by Harper Lin
“Good luck with both of those. I’d tell you not to be too hard on Officer Bradshaw, but he probably deserves it.”
“Damn right he does. Could have blown the whole investigation. And it wasn’t just not relaying the message from Mary Ellen—he shouldn’t have needed to get the message in the first place. He should have asked to see the receipt when he was there Friday night.” He shook his head, obviously disgusted with the incompetence of his officer. “I can’t believe we had to wait three days to get information we should have had immediately.”
“I feel bad. I mean, if I had called you Saturday to let you know—”
“To let us know information you thought we already had? That’s not your fault, Fran. You had no way of knowing we—well, one of us, anyway—would overlook something so obvious.”
“Besides, you probably would have shut me down right then.”
“You better believe it. Not that it probably would have done much good.”
I shrugged then nodded. “Probably not.”
Mike shook his head at me. “Well, thanks for the information, Fran. If you think of anything else or come across anything at all, even if you think we already know—”
“I’ll call you right away.”
“That’s not an invitation to do any more investigating.”
“I know. And I’m done, anyway. I’ve had enough of this case.”
“I hope so.” He reached to open the door.
“One thing—”
“I’m not even out the door, Fran!”
“I know!” I smiled sheepishly. “But how did you find out it wasn’t a suicide? I assume it was based on more than a feeling you had.”
“Autopsy. No gunshot residue on his hands. And the bullet’s angle of entry was wrong. Straight on instead of at an angle.” He twisted his hand to show how hard it would be to shoot yourself dead on.
“So it wasn’t hard to figure out?”
“Not once we had the medical examiner’s opinion. Whoever did it is either not very good at murder or was just hoping to get a couple days’ head start on us.”
“Anybody see Leah Casey in the past few days?”
“That’s what I’m about to go check with Boston PD on. They did the death notification.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks. The way this case has been going, I’m going to need it.” He opened the door and let me precede him into the café.
A few customers were scattered around enjoying their drinks and, from the looks of most of the tables, their lunches. Most of the people were locals, a stark difference from the crowd that had filled the place a week ago. I had a sneaking suspicion a lot of the locals avoided spending much time in the shops during the tourist season, preferring to wait for the calm of the off-season and the company of each other.
Sammy was leaning over the counter, talking to someone I couldn’t see. I almost couldn’t believe my ears when I heard her laugh. She sounded so happy and carefree. I angled my head as I walked around the counter to see who she was talking to.
“Leary! What are you doing here?” I heard Mike call.
Finally reaching where I could see who Sammy was talking to, I saw Mike shake Ryan Leary’s hand and slap him on the back.
“Hey, Mike!” Ryan replied. “Just stopped in for some coffee and a bite to eat before my shift.”
“Come by and see me when you get into the office. I have some new information about the case I want to share with you.”
“Yes, sir. I should be there in an hour or so.”
Mike nodded and turned back to the counter. Before he could even ask, Sammy handed him a large to-go cup and a bag that probably contained his usual of a mozzarella-tomato-basil sandwich and a piece of tiramisu.
“You know me too well,” Mike said with a smile. “Thanks, Sam. Thanks to you, too, Fran.”
“What’s a guy gotta do to get that kind of service?” Ryan asked as Mike walked away.
“You gotta come in a lot. Like, a lot,” Sammy said. I saw a twinkle in her eye that hadn’t been there for weeks. “How often does Mike come in, Fran?”
“Few times a week!” Mike called from the door.
“More than that!” I retorted.
“Don’t tell my wife!” He pushed the door open and waved once before he disappeared down the sidewalk.
“Almost every day,” I said to Ryan. I looked at Sammy for confirmation. She nodded vigorously.
“I might be able to manage that,” Ryan said. “The food’s good. The drinks are great. The company couldn’t be better. I could get used to coming around.” He flashed a brilliant smile our way.
“We could get used to having you,” Sammy said with a smile. She was good at engaging customers, connecting with them, and charming them into coming back, not just for the coffee, but also for the pleasant company.
The bell over the door jingled as a customer came in.
“I’ll get her,” I said before Sammy could even look up. She seemed happy talking to Ryan, and I knew happiness was something she needed right now.
I got the customer’s drink, and the next, and the next. We had a slow but steady stream of customers, enough to keep from getting bored but not so many that it was overwhelming. The café started to empty out, Ryan left, and Sammy joined me at the register.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “We just kind of got started talking, then you seemed like you were handling it and—”
“You’re fine.” I cut her off. “You were enjoying yourself, and I had everything under control. You do enough around here. You’re entitled to slack off a little every now and then.”
Sammy looked uncomfortable. She was a hard worker and a perfectionist, and she didn’t like the suggestion that she wasn’t working her hardest. She worked incredibly hard the vast majority of the time, which earned her a chat or two with a customer, especially since I was there to take care of the café’s patrons.
A pair of customers got up, and Sammy hurried to clear their table before I could so much as flinch in their direction. I hadn’t intended to guilt her into working even harder than usual, but apparently, I had done just that. I’d have to avoid the words “slack off” the next time I said something like that to her.
The café gradually emptied out, and Sammy and I found ourselves alone.
“You can go home if you want,” I offered. “I don’t think it’ll be too busy the rest of the day.”
“Okay, thanks.” But Sammy didn’t make a move for the door. She just stood at the counter, swaying slightly, and not quite making eye contact with me.
“What?” I asked finally, deciding there was something on her mind she didn’t want to bring up.
“What happened back there with Mike? When you two went back there, he looked furious, but by the time you came out, the two of you were laughing and joking. What happened?”
I ran through the morning’s conversation with Mike briefly for Sammy—how angry he was that I had been investigating the case, how his officer’s major screw-up had basically gotten me off the hook, and some of the information I had shared with him, including my theory that Leah Casey, the victim’s wife, was somehow involved.
“Wow,” Sammy said. “You’re like a regular part of the police force now.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, and Mike definitely wouldn’t. I think it’s more that he was just glad that I had a little information he could use.”
“Mm-hmm, sure,” Sammy teased. “He’s going to call you up and hire you tomorrow. ‘Fran, I know you’re busy with the coffee shop and all, but we’ve had a rash of people waking up to their lawn ornaments being rearranged, and I need your expertise.’” Sammy lowered her voice and did her best impression of Mike’s gruff cop demeanor. It was terrible and hilarious.
“I can only hope Cape Bay’s crime goes back to just having that kind of stuff.”
“I know, right?” Something outside caught Sammy’s eye, and she reached around her back to untie her apron. “Still
okay if I head out?”
“Do you see any more customers than we had ten minutes ago?”
“Nope.” She pulled her apron over her head. “Are we still on for tonight? Drinks at Fiesta Mexicana?” She was headed for the back room, barely glancing at me as she spoke.
“Yeah, of course. Where are you going?”
“Home. I just—remembered I had something I had to do. I’ll see you tonight. Bye!” She grabbed her purse and disappeared out the back door so fast I barely understood what was going on.
Just as the back door closed, the front door opened. I put on a big smile to greet the customer and turned around, immediately realizing why Sammy had suddenly hurried out.
“Francesca!” Mrs. D’Angelo exclaimed. “Oh, Francesca, how are you?” Mrs. D’Angelo, as unfamiliar with boundaries as ever, came around the corner and enveloped me with her arms and her heavy floral perfume. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”
“Actually, Mrs. D’Angelo, I saw you just last week. Remember? You came in.” Mrs. D’Angelo’s visits were a predictable weekly occurrence. I tried to refresh her memory about her last visit, but for that to work, she’d have to stop talking long enough to hear what I was saying. With Mrs. D’Angelo, that was unlikely.
“You look tired! Are you sleeping well, dear? Of course not, how could you when there are bodies turning up all over town? It’s awful, just awful, isn’t it? And the last one so close to your shop! Just down the street! Why, it must be just terrible for business. Just look around! There’s no one here!”
“Well, it’s the off-season now, so things are a little slower. We had a good crowd a little while ago, though.” I knew it was useless to really get a word in, but I had to try. I couldn’t just stand there.
“Oh, dear, you know it will be all right. Antonia’s has been here for fifty years now—”
“It’s actually closer to seventy, Mrs. D’Angelo.”
“It’s weathered far worse storms than this, and I’d venture that it will weather plenty more. You have a good head on your shoulders, dear. Your mother and your grandparents raised you well! You will survive this!”
The bell rang, and a customer came in. I wanted to go to the register to help him, but Mrs. D’Angelo held me fast, her sharp red nails pressing into the flesh of my upper arms. I managed a glance over my shoulder and a weak smile before Mrs. D’Angelo pulled me into another hug.
“You will survive, Francesca!” She pushed me back at arm’s length, keeping her nails firmly implanted in my skin, and stared into my face. “I see your grandmother in you. You have her strength.” She nodded once then released me. I reflexively rubbed the sore spots on my upper arms. “Now, is Samantha here? I heard she and that boy she was with split up, and I wanted to give her some words of encouragement.”
I happened to know that Mrs. D’Angelo had already offered Sammy quite a few words of encouragement in the weeks since her breakup. “Oh, you just missed her. I’ll tell her you stopped by, though.”
“Please do, dear.” She glanced at the delicate gold watch on her slim wrist. “My heavens! I have to go. Now that the busy season is over, the Ladies’ Auxiliary is planning a trip up the coast to look for potential sister cities for Cape Bay, and I have to work out all the sleeping arrangements.”
“Aren’t sister cities usually overseas?” I went against my own better judgment by asking her a question when she was already halfway out the door.
“Yes, but we think it would be lovely to have some in New England so we can all be closer. Goodbye, dear! Remember, you will survive!” She breezed out the door, leaving only the scent of perfume in her wake.
Chapter 19
I finished my shift without too much trouble. People wandered in throughout the afternoon, enjoyed their drinks and snacks, then headed off to wherever they were going next. The after-school rush returned with the first day of school but was sort of the anti-rush. Kids as young as elementary schoolers stopped in on their walks home. They all took their time studying the menu, inevitably choosing something either frozen and fruity or chocolatey.
A few tried to show how mature they were and ordered coffee. I looked at them with my eyebrow raised and my finger poised over the buttons on the register until they, afraid the all-powerful grown-up would tell on them to their parents, corrected themselves and requested something more age appropriate. I didn’t bother telling them that I didn’t recognize most of them enough to know who their parents were. The silent threat was enough.
The teenagers who came through were less adorable. They ordered their complicated drinks with multiple additions and modifications in the most disaffected, blasé tones they could muster, desperately trying to show me and their friends how impossibly cool they were. I didn’t tell any of them that the harder they tried, the less cool they actually looked.
Becky came through with a group of her friends, greeted me with a bright smile, and ordered directly from the menu. Most of her friends ended up being friendlier than the vast majority of their peers.
The after-school rush bled into the dinner rush. Maybe twenty or thirty people stopped in, mostly single adults who wanted to pick up something quick and light for dinner on their way home from work. A few people stayed and ate at a table, some took their orders to go, and all of them were gone by closing time.
I straightened up the café, washed dishes, restocked the display cases, and made sure all the chairs were arranged properly at the tables. I wiped everything down and swept up so the café would be ready for Sammy the next morning. At the last second, I remembered I had promised to bring dinner to Matt. I grabbed a bag and slid a sandwich and salad inside. Then I put one of his favorite chocolate cupcakes in a to-go box and laid it carefully on top of the other food items.
It felt luxurious to lock up an hour early. It wasn’t even completely dark out when I turned the key in the door and left the café behind. Sammy and I had planned to meet a little later so I’d have time to change and take care of Latte. I had arranged to bring the dog to Matt before I headed out for the night so he wouldn’t be lonely. Latte, that was, not Matt. Although I supposed Matt probably appreciated the company as well.
Latte dashed out to greet me as soon as I opened the door. I bent down to scratch his ears and give him a good rub all over. He licked my face as though it had been more than a few hours since he’d last seen me. I rubbed his head one last time and stood up. He ran out into the yard then ran back inside, making a beeline straight for the kitchen. He stood politely next to his bowl, paw in the air, waiting for me to serve his dinner. I scooped the kibble then went upstairs to get dressed.
It took a few minutes of staring into my closet to figure out what I wanted to wear. So much of my wardrobe was black, a popular color from my New York City days, but tonight was supposed to be a fun night for Sammy, and I wanted to wear something a little brighter. I spotted a cornflower blue shirt that had been my mother’s and perfectly complemented my eyes. I pulled it on with my favorite jeans and checked out my reflection in the mirror. It was a good look, except for my hair, which I’d put back up in a chignon during the day. I let it down and shook it out around my shoulders. I ran my fingers through it a few times until it lay just right. I touched up my makeup until I was satisfied I looked girls’ night out-ready then went back downstairs.
I had a message on my cell phone from Sammy.
You almost ready?
I tapped out my reply quickly.
Just have to drop Latte off at Matt’s and then I’ll be on my way! Looking forward to it!
I slid my phone into my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I picked up Latte’s leash.
“Latte! Come here, boy!” I called, patting my leg. Latte came running, having heard the sounds he associated with going for a walk. “You’re going to Matty’s for a little while, okay, boy? You’ll have so much fun. Yes, you will! Yes, you will!”
I didn’t even bother putting the leash on him, just held it in my hand with Matt’s di
nner and opened the door. Latte ran out, and I locked the door behind us. Latte did a couple of laps around me, excited to be going somewhere, then fell obediently into place beside me.
I started across the Williamses’ lawn. Their house was dark. It wasn’t that late, so I wondered if they were out of town. They hadn’t mentioned anything, but I didn’t see them that often. The sun was all the way down, and it was completely dark. On our tree-lined street, the streetlights did nothing to illuminate the paths up to our houses. I walked through the grass toward Matt’s house more by memory than by anything I could see.
Now that the Casey case was all but solved and the likely murderer was long gone from Cape Bay, I didn’t have the slightest inkling of fear. I only felt excitement and anticipation for my night with Sammy. Even though we saw each other every day at work, we almost never got to spend time together in a strictly social setting. This night was special and would be fun. And it was just the two of us—no Dawn to turn our night in a direction we never expected—so it should be relaxing as well.
Just as I passed by the Williamses’ front door, something caught my eye at the side of their house—a movement, or a shadow the slightest bit darker than the air around it. I hesitated, straining my eyes to see what it was. Was it a tree in the distance? A shrub at the corner of the house? I tried to picture the Williamses’ landscaping, but I couldn’t remember if they had a tallish shrub anywhere. I stepped forward slowly, trying to chalk whatever it was up to my overactive imagination. And then it moved. Definitely. I was sure. The shadow moved out from the corner of the house. If it was a shrub, it was on wheels.
I stopped in my tracks. Latte stopped beside me. I didn’t take my eyes off the shadow, and I was certain Latte didn’t either. I heard none of his usual happy noises—his panting, the jingling of his collar, his feet tramping on the grass—but I knew he was there, which meant he was just as focused on the figure as I was.
