He closed his eyes and sipped the wine. Once a chef, always a chef. Despite the topic of a potential lawsuit, he took a moment to savor the essence of the wine. “Si, I understand, but it is not for you to worry. I will take care of this.”
I wanted to say more, but his eyes were firm with resolve. If it were up to me, I would rather give up our shares in Uva than engage in a legal fight with Richard. It probably wasn’t the wisest idea from a business perspective, but I didn’t want to do anything that would threaten the life I had carved out here. Richard could easily make things very difficult for me. He was also the one person in Ashland who was a direct threat to finding a space for Carlos.
Carlos set his wineglass on the counter and rubbed my shoulders. “Let’s sit and eat and talk of other things.”
He plated the salad and pasties while I brought our wineglasses and the bottle out to the small seating area adjacent to the kitchen. On my way I noticed that the stack of papers he’d brought with him had the Amour of the Seas seal on the top.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Carlos swooped over and ushered me into the seating area. “Nothing. I want to know about the new space. How did it go today?”
I wanted to know what the Amour of the Seas had sent him. Or maybe I didn’t. I could make an educated guess that what was in the folder was a new contract. Was Carlos negotiating a new deal?
I dropped it, and told him about our progress as I bit into the tender pasty. The crust was soft and buttery and the curry filling hit all the right notes of spices mingled with the creamy coconut.
“This is wonderful.” Carlos devoured his pasty. “I must make these…” he trailed off.
We both knew what words he had left unfinished. He was about to say “on the ship.”
I concentrated on my wineglass, not wanting to make eye contact. Not wanting the words to be true.
“I mean, you must teach me how to make these.” He took another pasty.
It wasn’t until we had finished dinner that I brought up the subject of the Wizard’s murder.
“Why did you not tell me this right away?” Carlos sounded hurt.
“Richard Lord.” I grimaced.
Carlos reached for my hand. His touch ignited a tingling sensation through my body. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. Doug and Thomas, they must be on the case, si?”
“Yeah, we talked to them earlier.” I left out details about my conversation with Lance, and gave Carlos a very condensed version of the day’s events.
“You must be tired,” he said with concern when I finished. “We should go home. You can take a bath. I will make you some tea.”
“Thanks, that sounds wonderful, but I promised Lance I would swing by the theater for a few minutes.” I felt terrible lying to Carlos.
His phone buzzed. Carlos reached into the pocket of his jeans. He stared at the screen but didn’t answer it. Instead he silenced the call. “You go with Lance. I will clean up, and then I must return this call. I will meet you at home. I would like to stretch my legs. It is a luxury to walk so much here. Seeing the shops and the mountains makes my heart happy.”
I protested.
“No, go. I will finish here.”
If I waited any longer I would lose my resolve, so I left Carlos with a kiss and walked through the plaza to the Shakespeare stairs that led up to the OSF complex.
Lance was waiting for me outside the Bowmer Theater. He was dressed in a black trench coat and matching black cap.
“Where did you come up with that outfit?” I asked.
“Costume department, darling.” A bag lay at his feet. He opened it and handed me a matching trench coat and hat.
“Go ahead, put it on.”
I didn’t bother trying to protest. “You realize that we stand out more in these costumes, right?”
Lance waved me off. “We must look the part.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we?”
What was I getting myself into?
Chapter Ten
The warm afternoon had given way to dusk. Lance and I walked down Pioneer Street toward the Railroad District, drinking in the sunset. Unicorn-colored clouds in blushing pinks, hazy blues, and the palest of purples erupted from the bluffs.
A handful of locals made their way to restaurants. A three-piece band strummed upbeat melodies on the patio of the Water Street Bar where people were huddled around outdoor fire pits.
“Stay in the shadows, Juliet.” Lance pushed me to keep me from walking beneath a streetlamp.
“Lance, this is ridiculous.” I slowed. “We’re blocks away from Cyclepath.”
“Shhhh. Trust me. We have to be discrete.” He raised a finger and placed it to his lips. “What did you tell that dreamy husband you were up to tonight?” Lance asked, changing the subject. “I want to make sure that we keep our stories straight. Just in case.”
I ribbed him with my elbow. “Hey, you’re the one who got me into this. Now you have me telling white lies to Carlos.”
“Ha! I barely had to twist your arm. Admit it. You are equally as invested, if not more so, in sleuthing out who killed the poor, innocent Wizard.”
There was no way I was giving him the satisfaction of agreeing with him, so I changed the subject. “Carlos told me that Richard Lord stopped by Uva this afternoon. Apparently, he’s threatening to sue us.”
Lance kept his head up and alert. “As if. Richard Lord is full of hot air. Let him blow off some steam. He’ll never go through with it.”
“I don’t know, Lance. Carlos looked worried. And Carlos isn’t a worrier by nature.” We passed by a group of high school students wearing red-and-white Grizzly gear on their way to a basketball game.
“Don’t let Richard get under your skin. That’s what he wants. He thrives on lording his self-imposed power around town. Ignore him and he’ll go away.”
I wasn’t so sure. Richard had been upset about Lance and me owning shares of Uva since the beginning. He had been trying to undermine Torte, steal our ideas, recipes, and customers for as long as I’d been home—and even before then. I didn’t trust him. He wasn’t above using less-than-ethical tactics to get what he wanted. Case in point, he had tried to sign a deal with Mom that would have ultimately given him total control over Torte. If I hadn’t returned home when I did, Torte might not belong to our family.
We were less than a block away from Cyclepath when Lance threw out an arm and whispered. “Stop.”
I froze. “What?”
He squinted and nudged me next to the side of a brick building that was home to one of Ashland’s oldest hotels. “Look, I think someone has beaten us to the punch.” Lance pointed toward Cyclepath at the opposite end of the block.
“I can’t tell.” Darkness had crept in. A sprinkling of stars danced overhead.
He popped the collar on his trench coat and yanked me forward. “Let’s cross the street and see if we can get closer.”
We crept onward.
Lance came to a halt at the organic pet shop. “This is close enough,” he whispered. “Look.”
I followed his finger, which was pointing at the open dumpster next to Cyclepath. A figure was bent over the large garbage bin. We watched in silence as the figure tossed trash on the ground. It was too dark to see who it was. Like us the figure was dressed in dark clothing, and he was halfway inside the dumpster.
I wrapped my arms around my body—not just because the sinking sun had dropped the temperature, but because I must have been right about Hunter. If someone else was digging through the dumpster, there must be something inside worth finding.
“Should we confront them?” I asked scooting closer to Lance.
Lance’s spine was rigid. “No. Not wise. What if it’s the killer? They could have a weapon.”
“Good point.” A chill came over me. I rubbed my hands together.
“We wait. Over there.” He tugged me behind a mature Japanese maple tree on the median. The scent of apricots and freesia hit my nose. It couldn
’t be from the blooming maple tree. The sweet fragrance must have been wafting from another plant nearby.
I looked around us. The Railroad District was a ghost town. Cyclepath was dark, as was the lawyer’s office next door, the hardware store, the Grange, and Namaste. There was no sign of police activity either. The caution tape had been removed and the police cars were gone.
The person continued to rifle through the trash, throwing garbage everywhere. They were obviously looking for something.
We waited for what felt like an eternity, although it was probably more like a matter of minutes. A group of bikers zoomed around the back alley. Their bright white helmet lights cut through the darkness.
The dumpster lid slammed shut with a loud thud, making me jump.
Lance threw his hand over my mouth to silence me.
The hooded figure who’d been going through the dumpster booked it in the other direction.
Meanwhile the bikers laughed and talked as they breezed by us.
“Let’s go.” I started to cross the street once the bikers were out of sight, but Lance grabbed my arm. “Give it a minute. Let’s make sure whoever was sifting through the trash is really gone.”
He wasn’t usually this reserved. It was as if our roles had swapped.
We waited another few minutes before venturing across the street. Once we were close to the dumpster, Lance covered his nose with the back of his hand. “The smell is horrific.”
I coughed. It was true. The unpleasant scent of rotting garbage hit my nostrils. Quite the opposite of the sweet-smelling spring blooms we’d been hiding by.
“Do you see the black trash bag?” Lance used the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the mess on the ground.
There were three black trash bags scattered on the street. The bikers must have scared our criminal away. “Yeah, but where to start? Do we go through each of them?”
Lance reached into his coat pocket and removed two sets of disposable rubber gloves. “I believe we’re going to have to get dirty.”
The thought of opening the smelly bags made me want to gag, but we’d come this far. I stretched a pair of gloves over my hands. Lance did the same.
“Ladies first, darling. I wouldn’t want to be ungentlemanly.”
“Thanks. So thoughtful.”
Lance held the light so I could untie the first trash bag. It was filled with nothing more than food scraps. The next held more of the same.
“This is so gross.” I tried to push the smell from my nose by fanning my hands. That just made it worse.
“Chin up.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re holding the light. You’re not reaching into these slimy bags.” My hands felt clumsy as I worked my way through the garbage. A quivering feeling filled my stomach. What if whoever had been going through the trash was the killer? What if they came back?
“Trust me, the smell is just as overpowering from my vantage point.” He made a face to prove his point.
I opened the last bag and let out a gasp.
“Lance, look!” I pulled a bike wrench out of the bag. It left a residue on my gloves. “Hold up the light. Is that blood?”
He positioned his phone so that we could see the tips of my gloved fingers. There was something dark and thick on them.
Lance cleared his throat. He blinked twice. “I think that may be, my dear. It just may be.”
“I think this is the wrench I saw Hunter with when he threatened the Wizard. Do you think this could be the murder weapon? We have to call Thomas.”
Shockingly Lance agreed. He took away my light and made the call. “Good evening, deputy detective, it’s yours truly and I’m with my partner in crime. We have uncovered some startling evidence that I’m sure you’ll want to see right away.”
I could tell from Lance’s impatient sneer that Thomas must be asking what prompted us to go dumpster diving. “That isn’t the point, detective. Don’t question our motives. We have been nothing if not diligent in our search.”
Lance threw his hands up in an “I give up” gesture. “Yes, we have actual evidence. Come see for yourself. We’ll be waiting.”
He hung up the phone, drew in a breath, and released it before speaking again. “That man can be so exasperating. Asking about our motives rather than thanking us for going above and beyond our civic duty.”
I stifled a grin. Before I could reply, a woman’s voice broke the silence.
“Hey! Who’s there! Get out of the garbage!”
Lance and I turned to see Addie standing on the front porch of her yoga studio. She held a flashlight in one hand.
I shielded my eyes from the beam of light. “It’s Jules.”
“Jules? What are you doing?” She pointed the light at her feet and took the stairs two at a time.
“Don’t say anything,” Lance cautioned.
I hid the wrench behind my back.
“What is that smell?” Addie wrinkled her nose. She opened and closed her mouth as if trying to find the right words. “Were you going through the garbage?”
“Us?” Lance tapped his chest. “Never. Juliet was asking my professional opinion on evening lighting options.” He swept his hand against the star-steeped sky. “As I was saying darling, what do you think of twin floodlights on each corner? That should give the garden a dramatic effect, and you absolutely must backlight the water feature.”
Addie tipped her head from one side to the other, weighing Lance’s words. Her face tightened. “Why is there trash everywhere?”
“I don’t know. Kids maybe?” I lied. “Addie, have you met Lance? OSF’s artistic director?”
Lance broadened his chest. He started to extend a hand, but must have remembered his gloves because he quickly looped his arms behind his back. “Delighted. Juliet tells me you own the charming yoga studio, Namaste. Is that correct?”
Addie’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you wearing gloves?”
“Guilty as charged.” Lance pressed his gloved hands together. “Hydrating hand mask. Working in the theater is so taxing on one’s hands. As a director I would be nothing without these beauties.”
There was no way Addie was going to buy that story. Thomas and Detective Kerry would be here any minute. I wondered if we should tell her the truth, but I wasn’t convinced that she was totally innocent in the Wizard’s death, given her outward distain.
Lance had other plans. He swept his hand across the sky as if directing a scene. “I would absolutely love your input. What if we add a touch of lighting on this side of the garden? A few mood lights. A spot. Perhaps something soft and golden to illuminate your studio.”
“Sure. Sure.” Addie sounded rushed.
In the distance a man’s voice called for Addie. “Hey, Addie! Are you coming?”
Addie blew Lance off. “Sure, whatever you think. I have to go.” With that she raced away, running toward the railroad tracks and vanished in the darkness.
“What was that?” I asked Lance. “A hand mask?”
“Improvisation, darling. Improvisation.” He gave me a playful grin. “She seems skittish. Which is odd if you ask me. I thought that yoga instructors were supposed to be the model of calm.”
It was a good thing that Addie had run off because Thomas and Detective Kerry arrived in their SUV with red-and-blue lights blazing a few minutes later.
“Do I even want to know what you two are going to say?” Thomas asked with a frown as he got out of the vehicle. He removed a heavy-duty flashlight from his uniform belt.
Kerry wore a thick blue police jacket over her pantsuit. Her red hair was twisted in a tight bun.
“It’s probably better that we leave it at mere happenstance that Juliet and I stumbled upon what may be critical evidence in your case.” Lance shared a gleeful look with me. “Our evening walk took us by this dumpster and seeing that there was garbage strewn about we took it upon ourselves—as any good law-abiding citizen would—to do our civic duty and tidy up.”
“‘Law-abiding
citizen,’ huh? Where?” Detective Kerry looked around us.
Lance’s eyes glittered with impish delight. “Standing right here. Reporting what could become late-breaking evidence in your murder case, of course. I’ll accept your deepest thanks after you’ve had a chance to examine our discovery.” He gave her a grand sweeping bow.
She threw her head back and laughed.
If anyone could crack her stony exterior, it was Lance.
“Let’s have it,” Thomas said, tugging on a pair of blue plastic gloves.
I pulled the wrench from behind my back and handed it to him.
“A wrench?” Thomas gave the wrench a flat glaze.
“Yeah, do you think that’s blood?” I showed them the tip of my gloves.
Detective Kerry leaned in for a closer look, then held out an evidence bag for Thomas. Neither of them responded.
“Hunter tossed something in here earlier. It was after your team finished searching this area. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?” I tried to explain what I had seen. “Do you think this is what he was trying to get rid of? Maybe he hit the Wizard with the wrench and the Wizard staggered over to the tracks?”
“We’ll have to examine it for prints.” Thomas said. “At least you two had the wherewithal to put on gloves.”
Kerry made a scolding sound under her breath.
“Not that we condone this kind of behavior.” Thomas pursed his lips. “You realize we could arrest you for meddling in an official police investigation.”
Lance laid on his most somber tone. “But of course. That’s why we contacted you immediately. We didn’t want a poor, innocent bystander to happen upon this mess and accidently destroy critical evidence.”
I took off the rubber gloves. They were making my hands sweaty and my fingers itch.
“Thanks for being such outstanding citizens,” Thomas said with sarcasm. “We’ll take it from here.”
“That’s our cue, darling. Shall we finish our evening meandering?” Lance offered me his arm. “Keep up the stellar work, detectives.”
We headed for the nearby bike path. Moonlight cast an eerie glow on the empty pathway.
Chilled to the Cone Page 9
