by Kathryn Lin
Chapter 10
I made sure to place a sign in my own window as soon as I stepped into the café. Hopefully the message would make our customers more aware of their own shopping habits instead of offending them and driving them away.
Like clockwork, Maude, Trixie, and Helen came in a little before noon and took up their usual place at their table by the window. They took out their crafting supplies from their handbags and I saw that the craft of the week was still cross stitch. From what I could see, Helen was working on a sampler with lots of flowers, while Trixie looked like she was embroidering a painting of a snowy mountain cabin.
I couldn’t see what Maude was working on until I brought their carafe of coffee to their table. The ladies preferred to have their own personal pot of coffee so they could refill their cups by themselves instead of having me come by for top ups.
“You guys look lovely and glowing today,” I said as I handed them their coffee. It was true, their complexions were rosy and fresh and all three of them looked rejuvenated and refreshed. I would have guessed they were only sixty years old if I hadn’t known that they were all over seventy-five. As a matter of fact, I was kind of jealous. I was sure that the stress of Vi’s upcoming interview, running the café, and solving the murder was catching up to me. Looking into the mirror this morning was like looking into a funhouse mirror on Halloween—my eyes were sunken with dark bruises hanging below them and there were deep creases running from my right cheek to my temple from the indentation of my pillowcase and sheets.
“Thank you, dear,” Maude glowed under the admiration and set down her embroidery. I saw that she was working on a Star Wars tapestry with some rather unmentionable language stitched into it. Leave it to Maude to defy all beliefs I’ve ever had about little old ladies.
“We went to the spa yesterday. You know, that new one at the mall,” Helen paused for a moment to sip at her coffee before she continued, “you’ll never guess who was in the room next to ours—”
“They did the funniest thing with some hot stones and rocks. What was it called…rookie…no that’s not right,” Trixie tapped at her temple as she searched for the right word, “it’s something beginning with an r. It’s just on the tip of my tongue…”
“Reiki?” I suggested helpfully.
“Maybe it was reishi?” Trixie mused.
“I think that’s a mushroom…” In any event, I wanted to steer the conversation back on track. “Who was in the room next to yours?”
“Oh hush, Trixie,” admonished Maude. “It was Elizabeth Banks and another woman. The walls there are thin as wallpaper and we heard almost everything they were saying.” Maude was practically humming with excitement at this goldmine of new gossip.
“Olivia, dear, can we get some croissants and jam?”
Maude glared at Helen who interrupted her moment of glory. Helen blinked innocently back at her friend from behind her thick coke glass glasses.
“Uh, sure. I’ll be right back with that.” Truth be told, I was a bit miffed at Helen as well. As much as I hated to admit it, Maude did know how to leave you hanging on, wanting to know more.
My brain chewed the new morsel of information I had learned from the old ladies while I plated their order. It wasn’t unusual for Elizabeth Banks to be at the spa, after all, her late husband’s company did own the building. I was sure she got some extra VIP perks. What was unusual was that she wasn’t exactly acting like a grieving widow after the brutal murder of her husband less than one week ago.
“So as I was saying,” Maude began talking before I even set down their plates and paused to glare at Helen, “did you know that Edward was actually a Stewart before his marriage to Elizabeth. Banks is Elizabeth’s family name. We heard her tell the woman she was with that her husband never forgave her father for forcing him to change his name in exchange for the money.”
“He must have used this money to fund the creation of his real estate development company,” Helen said, leaning in as if she was telling a secret, “why else would he have agreed to such a deal?”
Trixie wasn’t to be outdone in this competition to tell the juiciest tale. “Now that you mention it, I heard from Margaret Simpson whose cousin used to work at the Banks Development office as a janitor that he overheard Edward scheming with somebody over the phone to get all the shareholders to vote out his partner Robert from the CEO position.”
Our gossip session was interrupted when Carly came out.
“Good morning, Miss Roterman, Miss Porter, Mrs. Hardgrave.”
“Good Morning, Carly,” sounded from around the table.
Carly came up behind me. I saw that she had already changed out of her kitchen whites into her street clothes.
“I’ve got that appointment,” Carly shifted her eyes and looked pointedly at the ladies, “remember? That doctor’s appointment that I told you about yesterday?”
Of course. Carly finally got up the nerve to ask the cute guy from her puppy training class out on a date. It was only a casual lunch together as friends, but the making first step was the most important thing. Who knew what it could lead to?
“Of course I remember. Go, go. I’ve got things covered here.” Behind my back, I shot her a thumbs up and crossed my fingers for good luck.
She winked at me. “Thanks, Livy. I’ll tell you how it goes tomorrow. Bye ladies!”
Carly practically skipped on her way out of the café.
Maude gaped at her in bewilderment. “What’s that girl got to be so excited about? She’s only going to the doctor!”
Chapter 11
I had a brainworm about the murder investigation for the rest of the afternoon. A brainworm is like an earworm you get when you hear a catchy song, only it’s when an annoying thought keeps nagging you in the back of your mind but you can’t quite pin it down. Something just didn’t add up. I had to go and see if I could get more information out of Elizabeth.
Obviously, my method for getting into her home and her life was with a cheesecake. My motive wasn’t only to interrogate her, I genuinely was one of those people who fed people in their time of grief. It was what my parents always did and I must have inherited it from them.
I pulled up to the Banks’s house and stopped in their driveway. Armed with my luscious chocolate swirled cheesecake that nobody could refuse, I squared my shoulders and rang the doorbell.
“Olivia, hello. What a surprise.”
I held up my offering. “I thought you might like something just in case you didn’t feel like cooking.”
“Thank you, that’s so thoughtful of you. Won’t you come in?”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Just water, I still have to drive home.” Which was technically true, even if I only had to drive two houses down from here.
“Edward was always fond of his drinks, among other things,” she said as she prepared our drinks.
She appeared in front of me with my glass before I could ponder that statement too deeply. I accepted it with a murmur of thanks and noticed that her beverage of choice was once again alcohol.
“Have you heard from the police? I would hope that they are close to catching whoever did it.”
“I imagine they’re doing their best. I haven’t heard from them recently.”
I tamped down the frustration bubbling up inside me and tried another question.
“Do you really think it was a mugging gone wrong like they’ve been saying in the news?”
She took a large sip from her glass and furrowed her brow. “What else could it have been?”
I shrugged.
“Wait…do you think someone murdered him on purpose?” She said it like the idea was absurd.
“I don’t have any proof, but it from what I heard around town, your husband made many enemies in his business.”
“How awful. Edward always tried to shield me from the more unsavory aspects of his work.”
I could see that she was starting to get suspicious about all of my no
sy questions, but I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. Who knew when I would get another chance to question her like this? So, I pressed on.
“What about his business partner, Robert, did they have an argument recently?”
“Robert?” She laughed incredulously. “I can’t imagine it. They were best friends who shared a dorm room in college. Robert was the best man at our wedding. Why do you have such an interest in my husband’s death?”
“Oh, no reason. I only wanted to clear up some rumors that I heard going around town.”
Quick, change the subject, Olivia!
“I couldn’t help but notice your lovely complexion. You mentioned a spa the last time I was over. Do you have a business card? I’m planning on treating my daughter to her first spa day. I could use a bit of freshening up and rejuvenating myself.”
Everything I stated was technically true. I wanted both of us to look our best for Vi’s big day and she was old enough to go to her first day at a grown up spa.
Thankfully Elizabeth didn’t mind my babbling. As a matter of fact, she perked up immensely as the topic of conversation shifted to something she was more comfortable and familiar with.
“That’s sweet! A mother daughter day. I don’t have a card, but it shouldn’t be hard to find. It’s called The Resort Spa. You can’t miss it, it’s on the ground floor of Arbor Mall. I go there with my sister all the time. I recommend the platinum package. It’ll take four hours, but the results are so worth it, you’ll feel like you’ve shed skin and dirt from the bottom of your feet up to the top of your head. ”
That sounded kind of frightening to me, like something out of a science fiction movie, but it was better that I didn’t voice my concerns out loud.
“Great. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I looked at my watch far too quickly to have actually seen the time. “Look at the time, I have to get home.”
Elizabeth smiled graciously. “Of course. Do stop by again some time.”
She stood up and prepared to walk me back to the front door. As we were making our way out of the room, I noticed that while most of the picture frames on the fireplace mantle held photos of Edward and Elizabeth, there was another man in one of the pictures who looked familiar to me.
“Who is that?” I asked as I pointed to the man in the photo.
“That’s Robert. I think that picture was taken when we were up north during the summer a couple years ago. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I just thought he looked like somebody I knew. My mistake.”
There was something familiar about Robert, but I just couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen him before.
It was another brainworm.
Chapter 12
It finally dawned on me where I had seen the man in the photo when I pulled into my driveway. The man in the picture was the same man that fled the park as soon as he saw the victim’s body. I quickly reversed my car and headed to the police station.
“Can I help you?” The officer posted at the front desk seemed bored, as if he was just waiting for his shift to be over so he could head home.
“I’m here to see Detective Miller.”
“Do you have an appointment?” He tapped his pen against his desk in a staccato beat.
“No, but I have some new information on the murder in the park.”
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I grinded my teeth and held back the urge to reach out and strangle him.
He seemed to be hypnotizing himself with the beat of his pen.
I hated to be rude, but this was just ridiculous.
“Well, are you going to tell him I’m here?”
“One moment,” he drawled before he finally picked up his phone and announced my arrival to the detective.
He hung up and buzzed me through the security partition.
“Go on in, his desk is—”
I shoved the door aside and marched inside.
“I know where it is,” I said brusquely over my shoulder.
“Ms. Faulkner! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Detective Miller leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Stacks of papers in manila folders covered each corner of his desk. I had a passing thought that the leather soled bottoms of his dress shoes were cartoonish large, like clown’s feet. And just why was a detective wearing leather soled shoes when he had to trudge through muddy crime scenes and chase criminals?
“You’re wrong about the murder of Edward Banks being a mugging.”
“I know.”
I was flabbergasted.
“What?”
I had been prepared to fight with him to get him to listen to my conclusion. I had an argument all planned out, backed up by my reasoning and evidence, but in the face of this curveball he threw, I had no proper response.
Detective Miller swung his feet down under his desk and sat up in his chair.
“The mugging is the public story we’re sharing with the news outlets. I had long suspected that this case was not so cut and dry. Apparently the victim had a lot of enemies.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
I told him about seeing Robert at the scene of the crime and what I learned about him.
“It makes sense. Robert Morgan had the most to gain by getting rid of his business partner. All I was missing was a witness to place Robert at the scene of the crime.”
The detective stood up and shrugged on the leather coat that was hanging over the back of his chair.
“His wife confirmed his alibi that he was at home in his study on the morning of the murder, but I’m sure you know that a spousal alibi isn’t very trustworthy.”
“Are you going to arrest him right now?” I followed the detective as he made his way to the front of the police station.
“I am.” He stopped before we crossed the security partition separating the front and back area of the station.
“Look, I’m incredibly thankful that you’ve come to me with what you’ve discovered, but you have to stay away from this case. The Banks and the Morgans are very rich and powerful families in this state. They have a lot of connections, some of them with the mob. You and your friends are not personally involved with the investigation this time and you are risking a lot if you cross the wrong people.”
Detective Miller’s words echoed in my head as I drove home. He was right that I was flirting with danger, but I would not be scared into dropping the investigation when the truth was within just within reach.
Chapter 13
“Hey, Liv, have you seen this?” Carly came into the kitchen like a whirlwind blowing in from the alley and slapped a newspaper down onto the table.
It was the Grand Arbor Times, our local town newspaper. Even though everybody got their news from the internet nowadays, the paper hung on by sheer will of Greg Hunt—the sole journalist, photographer, and editor.
For not the first time, I—or rather the café—was once again the top story on page one. The headline was in bold capital letters and it screamed:
ANOTHER BITE OF DEATH AT THE FAULKNER CAFÉ!
A second murder has been connected to Grand Arbor’s cherished Faulkner Café in less than six months since it has been under new ownership. Previous owners’ Pat and Barb Faulkner left the café to their daughter, Olivia Faulkner after their tragic death this spring.
Has the heiress hit a string of bad luck, or are there more sinister causes to the recent spate of killings connected to the café.
I read the rest of the article and wanted to go down to the paper’s office and wring Greg’s neck. I knew he was always lurking outside the police station looking for the latest scoop, but I had no idea he would stoop so low as to use my appearance at the police station to tarnish the café’s reputation.
“He’s such a creep!” Carly snarled. Her face was scarlet in anger and as she put on her chef’s whites she tugged on them with more force than necessary.
“It’s okay, Carly. Business picked up ev
en more after the last murder investigation. I think most people have the sense to realize that we’re not involved in this.”
Even as I tried to reassure my friend, I was freaking out on the inside. If word about this got out and affected Vi’s chances of getting in… I was sure that the café would weather this little storm with little to no damage to sales, but my daughter’s hopes and dreams were another matter.
I had to get my mind off of this. The only way to clear this up was to wait until the police announced to the public that they had arrested Robert Morgan for the murder of Edward Banks.
In the meantime, I did what I did best whenever I wanted to get my mind off of the stresses of life.
I baked.
After mixing together flour and butter until the mixture resembled loose sand, I added grated sharp cheddar cheese, and just enough milk until the dough clumped together in a shaggy mess.
I formed a dozen scoopfuls of the dough on a baking sheet and baked the biscuits until they were puffy and golden brown. While the biscuits were still piping hot, I brushed garlic and parsley butter on to the tops.
I waited until the Cheddar Bay biscuits were cool before I packed them into a bakery box so they didn’t steam inside and turn mushy.
Seeing as all of the pastry and cake display cases were fully stocked for the afternoon and that the dining room wasn’t too busy, I decided that now was a good time to dry by Ben’s workshop.
“Hey, Carly. I’m going to head out for an hour.”
“Mm, those smell good. Are they for a certain B-E-N?” she teased.
I stuck my tongue out at her. No matter how old we were, Carly made me feel like we were both teenagers again.
“You should take your own dating advice, Liv, and ask him out,” she said, suddenly serious again.
