Rest in Split Peas

by Hillary Avis

  “I probably would have if it were Trevor,” Ben admitted. “Or Garrett—he was playing that night, too. But there were some complications when it came to Marigold. The morning after the poker game, she told me that if I didn’t give her the donation money, she’d report me to the ZamRail regional director for a hostile workplace. Harassment.”

  Bethany gasped. “But why? She didn’t have any evidence of that, did she?”

  Ben sank heavily into his desk chair and put his head in his hands. “Actually, she did. She has all kinds of text messages and love letters from me.”

  “Well, I’m sure you have the same from her, right? What’s the big deal if you had an off-hours flirtation?”

  “That’s the thing. Once I looked at the messages, I realized that her replies were always neutral and professional on paper, even though she told me she loved me in person. That’s why I said...” he broke off as his voice choked.

  “That she wasn’t your girlfriend,” Bethany finished. “You thought she was, but when she tried to blackmail you for the donation money, you realized she was just pretending. And you gave her the check because you didn’t want to lose your career, which is why you didn’t report it as a theft to the police.”

  He jerked his head up from his hands. “No! That’s just it! I thought about it all day Tuesday and decided that restoring the station was more important than my pension. So when she came by Tuesday night to collect the check, I told her no way. I wasn’t going to do it. She screamed at me, but I stayed firm. I guess that’s when she decided to steal it.”

  Bethany nodded. “And she left her purse in your office on purpose so she had an excuse to come back, preferably when you weren’t there.”

  “That idiot Trevor let her in,” Ben said bitterly. “I realized the check was gone as soon as I got to work on Wednesday. I confronted her about it and told her that she had twelve hours to return the money, or I’d call the cops. I said my career wasn’t important to me if it meant Newbridge Station crumbled to the ground. Surprisingly, she apologized and agreed to bring it back.”

  “Or said she would, anyway,” Bethany said dryly. She’d already lost faith that Marigold had any good intentions.

  “I think she meant it. I believed her, anyway.” Ben shrugged.

  “So what’d you do after she promised to return the money?”

  “I reprimanded Trevor for loaning out his keys.”

  Bethany nodded. That matched up with Trevor’s version of events, too. “Right, I saw you when I came into the station. Then what?”

  “Back to my office to do the bookkeeping.”

  “And after that?”

  Ben stared at her, puzzled. “I went to the men’s room. While I was in there, I got the emergency call from the 10:55 train that someone had been hit.”

  “Hmm.” Bethany frowned. The last time she’d asked Ben about his alibi, he’d said he was in his office when he got the call.

  “What?”

  “Well. Your story changed a little bit. You didn’t mention the restroom visit before.”

  “I just remembered. After I ran some numbers, I went to the bathroom.”

  “OK.” Bethany’s heart sank. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t in the men’s room at the time of the murder because Jen was in the men’s room. She’d seen Jen go in with her own eyes. Why was Ben lying about this? It’s not like being in the restroom was a better alibi than being in his office. Either way, nobody could corroborate it.

  What was Ben hiding behind his wishy-washy non-alibi? Could it be murder? Maybe he gave Marigold the money and then changed his mind and asked for it back. He might have killed her when she wouldn’t hand over the check.

  “I wish I’d done the rounds that day. I always wait on the platform until the train pulls in.” Ben shook his head. “If someone was trying to hurt her, I’d have stuck up for her.”

  Bethany shook her head in disbelief that anyone could be that forgiving. “Really? You don’t think Marigold might have deserved it after what she did to you? I mean, if she stole fifty grand from you and you weren’t mad enough to push her off a platform, imagine what she must have done to someone else!”

  Ben shook his head. “She didn’t steal from me. She stole from the fund, or from the donor if you want to get specific. I know what you’re getting at, but I didn’t hurt Marigold.”

  Oops, and I thought I was being subtle. Bethany crossed her arms, her face burning. “Well, who do you think killed her, then? Any theories?”

  “I don’t want to cast blame.”

  “But...?”

  Ben winced. “Well, Trevor asked me if he could borrow some money last week. He had some debts—gambling debts—that he wanted to pay back before the baby came. I know he owed Marigold at least a grand. Possibly she called in the debt? That might have led to a fight on the platform when he was doing his rounds. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it.”

  Except he didn’t do the rounds, Bethany said silently. Trevor wasn’t there. Or he said he wasn’t there. Now that she thought about it, neither Trevor nor Ben had a real alibi. She had to sort out which parts of their stories made sense and which didn’t—she couldn’t keep taking them at their word, especially when those words changed every time she talked to them!

  “That’s a decent theory,” she said. “But if he needed money, why didn’t he steal the big fat check?”

  “Well, her purse was missing, right? He probably thought the check was in there.” Ben shook his head. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought I’d get to yell at her again, and maybe even reconcile.”

  Bethany softened at his words. “You loved her in spite of her bad behavior.”

  Ben nodded. “Shameful, isn’t it? What we do for people. What we can forgive.”

  KIMMY CROSSED HER ARMS as she stood in the middle of their little yellow kitchen. “Well, I can’t forgive her for stealing the restoration fund money. Who did she think would suffer if the station closed? You, Olive, everyone who works in that place, not to mention all the people in Newbridge who use the train. She’s the definition of selfishness.”

  Charley swiped a pinch of cheese from the cutting board where Bethany was grating parmesan for their pasta. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” she mumbled through her mouthful.

  Kimmy stuck out her tongue. “Isn’t that what you do all day? Go around uncovering the dirty secrets, the ulterior motives, the ugly impulses?”

  Charley grabbed her chest and pretended to fall on the floor. “That one hurt, Kimmy. You got me right in the heart.”

  “Well, isn’t it? You dig up the stuff nobody is supposed to know. It’s like people have been reading a book of their lives, and you show up to read them a new chapter that changes the context of everything they’ve experienced. You tell them, ‘No, this person you thought was your loving partner or child is actually a bad guy.’ And then you ask them why.”

  Charley’s forehead creased. “Geez, Kimmy, what crawled up your butt? What I do every day is go out there to make sure the bad guys are caught so they don’t hurt people. That’s it.”

  “Who are you going to interrogate now?” Kimmy pursed her lips. “Which of our friends?”

  “Cut it out, please,” Bethany said from the sink, where she was draining the pasta. “You two are driving me crazy with all your bickering.”

  Charley ignored her, eyes trained on Kimmy. “Is that why you’re picking this fight? You think I’m going to arrest someone you know and like for the murder of someone you didn’t like?”

  Kimmy’s chin quivered, and she sat down hard on the stool by the counter. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Aw.” Charley crossed the kitchen and pulled Kimmy to her chest. She kissed the top of her head and left her lips there an extra moment. “You know I have to be fair. I have to do my job according to the law, not according to Kimmy, as much as I’d like to.”

  “Do you think you have enough evidence for an arrest?” Bethany asked quietly. She dished the hot
pasta onto three plates and smothered the noodles with puttanesca.

  Charley sprinkled some of the parmesan on her plate of food and sat down at the counter. She stuck her fork into the pasta and twirled it around, but stopped before taking a bite. “Yeah. From what you’ve said, there’s a lot of evidence pointing to one person.”

  Kimmy put her hands over her ears. “Na na na na, I can’t hear you!”

  “Ben?” Bethany asked, putting a plate on the counter in front of Kimmy. Charley nodded. “But what about Trevor? Or Olive? Or Jen—maybe she got tired of being pushed around! Or Aaron—that guy didn’t want to stay a minute longer than he had to.”

  Charley put down her fork. “Ben lost fifty thousand dollars, his relationship, and potentially his job because of Marigold. He had the strongest motive to kill her, by far, and he has no alibi. I know he’s not evil, Kimmy. He probably didn’t mean to hurt her—things just got heated. He pushed her, and she fell. It’s terrible and wrong, but it’s not evil.”

  Kimmy dropped her hands from her ears and stared dolefully at her pasta. Charley put her arm around Kimmy’s shoulders and squeezed, murmuring sympathetically in her ear.

  Bethany turned away and studiously ate her dinner, embarrassed to watch their intimate moment. It’d been a long time since anyone comforted her like that. She’d been so focused on getting Souperb Soups up and running that she’d completely neglected dating and most of her friendships for the better part of a year, and to be honest, she missed those connections. Maybe it was time to do something about that now that a couple of prospects were on the radar.

  Not that Ryan is a prospect. He was just cute, not dating material, even if he had the brightest smile on the eastern seaboard. She should definitely set her sights on someone more like Milo, who clearly cared about his career and had a more normal life.

  “I have to go to the station,” Charley said abruptly. She pushed back her stool and rinsed her empty plate in the sink.

  “Right now?” Kimmy asked. “It’s almost midnight. Can’t you wait until the morning?”

  Charley shook her head. “I need to update my report with the new information Bethany told me about the restoration fund theft and Ben’s changing alibi. We’ll question him about it in the morning, most likely—I don’t think we’ll be breaking down any doors tonight.”

  “But you’ll probably arrest him,” Bethany said, guilt souring her stomach.

  Charley nodded and seemed to recognize what Bethany was feeling. “You did the right thing, telling me.”

  “What if I’m wrong? What if it was someone else? You know I’m too suspicious sometimes.” Bethany anxiously tapped her fork against her plate, the ting ting ting matching the pounding in her ears.

  “Don’t worry—if Ben didn’t push Marigold, we’ll find out. I’m not interested in arresting innocent people.”

  “Then why can’t you wait a couple of days, so we—you have a chance to ask more questions? Rule out the other possibilities first?”

  Kimmy nodded. “Marigold’s memorial is on Saturday, and Olive has put so much energy into planning it. If Ben is arrested, it’ll ruin it for her. Can’t you just give her two more days? It’s not even two whole days...you could arrest him after the memorial on Saturday afternoon.”

  “And by then I’ll—I mean, you’ll be really really sure,” Bethany added hopefully.

  Charley rubbed her face with both hands. “This is crazy. I’m going to arrest a murderer, and I feel like I’m letting you both down. As much as I love you, Kimmy, I have to do this by the book. I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want me to come back.” She grabbed her coat and left.

  Kimmy stared at the closed door, her mouth half-open. Bethany felt terrible for her. If she’d just kept her suspicions about Ben to herself for a little bit longer, Charley wouldn’t have had to make such a painful choice. “I’m sorry—I feel like this is my fault.”

  Kimmy shook her head. “Did you hear that?”

  “I know. She’s not coming back.”

  “Not that—she said she loves me!” Kimmy turned to her with huge, glowing eyes. One look at her friend’s expression, and Bethany couldn’t help grinning.

  “I did hear that. Loud and clear.”

  Chapter 7

  Friday Morning

  Cheerful. That was the goal for Friday’s soup of the day. Something to help people forget the ugliness of the week. Curry lentil, maybe? No, she’d learned her lesson with the spicy oyster stew. A curry might be warm and uplifting, but it was too challenging for some Newbridge residents. Today required something that evoked a feel-good happiness that was both innocent and nostalgic. Classic tomato. Yes!

  Invigorated by the decision, Bethany pedaled faster along the Newbridge waterfront, whizzing past the commercial docks where she often bought fresh seafood, the park with the curved sandy beach, and the houseboats and small sailing craft in the marina.

  Prep at Café Sabine was simple. She had leftover chicken stock from earlier in the week in the freezer, the tomatoes were from a can (sweeter and riper than fresh ones, this time of year), and she had plenty of onions and garlic stashed in the back of Kimmy’s pantry. Yet, even after the soup had burbled on the back burner of the café’s enormous range for forty minutes and was seasoned perfectly, it was still missing something.

  “Basil?” Bethany asked, holding a spoon out to Kimmy. “Thyme?”

  Kimmy tasted the soup, smacking her lips, and tossed the spoon into the sink. “Cream.”

  Bethany giggled. “You always say cream.”

  “And I’m usually right.” Kimmy stirred her own soup of the day, a delicate vichyssoise.

  “I wish Charley were here to give an opinion, too,” Bethany said, tasting the soup herself. It was fine, but maybe just a bit under-salted. Kimmy was right, cream wouldn’t hurt, either.

  “She’d just say it needed chili peppers.”

  Bethany nodded and gave a halfhearted smile. “She’s usually here by now. I guess she’s probably busy at the train station.”

  “Probably,” Kimmy said, her voice tight.

  “I’m kind of afraid to go over there. I don’t really want to see Ben if I can help it, to be honest.”

  Kimmy turned to face Bethany with tears in her eyes. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t betray him, Bethany. He’s the one who did something wrong. He betrayed all of us.”

  “I know, but I wish I felt more sure about it.”

  “Hopefully he’ll just confess once he realizes the police know it’s him and save everyone some grief.”

  Bethany nodded. “Except Olive—she’s still going to be bummed that her memorial service won’t be perfect.”

  “We’ll just have to make sure it’s better than perfect. Plus, how great will it be for Jen to go home knowing that the person who killed her cousin is behind bars? That would have to be comforting.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Charley.” Bethany winked.

  Kimmy blushed. “Not really, but I am starting to appreciate that Charley is so by the book. It’s hard enough dating a cop, but imagine dating a cop that you didn’t think was following the rules. I mean, if she’ll bend the rules for her friends, that’s pretty much the end, isn’t it? That’s corruption, even if it’s benign. Another time it might not be.”

  Bethany nodded. “Very true. And with Charley’s ambition, she’ll probably be police chief someday. Who better than someone who is so ethical that she won’t even delay filing a report long enough to have dessert? On that note, I should play by the rules and get to work, even though I dread seeing Ben. He’ll know I’m the one who told.”

  “Maybe they arrested him already, and you won’t have to talk to him.”

  “Ugh, I’m not going to hope for that, either. I’m going to hope that he had some magical proof that he didn’t do it, and they moved on to another suspect. I hope he’s sitting in his office, angry at me for causing trouble. That’s what I hope.” Bethany gave a firm nod.

  Kimmy l
ooked at her with sad eyes. “You do realize that if Ben is cleared, that means someone else did it. Who else would you prefer go to jail? Trevor, when his wife is about to pop?”

  “I’d prefer it was nobody! I hope it was someone none of us have ever seen or heard of before.”

  “Then the killer probably will get away with it, and might even kill someone else. Is that what you’re hoping for?”

  “Ugh.” Bethany brandished a spoon like a gun. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Kimmy?”

  Kimmy sighed. “I’m just trying to make a point.”

  “Point taken. I’ll stop hoping and just make my tomato soup like a good girl until the nice men figure it out.” Bethany flashed a sickly-sweet smile.

  “And Charley. The nice men and Charley. She’s our only hope.”

  AS SOON AS BETHANY set foot inside Newbridge Station, she heard the shouts echoing down the concourse. Olive was standing out in front of the Honor Roll, watching, and so was everyone else in the station. Two police officers were handcuffing Ben near the ticket booth while Charley read him his rights. Ben struggled, his loafers slipping on the worn marble tiles as he fought to avoid being cuffed, but he had little hope against the two strong officers.

  Olive had a hand over her mouth, her brows furrowed with concern. “Oh, I hope they don’t hurt him. I really do.”

  Bethany’s throat ached with unshed tears. A cycle of blame spiraled like a cyclone in her mind. This is my fault for telling on Ben. This is Ben’s fault for killing Marigold. This is Marigold’s fault for stealing the money.

  Olive couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. “They didn’t have to do it like this—so publicly. They could have done it in his office.” Bethany was so overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn’t even respond. The officers finally got the cuffs on Ben and escorted him to the door. As he passed them, he spotted Bethany.

  “I didn’t do this, Bethany! You know I didn’t! Find out who’s to blame. You find out!” His eyes bored into her even as the door closed, and she could no longer hear him through the glass. She could read his lips, though—you find out, you find out, you find out—as they put him into the back of a squad car.