The Salty Taste of Murder (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 1)

by Christine Zane Thomas

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve been meaning to ask someone. What’s up with all the porches? Every single house has one. And I’m not talking a little slab of concrete outside the front door.”

  Everyone new to town asked eventually. It was one of my favorites things to answer. “Lanai actually means porch. The porches are a requirement. City ordinance. The law. You should know.”

  He clapped his hands down on the table. “Mystery solved. And it turns out all I needed to do was open a dictionary.”

  “Speaking of mystery,” I segued into my favorite topic of conversation, “are you any closer to figuring out who killed Jessica Hayes?”

  “Not yet.” He grew serious. “But we’re following some leads. Good ones too. I have an idea of who’s actually involved.”

  “Is Miller still a suspect?” I asked hoping the answer was a definitive no.

  “He’s no longer suspect number one.”

  That was good enough for now.

  “Are Camp Devereux and Lea Bell ahead of him?” I asked quietly.

  Before he responded, his slightly bewildered expression told me the answer.

  “How do you know that?” he whispered back.

  “I overheard them arguing last night.” I self-consciously checked my surroundings, thinking that Lea girl could be eavesdropping like she was the other day. “They were arguing about cleaning up messes for each other. Lea said she lied to the police.”

  “Was this at the memorial last night? Who else heard this argument?”

  “It wasn’t there.” I looked into the remnants of the caramel cat at the bottom of the coffee mug. “No one else heard. I was alone. I’m pretty sure they didn’t know I could hear them.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Where were you?”

  “I was at The Southern Depot last night. I was trying to find answers.”

  “I’m going to stop you there,” he said sternly. “Allison, you can’t go around doing stuff like that. It’s dangerous. They’re dangerous. You need to steer clear of them and that place.”

  Since I had already told him this much, I felt like I needed to go all in. “I took some pictures of some spreadsheets last night. They might be of interest to you.” I handed over my phone.

  “We’ve been through that place. I’ve already—” He stopped abruptly. “Actually, do you mind if I text this one to myself?”

  “Go for it,” I replied.

  He quickly selected the pictures and sent them to his phone.

  “This might not be anything,” he admitted. “But see this signature? That’s Miller’s.” He pointed. “I think I’ve figured something out.”

  “What?” I asked.

  But Javier was already up, coffee in hand. “Allie, please, please stop snooping. I’ve got this case under control. I’ve got to get back to the station. I need to see what we can do about getting a warrant.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  It looked like my amateur sleuthing had helped out after all. Kate wasn’t the only one who could do some real investigating around here.

  Wait a second.

  I realized Javier Portillo’s personal cell number was now stored in my phone.

  19

  Feeling accomplished in so many ways, I decided to take the afternoon off. Saturdays in Lanai were the best. Main Street was busy. People walked up and down the street, browsed the sidewalk sales of each boutique they passed, and found food at the local eateries. There were several on Main Street itself, then a few on Broad.

  If anything, I thought, a walk will do me some good. The failure of not going out for the morning’s run loomed in my mind. And there was no danger here in these crowded streets.

  Outside The Java Hutt, it felt like the temperature hadn’t risen since I’d been there—could it be a cold snap? Was fall finally upon us?

  A breeze blew the stray hairs that had fallen around my face.

  Lanai wasn’t like most Southern towns. It had never lost its charm. Our downtown district never needed to be revitalized. The local homegrown businesses had been thriving for years.

  It had been far too long since I had walked this part of town. Running past its beauty for so many mornings each month just seemed wrong.

  With Javier on the case, my mind was finally at peace. I could focus on other things now.

  Baby Mine was the first shop I came across. A guilty pang crept into my stomach, a reminder of parking my car in its alleyway. No babies for me. But maybe I owed them some patronage. Big bows, lace, and gingham galore.

  I picked up the cutest little baby dress, flipped over the tag. The seventy-dollar label made my jaw drop. I gently put the dress down and exited the store. Who could afford babies if that’s what a dress costs?

  Since it was Saturday, the dance studio was closed. Maybe one day I would take dance lessons with my husband. Ha! My husband. One day. A glimpse of Javier in a suit flashed through my mind.

  Next, I came to the pet boutique. Bella and Nicky would love a treat. Sort of like at the baby boutique, there was an up-charge for each canine pastry. But this one I could afford.

  A short stroll away, the real treasure of downtown stood before me. We were lucky enough to have an old school pharmacy with a soda shop. Clark’s Pharmacy had been open over fifty years. And the shakes and the malts were to die for. Their gift shop was where I found most of the knickknacks I gave the ladies of my family for birthdays and Christmas.

  Kate had been such a good friend lately. I wanted to surprise her with something. Unlike Mom, I had to do a little more work finding her something. I left the knickknacks behind. Stationary was too antiquated for her.

  What would she like?

  I shook my head at everything except the jewelry. Kate loved a pair of statement earrings. I had probably spun the racks three times a piece, but my eye caught on a bright pink earring set with each spin. That was the pair. I held them triumphantly, then went to find a card to go along with the gift.

  But there was one question left to answer. Should I go for a milkshake or not? I had almost decided against it, reminding myself that I hadn’t burned off enough calories by running this morning, when I glanced at the soda jerk counter.

  Sitting atop a bar stool, looking as calm and haughty as ever, sat Lea Bell.

  Should I confront her? I knew better—I really did. Javier was handling it. In fact, he told me to stay away from her. But it was Camp who’d committed the murder. And I could see no sign of him.

  I decided I owed it to myself to confront her. I probably wouldn’t be able to do this again for another twenty-five years to life. And she needed to hear what I had to say.

  As I got closer, I realized that she was crying.

  Well, there went my aggression. Poof. How do you angrily confront someone who is crying?

  “Lea?” I hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t even her. I could have been mistaken.

  She turned around. When her eyes met mine, they were as red as firecrackers. Then her face flushed with dread. I was definitely not the person she wanted to see today. She turned back around on her bar stool without saying a word.

  “Are you okay?” I asked with genuine concern.

  “What do you want?” she asked me. She returned a tissue to her purse, looking down into it as if she was checking for something.

  “Well, first off, I want to know if you’re okay.”

  “Not really,” she admitted. “But I will be… I hope.”

  “I hope you will be too.” I wasn’t sure if it was a lie.

  “So, what do you want now?” she asked angrily. She sniffled a bit and then turned around to face me again.

  “Do you have a problem with me? Have I done something to you?” These words definitely felt like lies. If she’d heard mine and Kate’s conversation, she knew exactly what I’d done.

  “You’re nosy, for starters,” she said. “You don’t know when to leave well enough alone.” She looked around the almost empty store. “If I were you, I’d just drop i
t. Leave it alone. Walk away.”

  But I couldn’t just drop it. I was already this far in.

  “I’m not sure I can do that. I know it was you who busted my window.”

  She didn’t respond with words, but her face did. It was covered in guilt. She shook her head as if she didn’t want to do what she did next. “I told her to walk away,” she whispered to herself. “I told her.” Lea grabbed her purse and put her hand deeply inside.

  She plunged the other hand in her purse, pulled out a dollar, and set it on the counter. The right hand stayed inside her purse, and she twisted the purse toward me.

  “I have a gun in here—just a little Ruger, nine-millimeter.” She gestured for me to look. Something round contorted the leather end of the purse. “You don’t know much about guns, now, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not surprising.” She hopped down off her stool. “I’m going to lead you outside. Follow you to your car. This pistol’s going to be pointed at you the whole time. You understand?”

  I nodded. My heart pounded hard.

  “Walk,” she urged me.

  I left Kate’s gift there on the counter—along with any thoughts of a strawberry shake.

  20

  “Keep driving,” Lea commanded. Her purse still aimed at me. We passed The Southern Depot; the parking lot was sparse with late afternoon guests. They were probably about to close for the hour and set up for the dinner service.

  She had me drive to a house on the other side of town. It was a nice home, secluded away from its neighbors. A FOR SALE sign stood in the front yard. Camp’s silver truck was parked along a front circular driveway.

  “We’re here,” she said. “No funny business. I’ll follow you into the house.”

  I nodded in response. I’d gone as silent as I had in my police interview with Javier, only using my head for responses. My body felt worse than it had with my very first panic attack.

  My phone felt like a weight in my pocket. If I could just get to it, and call that new number. Then I knew things would turn out all right.

  “Camp,” Lea called as we entered. “I brought a guest.”

  I heard Camp’s footsteps on the stairs before I saw him. “A guest?” he asked. “Oh.”

  “And get your gun,” Lea told him, pulling her hands from her purse.

  There’s no gun, I thought foolishly. She’d tricked me. And now, I was trapped with the two people who scared me the most.

  “My gun? Lea, you can’t be serious.”

  “I am serious,” she said. “This one’s got it out for us. She knows what you did.”

  “What I did,” Camp said slowly, nodding.

  I wondered what would happen if I pulled out my phone now. Neither of them had a gun in hand. I could make a run for it. But I knew I wouldn’t make it far.

  “I’m guessing you’re the one who told the police she was lying about my alibi,” Camp said. “That’s right. I’ve already talked to your friend, Detective Portillo. I gave him all the answers he needed. And, as you can see, I’m still right here.” His sinister tone was unnerving. He was bragging about getting away with the crime.

  I finally reached for my phone.

  “I don’t think so.” Lea grabbed it away from me.

  There was something so intimidating about being trapped two on one. I was just thankful that Camp hadn’t yet gone to get his gun.

  “You’re gonna pay for this.” My threats were non-threatening. “You’ll see.”

  “That’s the thing, Miss Treadwell. I’ve already paid handsomely. Here, let’s take her up to the restaurant. And I will get my gun.”

  “Are you sure?” Lea asked. “It’s almost time for dinner service.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m sure. Some things have been brought to my attention. It’s now or never.”

  Lea shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

  It made me sick to see how easily she just went along with Camp’s demands. He was slime. He came back with a real gun this time. And it was pointed directly at me.

  “Let’s go.” He steered me toward the door. “After you, Miss Treadwell.”

  The drive to the restaurant was uneventful. Lea took the driver’s seat of the massive truck while Camp held the gun pointed in my direction from the backseat. We eased over the gravel lot, and to my dismay, the parking lot was a whole lot emptier than it had been only so many minutes before.

  “You’re not going to scream. You’re not going to make a sound unless I tell you,” Camp directed.

  That wouldn’t be difficult. I was in complete shutdown mode, on the verge of a full-on panic attack. It felt like an elephant was on my chest. The harder I tried to breathe, the harder it was. I was sinking.

  “Take her to the office,” Camp said. “I’ll get Miller.”

  “Get Miller?” Lea asked, perplexed.

  “All will be explained.” Camp waved the gun, directing us both inside.

  When he was out of earshot, I said, “You don’t have to do what he tells you. Give me back my phone, and we’ll call Detective Portillo. There’s no use in you going down for murders he committed.”

  “Murders?” Lea questioned. She led me into the office. The papers on the untidy desk looked even worse in the light of day.

  “Jessica’s,” I answered. “Mine. Miller’s. He might even kill you. It’s easier to get away alone.”

  “He’d never…” Lea trailed off, I was unsure where her head was. “You can text your boyfriend. Make it quick.”

  “He’s not my—”

  “I don’t care! Here.” She handed me my phone.

  I sent one quick message.

  HELP! TSD.

  Lea snatched the phone back and slipped it into her floral purse. “You better remember I did that when it comes time.”

  Miller’s voice came loud from the kitchen. “What’s this all about?” he asked.

  “Just go in the office,” Camp urged. “We need to talk.”

  I knew it was too soon, but I listened for the sound of police sirens.

  They weren’t there.

  Outside, I could just hear the rumbling of a large diesel engine. And this time, the tires on the gravel weren’t sliding underneath a vehicle, but instead, were being pounded into the dirt. A truck had pulled into the parking lot.

  The office door swung open. Miller stepped inside. He looked at me and Lea with bewilderment. Camp hadn’t forced him in here. It was only after the door was closed he brought back out the gun.

  “Allie, what’re you doing here?” Miller asked.

  “No, no,” Camp barked. “It’s my turn to ask the questions.”

  Miller turned back to see Camp’s pistol pointed straight at his chest.

  “Camp?” he asked. The gears in Miller’s mind whirred. “It was you?”

  “No!” Camp yelled. “I said it’s my turn to ask the questions. Sit down.”

  Miller did as he was told. He held his hands up and lowered himself into the chair behind the desk.

  “Let me get this out for all of you to hear. I didn’t kill your wife. And I don’t know who did.”

  “You didn’t?” Lea was just as taken-aback as Miller and myself. Why would Camp lie at a time like this? He was a holding a gun on us.

  “No, I didn’t.” Camp shook his head. The gun stayed pointed at Miller. “But Miller, here, has some explaining to do. See, I just got off the phone with that detective. He explained some irregularities with the finances. The same irregularities that Jessica found.”

  “What are you talking about?” Miller and Lea asked as one.

  “That night of the murder,” Camp said, “we were closing up. And Jessica asked me back here to this very place. She accused me of skimming off the top—of stealing from my very own business. We argued, and I left.” Camp turned to Lea. “That’s why I asked you to lie for me. I knew it’d look bad if the cops knew what happened.”

  So, he and Lea had both lied to the police.

  “W
hat I didn’t realize until the detective called me was that it was Miller.”

  Miller shifted uncomfortably in the chair. The gun moved with him.

  “Camp,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t me. Why would I—”

  The door of the office eased open—not an easy feat. I remembered how sticky that door was. Someone strong was behind it. I was hoping for Javier.

  Another gun was the first thing I saw.

  “That’s because it was me,” the voice behind the gun said. The gun fired. It was so loud I thought my ears would ring for days.

  Camp crumpled to the floor.

  “Sweetheart!” Lea fell on top of him. She rushed to press down on his shoulder where all I saw was red on his shirt.

  There was a commotion in the kitchen. Cooks and staff scrambled out.

  “Why don’t y’all step out here with me?” Ronnie Ferguson said.

  “Ronnie?” my voice trembled.

  “No one else has to die. I’ll lock y’all in the freezer. They’ll find you soon enough. Just give me the keys to that nice truck out there.”

  “They’re in my purse,” Lea told him.

  “And Miller, kick that gun over here.”

  Camp’s gun was idle on the floor. Miller kicked it over for Ronnie to inspect.

  He gave a short laugh. “Wasn’t even loaded,” he said. “This one, I assure you, is. All right, Miller first, then you two next.”

  “What about Camp?” Lea asked.

  “He’ll be okay. It’s just a shoulder.”

  Lea didn’t seem to agree. Camp winced. Finally, Lea got to her feet. And we followed Miller out to the kitchen.

  Like most industrial kitchens, the cookware, the pots, and the pans were all there for easy access—there’s no need to hide them in cabinetry. My eyes glanced over for anything of use to defend us, a knife, a skillet, anything.

  What if you miss? My inner monologue kicked in.

  Miller scuffed his feet. I assumed he was doing the same mental calculations.

  “Let’s go,” Ronnie said. “I don’t have much time.”

  When he poked Miller in the back with his gun, I took the opportunity. A heavy-duty baking tray was well within my reach. I grabbed it with two hands. Ronnie only had time to look back before I clocked him across the face with the full force of my weight behind the pan.