by Lynn Cahoon
“But you and your aunt are off the list. According to the time of death from Doc Ames, Jackie was manning the shop and you were with me. I thought you’d like to know that so you didn’t go running off to hide from the law.”
Laughing, I stood and went to let Emma outside. “I don’t hide from the law if I don’t have a reason. Although a week in Mexico might be just what I need right now.”
“Don’t you dare take off while I’m in the middle of an investigation. I need a break too.” He paused, and I could imagine him putting up his feet on his desk. “Look, the reason I called was to tell you I won’t be home until late. Go ahead and eat. I’ll order in something from Diamond Lille’s.”
“Toby said as much. By the way, he looks like crap. If you need me to cut his barista hours, just let me know. The guy looks like the walking dead.”
Greg chuckled. “He swears he’s fine. But I’ll talk to him again tonight. I think he likes the extra money. He’s been talking about buying a condo between here and Bakerstown.”
“I thought he was holding out for a house with a backyard?” I heard voices in the background.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t wait up for me.”
And with that, the phone went dead. I loved Greg’s dedication to his work most of the time, but sometimes, I wished he had a normal, boring, nine-to-five job like an investment banker. Or a schoolteacher. Or maybe a mayor. Laughing at the thought of Mayor Baylor’s reaction to that career change, I grabbed my book and went outside to sit on the swing. Emma came up and laid her head on my lap. It wasn’t quite dinnertime yet. And I had a couple of chapters till the end of the book. Once that was done, I’d make a bowl of soup and see what movie I hadn’t watched yet. Greg could only take so many romantic comedies before he insisted on a movie with more guns than people.
Chapter 17
The next morning, I was in the middle of my commuter rush when my cell rang. I ignored it and finished up the coffee order I was working on. I had three people in line with books in hand as well as a dire need for caffeine. Besides, it was too early to chat with anyone. I heard the beep about a phone message and then the shop’s landline started ringing. I handed off the coffee and rang up the order before I picked up the phone. “That will be eight dollars and ten cents; charge? Coffee, Books, and More, this is Jill.”
“Thank God I caught you.” The man sounded like he needed a vat of coffee, not just a carryout order.
“What can I help you with?” I finished the transaction, then put a hand over the speaker as I asked the woman next in line for her order. As I started making the low-fat latte with a squirt of pumpkin spice, I focused on the phone call.
“I need you to fill out that intake form I sent you.”
Frowning, I hit the button for the coffee to drip into the espresso cup. “Wait, is this the guy from the Senior Project?”
“Yes, Earl Hess. I need you to fill out that form as soon as possible.”
I put the milk in the metal pitcher to whip and rolled my eyes. “Look, I’ve got a line of customers who need their coffee. Your form is going to have to wait.”
The lady I was helping pulled out her wallet as I hung up the phone. “I hate pushy people. Sometimes they forget that what they’re doing isn’t an emergency unless they are performing brain surgery. My insurance agent always makes his annual policy checkup calls seem like they are life or death.”
Laughing, I held up the whipped cream dispenser. The woman nodded, and I topped the drink off with a generous dab and a sprinkle of cinnamon. “I know. This isn’t the first call I’ve gotten from this guy, but seriously, it’s not even seven in the morning. Forms can wait until the coffee rush is over.”
And the rush was over right at seven thirty. I supposed most of my customers had at least a thirty-minute drive to their jobs, so once it got close to eight, they vanished. Unless it was Friday. Then the rush lasted through nine. This was one of the reasons I loved owning my own shop. I didn’t have to check in at some arbitrary time. The needs of the customer dictated why I opened at six. I wanted my morning coffee, and I assumed they did too.
I sat down with a fresh cup of coffee and a slice of apple caramel cheesecake. I didn’t know how Sadie made up these things, but I wasn’t complaining. My breakfast was like eating a caramel apple at the fair. Or would be if the treat had died and come back as a cheesecake. I opened my laptop and scanned my emails. I had three new emails from the Senior Project. Two from the executive director and one from Denyse. I opened hers first.
Reading the message, I found that she hadn’t found a connection between the Senior Project and my aunt. But she had found the date when my aunt’s information had been added to their database: January 8 of this year. She asked to check again to make sure my aunt hadn’t come in for an assessment but had forgotten to mention it.
As I looked at the timeline I’d pieced together of Ben’s life, I thought I knew why her information was in their record. And it wasn’t because she had received an assessment at the first of the year. For some reason, he’d merged information from another database into the Senior Project’s files.
Why? That was the question. But Denyse had told me all she knew about the records, so it was time to let Earl Hess down. I wrote a short email explaining that I wasn’t going to fill out the form because I’d decided not to go ahead with their counseling program. I thanked him and his staff for their time and wished them well. Hoping that would end the frantic contacts from the executive director, I focused my attention on the book order for the week.
I was so caught up in the process that I didn’t realize Deek was already here until he refilled my empty coffee cup. He handed me a folded sheet of paper. “Can you order these as well? They’re for my collection, so just one or maybe two copies. I hand-sell a lot of books I buy for myself.”
“That’s the joy of working for a bookstore. You know you’re always free to grab an advance reading copy off the table in the back. You don’t have to buy the books you’re recommending.” I glanced at the list and realized these were older, writing craft books.
“These are a little older than the books that are on the table.” He winked at me. “I can’t be a famous, wealthy author without studying at the feet of the masters, now can I?”
“Sure. By the way, can you work a longer shift tomorrow? Jackie’s taking the day off to spend with Mary. Toby’s swamped with this investigation, so it’s just you and me. I hope I’m not messing up any of your plans.” I didn’t look at him while I was typing. If he said no, I’d just come back and work. I didn’t have a personal life right now anyway. Not with Greg on a case.
“I told Trina I’d study with her, but if you don’t mind her coming over here, Saturday nights are usually a little slow.” He sat and sipped his coffee. “You know, we could have an open mic night on Saturdays so people can try out their work in front of other people.”
“Jackie would never go for it.” I shook my head. “Besides, I never got the draw. I don’t want to be read a story, I want to read it. Alone, or sitting next to someone who’s too busy with their own story to care that I’m lost.”
“I don’t want to comment on ages here, but it’s really popular with the college set. And it would draw in more people. I’d be glad to work the later shift on Saturdays. It would make a long day, especially on book club days, but it’s another way of marketing to a new demographic. Bookstores have to be thriving in this market. The coffee shop addition is smart, but we could change a few things.”
“I’ll put you on the agenda for the next staff meeting. You convince Jackie and I’ll back you. But don’t expect me to participate.”
“Cool. I’m stoked at the idea and I promise, the rest of you will be too.” He stood and headed back to the counter. “I’m taking over the helm. You want something else besides that coffee?”
I didn’t really want to mention I’d alr
eady had cheesecake, a brownie, and a cookie. I was feeling like I needed some real food. “No, thank you. I’m going to finish up the book order, then head to Lille’s for some grub.”
“Okay. Thanks for the support, Boss.”
As I finished up the last few items on the order, I watched Deek as he settled into his daily tasks. The guy was brilliant. He enjoyed working as a barista and he sold the heck out of books during his shifts. He had our profits up nearly 10 percent since I’d hired him. The book order done, I sent an email to our bookseller representative. I groaned when I saw another email from Earl Hess. The guy didn’t give up. I took a breath. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe it was a routine note thanking me for looking at the agency and asking me to keep them in mind for possible future services. I opened the email and saw I’d been overly optimistic. The guy was practically screaming, using all caps to try to force me to complete the form. Did this kind of treatment work on anyone? I deleted the email before I could respond in an excessively nonpolite manner using words my mother wouldn’t let me say.
I couldn’t help it; deleting the email felt invigorating and exciting. Like I’d just turned off a bad television show or an over-the-top commercial for something I didn’t need now and never would need.
This was a cause for celebration. It had been a sign that I was supposed to go to Lille’s for lunch. I tucked everything in my tote. Then I waited for Deek to come out of the back room. When he finally appeared with two cheesecakes in hand, I waved. “I’m off. Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do, Boss.” He set down the cheesecakes and gave me a salute. “Enjoy your lunch and the rest of your day.”
Walking outside, I saw Josh Thomas measuring the distance between the curb and the front of his building. I really didn’t want to know what he was doing, so I sat at one of the café tables outside the shop and took a moment to call my aunt.
The phone rang and rang until I got the recording that the person with that number had not set up a voice mail yet. Aunt Jackie still had the burner phone. I called again. This time, when she didn’t answer, I went around the building and headed up the stairs. Her car was in its spot. By the time I got to the door, my heart was racing. And not from the exercise. I knocked. “Aunt Jackie? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
No response. So I leaned my ear to the door. I could hear her television going. I knocked again. “Aunt Jackie?”
This time when I leaned my ear against the door I thought I heard something. I leaned in harder and almost fell on her when she opened the door.
“My lands, what on earth are you doing?” My aunt stared at me like I was a creature in the zoo. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
I followed her into the apartment and closed the door behind me. “You didn’t answer the phone.”
“I was watching my soap and didn’t recognize the number. So I figured whoever called would leave a message.” She sat back on her recliner and paused the television, which was playing a commercial.
“You don’t have your voice mail set up.” I plopped onto the couch. “Where’s your phone and I’ll take care of that?”
“It’s right there, under that magazine.” My aunt sipped her coffee. “I don’t like having a new phone. When will I get the old one back?”
“When the investigation is over.” And if I had anything to do with it, maybe never. “Wait, why didn’t you recognize my phone number? I’ve called you most every day for the last five years.”
“On my phone, you show up as Jill. Not some string of numbers.” She set down her cup. “Why are you here exactly? Do you need me to come in early? Did something happen to Deek?”
“No, Deek’s downstairs working.” I punched in numbers to have a generic voice mail account set up. “What passcode do you want?”
“One-two-three-four.”
“You can’t have that passcode. It’s the first one they’ll try if they’re trying to get in to your voice mail.” I stared at her. “Don’t tell me you always use that code.”
“Who exactly would want to get in to my voice mail besides you?” Aunt Jackie shook her head. “Okay, use one-zero-zero-seven.”
“Will you remember it? It’s not your birthday, so that’s good.” I keyed in the number twice, and when I finished doing that, I set up my name in her contacts list. Maybe next time she’d answer, but at least she wouldn’t have the excuse.
“Of course I’ll remember it.” Her cheeks pinked. “I’m not forgetful.”
I thought about the code. It wasn’t Uncle Ted’s birthday and it wasn’t their anniversary, because that was in May. “Whose birthday is it?”
She unpaused the show and set the remote down on the coffee table.
I picked it up and set it on pause again. “Aunt Jackie?”
“Fine. It’s Harrold’s birthday, if you must know, Miss Nosy.” She picked up the remote and tucked it next to her. “Why are you here again?”
“I was worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.” I leaned back, thinking about the significance of her using Harrold’s birthday as her code. “You haven’t heard from anyone claiming to be Uncle Ted again, have you?”
“I have a new number. Even if it was your uncle, he wouldn’t know how to find me. I didn’t tell him where I lived or worked.” When I didn’t respond, she sighed. “No, Jill, no one has contacted me in the last few days. And yes, I know the man who did isn’t your uncle. There was something just off about his voice.”
Maybe, or maybe not. Time to change the subject. “I talked to Deek and you’re all clear for your day in the city with Mary.”
“Good. She’s looking forward to checking out a new art gallery.” She looked at her watch. “If there’s nothing else, I have a few things to do before I have to go to work.”
I’d been dismissed. But at least she was all right. “Call me before you leave tomorrow. And when you get back. I’d like to know you’re home.”
“Yes, Mother.” My aunt picked up the remote. “Anything else?”
“I hope you have a relaxing day.” I moved toward the door. “Sorry for bursting in on you and interrupting your schedule. I was just worried.”
As I closed the door, I heard her response. “I know.”
No woman needs a man to complete her, but my aunt had been better with Harrold around. She’d been happier. They’d made plans to visit local sites and travel in the future. Now, she sat in her apartment with the hope of visiting the city with her friend once in a while. I really hoped Harrold’s plan to win my aunt back would work because I knew she needed him. Probably more than she knew.
Diamond Lille’s was swamped by the time I got there. Carrie waved me over to a table near the window. “Sorry, doll. I know you like your booth, but we’ve been slammed for a couple of hours. Maybe when it thins out, I can move you.”
“I like this table.” I glanced around the dining room. “I can see everyone who’s here.”
Carrie laughed. “You’re always the optimist. What can I get you to drink? Vanilla milkshake?”
“Not today. Just some iced tea. And I think I’ll have the stuffed meatloaf.” I needed some comfort food after this morning. I realized I hadn’t told my aunt about Ben’s computer file on her. Maybe it was for the best. I could tell her after she got back from her day out.
“Mashed potatoes, brown gravy, and a salad with blue cheese on the side?” Carrie watched me.
“Perfect.” I pulled out a book. Paranormal time travel with a sweet romance, as well as an epic battle scene. The author had pulled out all the stops. “Thanks, Carrie.”
“That’s what they pay me for, doll.” Carrie patted my shoulder like she could sense my crappy mood and left me alone with my book.
Voices and noise from the crowded café surrounded me, but as I got deeper into the book, they faded away. Until I heard the name Ear
l Hess. I glanced up and saw Denyse Lindt sitting at a nearby table with the Senior Project receptionist. Keeping my eyes on the book, I tried to separate out their conversation.
“All I’m saying is that he’s acting really weird. Haven’t you noticed it?”
That must have been the receptionist. Denyse’s voice was a few octaves lower.
“You don’t know our esteemed leader very well. He’s been strange since the board hired him two years ago. I swear, I’ve never met someone more stuck in the protocol of an agency. One of the reasons I liked working for the project was the rules were a lot less stringent. When I worked for the Department of Aging, we had to…”
“Here’s your lunch.” A plate hovered over my book.
I slipped my bookmark back into the book and moved it to the side. “Sorry. I was lost.”
“Not anything new for you.” Carrie set down the plate and then put a vanilla milkshake on the table. “Now, I know you told me no shake, but Tiny had already made this up when he saw you walk in. I’m not charging you for it, but he’ll be hurt if you don’t drink at least some of it.”
No wonder I was always fighting off extra weight. My friends were all food pushers. Well, except for Amy. “Thanks, Carrie, it looks yummy.”
By the time Carrie left my table, Denyse and the other woman were leaving. Apparently, they didn’t like their boss any more than I did. But it was interesting that he’d only joined the group a couple of years ago. Interesting, but it probably didn’t mean anything. I opened my book and held it with my left hand as I started eating. And then I got lost in the story once again.
Chapter 18
My phone rang as I was walking home from lunch. Glancing at the display, I saw it was from the funeral home. “Hey, Doc. What’s going on?”
“Nothing much. In fact, it’s kind of dead here.” He paused, then, when I didn’t laugh, explained the joke. “You know, because I work at the funeral home?”
