells me you’re a master bartender,” I said.

  “I should be. I worked my way through college tending bar.”

  “In that case, I’ll have a have a martini—very dry,” Trudy said, affecting an aristocratic tone.

  “The rest of us placed our drink orders.

  “Eat up, everyone, there’s plenty of food, courtesy of Jade Garden,” I said.

  “Yeah, but remember you’ll probably be hungry again in an hour,” Joe said with a mischievous grin.

  Kendra groaned. “I’ve never found that old joke about Chinese food to be true.”

  “George is always hungry again in an ho
ur no matter what kind of food he eats,” Trudy said as George piled food onto his plate.

  After we’d settled comfortably in the lounge area with drinks on nearby tables and plates balanced on our laps, I turned to George.

  “Other than what I experienced first-hand, all I know about the case is what I read in the newspaper. Have you heard any details from your friends in high places?”

  “Word is when the cops searched Marco’s rooms at ‘the villa,’” George said, rolling his eyes as he made air quotes around the word “villa,” “they discovered evidence Vince had been using to blackmail people, which I assume included Edgar and Linda and probably some other folks. But there was zilch about Marco or his dad. Apparently, Marco had already destroyed that evidence.”

  “I’m happy that Edgar’s and Linda’s blackmail secrets seem to be safe. There was nothing about it in the Utopia Springs Sentinel,” I said.

  “We may never know the whole story, but the police have a solid case against Marco for Dalton’s murder, as well as attempted murder against you. Losing it and going after you and Joe like that at the restaurant sealed the case against him,” George said.

  “A toast to Halley, Uncle Leon—and to that ferocious feline, Eartha Kitty,” Bart said, raising his glass.

  “Here, here,” Trudy said.

  “Believe me, Eartha will be getting lots of treats and attention. Maybe I can even persuade her to be more of a house kitty,” I said.

  “Trust me, a leopard—or a calico—isn’t likely to change its spots, so don’t waste your time trying to change someone. I learned that a long time ago,” Trudy said, looking at George.

  “What could you possibly want to change about me,” he said, eliciting a big smile from his wife as he batted his eyelashes and waggled his out-of-control eyebrows.

  “You lovebirds remind me that I need to get home to Simon. He should be back from Tulsa by now.”

  “How much have you had to drink? Are you okay to drive?” Kendra asked.

  “I just had one small drink and plenty of food. It’s only an hour’s drive, little sister. It’s not like I’m driving all the way to Florida.”