Rest in Split Peas

by Hillary Avis

  “What a shame.” Olive fluttered her hand. “What a waste of a nice man like Ben Kovac.”

  “Even nice men do bad things sometimes. I’m surprised, though, I guess. I thought it was possible he did it, but I guess deep down I didn’t believe he was capable. I somehow thought that Charley would clear him today.”

  “Desperate people do stupid things, I’m sorry to say,” Olive murmured. “They’re wrapped up in their own little world, not thinking about consequences.”

  Bethany nodded sadly. “Help me lift the soup onto the warmer?”

  “Sure.” Olive trailed behind her over to the kiosk, and they lifted the heavy stock pot together. “Bigger vat than usual, eh?”

  “I’m trying a new stock pot. I sell out so quickly that I figured I’d better increase capacity so the 12:55 folks aren’t always shortchanged.” Bethany wrote “Nostalgic Tomato” on the chalk board. “What do you think about pairing this with grilled cheese sandwiches on your classic white bread?”

  “Or cheesy biscuits?” Olive suggested. “I don’t have a grill.”

  “That’d work. Or you could make grilled cheese in the oven—have you tried that?”

  Olive clapped her hands gleefully. “No, but what a fantastic idea. That way I can make a bunch at once, too. I’m going to go do a test batch to make sure it works before the rush. That reminds me, I wanted to ask you if you’d make a special soup for Marigold’s memorial on Saturday. I know you don’t usually cook on the weekends, but it’s for a good cause. I can’t pay you much, but—”

  “Of course I will, and don’t say another word about money. Is there anything else I can help with? Especially now that Ben can’t be here?” Bethany hated to remind Olive about Ben’s arrest, but she also wanted to keep her promise to Kimmy to help make Olive’s event better than perfect, and that meant planning ahead.

  “You know? Life goes on,” Olive said, her mouth straight and set in a very un-Olive-like expression. “We can’t make everything right, now can we?”

  “No, I guess not. We just have to do our best for Marigold’s family. How are your houseguests? Hanging in there?”

  Olive nodded, her face brightening. “They’re anxious to get home, of course, but they seem relieved that the killer has been caught.” She nodded over to the bakery, where Jen and Aaron sat in a table at the window. They looked more glum that relieved, staring at the cups of coffee on the table in front of them. Jen kept wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket until Aaron handed her a napkin. For such a prickly guy, he was so tender and gentlemanly with Jen. It reminded Bethany a little of Kimmy and Charley.

  “Why don’t I come with you while you test-bake the cheese sandwiches, and I can talk with Jen about what soup she thinks would be best for the memorial?”

  Olive nodded, and Bethany followed her into the Honor Roll. A wave of warm, pastry-scented air enveloped her the moment she stepped through the swinging glass door. Bethany’s stomach rumbled audibly, and Olive chuckled.

  “Common reaction. Care for a multiplication muffin?”

  Bethany nodded eagerly, and Olive brought her a citrus-scented muffin with an “X” made of orange zest on top. She thanked Olive and took the plate over to the table where Jen and Aaron sat. “Mind if I join you two?”

  Jen shook her head and moved Marigold’s purse off the table so there was room for Bethany’s plate. Bethany sat and, to combat the awkward silence that followed, crammed a big piece of the muffin in her mouth. She chewed while they stared at her. “Um. How are you doing?”

  “How do you think?” Aaron snorted. “What do you want?”

  Bethany swallowed. Tough crowd. “Well, I’m planning to cook for Marigold’s memorial, and I wanted ask about her favorites. What do you think she’d have liked?”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “If you want to know what she liked, you should probably ask someone else.”

  “Stop,” Jen said. “It’s not important now.”

  Bethany tried to suppress her curiosity out of respect for Jen’s grief, but it bubbled to the surface anyway. “What do you mean? Who knows her better than you?”

  “You must have noticed that she had a habit of ‘borrowing’”—he made air quotes around the word with his fingers—“things she liked. I doubt she had any thoughts of her own.”

  “I noticed, but I thought it was just me she was copying.”

  “Not just you,” Aaron said.

  “Interesting. So why do you think she ‘borrowed’ the money from Ben’s office? I mean, he’d obviously know right away that she did it, so how did she think she’d get away with it?”

  “How did she think she’d get away with stealing your business concept?” Jen murmured. “She just gets what she wants.”

  “And that’s why she’s dead.” Aaron sounded so satisfied that Bethany would have thought he was the murderer, if he hadn’t been on the train that hit her.

  Wait. Was he on the train? Of course, he and Jen said he was, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was on the platform not because he’d exited the train, but because he had just pushed Marigold onto the tracks? Bethany’s heart raced.

  She forced a smile onto her face. “You must be relieved that her killer has been caught.”

  Jen shook her head. “I just want to go home. This whole trip has been a fiasco from start to finish. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”

  The right thing to do would be to leave Jen and Aaron alone, when they clearly didn’t want to talk to her. But Ben’s words kept echoing in her mind. You find out, you find out. If there was even a chance that Aaron wasn’t on that train, or that Ben was telling the truth about being in the restroom when Marigold was killed, Bethany had to find out. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I know this is a hard time. Just out of curiosity, though...did you see Ben when you came out of the restroom on Wednesday morning?”

  They both stared at her wordlessly. She kept talking to fill the awkward silence. “You know, he said he went to the restroom at the time of the murder, but before that he said he was in his office, so I wondered if you saw him. I mean, I saw you go in the men’s room, but he can’t have gone to the men’s room if you were in there, but maybe he went in as you were coming out? Is that possible? Did you see him?”

  “No,” Jen said flatly, and Aaron scraped back his chair and stood up.

  “Enough of this. You need to leave now. She doesn’t want to talk about it any more. Come on Jen, let’s go.”

  Bethany bit her lip. Ugh, she had to ask. “Where are you going?”

  Jen closed her eyes. In a tired voice, she said, “Probably just walking down to the marina and back. We could use some air.”

  “Enjoy. Um, there’s a little tea-and-toast shop on Sixth Street, down by the park, in case you get cold.”

  Aaron nodded curtly and held the bakery door open for Jen on their way out. As Bethany watched them through the bakery windows, Olive came up beside her with a cheese sandwich on a small plate.

  “Try this.”

  Bethany took a bite. Crunchy, creamy, salty, buttery—everything a grilled cheese sandwich should be. “It’s genius.”

  “Why, thank you.” Olive curtsied. “You better get over to your booth. Looks like you have a line already.”

  Bethany did a little internal happy dance. Nostalgic Tomato for the win. Yesterday’s slowdown was just a fluke, a blip. And to her pleasant surprise, Milo was first in line.

  “Hey, stranger.” She grinned at him. She wondered if he was here for the food or the company. “Is that your crime hat or your soup hat?”

  “Definitely the soup hat. Where have you been?”

  Maybe he was here for both. She tied on her apron and filled a container with the rich tomato-y goodness. “I was over at the Honor Roll talking to Marigold’s cousin and her fiancé about the memorial service tomorrow. They’re pretty upset about everything, understandably.”

  Milo whipped his head around toward the bakery. “They’re here? Where?”
<
br />   She pointed toward the exit. “See the woman in the red coat? That’s Jen. They’re just leaving now. Said they were going on a walk down to the marina.”

  Milo put both hands on the kiosk counter, an apologetic grimace on his face. “Listen, I—”

  “Buddy, hurry up. I gotta catch a train!” the burly construction worker behind him said.

  “I’ve gotta run. Doing a profile on Marigold for the paper, and I desperately need to talk to her family. Sorry?” He dashed off.

  Bethany rolled her eyes. Of course. She slid the container of soup to the construction worker and put the three bucks he handed her in the till. “The Honor Roll has grilled cheese sandwiches to go with,” she said automatically, watching Milo’s back disappear out the front doors of the station. Figures.

  Chapter 8

  Friday afternoon

  As the lunch rush ended, and the bottom of her stock pot was in sight, Bethany noticed Trevor walking by without his usual confident swagger. Instead of his coveralls, he wore a too-small suit jacket and a stationmaster’s cap that he kept taking on and off and twisting in his hands. Caboose tagged along at his heels.

  “Want some lunch before I close up?” she asked. He glanced up at her chalk board and then nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s a safe bet. Nothing weird in it.”

  His face relaxed, and he broke into a grin. “Phew! Last time I tried your soup, it had tails in it!”

  Bethany chuckled. “That must have been the gumbo. The tail-on shrimp supposedly make it taste better, but I got enough complaints that I’ll probably take those tails off next time.”

  Trevor dug into the soup there at the counter, dripping some onto his jacket. She handed him a napkin, and he scrubbed furiously at his lapel and muttered to himself. “Can’t do anything right...stupid monkey suit.”

  “You seem a little stressed out. Is it about taking on the stationmaster role?”

  He nodded. “That, and Julie is in labor, but I can’t leave the station until the last evening train. She’ll probably have the baby by then, and I will never live that down.” His phone pinged in his pocket, and he fumbled as he pulled it out, his hands shaking as he checked the message. “See? She’s already mad at me, and it’s only noon. No way that baby is staying inside for another seven or eight hours!”

  “There has to be someone to take over for you. Can’t you call ZamRail to send a substitute from another station?”

  “I did. They said no one is available until Monday, and if I want to keep my job, I need to fill in today. It’s just the safety stuff, but even that is a lot.”

  Bethany nodded sympathetically. “I guess you can’t do both jobs indefinitely. They’ll have to hire someone quickly.”

  “Yeah, the ZamRail person I talked to this morning said the station might have to close until they find a new stationmaster. They’ll just bus the commuters to Oldbridge until then. It could take them a month to find someone new!”

  “Bad news for Souperb and the Honor Roll—it’s not like we can serve food at Oldbridge.” She sighed. “We’ll have to close.”

  “Bad news for Caboose, too. I don’t know who’ll take him while the station’s under construction. And it won’t be easy to find a replacement for Ben,” Trevor said glumly. “I know I complained about the guy a lot, but he’s one of the best stationmasters around. He does the work of two or three people. Don’t get me wrong, he’s kind of a jerk, and if he killed someone he should be in jail, but I don’t know...it’s like when your dad’s a jerk. You still love the guy.”

  Bethany nodded. “Do you think he did it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Trevor scooped up Caboose and cradled him, scratching behind the cat’s ears until he purred with pleasure. Seeing him hold Caboose so gently made Bethany realize what a great dad he was going to be.

  “The cops are pretty sure. And I know he lied to me about his alibi. First he said he was in his office, and then he said he was in the restroom. He claimed he forgot, but do you forgot something so important like where you were when you got the call that someone was hit by a train?”

  “Huh,” Trevor said, his face and shoulders relaxing as he stroked the cat’s belly. “I actually saw him coming out of the men’s room at 11:00. I was peeking out the door of the maintenance closet.”

  “You know the exact time?”

  “Yeah, I do. My rounds end around that time, so I was checking to make sure Ben didn’t see me leaving the closet—then he’d know I didn’t do my rounds. And it’s a good thing I did, because I would have run right into him.”

  Bethany gasped. “But this means that Ben was telling the truth—his alibi stands up! Jen must have left the restroom just before him, or not noticed him in the hall because she was in a hurry to get back to the kiosk. Oh no—poor Ben! We have to call Charley and tell her she has the wrong guy! He couldn’t have done it.”

  “Slow your roll,” Trevor said thoughtfully. He set Caboose gently on the floor, and the cat flopped down on his feet like a wet towel. “It actually explains how he could have done it. He could have used his keys to access the maintenance tunnel in the men’s room, gone down to the platform, pushed Marigold in front of the train, and then come back without anyone seeing him.”

  “Wait, there’s a tunnel entrance in the bathroom?!”

  Trevor nodded. “We keep it locked. But Ben has keys, of course.”

  Bethany’s heart sank. That explained how Ben got to the platform and back without anyone seeing him on the concourse. And it made perfect sense why he said he’d been in his office the first time she asked, but then changed his answer to the restroom, on the off chance that someone saw him exiting it at that time. It was closer to the truth, too—he had gotten the call about someone on the tracks while he was in the restroom, after he’d fled the scene of the crime.

  The timeline seemed tight, but it was possible if Ben and Marigold didn’t argue too long before he pushed her. But... “Wouldn’t Ben have been worried that he’d see you in the tunnels? If you were doing your rounds, you should have been right there when he was on the platform. He’d have known that.”

  Trevor opened his mouth, started to say something, and then stopped.

  “Did you notice him carrying anything when he was leaving the restroom?”

  “Like a weapon? No, not that I remember.” Trevor shook his head vigorously.

  “Not like a weapon,” Bethany said. “Like a purse. A black, patent-leather, vintage Chanel purse.”

  Bethany thought she saw Trevor’s eyes widen, just for a moment. “Nope.” He looked over his shoulder at the station clock. “We better get going on the rounds before the 12:55 comes in. The station never sleeps. Thanks for the soup.” He patted the counter and walked away quickly, shoes squeaking on the marble floors as Caboose scampered behind him.

  Bethany took a deep breath. It was important not to jump to conclusions. She knew the murderer took a black purse from Marigold—she’d just been to the bank, so of course she had her purse with her. If Ben was the killer, he must have hidden the purse somewhere before he left the restroom. The tunnels, maybe? But if Ben wasn’t the killer, then the killer would have the purse—or know where it was.

  Bethany dialed Charley’s number as she watched Trevor move toward the other side of the concourse. Was he going to the stationmaster’s office—or was he going to find the purse? “Charley? Where are you?”

  “With Kimmy. She made those cookies again.”

  “Can you come across the street—like, now? It’s kind of urgent.”

  “On my way.”

  Charley skidded through the door, madeleines in hand, all of thirty seconds later. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “You have to do a search for the purse—maybe in the tunnels, maybe in the men’s room—right now,” Bethany babbled.

  “Marigold’s purse?” Charley asked, confusion spreading across her face. “Jen has it, right?”

  “No, not that purse, the other one. The black one that was Jen’s
, the one that they swapped. The one that the killer stole. Come on!”

  She grabbed Charley’s arm and pulled her toward the stationmaster’s office. Charley dug in her heels and peeled Bethany’s fingers from her arm. “You can’t drag an on-duty police officer. And the killer is in jail, so not like we have to run to collect evidence.”

  “See, I’m not totally, one-hundred-percent sure that Ben’s the killer.” Bethany shrugged apologetically. “I was just talking to Trevor, and he was acting weird. I asked him if Ben had the purse when Trevor saw him come out of the men’s room, and—”

  “Trevor saw Ben Kovac exit the men’s room at the time of the murder?”

  “Yeah, at eleven on the dot, so five minutes after the murder. Trevor says there’s a maintenance tunnel entrance in the men’s room that Ben could have used to access the platform without being seen.” Bethany could see Charley mentally running through the timeline. “Anyway, I asked him if Ben had the purse, because obviously the killer would have the purse right after the murder, and Trevor said no. But then he acted weird and left really quickly, so I think he might know something. Maybe where the purse is...”

  “Well, come on!” Charley said, this time grabbing Bethany by the arm. “Where is he?”

  “Ben’s office, because he’s filling in as stationmaster for the rest of the day. But maybe he went wherever the purse is, which is probably the maintenance tunnels or the men’s room!”

  They jogged together across the concourse.

  “Men’s room first? It’s on the way,” Bethany suggested.

  Charley nodded and banged three times on the restroom door with her fist. “Police, anybody in there?” When no answer came, Charley pushed open the door with one hand and shone her flashlight into the dark restroom with the other. She clicked off the flashlight and flipped the light switch. “Come on in. Let’s see this tunnel access point.”

  Bethany looked around. She’d never been in the men’s restroom before and was surprised to see that it was slightly different than the women’s. The women’s restroom was all one room, with a single toilet, a sink, and a baby changing station. The men’s room was slightly larger, and the toilet was separated from a sink and urinal by a stall. “I don’t see a tunnel.”