They didn’t respond, but went back to work. I headed to the kitchen. “Hey, guys,” I said to Brandon, Shane, and Logan. They all turned around, looking none too pleased to see me. Tough crowd. I continued, “I found a credit card in the pastry case. Anyone know anything about it?”
They all shook their heads and went back to what they were doing. Maybe it was the impact of losing Dave. It had to be tough, even if they hadn’t been friends with him. They’d seen the guy nearly every day. They had to have some feelings about him.
Determined to put a positive vibe out, I said, “I really appreciate your hard work today. I know we’ve been busy, but you guys have done a great job, especially with all that’s happened lately. I just wanted to say thanks.”
Logan gave me a bit of a glare, Brandon nodded, and Shane didn’t look up from the grill. It was going to take a lot to get these boys to communicate with me, but we would get there eventually.
Holing up in the office, I decided to hunt down our credit card holder, Paolina Ghirlandi. Surely there weren’t too many Paolina Ghirlandis in Nashville—or the world, even—so she shouldn’t be too hard to find. After a quick search, I found Paolina Ghirlandi, Vandy student, on Twitter. Sounded like a winner, so I tweeted to her from Java Jive’s profile, telling her who I was and that I had something she had left here, making sure to give her Java Jive’s phone number so that we could get in touch. I hated to tell the whole world that I had her credit card, so I was purposely vague. I hoped that she’d call soon so that I could be done with this mess, because it really bothered me. Basically, either one of my employees was careless with her card or one of them stole her card. Neither was a good scenario.
While mulling over the idea that someone at Java Jive had possibly stolen a credit card, I took Dave’s hidey box out of the filing cabinet where I had stored it. I got the three envelopes out and looked at them again, having remembered that one of them had something to do with a credit card. When I took a good look at it, I realized it was just a credit card offer, not an actual card or statement. Oh, well. That didn’t help. But I was pretty sure it wasn’t legal to have someone else’s mail in your possession without permission, and it wasn’t likely that three Vandy students all had an agreement with Dave to pick up their mail for them. So I would go with the notion that this mail was indeed stolen. But why? The other two envelopes held a phone bill and an advertisement for an auto insurance quote, respectively. I could see intercepting someone’s actual credit card that was being sent through the mail, but this was junk mail except for the bill. Maybe Dave just had some weird mail fetish.
Thinking about all of that was hurting my head, so I decided to switch gears. I went onto several job posting websites and advertised Dave’s job opening, and then decided to dig a little deeper into Seth’s background. I found a couple of Seth Davises on Facebook and Twitter, but none of their pictures looked like him. Stumped, I got up and paced the room for a while. There was something nagging at me about Seth. I sat back down and went onto Vanderbilt’s website and clicked on “film studies.” On the course descriptions page, the name of the professor teaching the course was listed alongside each description. I scanned the page and didn’t find Seth’s name anywhere. This page had definitely been updated, because it listed the fall and spring courses for this year specifically. According to it, Seth wasn’t currently teaching any film studies classes at Vanderbilt, even though he had said he was. Hmm. Why would he have felt the need to lie to me?
I didn’t like liars. Lying was a deal breaker. Maybe this fling with Seth was not going to work out after all. Oh, well—easy come, easy go, right? There were plenty of other eligible bachelors in Nashville. At least I hadn’t slept with him.
The door opened, and Pete stuck his head inside. I quickly closed my browser. “Hiding out?” he asked, chuckling.
“Ha-ha. Very funny. It’s been quite a day.”
He came over and sat down in the chair opposite me. “Had a break yet?”
“I took a lunch.” I didn’t choose to elaborate on it.
“Jules,” he admonished, “you look beat. I’m here now, so take a breather.”
“I will. Hey, any tips for getting the boys in the kitchen to talk to me? I don’t think I’m connecting with them.”
“Brandon doesn’t say much on a good day. He’s been here for a while, so Dave’s death probably bothers him. I don’t think they were bros or anything, but it’s difficult to lose someone you work with every day. As for Shane, I think he’s kind of a dillhole, so I wouldn’t worry about him too much.”
Laughing, I said, “That is not a very professional assessment of your employee.” I didn’t mention the fact that I had thought the same thing about Shane.
“You know I’m never professional. And Logan, well, he may be a tough nut for you to crack.”
“How so?”
Pete replied, “Logan was already having a hard time of it. He’s a very bright kid, but his family isn’t well off, so he was putting himself through school. Money got tight, and he had to take a year off.”
“That sucks. Poor kid.”
“Dave’s death hit him hard. Dave got him the job here. He’s a friend of Logan’s family.”
“I had no idea. Logan doesn’t seem to care for me much, but that’s probably because he didn’t appreciate me calling Dave out. That and the fact that I’m the prime suspect in his murder,” I said broodily.
“Don’t be so dramatic. Logan’s a good kid. He’ll come around.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Brianna, and she looked shaken. “Juliet, there’s a detective out front who wants to talk to you.”
My heart sank. Surely Cromwell hadn’t come to badger me again! “Thanks, Brianna. Please tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” I looked forlornly at Pete. “I guess my ‘break’ is over.”
“Hold it together, Langley. I’ll be slinging ’spros if you need me.”
We left the office. Pete headed behind the counter to fill drink orders, and I headed to my doom. I spied Detective Cromwell at a table by the window. The place was starting to fill up again, so I really didn’t have time for his crap.
“Hello, Detective.” I sighed, throwing myself into the seat across from him.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” he grumbled. “You can relax, Ms. Langley. I’m not here to see you this time. I’d like to speak with a few of your staff again. Just routine stuff.”
I frowned. “I really wish you’d picked a better time. Today has been very busy already, and our dinner rush is about to start.”
“Oh, it shouldn’t take long. I’d like to conduct my meetings in your office, if that’s okay.”
“We’re expecting to be busier than usual for the next couple of hours. Couldn’t you come back another time?” The last thing I needed was my workers getting pulled away from their jobs to be harassed by Detective McGruff.
Mustache twitching, he stood up and growled, “No, I want to speak to them now. I’d be happy to bust you for obstruction of justice, if you want to keep arguing with me.”
I really didn’t like this guy. I stood up, crossed my arms, and plastered a fake smile on my face. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? Please, take my employees away from their duties and interrogate them, and by all means, do it in my office. I insist.”
“You’d do well to hold your tongue. You’re still one of the best leads we have, and trust me, if you’re hiding something, we will get to the truth.” Glaring at me and stalking toward the counter, Cromwell pointed at Brianna and motioned for her to follow him to the office. I could only hope that my workers weren’t all going to go on and on about how much Dave and I didn’t get along. I sighed. This day was so sucky.
Brianna was completely shaken when she finished, and she came straight to me after talking to the detective. “I’m going to quit. I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I took her by the shoulders and guided her out the back doo
r, which in hindsight might not have been the best choice, since I was still freaked out by the sight of the dumpster. I steered her to the other side of the big tree, facing the alley.
“Look, Brianna, we’re all upset by what happened. I completely understand your feelings, but you’re good at your job.” Sort of. “We don’t want you to leave.” Mostly because it would be a pain to find a replacement on such short notice. “We have the place under control tonight. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? Things will be better tomorrow.” Probably not, but she didn’t know that.
She sniffed. “Are you sure?”
“They had better be, or I’m going to lose it.” I smiled at her. “Go blow off some steam. Have a beer. Eat a whole pizza or a tub of ice cream. You’ll feel better.”
She laughed. “I’m not twenty-one yet, and I’m a vegan.”
Buzzkill. “A salad, then?”
“Right. Thanks, Juliet. You’re not so bad after all.”
No shit.
Chapter 10
Detective Cromwell finished grilling my staff and left without saying goodbye to me. Shocker. The crowd finally started thinning out after seven. I headed straight for Pete, who was leaning on the counter, chatting with an older guy.
When I got within earshot, Pete sang, “ ‘Nobody does it like Juliet. Juliet, what you do to me.’ ”
“Ooh, good one. I heard that song somewhere not too long ago. Anyway, what would you say to going with me to talk to Dave’s sister? Like now?”
Glancing around the coffeehouse, he said, “We could probably swing that.”
“I’m going to take her a couple of quarts of soup and a pie, too.”
“Ah, bribery. That always loosens the lips.”
“Yeah. Like when you gave Charlene that money and bought her a drink, her lips got so loose she nearly—”
He frowned. “I thought we agreed to never speak of that.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Right. Sorry.”
Dave’s sister, Gina, lived in the same general area that Dave had, so it didn’t take too long to get to her place. When we knocked on the door, she greeted us fairly happily despite having recently lost her brother.
“Hey, Gina. Remember me? Pete Bennett, Dave’s boss?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said uncertainly.
“This is Juliet. We came by to bring you some food and to let you know how sorry we are about Dave’s passing. We miss him.”
Her face fell. “Thank you. I miss him, too.”
A voice yelled from inside the house, “Hey, baby, who’s at the door?”
Gina turned around and called, “Dave’s old boss. He brought us dinner.”
A man appeared behind Gina and put his arms around her, smiling. “Wow. Thanks, guys. That’s nice of you.” That was fast. No wonder Gina wanted Billy out of the house—she already had a replacement waiting. He stuck his hand out to Pete. “I’m Billy.”
He was Billy? Gina took the loser back after he had threatened her brother and slashed his tires? That was sad. I wasn’t complaining, though. Now I didn’t have to go to the trouble of tracking him down.
Pete squinted at him and chuckled uncomfortably. “I…thought Dave said you two were going through a rough patch.”
Gina sighed. “We were. But then the baby got sick on Monday night. I had to take him to the hospital. He had RSV. He’s doing better now, though.”
“That was my wake-up call,” Billy said, looking down lovingly at Gina. “I realized what a fool I’d been. Nothing else matters except my son and my Gina.”
Really? We were supposed to believe that someone who had been cheating on his baby mama and being a total psycho last week became a changed man overnight because his kid got sick? I wasn’t buying it.
“Good for you, man. Glad to know you guys are doing okay,” Pete said sincerely. Evidently Pete was buying it. We needed to have a talk about his blind optimism. “Out of curiosity, do either of you know Dave’s bookie, Ron Hatcher? Bald, long beard, sleeve tattoos?”
They both shook their heads.
Pete replied, “Okay, thanks. We’ll get out of your hair. Let me know when the funeral arrangements have been made.”
Starting to tear up, Gina said, “I will. The police said it might be a while before we can lay him to rest since it was a…murder.”
Pete nodded. “Take care.”
I tried to interject, but everyone was done talking. Gina and Billy closed the door, Pete headed for the car, and I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.
Turning around, Pete asked, “Are you coming, Jules?”
“Yeah. But you didn’t ask Billy about Tuesday night.”
“I didn’t have to.”
I approached Pete, shaking my head. “I don’t get it.”
“Didn’t you see? Billy’s head over heels for Gina. He wouldn’t kill her brother.”
“You don’t know that!” I exclaimed exasperatedly. “What if Dave was against them getting back together? I’d think that would be grounds for Billy to want Dave out of the picture.”
He shrugged and got into his car. “I didn’t get that vibe.”
Wrenching the door open and flopping down onto the seat, I said, “Oh, so you’re getting vibes now? Vibes are not going to keep me out of jail, Miss Cleo. Facts are. We need to find out what he was doing on Tuesday night.”
“Damn, Jules, crabby much? We can’t go back and ask them now.”
“Why not?”
“It would be rude.”
“Screw rude! Rude is not going to matter when I’m someone’s bitch in prison!”
He rolled his eyes. “Chill out, Langley.” He glanced in the backseat of his car. “Aw, crap. We forgot the pie.”
“Good. That’s the perfect excuse to go back and talk to them some more,” I said, reaching for the pie.
He grabbed the pie before I could get to it. “You’re a little out of sorts. I’ll go back and ask them about Tuesday night.”
“Oh, so you’ll actually ask some questions this time? Or are you going to try to read their auras?”
“You’re not funny,” he said testily. “I’m only doing it to prove you wrong.”
I didn’t care about the reason. All I wanted was my information. I waited impatiently in the car while Pete went back and talked to Gina again.
After a few minutes, he got back in.
“Well?” I asked.
“They were both at the hospital with their baby all day Tuesday and all of Tuesday night.”
“Oh,” I said dejectedly. That lead was toast.
Pete was smiling at me and chuckling.
“What?” I snapped.
“Oh, nothing. Just…I told you so.”
“Shut up and drive.”
—
Customers were still piling in when we got back, and the baristas hadn’t had a break in hours, so Pete and I took over behind the counter. It was just like old times, the two of us working the front together, perfectly in sync. I missed those days, when the most difficult thing was deciding whether or not to skip class. I thought back to a particular evening ten years ago.
—
It was a slow night. Pete and I were out front, and George was covering the kitchen by himself. During one of the many lulls, Pete looked into the pass-through to make sure his dad wasn’t listening.
“Jules,” he whispered, pulling me aside. “Play hooky with me tomorrow.”
“What? Perfect Pete is asking me to cut class? You know I’m down with that, but are you feeling okay?” I put my hand mockingly on his forehead.
He swatted my hand away. “Very funny. There’s a new R&B exhibit that just opened at the Country Music Hall of Fame. I want to go. Come with me so I don’t feel so bad about ditching school.”
I laughed. “Only you would ditch school to do something educational like go to a museum. Boring.” Pete lived and breathed music. It was his life.
“Please?”
“Why not go Satu
rday?”
“Too many tourists.”
To be honest, I didn’t want to go. Going to class sounded more interesting. “I don’t know, Pete.”
“What’s your problem? You cut class all the time.”
“Yeah, but it’s for fun stuff, like sleeping or catching a matinee or…sleeping.”
“When have you ever not had fun when you’re with me?”
He had me there. “Okay, fine. But you’re paying my way in.”
Pete reached into his pocket and produced two tickets. “Already done.”
“How did you know I would say yes?”
“You’re easy.”
“What?” I cried, slapping him on the arm.
Turning red, he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that…really.”
I couldn’t resist needling him. “If you’re going to call me names, I’m not going. You’ll have to take someone else. How about Cecilia? She’s always hanging around you. Plus, she’s boring, so I bet she likes museums.”
“Come on, Langley, quit busting my balls.”
“But it’s fun.”
“And why would you think I’d want to go out with Cecilia?” He made a face. “I don’t date boring chicks. She has absolutely no sense of humor at all.”
Funny how sometimes we ended up eating our words.
—
Jamie and Cole came back from their break, so I took a turn again at collecting the trash. I was getting a little better about dealing with the dumpster, and the sooner I could get past it, the better. The trash receptacle by the front door had overflowed a little, so I had to crush down the trash to get the extra cups left on the top of the container into the already full bag. The sleeve fell down off one of the cups when I picked it up, and some writing in black Sharpie caught my attention. Under the sleeve it said, Garage next door 7:15. Huh? Had Brianna’s juvenile love notes turned into cryptic messages for meet-ups? That was way over the line. It was a good thing she wasn’t here, because I was pissed.
I stomped over to the counter and said, “Guys, I found this cup by the trash. Do either of you know anything about this message?” I held up the cup for them to see.
Cole chuckled. “Wow. I’ve never got an invite for a hookup on a coffee cup before. Most slutty baristas only give out their phone numbers.”
Death Before Decaf Page 10
