Danger, Deceit and Dark Chocolate Cake

by A. R. Winters

  Melissa looked at me somberly. “Short of approaching everyone and asking them?” She shook her head regretfully. “I’ve got an employee information file. I keep a printout nearby, in case I need to call anyone about their shifts. He must’ve gotten a hold of it.”

  “Can we see this file?” I said.

  Melissa opened a drawer under the counter and handed us a printout. Letter-sized papers, stapled together. Names, phone number, addresses, job description, general shifts.

  I thumbed through the pages thoughtfully. “Who else knows you keep it in this drawer?”

  Melissa shrugged. “All the people who work here, I guess. One of the customers might’ve noticed.”

  “Did you see anyone coming in and having a look at these papers yesterday?”

  Melissa shook her head no. “I can’t help you there. John—our bartender—wasn’t working yesterday, so there were a couple of times when no one was here. I had to take a few phone calls. I didn’t notice if maybe someone slipped in at that time.”

  I rifled through the papers, but nothing unusual struck me. It was just the usual employee information that many places had.

  “Well, this case is getting weirder,” I said. “But I’m sure we’ll find out something.”

  Midday was rolling around, and the place was starting to empty out. Neve’s set ended, and she strolled off the stage and headed toward the exit.

  Beth and I said a hurried goodbye to Melissa and rushed after Neve.

  “Neve, wait up!” I called as we neared.

  Neve turned around and saw us, an expression of exasperation flooding her face.

  She crossed her arms and said, “What?”

  “We need to talk,” I said. “We might as well head towards your car.”

  The parking lot was mostly devoid of human presence at this hour. Neve seemed to be in a rush to leave, so I said, “It’s about the roses.”

  “Of course it is,” said Neve bitterly. “What else?”

  I was a little bemused by her annoyance. “What happened? Did you not get asked to the prom?”

  “I got asked twice,” she said.

  Beth and I exchanged a glance. “It was a symbolic question,” I said.

  “I know,” said Neve. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Then why’d you say—”

  “I got two roses,” Neve said.

  Beth and I paused for a second.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious,” said Neve. “Why else would I say that?”

  “Didn’t you tell anyone else that?” I said.

  Neve shook her head. “No. Everyone’s already annoyed at me because I’m subbing for Vanessa. They’re saying I reminded her stalker to get creepy, to keep doing crazy things.”

  “Maybe you kind of did,” I said. “Maybe if you hadn’t taken over for Vanessa, the stalker would’ve moved on.”

  “Whatever,” said Neve. “Now Owen’s all mad at me, and Melissa says maybe she shouldn’t have hired me. None of the other girls will talk to me.”

  “So you really got two roses?” Beth said.

  “I already said that, didn’t I?” said Neve. “Two roses—one dropped in the mailbox, and one left on my front door.”

  I frowned. “That’s interesting. Why’d he leave you two roses instead of one?”

  Neve lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Probably because I’m so pretty? Just to show that he likes me best?”

  “Then why leave everyone else a rose, too?”

  “How should I know?” said Neve. “Maybe he wants to make a point.”

  “Which is?”

  Neve twirled a strand of her hair and looked off into the distance. “Maybe he’s trying to say that he likes me best. But if I’m not interested, there’s other fish in the sea. Maybe he’s trying to make me jealous, but show me that I’m special.”

  None of it made sense, and I shook my head.

  Beth said, “I guess you’re feeling pretty smug right now.”

  Neve shuddered. “No, this is horrible. I wish I’d never gotten involved with this case.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me too. But now you’re here.”

  “I guess some psychopath’s after me.” Neve glanced over her shoulder, as though someone might be standing off in the distance, plotting to kill her. “I hate this.”

  “You’ll have to get used to it,” Beth said unkindly. “If you want to be a PI.”

  Neve shot her a dirty look and said, “I’m sure there are safer cases.”

  “Not really,” I said. “Beth and I get threatened all the time. You need to toughen up.”

  “No, thanks,” said Neve. “I’ll just figure out how to avoid the psychos.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said. “But back to the psycho you’ve got sending you roses. This guy must’ve heard you sing yesterday morning.”

  Neve groaned. “If only I wasn’t such a good singer. And so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course. Your life is tragic.” Neve didn’t seem to find my sarcasm amusing, so I said, “Think back to yesterday, when you were singing. The guy who sent you the roses must’ve been in the crowd.”

  Neve shook her head. “It was so crowded, and there were so many groups of people. How am I supposed to know who fell in love with me? Maybe they all did, and it’s just one guy who decided to send flowers.”

  “Nobody fell in love with you,” I said.

  Beth said slowly, “We don’t even know if this is the same guy who sent Vanessa the roses. It could be some other guy who liked your singing. Although it does seem like too much of a coincidence…”

  Neve nodded. “I guess I’m just too irresistible.”

  I said, “Even if it’s not the same guy, it’s someone who’s sending everyone roses and freaking out the staff. This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m freaked out,” said Neve. “I should be doubly freaked out since I got two roses.”

  I shook my head, exasperated. “Think back. Are you sure nobody stands out?”

  “No,” said Neve. “Nobody. And even if I did think someone was suspicious, what would you do? It’s not like you can find out the details of the people who ate here and watched me sing. You can’t just track down everyone who had breakfast here yesterday.”

  “I suppose I could,” I said slowly. “But that’d be a lot of surveillance. I think, instead of trying to find the stalker, we’ll have to let the stalker come to us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Beth and I left a mystified and slightly worried Neve and rushed off to our appointment with Howard Rocheford. I didn’t bother to explain my plan to Neve, knowing that she’d manage somehow to bungle things if she knew what we were up to.

  Howard’s office was on the north side of State Street, and he occupied the entire top floor of one of the commercial buildings. Of course, given that the building code in Santa Verona meant that a building couldn’t be higher than three stories, the view from Howard’s office wasn’t as great as the view from the top floor of an office in New York or Chicago.

  Howard greeted us happily when we walked into his plush corner office.

  “And what can I do for you ladies?” he said, shaking our hands and ushering us over to the small conference table in the corner of his room.

  “We’ve got a few questions about a case,” I said. “How’s Stacey doing?”

  Stacey was Howard’s daughter, and Beth’s former high school classmate. Beth and I had met Howard recently when we’d investigated the death of his wife, and though I’d uncovered some unpleasant facts about Howard, he’d been grateful that we’d helped out his daughter.

  “She’s doing as well as you’d expect,” said Howard cryptically. “Busy with her work.”

  Beth and I nodded, and I said, “We don’t want to waste your time. We’re here because of Owen Lidcolm.”

  Howard blinked and shook his head. “I’m not sure who that is.”

  “Really?” I said. “He owns the Blac
k Cat Jazz Restaurant?” Still no reaction from Howard. “You apparently made an offer to buy it recently?”

  Howard shook his head again. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t offered to buy any restaurant at any time. I’m not in the business of buying up food places.”

  I felt my heart sinking. I’d been so hopeful that Owen had nothing to do with Vanessa’s poisoning. The man had seemed so sincere in wanting to find out who’d been sending the roses.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” Beth asked. “You didn’t make any offers to buy this jazz restaurant?”

  Howard shook his head. “No. The only purchase offer I made recently was for a large insurance company. Restaurants, bars, cafés—I don’t deal with them. They’re too much hassle for me.”

  I sighed and exchanged a look with Beth. Things weren’t looking good for Owen at all.

  “Well, I appreciate your time,” I said to Howard. “We know you’re a busy man.”

  “Anything for you two ladies,” Howard said politely. “You’re both so good at digging up information.”

  I thought I heard an undercurrent of fear or anxiousness—perhaps Howard worried that Beth and I would reveal the evidence we’d uncovered about him in our previous investigation. I wanted to say something to set his mind at ease—something like, “Your secret’s safe with me.” But that would just sound even more sinister.

  So in the end, I settled for wishing him a polite goodbye, and Beth and I headed for the Black Cat once again.

  We needed to uncover more information about Owen before we accused him of poisoning Vanessa. If Owen hadn’t been in the restaurant on Sunday, then he must have had someone else do his dirty work for him. We needed to find out who that was.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  If Melissa was surprised to see Beth and me again, she didn’t show it.

  “How’s the investigation going?” she asked.

  “Busy,” I said. “I guess we’ll have to eat as we work.”

  Beth and I decided on club sandwiches, which we gobbled down quickly before ordering a slice of Toblerone cheesecake to share. It was easy to convince Beth that cake-eating would be research for her bakery, and we munched on the chocolate-layered cheesecake thoughtfully. It was an interesting flavor choice, and Beth said she’d definitely consider baking some layered cakes in the future. There were a few patrons at this hour—groups of loud, happy tourists who drank beers and cocktails with their meals, keeping Melissa busy mixing up drinks at the bar.

  “So, do you like this place better than Owen’s café?” I asked Melissa after our slice of cake had dwindled down significantly.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “This place is different. A lot more responsibility than the café. It’s a creative idea.”

  “You don’t seem too happy about it,” said Beth.

  I looked at Melissa closely. I’d picked up what seemed like an undercurrent of resentment as she’d talked about her work, and she laughed nervously.

  “I don’t mean to sound bitter,” she said. “It’s just been tiring doing all this work. Girls leaving, people not wanting to work here because of that ghost.”

  “Owen seems pretty convinced there’s no ghost,” I said. “What do you think?”

  Melissa shrugged. “I’m open to all possibilities.”

  “And what about these roses? You really think the ghost delivered them?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Melissa. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Owen says no one died in this building.”

  “I don’t know,” said Melissa. “I’m sure he’d say that to keep people from quitting. Personally, I think if someone’s really worried, they shouldn’t work here. I don’t want to force people to stay.”

  “That’s big of you,” I said. “I take it you don’t agree with all of Owen’s ideas?”

  Melissa made a face. “Not all his ideas are good ones. Look at that Yarraville development disaster. He’s not a good judge of character.”

  “I know,” I said. “But sometimes it’s hard to judge people properly. Everyone has so many secrets.”

  Melissa shrugged. “Still. Owen messed up pretty badly with that one.”

  “So you know he’s been in trouble with his finances?” I said.

  “Of course,” said Melissa. “It’s all he can talk about sometimes. He used to say that he wished he could win the lottery and pay off all his debts. And then he tried to sell this place, but I don’t think anyone wanted to buy a place that was so new. Of course, it’s a good idea, but it’ll take some time to really catch on.”

  “So he was desperate?”

  Melissa nodded. “I’d say so. He needed money. Badly.”

  “Have you noticed him behaving strangely?” I asked. “Maybe acting paranoid, or hanging around at odd times?”

  “I’m not sure that I have,” Melissa said. “He seems to be doing okay for someone whose business is doing so badly.”

  I thought back to the fact that someone other than Owen must’ve poisoned the ceviche. His alibi had checked out, which meant that someone else must’ve done the actual poisoning on his behalf.

  “Was Owen particularly close with anyone here?” I asked.

  Melissa glanced off to the side thoughtfully. Finally, she said, “Clarissa. I saw him kissing her one day. I don’t know what was going on—it’s none of my business, so I never asked them. But it happened, at least once.”

  “You’re definitely sure they were kissing?”

  Melissa nodded. “Saw them with my own eyes.”

  “Here?”

  “No,” she said. “I was at a winery up in the Yarraz Valley.”

  “So you’d had a few drinks?”

  She looked a little guilty and nodded. “Yeah. Maybe I saw wrong. But I guess—well, I thought that was who I saw.”

  I nodded. At least it was a start. “Anyone else who might’ve been loyal to him?”

  Melissa took another few seconds to think before saying, “There’s Janey. She wanted an advance on her pay a month ago, so I know she’s been having money problems. I’ve seen her chatting with Owen every now and then. I’m not sure if it means anything, though.”

  “I guess we’ll have to ask,” I said. “And what about yourself? How was your relationship with Owen? You’ve known him a long time.”

  “I guess I have,” said Melissa thoughtfully. “I guess I have known him. Well—in terms of relationships. He’s my boss. I suppose we get along.”

  “When he wanted you to move from the café to this restaurant,” said Beth, “were you keen on the idea?”

  Melissa shrugged. “Why not? It was a good idea, or so I thought.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps Melissa was the one who’d poisoned the ceviche on Owen’s behalf. She’d been quite helpful during the investigation, but she did have a lot of interactions with Owen, and she might be close with him after working for him all those years.

  Beth and I had finished our sandwiches, and Melissa asked if we wanted any drinks to finish our meal.

  “I guess not,” I said. “I think it’s time we went and talked to Clarissa and Janey.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  We found Clarissa manning the section of tables near the stage. She was a medium-height brunette with hair pulled back in a French braid, and she didn’t seem all that thrilled when we approached.

  “I know you want to talk to all of us,” she said. “But I’m not on my break yet.”

  “This will only take a minute,” I promised. “We just wanted to know about your relationship with Owen.”

  She looked at us, uncomprehending. “Huh?”

  “Your relationship.”

  “He’s my boss,” she said. “I thought that was obvious.”

  “Not that kind of relationship,” I said. “Were you with him?”

  She frowned, surprised. “No. What kind of question is that?”

  “Someone claims to have seen the two of you kissi
ng.”

  “Ew,” she said. “He’s really not my type. And I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “But you were seen with Owen in one of the Yarraz Valley wineries,” I said.

  Clarissa shook her head. “Nope, I haven’t been to the wineries since I started working here. I don’t know who’s spreading these rumors, but Owen’s just my boss—nothing else.”

  Beth and I exchanged a glance. I was tempted to believe her: her incredulity and distaste for the “rumor” seemed genuine. Of course, she could be putting on an act, but I’d have to be stealthier to uncover if she was, indeed, lying.

  So Beth and I apologized and said we must’ve gotten our facts wrong.

  “It’s okay,” said Clarissa begrudgingly. “I’m happy to try to help.”

  I gave it one last shot. “You’re not particularly close with Owen, maybe? Good friends, perhaps?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “I barely know him. I see him when he comes into this place, which isn’t all that often. I’m sorry if that isn’t much help.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I said. “Thanks for your time.”

  Janey was next. She was a petite, olive-skinned woman with short-cropped dark hair, and thankfully, she was on her break.

  After commiserating with her about how creepy the rose-sender was, and telling her that, no, we hadn’t found out who it was yet, I finally said, “So, you’re not going to quit because of this rose business, are you?”

  Janey shook her head. “Melissa told us all in private that she’d understand if we wanted to quit. She said she can’t force us to work somewhere we don’t want to. But Owen was pretty convincing about there being no ghost. I talked to him afterward, and he said he’d hire a PI like you guys to look into who’s playing this prank. So, yeah, I think I’ll stick around for a while longer.”

  “And the pay here’s okay?”

  “I guess so,” she said. “Things on the menu aren’t cheap, and the customers tip well. Why?”

  “It’s just that we were talking to Melissa earlier,” I said. “And she told us that you asked for an advance on your wages one month.”

  “Oh, that,” said Janey. “My brother got married. No warning. But I wanted to get him a nice gift, and I’d cut up my credit cards. So Melissa gave me an advance.”