by Hillary Avis
“Working the counter at the Honor Roll. Too easy. Next!”
“Jen Smith.”
“The cousin? In the bathroom, then working in Marigold’s booth. Next.”
Bethany shook her head. “I didn’t see her come out of the bathroom. And I didn’t notice when she got back to split pea central. She probably had a couple of minutes between the bathroom and the kiosk to run down to the platform and push Marigold.”
“I guess so. I haven’t met her—from what you’ve said, she doesn’t have enough backbone to be a murderer, but people who are family have a whole lifetime of reasons to kill each other. She’s a question mark. Next?”
“Aaron.”
Kimmy tilted her head questioningly. “That’s the crabby fiancé? He was on the train.”
Bethany held up a finger. “Not so fast. Charley is still checking on that one. He may have just pretended to be a passenger to avoid real scrutiny.”
“Isn’t that why Marigold was on the platform, though? To meet his train?”
Bethany nodded. “Yeah. Or at least, that’s what Jen said. But they could both be lying. Aaron could have been in town the whole time and just not come to the station before that morning.”
“Well, Marigold was on the platform for some reason,” Kimmy said. “If it wasn’t to meet that guy’s train, then why was she down there?”
“Let’s see. She could have been meeting someone else who was on the 10:55 train. Or she could have been lured there by the murderer for some reason other than meeting the train.” Bethany drummed her fingers on the coffee table while they thought.
“Question mark by the crabby fiancé, then. At least until Charley checks on his ticket. Next suspect.”
“Trevor.”
“Um. Too dumb?” Kimmy grinned.
“Well, he did get caught with the purse,” Bethany said. “But Trevor isn’t dumb. He can fix pretty much anything, and he knows the ins and outs of the train station like no one else, not even Ben. He owed Marigold money, and she clearly needed money or she wouldn’t have stolen the check from Ben’s office. Maybe she saw him on his rounds, tried to hold his keys hostage to collect the money he owed her, and the conversation went south. He’s a big guy—he wouldn’t even have to push her very hard.”
“It sounds plausible when you put it that way. I’d give Trevor more than a question mark on your little list. Who’s left? Ben?”
Bethany nodded. “What do you think about him?”
“I think...I think Ben had the hots for her, and that’s always a good motive to kill someone.”
“It is? Planning to kill Charley anytime soon?”
“No, of course not.” Kimmy rolled her eyes. “Charley’s too tough to kill, plus she has a gun and a Taser and stuff. She’s a black belt in karate, did you know that?”
Bethany nodded. “Yup. But you’re supposed to be telling me why Ben didn’t do it.”
“Oh yeah. He didn’t do it because the check led back to him. It’s too obvious. And he’s a principled person—principled enough that he didn’t give Marigold the money, even though he knew she’d report him to his superiors and he’d probably lose his job. If he was the kind of person who’d murder someone, he’d just give her the cash out of the restoration fund. No skin off his teeth, right? It wasn’t even his money.” Kimmy stifled a huge yawn. “Next suspect.”
“Ummm”—Bethany checked her list—“I think that’s it.”
Kimmy snapped her fingers. “Wrong! You missed one.”
Bethany ran down the list: herself, Olive, Garrett, Jen, Aaron, Trevor, Ben. “That’s everyone.”
“One more person was there. You saw him right after the train came in, remember?”
Bethany thought back. Right after the 10:55 arrived, Milo showed up at the kiosk to taste the soup for the food feature. He’d seemed—normal. Definitely not like he’d just killed someone. “So is it my turn to say why he didn’t do it?”
Kimmy nodded.
“OK, one, he would have had to run from the platform to the kiosk, but he wasn’t out of breath at all.”
“Maybe he’s in really good shape from running marathons or something.”
“He does ride his bike a lot.” Bethany drummed her fingers on the coffee table, thinking. “Two, he had no motive to hurt Marigold.”
Kimmy cocked her head to the side. “You know him so well? Maybe he and Marigold were having a”—she wiggled her finger around—“thing. And he found out that Ben proposed or something. Maybe it wasn’t about the money at all, and she had some kind of love note from him in her purse, so he took the purse to hide evidence of their relationship. Or maybe he knew about the money and wanted it—I don’t think newspaper reporters are exactly rolling in the dough.”
“I thought we were talking about why he didn’t do it.” Bethany glared at Kimmy, surprised that her heart was beating so fast. Kimmy’s idea was silly, right? Milo and Marigold? Oh no, even their names sounded good together! “A secret relationship might explain how Marigold got him to come down to the station for a food feature when I’ve been open for months without any interest from the paper.”
“And you have to admit, a train station murder is a pretty juicy story for an aspiring crime reporter.”
“You’re not suggesting he committed a crime so he’d have something to write about?!”
“You’re the one who doesn’t like to rule out possibilities.”
Bethany sighed. “I guess it’s possible. If he thought the story would be a career-maker and he was completely amoral and evil, murder could be a logical choice. A career is worth more than fifty thousand dollars.”
“See?” Kimmy said. “You can’t rule him out.”
Bethany shook her head. “You just don’t want it to be Olive.”
“You just don’t want it to be Milo.” Kimmy crossed her arms and scowled.
“I guess we both have our blind spots,” Bethany snapped. She looked at the clock. Almost 1:30. Maybe she was feeling so annoyed because she was tired. “I’d better go to bed. I have to get up in five hours to make Marigold’s memorial soup.”
“Guess that means I have to get up in five hours, too,” Kimmy grumbled.
Bethany sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should start looking for another place to cook. I don’t want to be a hassle for you like this. I know it’s a big risk for you to let me use the café kitchen.”
“It’s not a hassle! I’m just tired.” Kimmy gave her a sympathetic smile.
“It is a hassle. You have to open early for me all the time, and you work late almost every night. You taste my soups and give me pointers and show me new techniques. You order ingredients for me, and you never complain about any of it. You’ve done so much to help me get Souperb going. I’ll never be able to pay you back for all that.”
“I said it’s not a hassle!”
“Thanks, Kimmy.” Bethany said. “But if it ever is a problem for you, you’ll tell me, right? I don’t want to take advantage of you just because you were trying to help out a friend. Any time, you can kick me out of your kitchen—no hard feelings.”
Kimmy nodded and yawned. “G’night.”
“Night.”
After Kimmy closed the door to her bedroom, Bethany’s stomach was still in knots. Her list of suspects had more question marks than anything else, and she had to make sure all of them knew that the check was still up for grabs at the memorial. There was no way around it—tomorrow she had to lie to all her friends. And worse, by the end of the day, they would know she’d lied to them because she thought they were capable of murder.
Chapter 9
Saturday
Bethany deglazed the stock pot where she’d been sautéing ramps with an entire bottle of pinot grigio.
“Wow!” Charley said as she was hit with the cloud of wine-steam. “Can I taste it yet?”
“Ew, no, it’s just hot wine right now,” Kimmy said.
“How much longer until I can have some?” Charley asked, leaning aga
inst the counter opposite the range.
Bethany added a couple gallons of vegetable broth, stirred the soup, turned the flame down, and put the lid back on the pot. “Did you skip breakfast this morning or something?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I was too busy doing stuff like letting your friend out of jail.”
Kimmy swooped in, gave Charley a peck on the cheek, and handed her a croissant. “For that, you get a snack to tide you over.”
“Fifteen minutes, tops,” Bethany added. She went to the walk-in and stared at the selection of fresh herbs. Mint, definitely. Maybe some rosemary or thyme?
“Tarragon,” Kimmy said from behind her. She handed Bethany a large, stainless-steel bowl of fresh peas. Bethany dumped them in the pot along with a bundle of tarragon and mint.
She tasted the soup after it’d simmered for a few minutes. Good, but something was missing. She grabbed another spoon and offered it to Kimmy.
“Hey!” Charley protested.
“It’s not there yet. I need a professional palate,” Bethany explained.
Kimmy tasted the broth and rolled it around on her tongue. “More salt. I like the herbs, though. Maybe a bit of cream when you blend it?”
Bethany giggled. “You always say cream. You’re right about the salt, though.” She added a bit, tasted again with a clean spoon, and smacked her lips. “Better!” She fished out the bundle of herbs, moved the pot off the heat, and used the café’s giant immersion blender to emulsify the soup. She ladled out a couple of small bowls and handed them to Kimmy and Charley, watching them closely as they tried the finished soup for the first time.
“I’d put in some cream, but it’s good,” Kimmy said, closing her eyes. “Really good.”
“Add some bacon and it’d be perfect.” Charley grinned.
“I thought you were going to say chili peppers. Maybe I’ll make a bacon garnish, so people who want it can add it, but the vegans can skip it. Bacon crumble? Bacon breadcrumbs?”
“Breadcrumbs,” Kimmy and Charley said together.
Bethany nodded. “Breadcrumbs it is. And I’ll use gluten-free bread, for Marigold.”
THE POT OF SOUP WAS so heavy that it took all three of them to haul it over to Newbridge Station. Bethany gasped when she saw how Olive had transformed the concourse for the memorial.
The benches in the passenger waiting area were arranged so they faced the archway over the platform entrance, where a large sign on an easel proclaimed, “In Memory of Marigold” in curly script. Each bench was decorated with a nosegay of marigolds, and arrangements of marigolds and gerbera daisies brightened the food service table. Olive had set up a warmer on a long table in the back for serving food that was already stocked with bowls, spoons, and bread plates. Another station to the right of the benches had coffee, tea, and lemon water.
“Don’t forget to give me the signal,” Charley said through her teeth as they heaved the pot onto the warmer. “I’m going to circulate and keep an eye on everyone, but I’ll be watching for your sign.”
Bethany nodded and searched the small crowd to see who’d already arrived. Olive was bustling around welcoming people to the memorial. She saw Bethany and gave her a thumb’s up. Trevor was there, too, beaming in a light pink button-up shirt. He stopped by the table as Bethany was writing “Spring Pea with Bacon Breadcrumbs” on her chalk board.
“It’s a girl!” he said, cheeks as pink as his shirt. “We named her Olivia. Eight pounds. Want to see a picture?” He pulled out his phone.
“Congratulations!” Bethany and Kimmy said together, leaning to see the photo of the red-faced newborn with a tuft of blonde hair.
“Olivia is a great name,” Bethany added. “Olive must be thrilled.”
“Julie and I had our first date at the Honor Roll.” Trevor beamed. “Do you need any help? Don’t let this get-up fool you...I can still lend a hand with anything you need.” He pointed to the keys attached to his belt.
“Oh, Trevor!” Olive interrupted, Jen and Aaron in tow. “Could you be a dear and wheel over the cart of breadsticks from the bakery? And tell Garrett to get off his keister and come help, too. You didn’t need him, did you?” she asked Bethany, as Trevor left for the Honor Roll. Bethany shook her head.
“We decided to serve food first, then have the service, so people can grieve on a full stomach,” Olive said to Jen.
“Everyone in Newbridge is so thoughtful,” Jen murmured.
Aaron rolled his eyes. “The Newbridge cops very thoughtfully released the prime suspect for the memorial, too.”
“Ah!” Olive clasped her hands as Garrett and Trevor wheeled the bakery cart to the table. “Put the breadsticks in these baskets. The ones in the green bin are the gluten-free. Garrett, will you serve? I want to be able to chat with people.” Garrett grumbled as he rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind the bread station, but Olive ignored him.
“Just perfect!” she said, straightening the tablecloth and moving the cutlery around. She turned to Jen. “What do you think? Would Marigold approve?”
Jen nodded. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled with all the attention.”
Aaron stiffened as Ben walked over with tears in his eyes. He put one arm around Olive and the other around Trevor. “Things look great, you two. You really pulled it off.”
“Ben!” Olive squealed, turning and grabbing his face with two hands. “Now this is just the icing on the cake.”
Ben’s eyes were tired, but they were glowing. “It’s thanks to Bethany. She convinced the police that I was innocent. They even gave me back the check for the restoration fund.” Bethany smiled, but inside she was tense, watching the faces of the people standing by the food service table. She couldn’t help feeling guilty that Ben thought he was off the hook, too—there was a chance he’d be arrested again if her plan didn’t work.
“Really?” Trevor asked. He seemed surprised that the money had been returned so soon. Jen was near tears and Aaron glared at Ben, but that was to be expected—they still thought he was the killer. Olive looked overjoyed, while Garrett wore a dour expression...the usual. Bethany sighed. No indication any of them were especially interested in the money. Maybe this trap idea is stupid.
Ben nodded. “The check is in my office right now. I’m going to deposit it right after the memorial, and then we can start planning the restoration. This place is going to get the facelift it needs and deserves.”
“Bravo!” Olive said, clapping her hands. “Oh, look, people are really filing in. I’d better go be the welcoming committee and let them know to come get some food.”
“I think we’re going to get a rush. Do you mind helping me?” Bethany asked Kimmy.
Kimmy shook her head. “I’d rather serve than mingle—I’m a back of the house girl.”
Bethany took her place behind the food service table, elbow-to-elbow with Kimmy, and set out the dishes of bacon breadcrumbs. On the other side, Garrett slouched at his station, his eyes resigned and his tongs poised to distribute Olive’s fragrant herbed breadsticks. Bethany wanted to say something to him, offer him some kind of condolences about his cancer diagnosis, but she wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed cruel to bring it up, especially at what amounted to a funeral, so instead she stood beside him and served soup as she watched Newbridge residents offer Jen and Aaron their condolences before coming over to partake of the free meal.
Bethany was surprised to see Ryan stride through the door. He actually showed up! And he must have hit the shelter’s wardrobe closet—his tailored, navy-blue suit fit him perfectly. Yum.
Kimmy elbowed her. “You’re blushing! Is that the reporter?”
Bethany felt her cheeks redden even more. “No, that’s Ryan—the artist from the shelter.” She quickly ladled a bowl of pea soup and handed it to the next person in line. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed Ryan come in. Across the room, Olive plucked a marigold from one of the table arrangements and tucked it into Ryan’s buttonhole, patting his lapel like a proud mother.<
br />
“You didn’t tell me he was smoking hot,” Kimmy said under her breath. “I can’t believe you left that out. He makes a girl want to switch teams.”
Bethany giggled. “Cute, but not my type.” My type has a paying job. Speaking of her type, someone was notably absent—Milo-stinking-Armstrong. His promise of a food feature was probably empty, just a nicety to smooth over their awkward meeting under the library awning. Or a ploy to dig up dirt for his story on Marigold’s murder.
That it, no more flirting with reporters. They only wanted one thing: column inches. Milo would come when he heard Ben had been released from jail, and she wouldn’t let him bail on the food feature again—not after he’d been stringing her along all week.
She quickly ladled some soup into a small pot and ran over to her kiosk to put it on the warmer there. She wasn’t going to miss out on a review just because he was late. When he showed, he’d have no excuse not to try her cooking. As the line for soup grew longer, she scanned the crowd to see if he had arrived. No such luck.
“Still looking for Milo?” Kimmy asked, handing a bowl of soup to an elderly woman in a large hat. Bethany nodded. “Don’t worry, he won’t miss this—not if he gets to see you. Plus, he promised he was writing the food feature about you, didn’t he?”
Bethany offered bacon breadcrumbs to the next person in line. “I’m not so sure. I think he was just being nice because he wanted inside info about Marigold for his other article. Or maybe he felt guilty because the head-to-head feature with Marigold was canceled. I doubt he’ll follow through, though.”
“He’ll be here for the memorial even if he’s not here for food. He’ll want to cover Ben being released from jail, right? Hey, is that him?”
Kimmy was right. Bethany stood on tiptoe to peer over the line of waiting customers and spied Milo near the entrance. He had on a rumpled jacket and tie, she noticed—he looked nice, even if he wasn’t quite in the smoking hot category. As she predicted, rather than heading for the food service table, he made a beeline for Ben. He pulled out his notebook, and the two men began an animated conversation.
