“Ma’am, do you need help with something?” Eddie’s colleague asked me.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I replied.
“Detective Garcia, he ran like the hounds of hot fury were snapping at his booty. You can’t tell me that that’s innocent behavior,” I said, shifting back and forth, but unable to get comfortable in the front seat of the Beetle.
We were outside the air-conditioning company’s HQ.
“There’s nothing connecting Mr. Martinez to the crime,” Detective Garcia said, and his voice was thick with annoyance at having to repeat himself. “Ma’am, I’ve already told you you’re not to interfere.”
“I’m not interfering. I’m a concerned citizen,” I said, while Didi nodded her agreement from the passenger seat. “I arrived at this place to speak to someone about my air-con, for heaven’s sake, and he happened to be here. The minute I said his name, he took off like he’d seen a ghost.” Trisha’s ghost, to be exact.
“I appreciate you letting me know, but there must be another reason for it. Eddie is fine, not that I need to tell you that,” Garcia replied. “Leave the investigation to the professionals, Miss Charles, before you wind up getting in trouble you don’t need.” He hung up on me.
I gritted my teeth out of sheer frustration. “This is stupid. Eddie’s gone running off into the distance and the detective thinks he’s fine.”
“Maybe he has some other evidence that proves he’s clean.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, trying to take a more measured view. But my emotions kept interfering. Eddie seemed like such an obvious suspect. Did he have an alibi? If only Garcia would tell me anything other than to stay out of it.
You’re not entitled to information.
“Let’s go back to Parfait,” I sighed. “I’d like to grab lunch at that seafood place again. It was great.”
“Perfect!” Didi said, putting up a smile.
30
The Hungry Alligator was as aesthetically pleasing as I remembered it. We grabbed a table out on the terrace with a view of the ocean and beach. Kids ran around on the sand or splashed in the waves, while a wary lifeguard kept watch. Noise enveloped us, the tables at the joint filling up fast as the tempting scents of seafood, burgers, and steaks drifted down the beachfront street.
My stomach growled and my mind did along with it, though they were for different reasons.
No matter how suspicious Eddie was, I couldn’t prove he’d done anything wrong. And I had no idea where he stayed. The only information I had was that he worked at the company we used at the café. Short of asking for him to be the one who repaired the air-con, there wasn’t much I could do to get hold of him.
Ooh, I could case out the company. Stay there all day.
Nothing sounded less appealing.
“Everything looks so good,” Didi said, studying the menu. “I want shrimp. Oh no, wait, the All You Can Eat Crab Legs look amazing. They have a loaded potato with crispy bacon bits too.”
I turned my attention to the menu too. “Oof, that potato is right up my street. And curly fries. And a steak.”
The server arrived, and we gave our orders, my mouth watering at the thought of all the good food to come. Maybe that was my problem—I was hungry and angry all wrapped into one. I’d skipped breakfast this morning because I’d wanted to get down to the café to interview the potential chef.
I drank my milkshake—strawberry was my favorite flavor—and enjoyed the soft breeze, the sunshine, and the view. I could see why my aunt loved living here. It was like being on vacation all-year-round.
“Hey, there’s Nick,” Didi said.
I caught sight of the ex-chef heading for a table near ours. He sat down on the bench seat and another guy, this one short, with horn-rimmed glasses and a bit of a belly, sat opposite him. It was Tom.
My heart dipped. “Oh, he must be having a lunch meeting. Jasmine mentioned that Nick was super busy organizing everything for his new endeavor.”
“Which endeavor?”
“He’s going to become an influencer,” I replied. “Like a celebrity chef, I guess. Maybe Tom is going to help him out or give him some advice.”
“I don’t think Tom will have great advice about being a social media influencer,” Didi replied, dipping her straw in and out of her soda. “He’s not exactly great with that kind of thing.”
“I should apologize,” I said. “In person. I should—probably not interrupt them, right?”
“I think you can go over,” Didi said. “I could be wrong, but it doesn’t look like they’re speaking seriously. See? They’re laughing.”
And the server had just arrived at their table. If there’d ever be a time to interrupt, it was now. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I whispered, and got up. My nerves built with every step, but I finally stopped next to Nick’s table, plucking up my courage.
The ex-chef met my gaze. “Oh, hello, Sunny.”
“Sunny!” Tom stuck out a hand, and we shook on it. “Been a while since you’ve run me over.”
“Run you over?” Nick asked, quizzically.
“Our little inside joke,” Tom replied, waving a hand. “Sunny’s made quite a splash since she arrived in town. A pity the café has closed down.”
“We haven’t closed down,” I said, quickly. “We’re just, uh, looking for a new chef. That’s all.” It was awkward saying that in front of Nick.
“How long’s it been since you’ve been open?” Tom asked. “A week?”
“Just about.”
Tom wriggled his lips from one side to the other but didn’t make further comment. The implication was clear, though. We were technically closed, but I wouldn’t allow that to become a permanent thing.
“Nick,” I said. “I just, uh, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“You’re talking to me right now,” he said, smiling, but his eyes colder than they usually were. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have been too happy if he’d accused me of being a murderer.
“Right. Well, look, I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way things turned out, and what I said.”
Tom listened with interest.
“I was wrong, and it was wrong of me to behave that way,” I said, then flapped my hands. “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”
“I appreciate that,” Nick replied. “And I accept the apology.” He looked down at his lap, then up at me again. “But I’m on a different course now. Jasmine’s been very encouraging about me becoming an influencer, and I want to do what’s right for our family.”
Disappointment descended over me, but what had I expected? Nick to just drop his plans and come back to the Sunny Side Up?
“I understand,” I said. “Have a good meal.” I returned to my seat and Didi raised an eyebrow, hope blossoming on her face. I shook my head, and she sank back again.
“Oh well,” she said. “It was worth a shot, right?”
31
One week later…
“You can’t be serious,” I said, holding the phone’s receiver to my ear in the café’s back office. Blood rushed to my cheeks and my breath hitched in my chest. “Look, I can open up again within the next few weeks, I have to find another chef.”
“You’ve had several weeks,” my aunt’s accountant said. “Here’s the thing, Sunny, the numbers don’t lie. You can’t afford to keep the place open without a chef, and even if you opened tomorrow and somehow drew in more customers, it wouldn’t work. Your aunt pays a lot of rent for that spot, and if you can’t afford to pay that rent…”
“This isn’t happening,” I said. “I’ve done everything I can. Surely, there’s money in the café’s business account that can pay for at least a few more months?”
“A few more months of being closed?”
“No, I’ll work something out. I’ll—”
“You need to get our aunt on the phone and discuss your options with her. She’s already put forward rent for the next couple months, but without a chef, you’ll be runnin
g at a loss, and no profit will eventually bleed the account dry. I can’t consciously recommend you continue what you’re doing when I know it will end badly.”
“Mr. Schwartz,” I said. “I’m doing my best.”
“Your best isn’t good enough. Sorry to put it like that, but I come from the school of tough love. You need to tell your aunt what’s going on. Today.”
My bottom lip trembled, and I held back tears. “Fine,” I said. “I will.”
“Sorry, Miss Charles. Take care.”
I set the receiver in its cradle, my throat closing.
You will not cry! You will not.
My aunt had trusted me to keep things afloat while she was gone, and I had failed miserably. But how was I meant to predict the murder? And losing the chef? OK, the latter had been my fault.
I hung my head, allowing a few of the self-pitying tears to dribble out and drop onto the desk. I swiped them away, then brought a tissue out of my purse and cleaned my face.
The accountant was right. I had to own up to my mistakes and call Aunt Rita about the café.
It hurt, especially after everything Damon had said about me. That I would never have made it in business, anyway. That I didn’t have the people skills to be an entrepreneur. That women like me, and women in general, had their place, and it wasn’t rubbing shoulders with people who made money.
The comments had been made in passing and had sounded less harsh. Just little barbs or remarks I’d figured were said in jest. They had eaten away at me over time, chipping at my confidence.
But his comments had no bearing on my failure now.
I picked up the phone and dialed my aunt’s number.
It rang twice, and she answered. “Hello, Sunny, darling. How are things?”
I swallowed twice, rapidly. “They’re not so good, auntie.”
“Oh no, why not?” The sounds of fun and music cut off as my aunt closed a door, sequestering herself in some secret place aboard the cruise ship.
“Because I… I had to close the café.”
“You what?”
“I had to close the café.” And I broke into the full explanation of what had happened with Nick and how I hadn’t been able to find a chef. “And I spoke to your accountant, and he told me we need to close, unless you can come back and get things under control.”
Aunt Rita was quiet on the other end of the line.
“Auntie?”
“I’m here,” she said, her voice tired.
I was transported back to being a little girl again, and how she’d sounded when I’d gotten in trouble for fighting in school. The first time she’d been disappointed with me, and had gotten down on one knee, looked me in the eye, and told me I had a responsibility to try harder, be better, treat other human beings nicer.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Will you come back and help me, please?” The failure sat on my chest like a boulder.
“Yes, I’ll have to, won’t I?” Aunt Rita’s tone was brisk. “I was hoping to spend a little more time on the cruise liner. The girls and I had spoken about purchasing tickets once we put into port this Friday, going back out again. But so be it. I’ll come back and speak to Nick. Work things out.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry about this. I really tried.”
“Yes, Sunny, I know. I’ll see you on Friday. You’ll need to pick me up from port. Can you make it down there in the Beetle?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“See you then, darling.”
I dropped my phone back into my purse, tears welling again. “Oh, stop it,” I said, and blinked. “Stop. You were the one who did this. It’s your fault. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself over it.”
But the emotion wouldn’t leave me, no matter how hard I tried to dismiss it. I had messed everything up. This was a fresh start. My new life. Instead, I’d fallen into old destructive patterns.
I’d railed against trusting Nick. I’d been unsure about running the café and hadn’t bothered to do my research or to reach out to customers and be the best I could be, all because of fear.
And where had it landed me? Realizing my worst nightmare.
I buried my head in my hands and allowed myself a good old-fashioned cry. After, I straightened my spine, cleaned my face, and got up. The only thing I could do now was try to work all of this out before Friday.
I wasn’t the one who’d wanted to give up—Mr. Schwarz had simply advised it from a financial perspective—which meant there was still hope that I could convince Nick to come back, and that I could clear both my name and his and renew interest in the café.
I had five days. Five days to solve a murder that a much more experienced detective hadn’t solved after nearly a month.
What did I have to lose?
32
Later that evening…
“Here Bodger,” I called, and put down the bowl of kitty food next to the fridge. He meowed and streaked into the kitchen, not hissing at me this time.
It was a minor victory and I’d take it. Bodger had grown used to my presence. I didn’t sleep with my door unlocked, but it was one good thing that had come out of my time in Parfait. That and my friendship with Didi.
“Is that good?” I asked.
The kitty chomped down on his food and flicked his black tail at me.
“Right. Now, it’s my turn.” I had little to do except wait for Aunt Rita’s return and go over everything I knew about the case so far. That meant a night in with a pizza, some soda, and a notepad listing all my suspects and current information.
It would have to work because if I didn’t figure out something soon… Never mind, I already knew the stakes.
I popped the lid on the pizza box and released the scents of cheesy deliciousness from within. I’d gone for a seafood pizza, and the top was festooned with mussels out of the shell, shrimp, calamari, and bits of lobster. A garlic sauce accompanied the pizza, and I popped the lid on it and sluiced it over the top of the pie.
“There,” I said. “That’s completely fattening and over the top, but it’s perfect.”
Another meow from Bodger.
I tugged a cheesy slice from the box and placed it on a plate next to my notepad, then popped the tab on my soda can.
“Here we go.” I studied my notepad and the information I had so far, while helping myself to the slice, my tastebuds going wild from the explosive flavors.
Case Number 1
The Case of the Dead Food Vlogger.
Victim Name: Trisha Williams
Occupation: Food Vlogger
Age: College-aged. Approximately 21-years-old.
Time of death: 10:15am (ish)
Cause of death: Suspected poisoning (no other information about what the poison was, though)
Suspect list…
Nick Talbott—Chef at the Sunny Side Up Café. Major suspect in Detective Garcia’s eyes. He had access to the kitchen at the time of the murder and just before it. But went to the bathroom, and I was alone in the kitchen while he was gone.
Might have had motive because he’s now becoming an influencer. That or he was afraid of losing his job because Trisha left a critical review of the Sunny Side Up. But, why quit if he was afraid of losing his job?
Me—Alone in the kitchen for a short while. Obviously not the killer. Saw nothing unusual when I was in the kitchen.
Frances Grace—Was seen fighting with the victim on the morning of the murder. Openly despised her and still has nothing good to say about her. Her son was fired as Trisha’s assistant and was secretly having a relationship with Trisha. Did Frances find out about the relationship and get angry about it? Motive could be revenge? Or being protective of her son?
Claimed that her son hadn’t contacted her in ages, but his boots were by the door. Why lie if she’s not doing something suspicious? Or trying to hide something?
Everyone says Frances is mean, but she’s only ever been nice to me. Strange.
Michael Grace—Son
of Frances. He worked as Trisha’s assistant and was also her secret boyfriend. Seems as if they left things on bad terms. Michael believed Trisha wasn’t giving him enough attention. Appeared they fought often. Left Nick a note that was supposedly about the weekend, but could it have been about something else?
Motive to kill Trisha would have been jealousy or even revenge because of the messy end of their relationship and him being fired as her assistant.
Bebe Rae—Trisha’s newest assistant. The minute Trisha passed, she started her own vlogging endeavor. Also, she mentioned that she didn't have any problems working for Trisha, but Michael said otherwise: that she had argued frequently with her new boss, or so he had heard. Bebe was seen talking to Tom Miller, a food critic. But there doesn’t seem to be too much of a connection there? They’re all in the same industry.
Bebe was in the café, seated next to Trisha at the time of her death, so she had easy access to the victim, and, possibly, the kitchen when no one was looking.
Eddie Martinez—Trisha’s stalker ex, according to Bebe and to the texts on Michael’s phone. He ran the minute I mentioned her name and lives the town over. Might’ve been around the café at the time of the murder—Nick described someone who looked like Eddie being in the area then. But was it him?
Detective Garcia was set on not arresting Eddie but wouldn’t tell me why. Must have an alibi, but he’s so suspicious!
Tom Miller—Local food critic who I almost ran over with my car. Eek. He was seen speaking to Bebe and, more recently, to Nick. He might’ve had something to do with it if they were trying to get rid of competition? Maybe Bebe wanted Trisha out of the way so she could be an influence and Tom is involved in that? Tenuous connection.
Was outside the café after the murder, hoping to go in and eat. Have little by way of motive? Might have been business-related if he did it.
Mildred Shaw—Lady who works next door to the café in the animal shelter. Rumors from Frances that she had somehow spread rabies? Irrelevant, in my opinion. But she’s low on funds and is struggling to make ends meet. Someone stealing from her. She had access to the café by being right next door to it, but no motive?
Murder Over Easy (A Sunny Side Up Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 13
