A Berry Baffling Businessman

by A. R. Winters

  Whoa… I had not expected that. I felt a mixture of emotions, but the loudest one was happiness. It wasn’t because Zoey and I had saved her life. It was because I’d made a choice—sticking with following the lead—and that choice had contributed to saving Lara’s life.

  I didn’t know a better way for the universe to reassure me that I’d made the right decision. That said, I was glad Lara was alive… mostly.

  Okay, completely. Completely mostly.

  Yeah, I could live with completely mostly.

  “Does she know who did it to her?”

  “Eh,” he shrugged, “she was awake when I was in there, but I couldn’t tell who was home. She wasn’t makin’ much sense.”

  Brad headed on his way, and Zoey and I stayed put, with our butts in the seats and our eyes staring holes in the locked doors. I wanted inside. I wanted to hear Lara’s jibber jabber for myself. I’d been sure it had been Lara who had killed Ollie. That someone had tried to kill her didn’t mean she hadn’t been the one to kill him.

  “You think maybe it was retaliation?” I asked Zoey. “Someone figured out that she’d killed Ollie, so they took it upon themselves to claim retribution?”

  Zoey opened her mouth to speak, but her phone chose that moment to ring. She looked at its face, saw the caller’s name, swore, and then got up and walked away as she answered the call. I listened in as best I could—because you know, I’m nosy that way—but it was a bunch of techie talk and I quickly zoned out.

  That’s when a nurse blasted through one-half of the double doors in a run-walk taking him in the opposite direction from where Zoey was on the phone.

  I hesitated, teetering on the edge of my seat, then I leaped into action. I rushed forward and grabbed the closing door before it could lock closed again.

  I didn’t pull it further open as I stretched out my arm and waved in an attempt to get Zoey’s attention. I merely held it in place, an inch away from closed. I didn’t want to alert those within the ICU that I was up to shenanigans.

  Zoey didn’t see me, and all I saw of her was her back as she disappeared around the corner. I couldn’t call out for her, and I couldn’t let go of the door to chase after her. I had another choice to make, and I had to make it fast.

  The sound of voices drawing near spurred me into action. I slipped inside the ICU door and let it close behind me, but I didn’t stay there looking and acting like I was out of place. Instead, I marched forward with a confident step that said that I’d been here before and that I was doing something allowed.

  The patient rooms inside the ICU formed a horseshoe around a central medical station. No one was there. Everyone was circled around a patient in one of the rooms. I couldn’t tell what they were doing, but I was also sure that I didn’t want to know what they were doing. Whatever it was, it had everyone’s attention locked on that patient.

  I hurried from room to room, looking for the one I needed. As soon as I spotted Lara, I dashed inside. I’d thought she was asleep, but her eyes opened wide and she eyeballed me as I moved to stand next to her bed. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her skin had a yellow tinge that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “Lara, do you know me? Do you know who I am?”

  Her hand reached for me, and I caught it with my own. Her fingers were cold and limp. Her eyes were looking at me, but I wasn’t sure who or what she was seeing.

  “I wasn’t supposed to. I couldn’t help it. It’s not my fault. You have to forgive me. It’s not my fault!”

  Shards of ice jolted through my veins at the realization that Lara was confessing to Ollie’s murder. I looked around for a witness.

  Somebody.

  Anybody!

  Chapter 15

  I leaned in and whispered. “Lara, what did you do?”

  She groaned and her legs aimlessly worked in the bed. It was like she was trying to escape the truth that wanted to tear itself free from her.

  “I told him everything. He loved me anyway. You didn’t have to. Why? Oh God, Ollie. Ollie… Come back. Don’t leave me.” Her words became garbled, and the only lament that rang clear every time was the call of Ollie’s name.

  My heart broke, and a tear slipped free from my eye. Her cries were pitiful.

  I squeezed Lara’s lifeless fingers and leaned in, hoping to pull her focus back to me. “Lara,” I whispered. There was something I desperately needed to ask her. “Lara!”

  “What do you think you’re doing in here?” A booming voice cut through me. I whirled around to find a dark-skinned nurse standing in the doorway. Her body was stout, powerful, and I was pretty sure she could pick me up over her head and slam me to the ground.

  “I was just—”

  “I don’t care what you were ‘just,’” she said. “This woman is under this facility’s care and protection. Unless you want the next person you deal with to be wearing a badge, I suggest you leave right now.”

  I let Lara’s chilly fingers slip from mine and hightailed it out of the room. It took everything in me not to break into a run, and my back muscles twitched in fear that I was about to be jabbed with a cattle prod or shanked with a sharp knife. The nurse was right on my heels the whole way. Watching her stop behind the ICU’s double doors as they closed was like watching the Terminator cease its chase.

  “You got inside? Did you talk to Lara?” Zoey asked.

  The nurse was glaring at us through the door’s long, narrow windows.

  I grabbed Zoey’s arm and started us walking. “There’s a killer in Camden Falls,” I hissed.

  “Yeah…”

  “It’s not Lara!”

  I filled Zoey in on the way back to the café. She parked in back and we headed inside through the rear entrance. True to his word, Chef John had left the café spotless and ready for my use. On the island counter was a folded, hand-written note saying, “Thanks for lending me your world. Let me know when I can return the favor! Would love to have you as a guest chef at my restaurant sometime.”

  I laughed because I knew the offer couldn’t be sincere, but it had me smiling from ear to ear anyway.

  Zoey took the note from my hand, read it, then looked at me with an arched brow. “He’s invited you to cook at his Michelin-starred restaurant? Has he seen your cooking? Really. He wouldn’t even need to taste it. He could just look at it.”

  I snatched the note back from her, primly folded it, and tucked it away under the corner of a pan. I didn’t care what Zoey thought. I was going to frame that note and hang it in my apartment.

  “Could be interesting, though,” Zoey went on. “You and your ex back together in the same city. I’d go to see that.”

  I glared at her. “Zoey Jin, you are not a nice person.”

  She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Now you’re catching on.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m going to leave a kitten in a basket outside your apartment door just to prove you wrong. You’re all crusty and prickly on the outside, but you don’t have me fooled. You’re all sweet stuff and candy-like inside.”

  “Sour candy,” she said without missing a beat. “Sour jawbreakers.”

  I could live with that.

  I hurried through the kitchen and out to the grill. I wanted to find Brenda to tell her how much I appreciated her. I hoped the café hadn’t been too busy while I’d been gone. I didn’t want her used up and worn out, but it was a completely selfish wish. I wanted her to be willing to come back and help out some more tomorrow!

  Stepping through into the grill section, I came to a sudden halt. It turned out that at least that part of the café was busy—very busy! Every single stool had a tushie sitting on it, and each tushie belonged to a very senior geriatric. I was sure that some of them were younger than our Agatha, but Agatha’s affair with a witch doctor somewhere along the way had slowed her aging down to a crawl.

  Brenda was standing in front of everyone, putting on a show. She was holding up a fresh-off-the-grill, golden brown grilled cheese sandw
ich, and she was slowly pulling it apart. The melted cheese from inside stretched from one half to the other, and her audience was oohing and ahhing in appreciation of her skill. And it was skill. If it had been me making that sandwich, the bread would have been burnt and the cheese would have been completely unmelted.

  Brenda spotted me. “Things were slow so I called over to the nursing home and suggested a day trip.” She winked.

  I wanted to hug her, but I refrained. She was in the spotlight, and I didn’t want to steal any of it from her.

  Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I spotted Joel. He’d stood up and was waving us over. Zoey and I joined him at the usual table next to one of the large windows overlooking Main Street. On the table were a drink, a roast beef sandwich, and his camera.

  “I got the photographs you asked for,” he told me.

  Zoey’s cell phone rang. She checked the banner and then answered. Thirty seconds into the call, she exclaimed, “The whole server? Idiot! No, not you. That idiot you hired. Of course, you’re the one who hired the idiot, so…”

  I nudged her with my elbow and gave her a what-are-you-doing look.

  In response, she rolled her eyes at me, got up, and headed out the front door and crossed the street to her apartment building.

  I sighed. “So young. So impetuous.”

  “So terrifying,” Joel said. “You know, I’ve heard stories. Even if ten percent of what I’ve heard is true, well…”

  “In other words, you’re saying she’s a good friend to have.”

  “Yes. Sure. She’s a great friend to have... and a nightmare-inducing enemy.” He dropped his voice, presumably so that nobody else could hear him. “Did you know that she doesn’t have to pay taxes?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, word is she did some top secret work for the NSA and as payment she demanded to never have to pay taxes again. Ever.”

  I couldn’t keep my smile from growing. “And you believe all the stuff you’ve heard about her? Joel, you’re a newsman, supposed to verify facts and all that.”

  “Why do you think I didn’t label that one a rumor?”

  My mouth fell open. “No,” I said in disbelief. “You were able to verify that bit about the NSA and not paying taxes?”

  His smile turned smug, and he sat back and shrugged. “I’ll never reveal my sources.”

  “You’re terrible,” I laughed. I tapped his camera. “Were you able to get anything that can help us figure out who Sebastian’s secret girlfriend is?”

  “Not much,” he said, “and that’s the good news.”

  He got up and moved over to my side of the table. Sitting back down, he leaned in and draped an arm around my shoulder as he held the camera in front of me with his other hand. “Push on the small right arrow to scroll through the images.”

  I started clicking, and the pictures flipped from one to the next. There were a lot of pictures, and I wasn’t seeing any women.

  “I wanted you to find his girlfriend, not his boyfriend,” I said.

  “Keep watching. I had to make a show of it by taking everyone’s pictures. Too suspicious otherwise.”

  I clicked a few more times, then paused on the image of a fifty-something woman. She was thickly built with very thick glasses and some flyway gray hair that refused to be tamed.

  “It’s a May-December romance?” I asked, surprised.

  “Keep going,” he encouraged.

  I clicked some more, then stopped. The image of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties filled the screen. She was dressed similar to the men, in slacks, a tie, and a vest. Even her hair was cut short in a very close-cropped, masculine cut. But that’s where the similarities stopped. The silver-and-purple platform pumps she was wearing were gorgeous. They added a good five inches to her height, and made her almost as tall as the tallest man in the room. In addition to that, her nails were shiny, tapered, and blood red. Her makeup was artistic yet understated, and the cigar she smoked looked sexy rather than masculine.

  “Wow…”

  “Yeah,” Joel said appreciatively. Too appreciatively.

  I pulled away far enough to look up at him.

  “I have eyes,” he said in defense. My ex-husband had had eyes, too. “She’s not my type,” he continued as he brushed his fingers through my hair. “And even if she were, it wouldn’t matter. She doesn’t have what you have.”

  “And that is?” I would not be placated by empty, meaningless flattery.

  “Killer instincts.” He wiggled one eyebrow, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I supposed he was right.

  I sighed. Joel was suave and smooth, and in some ways he reminded me of my ex—and that wasn’t a good thing.

  “Have you given any more thoughts to letting me take you away on a vacation?” he asked.

  I’d been avoiding thinking about it. I really wanted to tell him yes, but I wasn’t ready. Things would get serious, and I wasn’t ready for serious. On top of that, if I told him yes, I’d feel like I was choosing between him and Brad, and I wasn’t ready to choose. I was still learning about myself, who I was, and what I wanted in life. If I got serious with Joel—or anybody—all of that introspection would be replaced by what I learned about myself relative to my relationship with that person. It was too much, too soon.

  “Joel, I—”

  “Don’t say it,” Joel stopped me.

  He’d known what I was about to say, that I was about to turn him down.

  “Give it some more time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  I returned my attention to the picture on Joel’s camera while his words still echoed in my ears. He’d be here when I was ready… On his camera, I was looking at a woman who was living and thriving in a predominantly male-driven industry, and she was both fitting in and standing out. It was an impressive feat. And then there was Sebastian on the side, waiting for her.

  I remembered running into him outside, behind the café, standing at the spot where his father’s body had been found. He’d seemed to be stuck, but I was now realizing that it had been in two ways. He was in a holding pattern, unable to move past his father’s death. But he was also waiting for the woman he loved, a woman who was upstairs at the packaging conference, a woman who was moving forward with her life.

  “Who is she?”

  Chapter 16

  “She’s Daria Cornish,” Joel said.

  I sucked in a breath as my eyes went wide. “She’s Robert Cornish’s daughter, the guy who’s the sworn enemy of Oliver Drysdale?”

  “I don’t know about the sworn enemy part, but yeah… she’s the daughter of the guy who owns PaperMore.”

  “And you think she’s Sebastian’s secret girlfriend?”

  “Those two were the only women up there at the time you asked me to head over to take pictures. I got there maybe five minutes after I got your text. There’d been more women on other days, but those two were the only ones there that morning.”

  My head was reeling. “It’s like a real-life Romeo and Juliet. Daria and Sebastian’s fathers hated each other.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Sebastian told me.”

  “Are you sure he’s a reliable source on that topic?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Joel sat back in his chair and stretched his long legs under the table. I turned sideways in my seat so that I could look over and up at him without putting a kink in my neck.

  Joel still had his arm draped over the back of my chair, and I leaned my shoulder into the chair’s back to be a little closer to him.

  “What I mean is, does Sebastian have anything to gain by manipulating what you think?”

  Ohhhhh…

  “We are trying to figure out whether or not he killed his father,” I said.

  “So, that’s a great big yes.”

  “You think he’s lying?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. But if he did kill his father or”—his eyes glanced meaningfully to th
e camera and back—“if he cares about someone else who killed his father, then that would give him plenty of motive to manipulate your understanding of the situation.”

  I slouched in my chair. “How can I know what’s true? On top of that, poor Zoey.” She cared so much about Sebastian. Now Sebastian might not have just been guilty, but he might have been guilty by extension too, possibly. The odds that he was somehow involved with his father’s murder had just multiplied.

  My brain did some mental hopscotch and then broke into a distracting dance, halting my ability to think any further toward an answer. There was something important about my most recent thoughts, and I was overlooking it.

  I did a fast run through what those thoughts had been.

  What’s actually true? … Poor Zoey… Cares so much…

  Again with the mental hopscotch.

  Zoey cared a lot about Sebastian.

  Sebastian presumably cared a lot about his girlfriend.

  I was concerned Sebastian might lie to me in order to protect his girlfriend, whom he cared about.

  Therefore, Zoey might lie to protect Sebastian.

  I wanted to scrub my brain with rusty steel wool to scour out all of those brain cells that were trying to convince me that Zoey was untrustworthy. It wasn’t even the first time my traitorous synapses had made that point, and I hated that my brain was tripping on the possibility again.

  “Who are you going to talk to next?” Joel asked.

  “That’s a good question.” I ticked the names off on my fingers. “There’s Larry, Lara’s brother. Robert Cornish, Ollie’s rival. Daria, Robert’s daughter and Sebastian secret girlfriend. And now that we know who his girlfriend is, we probably should talk to Sebastian again…”

  “What about Lara? Have you talked to her yet?”

  My eyes went wide. “Ohhhh, I didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Joel asked with an edge in his voice.

  “Lara’s in the hospital. Zoey and I went to see her, and she collapsed while we were talking to her.”

  “Dehydration? Fatigue? Grief?”