Arsenic and Ole
Page 11
Andrew tipped back the rest of his soda. “I should probably let you go. Maybe Audra is back at the house by now. I’d like to see Leo. And he won’t be wandering free and getting into your plants anymore. I’ll keep him on a leash, or in the backyard.”
“Good,” I said. “I don’t want him getting sick again…and maybe Attila will be a little less on edge if he doesn’t feel he constantly needs to protect his turf.”
My phone vibrated with a message. I thought it might be Paige again, but it was Ben.
Can you come to La Costera ASAP? Chief Lamm just arrived. He told them to close up, and he’s in the back asking Mrs. Gonzalez a bunch of questions. Bill is back there with her, in case she needs something translated. I told her not to answer without a lawyer, but she says she has nothing to hide. I’m picking up some really bad vibes, Tig.
I muttered a curse and typed in the message that I was on my way, even though I wasn’t sure how me being there might help the situation. Maybe Ben thought I could talk Travis out of arresting Silvia, but my history of being able to talk Travis Lamm out of anything he’d set his mind to was spotty at best. And why had he honed in on Silvia, when it was actually Bill who had threatened to sue Rebecca Whitley? Maybe because she was the one who did the cooking?
“I’ve got to go,” I told Andrew. “When you spoke on the phone with your mom, did she tell you anything about her picketing La Costera?”
“Nooo,” he said. “What happened? Was this about the burrito Leo swiped the day I left?”
“Yes.” I gave him a super-condensed summary of her fight with the Gonzalezes and my argument with her over Paige’s party. I told him about the order I placed with OBXpress, but I left out the part about the burrito testing positive. Travis would probably tell him soon enough, and this way at least, I could still tell Sam that I’d kept the information confidential.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Andrew said when I finished. “Dia’s parents were always really nice to me. Things were just starting to look up for the restaurant, too. And…the cops need to think again if they’re going on the assumption that my mother ate anything from there. I was the one who ordered. Sometimes Rick did, too. But she always made a snide remark that she didn’t like ethnic food. And either way, I don’t believe for a second that Dia’s mom would hurt anyone on purpose.”
“I agree,” I told him. “I’m heading over there now. And I think I have a way to prove Silvia Gonzalez couldn’t have targeted your mom.”
Chapter Fifteen
As I drove toward Caratoke, I tried to connect the bits of information into some sort of coherent picture. When I played Adelaide Thorne on Private Eye High, the three teen detectives on the show always gathered near the middle of the third act to piece together the clues. As we organized the information, we always focused on the three classic elements for any criminal case—means, motive, and opportunity.
So, I slipped into the mindset of Addie Thorne. Who had the means, the motive, and the opportunity to kill Mrs. Whitley?
If I was going to be honest, a lot of people had a motive, including Silvia Gonzalez and her family. They’d worked hard, and reputation is everything for a small business. No matter how many glowing reviews a place has, you’re going to think twice if one of the reviews says someone is tucking poison into the burritos along with the refried beans. Or if you see someone picketing outside with that message on their sign.
I didn’t believe for one minute that Silvia Gonzalez or any of her family could actually do something that heinous. Neither would anyone else who actually knew them. I was pretty sure that included Travis. If he was seriously considering charging her, there must be some piece of information he had that I didn’t to connect her to the crime. Something that left him no choice but to do his job, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how shaky the evidence of motive might be.
Bethany Tartt also had a motive, even if it was shaky. She had definitely been annoyed at me, and she had seemed pretty certain that she wasn’t going to be cast in the show. It was quite possible that she also had opportunity. I had no clue how many people worked as drivers with OBXpress, but if they could choose which orders to take or reject, she could have decided to take the job after she overheard me talking to Ben.
But even though Bethany struck me as egotistical and more than a little petty, she didn’t seem like a cold-blooded murderer. Nor did it really make sense for her to try to frame me for Rebecca Whitley’s death, or the Gonzalezes, for that matter. I couldn’t picture her being willing to murder an apparent stranger simply because she was angry at me and there was a remote chance that I might be implicated. If Bethany was that angry, wouldn’t she have just targeted me directly?
As for the means, I didn’t know much about this Compound 1080, aside from what Sam had told me. I wasn’t sure how either Bethany or Silvia could have gotten hold of it. Although I supposed it was possible that Bethany, whose father was serving a prison term for his ties to organized crime, might be aware of a few black-market channels for acquiring a lethal substance.
What bothered me most, however, was that both Bethany and Silvia had only the loosest of connections to the victim. One thing I’d learned on five years of Private Eye High was that most murder victims, and especially female murder victims, die at the hands of someone they know well—a lover, a spouse, a friend, or a family member. Andrew said he had an alibi, and after talking to him, I really couldn’t buy him killing her anyway. That left Audra and Rick. I was pretty sure that Audra had told me at least one lie, but I pushed that aside for the moment. I needed to focus on any information I had that might be able to help Silvia. I didn’t know how to get in touch with them, but I knew how to contact Bethany. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bethany knew something about what had happened the night before. She’d worn a rather smug look when I was talking to Alicia. And later, after the cast list was posted, that look shifted to something a lot like guilt.
Or maybe regret?
Either way, she and I needed to have a little chat.
At the first red light, I grabbed my cell phone and dug the list with the cast’s contact information out of my bag. Bethany answered on the fourth ring. Her voice was wary, so I suspected my name had popped up on her caller ID.
I didn’t beat around the bush but jumped straight to the point. “You delivered a bag of food from La Costera to Rebecca Whitley’s house last night, didn’t you? A bag that I ordered through the OBXpress app. Did you also call in the anonymous tip to the Clarion?”
There was a long silence. “What if I did?” she asked. “The article they published this morning said that if anyone had any information regarding Mrs. Whitley, they should call the crime hotline. I had information. So I called. It just seemed kind of weird that you were ordering food to be sent to your neighbor, a neighbor you apparently didn’t like from what you were telling Ben, and then she turns up dead. Plus, you ordered it from the restaurant the woman was planning to sue.”
“As I told Alicia, I ordered that food several days before my spat with Mrs. Whitley. I’d intended to cancel after our disagreement yesterday, but things were a little hectic. I’m pretty sure you know exactly when I placed the order, because it would be in the information you received when you agreed to handle the delivery. You also know that La Costera didn’t have a clue where that food was going, since I ordered through OBXpress.”
“But I actually don’t know that,” she said. “You could have called and told them that the order was from you. The place was dead last night. No customers in sight when I arrived to pick up the order, and that was the only delivery we made for them that night. Like that reporter was saying, maybe you and the owners were trying to teach Mrs. Whitley a lesson and something went wrong. I’m not saying Dia’s parents actually did anything to the food, or that you knew about it if they did. But I had a legal and moral obligation to report what I knew. Stopping crime is everyone’s job. See something, say something.”
Her tone wa
s a wee bit sanctimonious, and I was tempted to point out that if she was going to go with the moral and legal obligation angle, she really should have reported it to the police rather than to a crappy paper like the Clarion. But since she was now sounding very defensive, I decided it might make more sense to appeal to logic.
“You’re a smart girl, Bethany. So why don’t you stop and think this through? Imagine that you’re Rebecca Whitley, and you’ve been picketing La Costera all week for accidentally poisoning your dog. You’ve scared away half or more of their business, and they’re now threatening to sue you. Now imagine that someone shows up at your door with food from that very same restaurant, food that you did not order, in a bag that is clearly labeled with the restaurant’s logo. How would you react? Would you unwrap one of those burritos and chow down? Or would you toss that bag straight into the trash?”
I didn’t add that someone had indeed unwrapped a burrito and chowed down, and that said burrito was tainted with a poison used to kill coyotes and wolves. All of that was confidential information. But the simple truth was that none of this made sense. Rebecca Whitley bordered on paranoid. She believed everyone was out to get her, and her little dog, too. I’d known from the start that she wouldn’t have touched the food in that bag, simply because it came from me.
“I…would probably throw it in the trash,” Bethany admitted grudgingly. “Even if I didn’t think there might be something dangerous in the food, I’d be worried that someone at the restaurant had spit in it. Or worse.”
“Exactly. We both know that I never touched that food, even though I paid for it. And the Gonzalezes couldn’t have known where the food was going.”
I didn’t acknowledge the point that Bethany had made earlier—that they could have known if I’d called to tell them. Or, for that matter, if I’d mentioned it when I stopped in yesterday to add the guacamole to the taco bar. Bethany might still have doubts on that issue, but I knew for a fact that I hadn’t told Silvia Gonzalez, or anyone connected to the restaurant about placing the delivery order. So unless someone at OBXpress had told them when they transmitted the order, Silvia couldn’t have known that the food was headed to Rebecca Whitley’s house.
“And here’s the thing,” I continued. “The food went from La Costera to the Whitleys’ house in your vehicle. I’m going to have to let the police know that. And if the food is in any way linked to her death, they’ll probably want to ask you some questions.”
“But…I didn’t do anything! I just made the delivery!”
“I actually believe that’s true, Bethany. But as you said, see something, say something. Right now, the police are questioning Mrs. Gonzalez about this at the restaurant. And I’m pretty sure the delivery ticket you have would at least cast reasonable doubt as to whether she could even have known who ordered the food and where it was going. If you’re really interested in sharing information in the pursuit of justice, maybe you could drop by La Costera and set the record straight? They’re probably going to be knocking on your door to ask for it if you don’t.”
I was, in fact, absolutely certain that the police would be asking, since I already knew the food was linked to her death. But because I couldn’t tell Bethany that there was a sample of poisoned burrito in a lab on campus, I left it at that.
There was a pause, and then Bethany said, “Yeah. I can do that. But I’m in the middle of a delivery. It’s going to take me a few minutes to get there. Do you want me to send a copy of the OBXpress receipt to that reporter, too? To show that you ordered before you argued with Mrs. Whitley?”
“That’s up to you. It won’t make any difference. She won’t include it in any story she prints. Alicia Brown has never been one to be unduly influenced by facts. Plus, I’d say the odds are excellent that she’ll be at La Costera when you get there. If there’s drama, Alicia will be hovering like a vulture.”
Chapter Sixteen
My stomach growled loudly as soon as I saw the La Costera sign. The yogurt and crackers had long since worn off, and my tummy grumble was easy to interpret. It was requesting a plate of shrimp in green mole sauce. With a frozen margarita. Maybe a couple of churros, too. Even knowing that the police car was parked outside at the curb and the sign on the door was flipped to CLOSED because of a poisoned burrito, my stomach was making it crystal clear that it fully agreed with my conclusions about Silvia’s innocence and had not a single qualm about eating at La Costera.
As I’d expected, Alicia’s white SUV was parked along the curb as well. She was leaning against the car door, typing something into her phone. Travis was on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant talking to Bill, who was clearly upset. The two youngest girls were huddled next to their father, and Ben was next to Dia with an arm around her shoulders. As I drew closer, I saw that Silvia was in the back of Travis’s car.
He was actually arresting her. I hadn’t really paid much attention to his car before, since he’s almost always in his personal vehicle when I see him. At least it wasn’t the kind with a cage in the back. Silvia still looked miserable, though.
It took a considerable amount of control, but I parked near the back of the small lot and waited. I needed to talk to Travis alone if I was going to have any hope of convincing him that this was a bad idea. If I marched over and got up in his face with everyone looking on, he’d be more likely to dig in his heels than listen to reason. Or at least, that had always been the case twenty years ago. In the months since I’d returned to Caratoke, Travis had surprised me occasionally by acting in ways that he never would have when we were together. But I didn’t think this would be one of those occasions, especially with Alicia watching and jotting down notes for tomorrow’s adventure in yellow journalism. And, to be perfectly fair, when he was doing what was, unfortunately, his job.
Travis was clearly trying to reassure Bill and his daughters. To his credit, it seemed to be working. I didn’t know exactly what he’d said, but Bill visibly relaxed and nodded.
After he finished talking to Bill, Travis started to get into his car without even noticing that I was waiting in the lot. I tapped my horn twice to get his attention.
“Tig,” he said wearily as I rolled down my window. “Why are you here?”
“Silvia Gonzalez didn’t know that order was going to the Whitleys. OBXpress doesn’t include the name or address of the purchaser on the order. Bethany Tartt was the driver. She’s heading over here with a receipt that will show you—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “There was poison in that half-eaten burrito on the counter—and according to the coroner, the same poison was in Whitley’s system. It’s not a type that’s easy to obtain in the United States. The substance was once used routinely for killing rodents, but it’s only legal for government use these days. It is, however, still pretty easy to get in Mexico. Silvia was in Mexico just a few weeks ago for a family funeral. And they had a complaint about a mouse in the restaurant about six months ago.”
“That’s pretty flimsy, Travis. Do you really think she brought rat poison back with her on a plane, when she could just buy another type?”
“Another less-effective type. But no, Tig. I really don’t believe that. At least, I don’t want to believe it. All I know is someone killed the woman. Silvia was threatening Whitley. She had a recent opportunity to get the poison that was used. Then there’s the whole thing with the dog, the bad Yelp review, and—”
“But Leo didn’t get into the same substance.”
Travis’s eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”
“I took a sample in and asked Sam to check it. It was positive for a neurotoxin that’s found in azaleas. The little rat had been chewing on plants in my yard and apparently got hold of an azalea leaf or flower. Or maybe just some pollen. And the one in the burrito is…” I stopped, realizing that I was on the verge of blowing the confidentiality promise I’d made to Sam. “It’s different, right? I’m pretty sure the US government isn’t using azaleas to eradicate coyotes.”
“Silvia does almost all of the cooking, Travis. The rest of them chop and prep, but if she’s not cooking, they’ll have to close down.”
“Hopefully it will only be for a few days. With any luck, we’ll have her out on bail by tomorrow morning. Or they can hire another cook as a temp.”
“Oh, yeah. Because a fry cook off the street will know how to prepare her churros or fish tacos. And it’s a lot easier to be blasé about the whole thing when you have a steady income, paid healthcare for your family, sick leave, retirement. You know how close to the margins these small businesses run. And Bethany can prove Silvia didn’t know where the food was going. She’s on her way right now with a copy of the OBXpress delivery slip. If Silvia didn’t know where the food was going, then you’ve kind of removed the opportunity side of the equation.”
“Except, you could have told her. She said you stopped in to talk to her yesterday because you forgot to order the guacamole. That slip Bethany is bringing will prove Alicia’s claim that you purchased the food. And according to a report we received at the station, and apparently at the Clarion as well, you also had an argument with Whitley yesterday. An argument in which you threatened her. That’s something you forgot to mention last night.”
“I have arguments with Whitley every time our paths cross! The same can be said for half the town, Travis. And yeah, it was a really scary threat. I said if she interfered with Paige’s party, she’d regret it. It’s not like I pulled a knife on her. And if I forgot to mention it to you, maybe it’s because I was a little preoccupied with the fact that I’d just found the woman dead in her swimming pool while I was hosting a houseful of teenagers. Seriously, you knew her, Travis. Whitley picked fights with almost everyone. She was paranoid and obnoxious. If you’re not willing to trust your own experience with the woman, I’m sure both of her children confirmed that when you spoke to them. She wasn’t stable.”