I nodded. “But otherwise, it’s not like you’ve got money problems or anything.”
“No,” said Janey. “I mean, everyone complains about money and bills, but that’s just life, right? It’s not like I’m hurting for cash. The job pays the bills okay.”
I nodded. “How well do you know Owen?”
Janey looked at us with suspicious eyes. “Why? You don’t think he might have something to do with the rose prank himself?”
Beth and I exchanged a glance. “We’re looking into all possibilities,” I said. “I was just wondering—have you noticed anything odd about him lately?”
“I guess I don’t know him well enough to know what’s odd and what’s not. And he doesn’t come into the place all that often. But I’ve noticed he and Melissa seem less friendly than they used to be. Back at the café.”
“Oh,” I said. “So you worked at Owen’s café before you moved here?”
Janey nodded. “Yeah. A few of us did, but a couple of the girls went back to the café after all those ghost rumors started. Some people watch too many horror movies.”
“So Owen and Melissa used to be really friendly?”
Janey cocked her head thoughtfully. “Yeah. I’d say they were. They worked together for a while. Not that they were romantic or anything, but they got along well. I remember Melissa telling us that the Black Cat would open soon, and she was really excited about it. But a few days later, when we got closer to the opening date, she didn’t seem so excited anymore.”
“Did she say why?”
Janey shook her head. “I guess the excitement wore off. Maybe she preferred working at the café. It’s just a job, after all. How excited can you get about a job?”
“I run an online bakery,” Beth said. “I’m always excited about that. I can’t stop thinking about different cake flavors and toppings.”
“And I like investigating,” I said.
Janey shook her head. “That’s different. You both run your own businesses. This is just working at a restaurant.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I said. It was beginning to sound like Melissa couldn’t have been the person Owen used to poison the ceviche. “Did you ever see Melissa and Owen arguing? Or were they back to being good friends?”
“Now that you mention it,” Janey said slowly, “Melissa seemed snippier toward Owen. I mean, he needs her around because she’s so experienced and good at her job, but she’s been pretty snarky toward him. I wouldn’t say she was rude, or mean, or that they ever really argued about anything. But I guess she just stopped being the friendly model employee she was at the café.”
“Did you ever overhear her being snarky about anything in particular?”
Janey thought back. “A couple of things. She’d just say ‘Great idea’ in a sarcastic tone to him sometimes. And one time, soon after the place opened, I walked in on them in the kitchen. There was nobody else around, and Melissa was saying, ‘Sure, if you like changing your plans.’”
“I wonder what made her go from being friendly towards him to being slightly rude.”
“Maybe it’s the ghost.” Janey smiled wryly, to show that she was kidding. “Melissa says she doesn’t believe in ghosts, but after that kitchen fire, we’ve all been creeped out. I can’t blame her for wishing she worked somewhere else, someplace that wasn’t haunted.”
We thanked Janey and headed back to the bar, where Melissa was pulling two beers. When she finished and came over to where we were standing, I said, “I just talked to Clarissa and Janey. And I heard something strange—apparently you and Owen weren’t getting along that well?”
Melissa smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s no big deal. I was just getting a little annoyed, working here. I didn’t mean to be rude to him.”
“Why were you annoyed?” Beth said.
Melissa sighed. “It’s just the little things. You know, hard to hire waitresses because of this rumor. The fire in the kitchen. Vanessa getting poisoned. Now this rose thing.”
I nodded. “That sounds frustrating. Did Owen change his mind about anything important?”
Surprise flashed through Melissa’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We heard you and Owen argued about something that he changed his mind about.”
“He was always changing his mind,” Melissa said. “It got a bit annoying after a point. This menu—no, that. This singer—no, that one.”
I nodded. “Plus with all the ghost stuff going around. Was Owen up to anything that bothered you? That you thought might’ve been unethical?”
Melissa peered off into the distance thoughtfully. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t know all the details of how he runs his business. I know he was having money problems, but if he was doing anything particularly unethical, he didn’t tell me. And I wouldn’t stand for it, either.”
Beth and I asked her a few more questions, trying to see if she knew anything about Owen’s insurance policies or suppliers, but Melissa didn’t know much else that could be useful in our investigation. So we thanked her and headed out, back to Beth’s car. I wasn’t sure what we’d have to do, but I knew we’d need more information about Owen before we could accuse him of attempted murder.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Beth and I knew we needed a Hail Mary, so I called Owen and asked him where he was.
“I’m at the development site in Yarraville,” he said. “Why?”
“Oh, we just had a few questions about some of your waitstaff,” I fibbed. “What’s the site address?”
I took down the address dutifully, and then I said, “Um, actually, Beth just told me she needs to go work on a big baking project right now. So I guess I’ll come see you maybe tomorrow. Is there any time tomorrow you’ll be at the Fat Cat or the Black Cat?”
“Sure,” said Owen. “I can have breakfast at the Fat Cat if you’d like to chat.”
“Excellent,” I said. “That works for us.”
We set a time—eight o’clock—and then I thanked him and hung up.
Beth punched in the address of the Yarraville development into her GPS unit, and we drove over.
An hour later, Beth parked her car near the development, and we jammed baseball caps onto our heads and settled in for a long wait. Following Owen around was a long shot, but I figured we could learn something. In a previous case, we’d followed a suspect and found him behaving oddly—which had led us to confront him. After which he’d admitted to his crimes.
I’d already walked past the site casually and seen Owen talking with a tall, well-built man, so I knew he was here. His car was parked a few yards away from ours, and Beth and I sat in silence, waiting for him to leave.
It was early afternoon, and pretty soon, the site began to clear out. Men got into their cars, driving off in ones and twos, and finally, we saw Owen leave the site and get into his car. We followed him as he drove down to a diner and picked up two large brown bags before getting into his car and driving again.
A half hour later, he pulled up in front of a semi-detached duplex. We drove past him as he parked on the street and walked inside. Beth and I parked on the road and watched as the lights came on in the townhouse.
“He must live here,” I mused, stating the obvious out loud. “Or maybe his girlfriend lives here.”
I thought I could see the bright flicker of a TV in one of the downstairs rooms.
“The glamorous life of a Santa Verona developer,” said Beth. “Takeout and an early night?”
We watched the house silently for a while, munching on some chocolates that I’d found in my handbag in lieu of dinner. I considered calling Melissa and asking for Owen’s address, just to make sure we were watching the right place, but I didn’t want to tip her off that we might be interested in paying Owen a house call. Although she didn’t seem to be Owen’s biggest fan, I decided it would be wise not to reveal our suspicions just yet.
The sun began to set, and the streetlights came on. The TV was turned off after a few hou
rs, and a while after nine, all the lights went out. Owen must’ve gone to bed, but Beth and I watched the place till just past eleven, making sure that he didn’t head out again.
Finally, at around eleven thirty, Beth and I set off for Neve’s house.
I’d memorized Neve’s address when looking through Melissa’s employee files, and a few minutes later, Beth and I were parked in front of a condo two blocks from the beach. Given that Neve probably earned a paltry salary as a receptionist, I assumed that her wealthy parents paid for the place.
A short flight of stairs led up to Neve’s front door, and Beth and I checked immediately for roses or other suspicious flowers: there were none. We checked Neve’s mailbox: no roses inside.
The place was dark and silent, and I was sure that Neve was blissfully asleep, unaware of the sting operation Beth and I had decided to set up.
We settled in for another long wait, but just after one o’clock, a car pulled up alongside ours. We watched as a lanky man stepped out and walked up to Neve’s mailbox. It was hard to make out his features under the streetlights, but we could see the light glinting off his glasses. He dropped something inside, turned around and headed back to his car.
“I’m sure it’s a rose,” Beth muttered, before we both burst out of the car and rushed over to the man.
Up close, we could make out his dark, curly hair and surprised, geeky expression. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties, and just to be on the safe side, I pulled my gun out of my handbag and pointed it at him.
“Whoa!” he said, immediately raising his hands above his head. “What’s going on? Are you mugging me?”
“No,” I said. “This isn’t a mugging.”
“That’s cool,” the man said. “I’m happy to give you my stuff. Just don’t hurt me.”
“We won’t hurt you,” Beth said.
He looked relieved. “Great. Let me give you my wallet and my cell phone.”
He made as though to reach into his pocket, and I jerked my gun. “Don’t move.” For all I knew, he was reaching for a weapon.
The man stepped back and raised his hands again. “How can I give you my stuff if I can’t move?”
He sounded hopelessly lost, and I shook my head. “I don’t want your stuff. I just want to know what you’re doing here.”
“What do you mean—doing here? Like, now? Right now?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why’d you leave that rose for Neve?”
“Um.” He fidgeted awkwardly, and I could swear I saw the color rising on his cheeks. “I like her. I think she’s pretty and she sings really nicely. It’s hard for me to meet girls, and I thought she might like getting a rose. Girls like getting roses.”
I peered at him closely and thought that I could see an outbreak of adult acne on his cheeks.
“Who’s been giving you girl advice?” asked Beth.
The man shrugged. “Just, you know—what I read, here and there.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
He took a deep breath. “Well. Kind of. I mean, I’ve been on a few dates. But I don’t want to get tied down so soon.”
“Ri-ight.” I nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Wilson,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“I’m Mindy,” I said, “And this is Beth. We’re trying to find out about these roses. Why’d you give everyone at the Black Cat a rose?”
Wilson looked at us, puzzled. “I didn’t give everyone a rose. Just Neve. And Vanessa, but I guess Vanessa’s left the Black Cat. That’s the only reason I decided to give Neve a rose.”
“What about the other waitresses?”
“I’m a one-woman man,” said Wilson. “I mean, I might like other women at some point. But for now, I like Neve. She’s cute.”
“So you didn’t leave anyone else a rose last night?”
Wilson shook his head. “No, just Neve. So that she’d know I liked her.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s…” I struggled to find a word, and failed.
“Romantic,” said Wilson. “Right?”
I glanced at Beth out of the corner of my eye. She looked just as perplexed as I felt.
Finally, Beth said, “Where were you this weekend?”
“I had to go to Chicago,” Wilson said. “I work in IT and they fly me around a lot. I came back on Monday morning, but when I went to the Black Cat, Vanessa had left. It bummed me out for a while, but the next morning I saw Neve and heard her sing and I knew. Everything happens for a reason.”
“Sure,” I said. “What’s your full name?”
“Wilson Howser,” he said.
“And what airlines did you fly? What time did you get back?”
“Northeast Air. I think I landed at six in the morning on Monday. Why?”
I avoided the question. “So if I run your name through the airport database, I’ll find that you landed Monday at six?”
“I guess so,” he said, sounding puzzled.
Beth and I exchanged a glance. Vanessa had been poisoned on Sunday, at lunchtime. There was a chance that Wilson might’ve been lying about his flight. Perhaps, instead of flying straight into town, he’d landed in LA on Sunday, made the two-hour drive up to Santa Verona, poisoned the ceviche, driven back to LA, and caught a flight that landed here on Monday morning – all to make it seem like he hadn’t been in town. But it seemed like a far-fetched theory. And we could always check the Chicago airport logs to see when he’d left.
“Who do you work for?” Beth said.
“Florida Infotech,” Wilson said. “Can I put my hands down now?”
“I guess so,” I said hesitantly. “But stay where you are.”
He put his hands down and said, “I still don’t understand what’s going on. Are you guys muggers, or what? You’re kind of nosy for muggers.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve been told I’m nosy.”
“So let’s get this straight,” Beth said. “You came by last night and left a rose for Neve?” Wilson nodded. “Just one rose? Not two?”
“Not two,” said Wilson. “One is good, so’s a dozen. But not two.”
“Was there another rose on the doorstep when you left yours?”
“No,” said Wilson. “Should there have been?”
I did some quick thinking. Previously, I’d assumed that the stalker had left all the waitresses a rose each, and had left Neve two. But now, it seemed apparent that Neve had gotten one rose from Wilson, and one from someone else. Which meant that Beth and I needed to go back to watching out for another stalker.
“Give me your phone,” said Beth.
Wilson reached into his pocket and handed over his cell phone. “And my wallet?” he said helpfully.
“No,” said Beth. “I’ll give you your phone back in a minute.”
Beth pressed a few buttons on the keypad, and a few seconds later, my phone buzzed.
“Now we’ve got your number,” said Beth. “And you can call us, too. If you need to.”
She handed the phone back to a puzzled Wilson.
“You shouldn’t leave girls flowers,” she said. “You should try to talk to them. Ask them out.”
“Actually,” said Wilson, “I’m not sure I can date anyone. Dating intimidates me. That’s why I don’t talk to them.”
“You’ve got to start at some point,” Beth said. “Otherwise you’ll be lonely for a long time.”
“I guess you’re right,” Wilson said. “If you don’t want my stuff, can I go now?”
“Okay,” I said. I lowered the gun and watched as Wilson got into his car and drove off.
“That was odd,” said Beth.
“I guess he’s the result of too much coding and too little chatting to actual humans. You think he’ll ask anyone out?”
“Maybe,” Beth said. “Maybe he’ll actually have a girlfriend someday.”
“Or maybe he’ll program a robot to love.”
We headed back to my car and did our be
st to stay awake. The minutes crept past slowly, and finally, a car pulled up near Neve’s house.
A shadowy figure stepped out and headed towards Neve’s front door.
Chapter Thirty
Beth and I watched with bated breath. The figure was wearing some kind of hoodie, and crept up the stairs, left something at the door, and walked back towards their car.
Beth and I dashed out of our car, and once again, I pulled my gun out and pointed it at the figure, who raised their hands.
“Don’t shoot,” she said.
“You’re a woman,” I said, surprised at the high-pitched voice. I’d expected Neve’s stalker to be a man, and I peered closely. Even though the light was a little dim where we were standing, I could make out who it was. “Melissa!”
Melissa shrugged. “Surprise,” she said dryly.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I left Neve a rose,” she said. “What does it look like?”
“But why?” I said. “I guess you’re the one who left everyone a rose?”
Melissa paused for a second, and then she said, “I don’t need to tell you that.”
“I guess I could just ask around at the different florists’,” I said. “I’m sure someone remembers you.”
Melissa sighed. “Fine. I dropped roses at everyone’s place. So? I was just trying to boost everyone’s morale. People have been worried since Vanessa’s…incident.”
I frowned. “How does leaving people roses boost their morale?”
“They think someone’s looking out for them,” Melissa said. “I wanted people to be more cheerful.”
“That’s not true,” said Beth. “I think you were trying to lower morale. You wanted people to be miserable.”
“Why would I want that?” Melissa said. “I’m the one who has to deal with the rosters, trying to hire people, all that.”
I remembered something Sally had mentioned. “You said you’d understand if people wanted to quit. You wanted people to quit.”
“No,” said Melissa. “Understanding and wanting are different.”
Danger, Deceit and Dark Chocolate Cake Page 11
