A Berry Baffling Businessman

by A. R. Winters

  “What’s Wednesday night?” I asked. That was the day after tomorrow.

  “Dinner,” Sebastian answered.

  “The two of you? Together?”

  “Yes,” Zoey answered. The way she looked at me made me wonder if she were imagining grabbing me by the back of the head and slamming my face into the table.

  I gulped, but plowed on anyway.

  “That sounds great!” I exclaimed. “I’ll be there.”

  Zoey growled. She literally growled. It took all my fortitude not to take a step away from her. “You’re not invited,” she said.

  Not giving up, I turned woeful eyes on Sebastian. “Sebastian? You don’t want me there… do you?”

  “Oh! Of course I do! Yes! The more the merrier. Absolutely.”

  “Seb, you don’t have to—” Zoey began, but Seb cut her off.

  “No, I’m mortified. Your friend is my friend, especially with you both putting yourselves out trying to figure out what happened to Pop. It’s the least I can do. Dinner is on me. Anywhere in town. Heck, I’ll have something flown in special. Kansas City barbecue? Crab cakes from Maryland? You name it. It’s on me.”

  Though I’d just finished wolfing down Brenda’s breakfast, Seb had my mouth watering.

  Sebastian turned to go, then he stopped and snapped his fingers with a grimacing suck in of air. “Lara’s brother.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Lara’s brother. Pop hired him a couple of weeks ago. The man’s oily. You shake his hand and you want to take a shower, but Pops hired him on as Marketing Manager. Lara claims he has great sales instincts, and Pop… well, Pop wanted to make his bride-to-be happy.”

  “You think he might be up to no good?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not the one to ask, but I’m probably going to fire him. He gives me the creeps.”

  Was sounding like Lara might not be Sebastian’s secret girlfriend after all. He certainly didn’t have the same desire as his father to keep her happy.

  “Is he in town?” Zoey asked.

  “He is. He’s been attending the conference,” Sebastian said, “but I don’t know where he’s staying. You’ll have to talk to Lara to find that out.”

  I did my best to hide an evil smile. Lara, we’re coming to get you.

  The girl was going down.

  Chapter 13

  “We need to talk to William first,” Zoey said.

  “William? Who cares about William? What about Lara?” No, I wasn’t impartial at all.

  "We need to clear Sebastian’s name. That’s why we’re doing this.”

  I paused, and when I spoke, I spoke carefully and gently. “I thought we were in this to find out who killed Ollie.”

  Zoey looked at me and stared for several long heartbeats. “Yeah, that, too,” she finally said.

  I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  But somehow, the ability to breathe again didn’t make me feel better. Zoey had just told me that finding the killer wasn’t her priority—but it was mine.

  A prickly feeling crawled its way up my spine. Zoey and I might find ourselves at odds with each other during this investigation. I was starting to wonder if she would taint the findings to make sure Sebastian’s name was cleared of any wrongdoing. As far as I was concerned, Sebastian could rot in jail for the rest of his life if he’d been the one to smush his father.

  “Okay,” I conceded, “William first.” Giving in to Zoey on this point didn’t do anything to keep me from my goal, but it did have the added bonus of creating goodwill between the two of us. “I need to make sure everything’s okay with the café first, though.”

  I left Zoey and went to talk to Brenda behind the counter. Before I even said anything, she looked me up and down and said, “You gotta go, don’tcha?”

  My shoulders sagged. I was a terrible boss. Brenda had just walked back in the door, and I was already dumping the entire café on her head. “I’m so sorry, Brenda.”

  “Don’t you be sorry ‘bout nothing.” She turned her shoulder to the bacon she was frying and faced me. “Do you know how helpful it’s been that I know you?” There was a twinkle in her eye. “Mawmaw is the most popular girl at the rest home thanks to you.”

  “Nooo.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “Oh yeah! Even with the staff. They all want to know what I’ve told her about you. She gets all kinds of wonderful attention and care. They love her, and she loves being in the center of it all. So you go on. You do what you gotta do, but then you come back here and tell me all about it.” She winked, and I threw my arms around her.

  “You’re the best, Brenda!”

  “Ahhhh, that’s enough of that now,” Brenda laughed, hugging me back.

  The clattering sound of pots being moved around in the kitchen told me that Chef John was back and hard at work. I stopped in there next. He had his long shirtsleeves rolled up and was vigorously scrubbing stainless steel pots and pans until they gleamed.

  “Wow, you work fast!” I said. The kitchen already looked worlds better than it had only an hour ago.

  “I’ll have this place put back together as good as when you handed it over to me,” Chef John declared, then smiled. “I’ve found it’s the best way to ensure a repeat invitation. Ruin a chef’s kitchen and you’re dead to them for life.”

  A chef… I wasn’t sure but I thought he might have just called me a chef. The name made my heart swell.

  “Are all the conference goers still up in the banquet hall?” I asked. “I was pretty sure that today was their final day. A half day instead of a full day.”

  “No, they’ve let out.” Pride captured his smile, and he pointed to a spot behind me with a nod of his head. “Gave me that plaque as a thank you.”

  I turned and looked. It was a polished mahogany slab with a silver metal plate affixed bearing the year, the conference name, and Chef John’s name with an inscription touting him as an extraordinary man of great culinary skills. It was simple yet elegant, and probably one of the nicest plaques I’d ever seen.

  “A picture of that’ll look good in your memoir.”

  “Yes, it will,” he said with a wink.

  Chef John had the kitchen under better control than I’d ever had it on the best of days, so I left him to his work.

  “The conference’s already let out,” I told Zoey when I got back to her.

  “We can check Sebastian’s B&B for William.”

  We headed across the street to the back of Zoey’s apartment building and climbed into her car. Five minutes later we were parking in the tiny side lot of Piper’s Point Inn.

  “Wow, this really is nice.” The lawn and shrubs were immaculate. There was a gazebo tucked into the corner of the large, sweeping lawn, which also sported a variety of benches and a tumbling water sphere that sat atop a pedestal.

  “I don’t think anyone staying here killed Ollie,” I said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s too zen.” A calm serenity had settled over me just from being there.

  Zoey grunted, apparently unaffected.

  We headed around to the front door of the two-story sprawling home.

  “What do we do? Do we knock?” I asked once we’d reached the front door. After all, it was somebody’s home.

  Zoey looked the bright red door up and down and side to side before shrugging and ringing the doorbell. Musical chimes sounded from inside.

  We didn’t have to wait long before the door opened to a plump, grandmotherly woman. She was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, although without the classic double chin.

  “Can I help you girls?” she asked, a pleasant smile on her face.

  “Hi, I’m Kylie Berry and this is Zoey Jin. We were hoping to speak with one of your boarders.”

  The elderly woman clasped her hands together in front of her, one on top of the other. Her brow furrowed. “Kylie Berry… where have I heard that name?”

  “I took over Sarah
’s Eatery on Main Street. It’s called The Berry Home now.”

  All pleasantness in her features fell away. “No no no no no no no.” She stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. “I know who you are and why you’re here.”

  I was taken aback by her aggressive change in demeanor, but I did my best not to show it. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We were just wanting to talk to one of your tenants.”

  “Malarkey. You’re wanting to pin a murder on one of the nice, decent people staying here, and I won’t stand for it. I won’t have it, you hear me?”

  I was at a loss as to what to do. I glanced at Zoey. She picked up the cue.

  “We understand, Mrs…”

  “Mrs. Myrna,” she supplied.

  “Mrs. Myrna. We’ll respect your wishes, but are you willing to sign a statement clearing us of any responsibility in the event that you’re stabbed to death in your sleep?”

  Mrs. Myrna’s mouth opened and shut as she grappled with Zoey’s question. I felt bad for her, I really did, but that didn’t stop me from jumping in with both feet when Zoey nudged me with her elbow.

  “Yes, Mrs. Myrna. You see, the Police Chief has asked us to start gathering that kind of documentation any time we feel we’re on the legitimate trail of a bona fide cold-blooded killer. Our hunches have been right so often that he wants us to start warning bystanders of the impending dangers.”

  Mrs. Myrna squeaked. “We just bought a new mattress,” she said once she’d found her voice. “It cost over four thousand dollars.”

  I looked at Zoey and then back at Mrs. Myrna. I nodded my head somberly. “That’s a great deal of money. And people do bleed a lot when stabbed. I can understand how you wouldn’t want a pricey item like that ruined.”

  Mrs. Myrna shook her head no. She looked paler than when she had opened the door.

  “I left the paperwork in the car,” Zoey said. “I’ll go get it.” Zoey turned to go but Mrs. Myrna’s hand shot out to grab her arm. She quickly released it when Zoey turned a narrowed eye on her, though.

  “Now, now… There’s no need for paperwork,” Mrs. Myrna acquiesced. “I’m sure we can work something out.” She smiled and gave a tight, nervous little laugh. “I’m sure you girls know what you’re doing. If you promise to do your best not to upset any of my non-murdering guests, I’ll let you in and you can talk to whoever you want.”

  “That’s very generous of you,” I told her.

  Mrs. Myrna led the way in.

  I felt as though I’d walked through a time portal. The home was full of antiques tastefully arranged among comfortable clusters of sitting areas. I found myself with the strong urge to find a little nook and hide away with a good book.

  “Your home is gorgeous!” I said, earning me the first genuine smile I’d gotten from Mrs. Myrna.

  “Well, then. I’ll leave you girls to it. The guest rooms are on the second floor, right up those stairs. Our private living quarters are on this floor toward the back of the house. I’ll ask you to steer clear of there, but the rest of the house is available to you to explore.”

  “Could you tell us which room William is in?” I asked, hoping that a first name would be enough. We didn’t know his last name.

  “William…” She considered the question, then answered. “Ah, third door on the left. Be sure to knock.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “And thank you.”

  She headed off toward the back of the house. Zoey and I headed upstairs.

  Each door on the second floor was distinct. The third door on the left had a twig wreath on it with tiny dried spring flowers tucked into it. I felt one, and it crumbled between my fingers. It was real, and I was amazed at the B&B’s attention to detail.

  Zoey knocked. There was the sound of shuffling inside the room, then the door opened. Standing in its place was a thirty-something man with olive skin and a black beard.

  “Oh… You’re not Myrna.”

  “Are you William?” Zoey asked.

  “Yesss?” It was clear that he wanted to hedge his answer, but it was kind of hard to straddle a fence with a definitive yes, even if it was spoken like a question.

  “Where were you the night Oliver Drysdale was killed?” Zoey asked.

  “Uh… Who are you?”

  I jumped in. “I’m Kylie Berry, and this is Zoey Jin. Ollie—I mean, Oliver—was found dead behind my place of business.”

  Silence hung in the air.

  “And?” he asked.

  “And we were hoping to talk to you about the night he died.”

  “Where were you the night Oliver Drysdale died?” Zoey asked again.

  “I’ve already given a statement to the police. I don’t think I’m supposed to be talking to you.” He started to close his room’s door, but Zoey’s foot kept it from going very far.

  “Have you ever cheated on your wife?” Zoey asked.

  William squared his shoulders. “I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.”

  “Have you ever cheated on him? Lied to him?” She let the questions hang in the air before going in for the kill. “Because if you have, I’ll find out… and then I’ll make sure he finds out.”

  I felt really bad for Zoey on one hand. She was determined to prove Sebastian’s innocence. But I was downright scared for anyone she saw as a threat to achieving that goal.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, inching myself in front of Zoey so that I stood between her and William. “We only want a few minutes of your time, and then we’ll go away. I promise.”

  William closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. If he had a headache, I was pretty sure we’d given it to him.

  “Sure. Whatever. Ask away.”

  “Where were you the night that Oliver Drysdale died?” Zoey asked from behind me.

  When William answered, he kept his eyes on me and ignored Zoey. “I was here. All night.”

  I jumped back in. “Did you leave your room during the night?”

  Concern and suspicion etched William’s face as he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. “Maybe…”

  “And when you maybe left your room, did you happen to run into anyone else?”

  William’s face lit up. “Oh… Oh! Yes. Yes, I did.” It was clear he was realizing that he was not actually the person on the hot seat as far as our attentions went. “I ran into Sebastian Drysdale. We’re not supposed to smoke in the rooms, so I went outside. Sebastian passed me on his way in.”

  “What time was that?”

  William’s eyes searched the ceiling as he thought. “It was pretty late… Wait.” He left his door open as he moved deeper inside his room. He returned a moment later with his cell phone in hand. “When I woke up, I’d seen that my husband, Craig, had sent me a text, and I sent him one back. That was a few minutes before I went outside.” He tapped at his phone’s face until he’d found what he wanted, then he held it up for us to see. The time signature on the text to his husband was two fifty-three in the morning.

  “Did he arrive on foot or in a car?” I asked.

  “Dunno. We passed each other just as he was heading in.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and William started to close his door.

  “Wait,” I said. I lowered my voice conspiratorially and leaned in. “What do you think of Lara Tiggs?”

  William’s lips stretched in a snide smile and his eyes turned mean. “She’s a tramp looking for a payday.”

  William was apparently not a man to mince his words. I liked him!

  “Tell me more,” I encouraged.

  “I was at a swanky company party the first time Oliver showed up with Lara on his arm. He got busy with some company business, and she got busy with Sebastian Drysdale, Oliver’s son.”

  “When you say ‘busy,’ what do you mean?” Zoey’s tone was menacing.

  “She was all over him! It was clear she was trying to trade in the old Drysdale for the younger model.”

  “What did Sebastian do?” I asked.

  “You mea
n other than look uncomfortable and embarrassed? Nothing. The boy is weak. No backbone. I give this company eight months with him at the helm before it goes under. I’ve already started polishing my resume. Get off the ship before there’s a stampede.”

  What a nice fellow William was. So loyal…

  “Robert Cornish is going to have a field day,” William continued. “He’ll be a vulture picking all the good parts off the carcass.”

  “What do you think of Robert?” I asked.

  “Slimy. Acidic slime, like that goo the aliens in the movie Alien drip out of their mouths.”

  I suppressed a shudder and pressed on.

  “How long have you worked for Paperworx?” I asked. I wanted to know how long he’d had exposure to all of the people he was talking about.

  “Seven and a half years.” William stood up straighter when he answered. He took pride in his answer.

  “Is it a hard place to work for?”

  William shrugged. “Hard to get in the door. Easy to stay once you’re in. Good benefits. Relaxed atmosphere.”

  “Lara’s brother’s new,” Zoey said.

  William grimaced. “Like I said, the place is going down.” He shook his head. “I couldn't believe the old man did that… but with a piece of sweet meat like that on his arm, who could blame him if he lost some of his business edge?”

  I spoke up. “So you don’t think Oliver should have hired Lara’s brother, Larry?”

  “Have you met him? The man’s an idiot!” William was looking at me like I was an idiot for even having asked. “Now, unless you two Sherlock wannabes have any more questions, I’ve got better things to do.”

  It was going to break my heart to part ways with him.

  “Sure, no problem. Thank you for your time,” is what I said instead of the million other snarky comments that fought for control over my mouth.

  William shut the door in our faces.

  “Sebastian didn’t do it. That proves it.” The words were out of Zoey’s mouth as soon as William’s door lock clicked into place.

  “What?” There was no way she was so far gone as to believe that. “You know that nothing’s been proven. Nothing William told us proves that Sebastian didn’t kill his father before coming back here.”