Death by Espresso

by Alex Erickson

  I shook my head. “Raymond is a jerk, and Regina isn’t much better, but I don’t think either of them would kill anyone. They’d happily call the police, or threaten someone to get their way, but I’m pretty sure murder is beyond them.” Or at least, I hoped it was.

  “I have it on good authority they were together at the time of the murder, anyway,” Rita said, giving me a meaningful look. “And they were nowhere near that house.”

  I struck that from my memory and moved on. “I did hear something interesting today,” I said. “Apparently, Jacques Kenway fought with Cathy Carr the day of her death.”

  Dad sat forward, a familiar gleam coming into his eye. Like me, he loved a good mystery. “Do you think it escalated to the point of murder?”

  “I’m not sure. I want to talk to him and see what he knows.”

  “That might be dangerous,” Dad said.

  “If he killed her, wouldn’t you be putting yourself at risk?” Laura added.

  “I would talk to him in public,” I said. I’d learned my lesson over the last few years. Talking to people where no one else could step in and help if things went sideways was on my strict “do not do this” list. “I’ll ask him to share a meal with me, telling him it’s about the wedding or something. If he tries to come at me, I’ll make sure someone will be around to stop him.”

  “I can assist you in that,” Dad said, sounding far too eager for my tastes. I appreciated that he wanted to help, but if Jacques was the killer, I didn’t want Dad anywhere near him.

  “Or I could do it,” Rita put in, sounding just as eager. “I could even take the meeting for you. He might suspect something from you, but me?” She grinned. “He’d never see it coming.”

  I didn’t doubt that, but the last time Rita tried to talk to a suspect in my stead, it had ended up with her sitting in a jail cell. I didn’t want to have to go through that again.

  “I’ll do it on my own,” I said, not wanting to put anyone else I cared about at risk. “Dad, you should stay here with Laura, just in case my talking to him triggers a reaction from him, or someone else. They may decide to stop by and pay me a visit.” Of course, I didn’t like the idea of Dad being anywhere near a killer, but there was only so much I could do to protect him, other than send him home. “Rita . . .” I frowned. What could I have her do to keep her out of trouble?

  She leaned forward. “Yes, dear?”

  “Check with the rumor mill, see what anyone might have heard about Cathy or one of the wedding guests. She could have had a run-in with someone from town. If she did, someone might have seen or heard something.” Though I hated the thought that anyone from Pine Hills could have killed her.

  Rita beamed. “I’m on it.” She stood, phone already in hand.

  “And see if you can find anything out about Sage and Trey Herron. They’ve also had a fight with Cathy recently.” And then, to be safe: “But don’t talk to any of them. Let the police”—or me—“handle it.”

  “Of course, dear,” Rita said, dialing as she made for the door. “I know what I’m doing.”

  I wondered about that, but let it go.

  I slumped back into my chair with a relieved sigh. This could have been a major disaster, yet it looked like we’d avoided any catastrophic meltdowns.

  For now.

  “Thanks, Buttercup,” Dad said, briefly putting an arm around Laura before dropping it in his lap, a red ring creeping up his neck.

  “Go ahead,” I told him. “You don’t need to be shy around me.”

  That only made Dad blush harder.

  Laura, however, took it as an invitation. She snuggled in closer to him, all but forcing him to put an arm around her lest it get crushed between them.

  “Do you think she’ll find something?” Laura asked.

  “I hope so.” And I hoped she wouldn’t go rushing off to take care of it herself if she did. Rita had always been a nosy busybody, but the longer she’s known me, the braver she’s become. Before long, I could see her opening up her own little detective agency. “I’d like for the police to solve this thing as soon as possible so it stops interfering with the wedding.” I paused, realizing how callous that might have sounded, and added, “Cathy deserves justice.”

  “If you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask,” Dad said.

  “Hopefully, it’ll all be over soon and we can focus on nicer things.” I grinned, taking the two of them in. They looked perfect together. “Are you thinking of going for the bouquet, Laura? It’s going to be beautiful.”

  Dad’s eyes widened as Laura’s mischievous smile joined mine. “I was thinking about it. I’ve always been one for following tradition, so if I catch it . . .”

  Dad was up and off the couch in an instant. “That sounds like my cue to, um, make some calls.” He cleared his throat, refused to meet anyone’s eye. “Cameron has been working rather hard lately, and I should check in.” Cameron Little was his literary agent, hired after his previous one met an untimely end.

  Both Laura and I laughed as Dad scurried from the room.

  “The poor man has gone through a lot today,” she said. “I’m starting to worry his face is going to get stuck in that same shade of red permanently.”

  I rose and returned the dining room chair to the table. “I wasn’t entirely joking,” I said, returning to the living room.

  “About the bouquet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you have a problem with it if those thoughts are going through my head?”

  I took a moment to think about it. It was nice Dad had someone. He looked healthier, and was even sounding better. Ever since he’d had some problems with his throat, his voice had a raspy edge to it. I wasn’t sure if Laura had given him some sort of remedy that was working, or if it was the mere fact of her existence, but he didn’t sound nearly as bad as before. The rasp was still there, especially when he laughed, but it was definitely toned down.

  When I came right down to it, Laura’s presence was good for my dad, and really, that’s all that mattered.

  “No,” I said. “In fact, I kind of hope you catch it.”

  Something passed between us then, a sort of unspoken understanding. She would never replace my mom; no one could. But she had my seal of approval to step in as Dad’s lifelong companion and friend.

  Laura rose from the couch and picked up a pair of empty bowls from the coffee table. “James has told me a lot about you and what happens here in Pine Hills. He’s proud of you, of the work you do.”

  “I do what I can,” I said, feeling a blush of my own rise up my neck. It was either genetic, or contagious.

  “Sounds like you go above and beyond.” She took the bowls to the kitchen, gave them each a quick wash, and then set them aside to dry. “I hope you’re careful,” she said, leaning against the counter. “I’d hate to think of anything bad happening to you. I really hope we get a chance to get to know one another better.”

  “I hope so too.”

  “Maybe we can work something out so you can come with us on a trip sometime,” she said. “I have a few lined up over the next year or so. We’d both love to have you along.”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  Laura smiled. “You wouldn’t be. And from the look of things, you could use a little time to get away yourself.”

  Thinking about the craziness surrounding the wedding, and yet another murder occurring in Pine Hills, I had to agree.

  14

  The afternoon passed with not much else happening, and before I knew it, it was time to head out for dinner. Unsure how to dress, I put on a nice pair of khaki shorts and a maroon blouse with gold thread-work. It wasn’t super dressy, but neither was it my usual ultra-casual frumpfest. Dad and Laura likewise opted for casual, but not sloppy.

  Dad drove us there.

  Geraldo’s was tucked smack-dab in the center of downtown. It had a small parking lot around back, but I noted a lot of parking spaces on the street were taken as Dad maneu
vered us around to the lot. From the outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much. A brick exterior, simple sign. It was probably why I hadn’t noticed it before now.

  The restaurant had only been open for a few weeks. The building was older, though I wasn’t sure what it had been before it became Geraldo’s. There’d been no grand opening or ad in the paper or on the news. The place had opened with a whisper, yet, from what I’d heard so far, it was always busy.

  Dad pulled into a space and we piled out of the car. The lot was pretty full, and a few people were standing outside, chatting amongst themselves by the front door. They stepped aside as we approached, looking full and content. It was a nice night to stand outside and relax.

  Inside, Geraldo’s was a different place. The brick exterior was nowhere in evidence. Fashionably painted walls were lit by dim, colored lights. The waitstaff was dressed in black and white. The men wore suit jackets, while all the women wore dresses, though I didn’t get the impression the customers were expected to do the same. While a few people were dressed up, many looked like they’d just come from work, or had thrown on whatever was convenient. All good signs, in my book.

  We were led to a table amid the clamor of forks on plates, and of loud voices. There were no TVs hanging from the walls. Light jazz came from the speakers interspersed among the lights and, not surprisingly, security cameras. I noted the napkins were cloth, which put it a huge step above anything else Pine Hills had to offer.

  “Nice place,” Dad said, taking his seat.

  “Nicer than I expected,” I admitted. I was surprised a place like this was so popular in a small town like Pine Hills. I was half afraid to look at the menu. The food smelled fantastic, and glancing at a nearby table, I saw they came on little rectangular plates.

  “Seems pretty reasonable, too,” Laura said, opening her menu. Apparently, she’d been thinking the same thing as me.

  We took a few minutes to peruse the menu, and ordered when our waiter—a young man named Kyle who couldn’t be any more than eighteen—appeared to take our orders. He even bowed when he left.

  I glanced around at the other guests, hoping to catch sight of Jacques Kenway in the masses. Jules had said he’d come here to eat with Cathy, so I was hoping he would return. And since Geraldo’s was nice, it might be more his speed than a place like the Banyon Tree.

  But if Jacques was in attendance, he wasn’t sitting where I could see him. Most of the tables were full of happy customers, busily chomping away at their meals, or gabbing the night away. I recognized quite a few faces, but none of them had anything to do with Cathy Carr, or the wedding.

  “Looking for someone?” Dad asked.

  “No.” I returned my gaze to the table. “Just looking around.”

  I could tell by his crooked smile he didn’t believe me. “You might want to take a look that way,” he said, nodding toward the doors.

  I turned to look. Trey and Sage Herron had just entered and were waiting to be seated. They were dressed nicely, Trey in a suit and tie, Sage in a sparkling mauve dress. Lyric Granderson entered behind them, dressed in a tight black number that put every woman in the room to shame.

  I waited to see if Vince Conner, Jacques Kenway, or the Pattersons would join them, but they’d apparently come without the rest of the Hollywood crew.

  They were led to a table off to my left and in front of me, where I could watch them, but it was too loud for me to overhear anything they said. Almost before they’d hit their seats, Lyric began talking animatedly, hands flying through the air. If she wasn’t careful, she was liable to smack someone.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” Dad asked.

  “No.” I forced my gaze away, though I could still see Lyric’s frenetic gesturing in my peripheral vision. “And it isn’t nice to eavesdrop.”

  “Where’re your manners, James?” Laura asked, nudging him with her shoulder. “It’s not polite.”

  He rolled his eyes and then shook his head. “Have it your way.”

  Our food arrived a few minutes later. It smelled as good as everything else, and when I took the first bite, I very nearly melted into my seat. I wasn’t sure I’d ever eaten anything as heavenly that wasn’t full of chocolate or sugar.

  “This is good,” Dad said. He’d gotten one of the fish plates, though I wasn’t sure which. It smelled good, even though I’m not a big fish person.

  “Mine’s a little salty,” Laura said, but spoke with good humor as she shoved a large bite into her mouth, which caused Dad to bark a throaty laugh.

  Both Dad and Laura had ordered wine and, by the time we were halfway through the meal, had gone through two glasses each. I sipped my Coke, complete with grenadine to make it taste of cherry, and tried my darndest not to stare at Lyric and the Herrons.

  Throughout the meal, Lyric looked agitated. Nothing the Herrons said seemed to calm her. Her gaze kept flickering toward the door, but no one came through—at least, no one she knew. By the time her food arrived, she looked practically beside herself.

  The Herrons, on the other hand, appeared calm and collected. They sipped their own wine, nibbled at their appetizers, like nothing could bother them. I wondered if that was because they truly had nothing to worry about, or if they were content now that Cathy was dead.

  Lyric jumped in her seat like she’d been shocked, and then reached into her purse for her phone. She put it to her ear and rose, nearly knocking over her glass of wine as she did. She glanced around quickly, spotted the restroom sign, and then started back that way.

  “Excuse me a moment,” I said, rising with her. Dad and Laura had been so focused on their food—and each other—they hadn’t noticed Lyric’s sudden exit or else I think one of them would have said something about my own abrupt departure.

  I hurried toward the restrooms, hoping to catch a little of what was being said. Yeah, eavesdropping was impolite, but by the outraged look on Lyric’s face when she’d started toward the restrooms, I knew the call had something to do with why she was in such a bad mood. It might not have anything to do with Cathy’s death, but then again, there was always a chance it might.

  I stopped just before turning down the hall toward the bathrooms. Pressing my back against the wall, I listened.

  “What do you mean you aren’t coming?” Lyric said, practically shouting. If it weren’t for the clamor of diners, everyone would have heard her. “After everything I’ve done for you, you’re going to leave me hanging like this?”

  I eased closer as she stopped to listen.

  “No, I don’t think so. You do realize you’ve really stepped in it, don’t you?” Another pause. “I don’t want to hear it. I said, I don’t want to hear it!” She made a frustrated sound, and then loudly: “Jerk!”

  The click-clack of heels followed, and I hurriedly tried to get out of the way, but apparently, Lyric hadn’t gone far down the hall to talk because before I could escape, she strode angrily around the corner, phone clutched tightly in her hand.

  She came to a dead stop the moment she saw me. The briefest flicker of guilt washed across her face, and then was gone in a flash. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the heat still high in her voice, though she tried to hide it.

  “Eating.” I flashed her a smile. “Needed to visit the ladies’ room.”

  She grimaced and rolled her eyes skyward. “I really don’t need to know that.” She started to step past me, but I stopped her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I saw you head back here a minute ago. You looked upset.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, and then, “No, I’m not, actually. But that’s none of your business, now is it?”

  “No,” I admitted. “But with everything that’s happened, I was concerned.”

  Lyric’s eyes narrowed, as if she suspected I wasn’t being totally honest with her, and then her shoulders sagged. “It’s nothing,” she said, sounding a little less annoyed than she had a moment ago. “I was expecting to meet someone here and I got stoo
d up. Now I get to listen to those two blather on, by myself.” She nodded toward the Herrons, who were both watching us with interest.

  “Who were you going to meet?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  Lyric’s smile wasn’t exactly kind. “My food is ready,” she said. “I’d like to eat it before it gets cold.”

  I stepped aside and let her pass. She glanced back once, rolled her eyes, and then took her seat. This time, when she spoke, she wasn’t nearly as animated, though I could tell she was still upset over the phone call.

  The question was, who had stood her up? And did it even matter?

  Not wanting to look like a liar, I went into the bathroom and washed my hands. I gave myself a once-over, nodded at my reflection, and then headed back to the table.

  “Find anything out?” Dad asked the moment I was seated.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Uh-huh. You just happened to need the little ladies’ room at the exact same instant as Ms. Granderson over there,” he said, jerking a thumb toward where the actress was seated.

  “Well, I did.” I took a bite of food to hide my chagrin.

  “Don’t bother,” Laura said. “His mind is already made up.”

  I swallowed my food, which was starting to get cold. “The answer is no,” I said. I should have known I couldn’t pass one over on my dad. “Lyric was supposed to meet someone here, but they stood her up. She didn’t say who or why they were meeting, other than a date, I guess.” Though, by her side of the conversation, it had sounded more than a simple date.

  “Do you think it could be one of the men she traveled with?” Dad asked. “What were their names?”

  “Vince and Jacques.”

  “That’s it.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Could they all be in on the murder together, you think?” I could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes. If this was one of his books, it was very likely they’d all have had a hand in Cathy’s death.

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” I said. Yet I didn’t believe it. Why come all the way to Pine Hills to do what they could have done in California?