Inspiration struck. “You’re probably the one spreading rumors about Alyssa, the waitress ghost.”
Melissa stood there silently.
“I’m not sure why you’re trying to get people to stop working at the Black Cat,” I said. “But you are. I bet you’re the one who started the kitchen fire. Unless Owen told you to do that?”
Melissa shook her head. “No, Owen’s got no clue.”
“About all this?”
“About… everything. Life in general.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not in love with him, are you?”
Melissa laughed shortly. “In love? With that selfish loser of a man? No way.”
“Then what? What didn’t he understand?”
“It’s not important,” said Melissa.
“You’re right,” I said. “What’s important is that you added the poison to Vanessa’s ceviche.”
Melissa looked at me steadily. I’d taken a shot in the dark, but her lack of denial told me everything I needed to know.
“Why?” I said finally. “Why did you poison Vanessa?”
Melissa shook her head. “I’m not—I just—I don’t want to talk about it. Let me go.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. “Attempted murder is a crime. I’ll have to tell the police.”
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” said Melissa. Her voice was pleading and desperate. “You have to believe me. I didn’t even mean to send her into a coma.”
“That’s not how it looks,” Beth said. “It looks like you tried to kill Vanessa. You must’ve hated her.”
“I didn’t hate her,” said Melissa. “She was a nice girl.”
“Then why give her food poisoning?” I asked, still mystified.
“I don’t have to tell you,” said Melissa.
I shrugged. “Okay, don’t tell me. I’ll just call the cops and then you can explain it to them.”
Melissa shook her head. “No cops. I’ll tell you, but promise you won’t call the cops.”
“We can’t promise anything,” I said, glancing at Beth, who’d pulled out her phone and was typing out a text message. “Why don’t you tell us first, and then we’ll decide.”
“Fine,” said Melissa. “I did poison the ceviche. But it’s not like I meant to kill Vanessa. I didn’t even know she’d eat the ceviche—I couldn’t read the text on my new phone. How was I supposed to know she’d eat it?”
I frowned. “Then what did you think? That it’d be fun to randomly poison some food?”
Melissa shook her head. “No, no. There were two containers of ceviche, and I only got to one in time. I thought all the ceviche was going to be served to customers, so I added some poison to the container that was left.”
“So you thought you’d kill off some clueless customers?” That made even less sense to me.
“I didn’t want to kill anyone,” said Melissa, sounding exasperated. “It was a tiny pinch of botulinum. I just wanted some people to get sick. Then word would spread that the Black Cat gave people food poisoning.”
“And then business would slow down,” I said thoughtfully.
“That’s why you spread the ghost rumor,” said Beth. “So the Black Cat would do badly.”
Melissa nodded.
Beth said, “And the kitchen fire? Was that you, too?”
Melissa nodded again. “My uncle was an electrician, so I knew how to tamper with some wires to start a fire. I thought people would get spooked after that, but instead, the fire department came over right away and it was back to business as usual.”
“Why did you want the Black Cat to fail?” I said. “I know you were annoyed at Owen.”
“Not just annoyed,” said Melissa. “I gave him the whole idea. Twenty-four-hour jazz restaurant right here—I knew the tourists would love it, and even the locals wouldn’t mind heading over if it was reasonably priced. Owen said he’d make me a partner, but when I couldn’t come up with the start-up funds, he changed his mind. He said I’d be the manager and he’d pay me a good salary. I didn’t want a good salary. I wanted a share of the profits.”
“Then why’d you try to sabotage the business?” I said. “Why not just quit?”
Melissa shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the same disappointment I did.”
Beth said, “It still doesn’t justify trying to poison people.”
“I wouldn’t have killed anyone,” said Melissa.
Just then, sirens rattled through the air, and we all turned around as two police cars pulled up to where we were standing.
Melissa turned to us. “You said you wouldn’t tell the cops.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Beth. “I’d already texted my friend Matt.”
I put my gun away, and we watched as uniformed officers, along with Matt, got out of the cars and headed towards us.
“This isn’t fair,” Melissa said.
I shrugged. “It’s not fair that Vanessa’s in a coma because of you. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens now.”
Chapter Thirty-One
We met up with Owen for breakfast the next day, just like we’d planned.
“She blames you,” I told him. “She thinks it’s all your fault because you never let her in on the project.”
“I wanted to,” said Owen. “But I had money problems. At first, she said she could come up with half the start-up funds, but then she backed out. And I didn’t have enough money by myself. But I didn’t get mad at her—I kept her on as a manager. I scrambled around and managed to secure last-minute financing, so I could get the idea off the ground.”
“But it was her idea,” said Beth. “Ideas are important.”
“They’re not everything,” said Owen. “Everyone’s got at least one good idea or two. I had a great idea with the Yarraville development that I’m having trouble with now. It’s not the idea—it’s how you implement it.”
We ate our breakfasts in silence for a few moments.
I knew what Owen meant—Melissa had the brilliant idea of sabotaging Owen’s business to get back at him, but she hadn’t even managed to implement that plan of revenge. And Owen was probably right: everyone had brilliant business ideas. Heck, I wouldn’t mind opening a mind-reading ice cream parlor that would serve me the right flavor every time, with all the appropriate toppings. Maybe like an ice cream sundae machine version of an automatic coffee machine; instead of cappuccinos and lattes, the machine would make hot fudge sundaes and salted caramel ice cream cones with cinnamon-sugar almonds. I just needed someone to come up with the technology.
“And what about selling the Black Cat?” I said after a few minutes of silence. “Why’d you lie to us about that?”
Owen smiled sheepishly. “I guess I panicked. I knew you guys suspected me of trying to get insurance money, so I made that up to get you off my back. I didn’t know you’d actually go ahead and talk to Howard Rocheford.”
“Well, we did,” I said. “It would’ve been easier if you’d just told us that Melissa was so angry about the restaurant.”
“I didn’t know she was that angry,” said Owen. “I knew she was being a little bit more sarcastic than usual, but I thought it was just regular job stress. With all those ghost rumors and everything. I had no idea that she was the one spreading the rumors.”
“I guess she didn’t want you to know,” said Beth. “She probably thought she’d just secretly sabotage your business and laugh gleefully.”
“I’m sorry how it all happened,” Owen said. “It’s terrible that someone had to get hurt because Melissa was angry at me.”
“I don’t think she was angry in the typical sense,” said Beth. “She was so calm last night. I think she just wanted something that would make life ‘fair’ again, from her perspective.”
“Life’s not fair,” said Owen. “That’s pretty much the first thing you learn when you enter reality. You just plod along through an unfair world, trying to do the right thin
g.”
***
A few days later, I was at the station, catching up with Ethan.
“Melissa’s facing a couple of different charges,” he said. “Now that Vanessa’s out of the induced coma, and Melissa’s admitted to poisoning the ceviche, the legalities can start. Melissa’s out on bail now, and it’s a five-year sentence for poisoning. She might be able to get out sooner on good behavior, but she’ll have a hard time getting a job again.”
I nodded. “It seems kind of sad, in a way. She never really intended to hurt Vanessa; she was just experimenting to see how far she could go.”
Ethan shrugged. “A pinch more and she could’ve killed Vanessa. A jury’s not going to look on that too favorably.”
I nodded. “And in the meantime, Owen needs to hire a new manager.”
“It’s a gorgeous day,” Ethan said. “How about we go outside and grab a cup of coffee? I’m due for some caffeine right about now.”
I smiled. “And I’ll come along for the ride.”
We headed out and crossed the road to Joe’s Café, where we grabbed two cups of java and sat outside, enjoying the brilliant sunshine. The Santa Verona charm was palpable—the beautiful Spanish-style building that housed the police department glinting in the sunlight. I knew that a few miles away, waves were crashing on the beach, and tourists were grabbing ice cream cones from the nearby ice cream parlor.
I was about to remark on the day’s perfection when I noticed Neve strolling down the street, like a potentially dark cloud on my sunny sky.
“Hey, Mindy,” Neve said, stopping at our table. “Ethan.”
He nodded at her by way of greeting, and Neve lifted her designer sunglasses and pushed them onto the top of her head.
“How’s the PI gig going?” I asked her, morbid curiosity overtaking me.
Neve shrugged. “It’s not great. I’m trying to avoid homicides. I can’t believe that creep left me roses while I was asleep.”
“He was harmless,” I told her. “He just needs a girlfriend. And maybe therapy.”
Neve shook her head. “I’m not dealing with whack jobs anymore. I’m going to stick to safer work.”
“Why are you a PI again?” At first, I’d thought she was trying to upstage me, or meddle with my life, but now I wasn’t sure.
Neve looked at me uncertainly. “It seemed like a good idea,” she said. “I thought it would be easier.”
“Maybe you’ll find some easy cases,” I said, trying to sound encouraging.
“Maybe.” Neve glanced at me and Ethan. “Are you two back together?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ethan staring determinedly into his drink.
When he didn’t reply, I said, “We’re just catching up on the case. I wanted to know what Melissa was being charged with.” Before Neve could probe further into my relationship status, I said, “How’re things with you and Liam?”
I regretted the question instantly.
Neve’s face split into a big grin and she said, “Great! Really great! You know, he’s such a great guy. Everything is just so—”
“Great,” I said dryly.
“Of course you know,” said Neve sweetly. “You dated him once.”
I shook my head. I didn’t like Neve, but even she didn’t deserve a guy as horrible as Liam. “I don’t share your opinion, but I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I think he’s the one,” Neve gushed. “He’s so smart and intelligent and hardworking. He’s going to be a senator soon.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He wants you to be like a senator’s wife. Dress conservatively, don’t smile at other men. Definitely no flirting. Pearls preferred.”
Neve looked at me, her eyes clouded with hesitation for a moment. I knew I’d hit a nerve.
But then that moment passed, and she said lightly, “Everyone’s got preferences. And your spouse needs to be your biggest supporter.”
I didn’t think that Neve would take my unsolicited advice too well. If I told her that Liam was a controlling, emotionally abusive man who’d probably cheat on her, Neve wouldn’t believe me. It was better to let her make her own mistakes.
So I nodded and smiled politely and said, “I’m glad things are going well for you.”
After leave Neve left, my sense of unease lingered.
Ethan took a few last sips of his coffee and said, “Sounds like this Liam guy’s a real winner.”
“He’s great,” I said sarcastically.
“You wanna talk about what happened?”
I shook my head. “It’s over. And I don’t believe in bad-mouthing an ex.”
Ethan pretended to wipe some sweat off his brow. “Phew! Good to know I’m safe.”
I smiled and looked at him. I was lucky to be sitting here with Ethan, talking and laughing like old times. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. “I couldn’t think of anything to badmouth you about.”
Ethan reached over and placed his hand over mine. “Not even if you tried really hard?”
I did my best not to blush. “No,” I said. “I—Aunt Kira was right. I was miserable when I moved away. I really missed you.”
“Yeah. For about two seconds, until you started dating Brad Pitt.”
I laughed. “You know that’s not true.”
Ethan pretended to be shocked. “You turned him down! Why?”
I laughed again, and then I noticed that Ethan’s eyes had grown serious. I looked down and gulped.
Ethan said softly, “Aunt Kira was right about me, too. I was a mess when you left.”
I tried to shake off the memories of past sorrows. “I’m sick of talking about Aunt Kira,” I said. “We need to make sure we don’t run into her again when we’re out on a—dinner.”
Ethan smiled. “How do you propose to do that?”
“We just have to go somewhere she won’t turn up.”
“Such as?”
“Why don’t you come over to my place? I can cook something up.”
Ethan squinted. “The last I heard, the only things you could cook were spaghetti in instant sauce, and fried eggs.”
“Spaghetti and fried eggs,” I said. “The most romantic meal.”
Ethan grinned. “How about I pick up some takeout instead?”
I nodded. “That sounds good.”
“And over the meal, you can tell me why you turned down Brad Pitt.” I laughed and Ethan went on, “I’m guessing he smelled bad.”
“No,” I said. “It was his hair. I can’t date a man who’s got better hair than me.”
“Lucky me,” said Ethan. “I always knew my bad hair would win me the ladies.”
I smiled, and for a second I was tempted to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, like I did when we were in high school. I stopped myself in time.
As Ethan walked me to the bus stop, I noticed Liam emerging from the courthouse side of the building. And then I noticed that he had his arm around a lady who wasn’t Neve.
I shook my head, and as I got on the bus, I decided not to think about Liam. He was Neve’s problem, and I didn’t have to deal with him anymore.
Of course, life didn’t quite work out like that.
Little did I know that a few days later, the lady I’d seen Liam with would be murdered, and Liam would turn out to be the chief suspect.
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Danger, Deceit and Dark Chocolate Cake Page 12
