Small Town Spooky (Cozy Mystery Anthology)

by Anisa Claire West

  “Do you have something to hide?” I asked, immediately regretting the insinuating question.

  “I have nothing to hide,” Rolf said without blinking. “I just don’t want to be the police’s scapegoat. If they peg this as a murder, then it would be easy for them to make a tabloid story out of it and drag me in as the dysfunctional star.”

  “Huh?” I muttered, not understanding his train of thought.

  Smacking his hand against his forehead impatiently, he seethed, “The police play dirty sometimes, Charlotte. They just want their cases wrapped up and tied neatly with a bow. Sometimes they don’t care who takes the fall.”

  “So you’re afraid of a crooked cop blaming you for Neil’s death?”

  “Yes,” he gritted. “It would make a perfect tabloid headline. ‘Angry Chef Gives Food Critic His Final Review.’”

  “You have quite an overactive imagination,” I said seriously. Either that, or you have quite a guilty conscience and know it’s just a matter of time before you’re caught.

  “Just promise me you’re not going to say anything to that Detective Feldman guy. He seems like a shark. And I’m nobody’s shark bait.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so worried anyway. First of all, the death hasn’t been ruled a murder yet. And second of all, I was the one who made that stupid salad! If anything, I’m the one who could end up in hot water.” Distressed, I thought how my own tabloid headline might read: Wannabe Chef Mixes Deadly Dressing into Blood Red Salad.

  “That’s true,” Rolf said pensively, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him yet. “You could be in a lot of trouble, Charlotte.”

  Disgusted, I turned and walked away, jingling my car keys in Dottie’s direction as she quickly strode towards me. “Remember what I said, Charlotte! Remember what I said!” Rolf hollered as his voice echoed disturbingly on the wind.

  ***

  Back at my apartment, I fixed an impromptu dinner for Dottie and me. Boiling a pot of water, I poured in a box of fresh pasta and stirred some fragrant basil pesto sauce in a mixing bowl. I diced a pre-baked sweet potato and rolled the cubes through the pesto sauce to create a sweet and savory blend.

  Dottie emerged from the living room, sipping a glass of grape juice and murmuring, “Mmm, everything smells delicious! You should have no trouble getting a job as a chef if you make this meal for your audition.”

  “Thank you, Dottie,” I said proudly. The meal felt like even more of an accomplishment since I had whipped it up in my inadequate galley kitchen. The room was so tiny that it looked like it belonged in Barbie’s Dream House rather than a real woman’s home.

  “I have to start looking for a job too,” she sighed.

  Making a sour face, I argued, “No you don’t. Why don’t you just retire?”

  “And do what? Knit booties all day?”

  “You must have some other hobbies. Come on, Dottie, what do you like to do when you’re not working?”

  “That’s the problem. I’ve been working so long that I don’t even know how to fill the hours. But let’s not talk about me. We need to talk about this investigation,” Dottie swiftly redirected the conversation as I ladled the pasta into my economical but cute Corelle dishware.

  Sitting down across from each other at the kitchen table, we took a few forkfuls of food before tackling the sticky issue of the investigation. “Let’s just assume that Neil was murdered, even though we don’t know for sure yet. If he was murdered, I want to talk to everyone who was in that kitchen on Saturday,” I said, wiping my mouth with a paper napkin. “We’ve already talked to Baron and Rolf, but we haven’t heard a peep from Billy, Jed, or Miranda.”

  “But what would their motives be?” Dottie wondered aloud.

  “We can’t answer that yet. That’s why we need to take a ride to their houses after dinner,” I directed.

  “Drive to their houses? You mean just ambush them? But what will we even say?” Dottie seemed to think my idea was as absurd as a clown on a unicycle.

  “Let’s just go with it,” I said. “We’ll start with Miranda. I don’t think she had anything to do with the poisoning, but I feel like she might have witnessed something. She was acting very nervous before Billy fired her.”

  “Well that’s probably because she knew Billy was going to fire her! The girl was an appalling waitress. She couldn’t even get soft drink orders straight.”

  “I still want to talk to her, but you don’t have to come with me. It’s been a long day. You’re free to drive home if you’d like,” I suggested as Dottie shook her head vigorously.

  “Oh no, I’m coming with you!” Dottie said, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

  “Okay,” I grinned. “I remember Miranda said she lives in White Plains, so who knows? She could just be around the corner. I’m going to look her up on my phone. I think her last name is Decker.” I searched through a people database on my phone, disappointed that not one person with her name appeared in the results. “Her last name was Decker, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Hmm, well, maybe she’s not in here because she lives with her parents and hasn’t had her own address yet,” I guessed as I searched through my personal contacts. “I have her number in here, though, so I guess I’ll just give her a call.”

  “Put it on speaker phone!” Dottie urged as I obliged.

  A few rings and a sweet young voice chimed, “Hello?”

  “Hi Miranda, this is Charlotte from Baron’s Bistro.” I tried to make my tone casual.

  A hard silence followed my greeting. “Um, Charlotte? What’s up?”

  Faltering, I said, “Well, this is kind of weird, but I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Saturday. I know you weren’t there when it happened, but you know what I’m talking about, right?”

  “Yeah, I heard that some guy died in the restaurant. It must have happened right after Billy fired me.”

  “It did,” I confirmed. “Did you happen to see anything unusual going on in the kitchen before you left? Did anyone tamper with the salad I was making?”

  “No,” the girl said blankly. “I didn’t see anything, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too stressed trying to figure out my orders.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t notice anything out of place?” I pursued.

  “Sorry, but no. Why? Are they accusing you of poisoning the salad?” Miranda asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m afraid they will soon,” I said somberly. “Anyway, thanks. Take care.” I hung up the phone, feeling exasperated. Time was running out; if the autopsy was back, then the lab results that had tested the salad bowl for contaminants must not be too far behind. If those results came back positive, then my goose would be cooked like a British Christmas feast.

  “Well, that leaves Jed and Billy. And frankly dear, I don’t want to show up on either of those creeps’ doorsteps,” Dottie shivered.

  “I don’t either,” I admitted. “If Miranda didn’t see anything in the kitchen, then maybe there really wasn’t anything to see.” My heart stopped beating for an instant as a new idea struck me.

  Perceiving a shift in my demeanor, Dottie asked curiously, “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that maybe Neil O’Grady was poisoned before he came to our restaurant!”

  Chapter 9

  The revelation vibrated through me as I felt goose bumps inexplicably rise on my arms. In my gut, I felt strongly that I had taken a giant leap closer to the truth, but the details still needed untangling. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I had been so certain that the culprit was one of my colleagues that I never even entertained the possibility that the poisoning was something other than an inside job. But the trio of chemicals used in the poisoning really did seem too complex to stir up so quickly.

  “You mean the suicide theory? That Neil poisoned himself?” Dottie asked, clearly misunderstanding me.

  “No, I mean that someone else poisoned Neil! Someon
e in his family, maybe.” I reflected on how distraught his brother Gordon had seemed. Were those tears genuine or part of an elaborate cover up? “Besides, why would Neil poison himself and then go have dinner at a restaurant? Don’t you think that would be silly? When people commit suicide, they isolate themselves. The solitude is part of what makes them snap and feel helpless enough to take their own lives.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Dottie asserted.

  My phone rang as Dottie was still speaking, causing both of us to airlift out of our seats. Glancing at the name on the screen, I muttered, “Baron. Why on earth is he calling me?”

  “Pick it up, dear. It could be important.”

  “He’s not my boss anymore. He has no power over me,” I said stubbornly, although I relented and took the call. “Hello?” I said in the most confident, authoritative voice I could muster.

  “Charlotte, this is Baron. Sorry to bother you during dinner time, but I need you to come clean out your locker. You have some clothes and things in there, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I left some stuff in there. I didn’t even think about my locker. Can it wait?” I asked, perplexed.

  “Not really. I’m shutting the restaurant down permanently as of midnight tonight. So if you want your stuff, come get it. If you don’t care about your stuff, then I’ll throw it away.” The call disconnected as I stared at Dottie.

  “What was that all about? He wants you to clean out your locker?” Dottie asked as her cell phone rang. “Oh my, that must be Baron calling me now. Well, let it go to voicemail. I guess he’s calling to tell me the same thing,” Dottie said, flicking her eyes over the phone and then burying it in her handbag.

  “Baron says he’s shutting the place down at midnight. Permanently,” I informed.

  “What?!”

  “I know. It’s insane. He made such a fuss about having to shut down just for a few days or weeks and now he’s walking away from everything? It doesn’t make sense…unless the autopsy results have been updated and murder has been established as the cause of death,” I struggled to breathe as blood pumped rapidly through my veins.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Dottie said, indulging in one last bite of pasta before marching over to the door and waiting for me with squared shoulders.

  Feeling I had no choice in the matter, I joined her at the door as we slipped outside into a cool windy night.

  ***

  Lights shone brightly from the interior of Baron’s Bistro and the place appeared to be hopping with activity even though there was only one lone car in the parking lot. On a murky mission, Dottie and I strode towards the entrance and knocked on the door. Wearing his perma-sneer, Baron opened the door and gestured for us to hurry towards the lockers.

  “Quickly please, ladies. I have business to attend to before I can shut everything down,” Baron clipped.

  “Don’t you have a lease on this restaurant?” Dottie drawled, taking her sweet time.

  “Yes and leases were meant to be broken,” he replied curtly.

  “But you seemed so upset when Neil died here. You were so worried about it harming the business,” I pointed out frankly.

  “Things change. I’m getting older. I’ve been in this business long enough. It’s becoming too competitive, too much of dog eat dog. I’m ready to retire, maybe even go back to France,” Baron revealed candidly.

  “Retirement is for sissies,” Dottie said audaciously as Baron glowered at her. “I’m never going to retire.”

  “Your loss,” he said tersely. “Now please ladies, I didn’t invite you here to chat. Go clean out your lockers and take your belongings.”

  Rudely dismissed, Dottie and I flounced away from our former boss and simultaneously twisted open the combos on our lockers. “Let him go back to France!” I hissed angrily as Dottie nodded.

  “I’ll drive him to the airport!” She deadpanned as I laughed wickedly.

  Neither one of us had kept anything of value in the lockers, but there were a few outfits and personal items that we needed to collect. “I think we’re going to need bags for this stuff,” I commented, walking towards the kitchen.

  “Yes, I think I’ll need two plastic bags!” Dottie called after me as I pulled open a cupboard. “I have a lot of junk in here!”

  As I was yanking a handful of plastic bags out of the cupboard, a slip of paper shaped like a check caught my eye. Nosily, I crept over to the counter and saw that it was indeed a check. As I read the names on the check, I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from shrieking. On autopilot, I snatched up the check and slid it into my purse, rushing back to Dottie and shoving the plastic bags in her face.

  “Hurry! We need to get out of here!” I dumped my clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, and small selection of cosmetics into a plastic bag, hastily tying it into a knot.

  “I’m not rushing. I don’t care what Baron says…”

  “It’s not about Baron!” I said desperately. “I just found something,” I whispered. “I’ll show you when we’re back on the road, but not now. Come on!” Impatiently, I tossed Dottie’s junk into the plastic bags and grabbed her hand, hoping to make a slick getaway.

  “Bye Baron!” I chirped. “Good luck with your retirement.”

  “Thanks,” he said distractedly as he typed a message into his phone.

  As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I started running towards my car as Dottie tried to keep up with me. “Dear, what in the world did you find in there?”

  “Shhhhhh!” I hushed her, breathing unsteadily as I clamored into the car, waiting until she was safely inside and then locking all the doors.

  Looking behind me, afraid that Baron would realize his fatal mistake, I pounded the gas pedal and drove in the direction of the police station as Dottie regarded me through confused eyes. “Charlotte Hart, where are you taking me? And slow down! This isn’t the Autobahn,” Dottie scolded me like I was her misbehaving daughter.

  “Sorry, I’ll slow down,” I touched my foot to the brake, feeling safe now that I was off Baron’s territory.

  “Where are we going? And why?” Dottie needled.

  “We’re going to the police station because I just found a major clue in the kitchen!” Instinctively, I sped up the car again, sailing through a yellow light as Dottie swatted me on the shoulder. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “What did you find in the kitchen? You’re not going to keep me in suspense until we get to the police station!” Dottie crossed her arms obstinately over her chest and then immediately unfolded them, reaching for my purse and peering inside.

  “Go ahead, see for yourself. But be prepared for a shock,” I warned.

  Dottie’s sticky fingers rummaged through my purse until she found the stolen check. “This is a check! And it’s addressed to Baron! You could be arrested for stealing it!”

  “Baron can’t prove that I stole it unless he keeps a surveillance camera in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. Did you look at who wrote the check and what the amount is?” I asked meaningfully as Dottie reached into her own purse and retrieved a pair of gold rimmed reading glasses.

  Balancing the frames over her nose, she squinted and read, “Gordon O’Grady! Neil’s brother?! And the amount is…” Dottie paused breathlessly as I worried that she might pass out. “$50,000! I don’t believe it! This must mean that Gordon bribed Baron to kill his brother, but why?”

  “I think you’re staring at the answer, Dottie. Money. Neil was a rich man without any direct heirs. He was probably going to leave everything to Gordon and his nieces and nephews. But Gordon was greedy and didn’t want to wait for nature to take its course. He’s probably already got the mansion in Dobbs Ferry on the market!” I laid out my theories.

  “But I thought we decided that the poison was mixed before Neil arrived at the restaurant. How could that be possible if Baron is the murderer?” Dottie argued.

  “You’re right. I forgot about that little detail,” I took a moment and
contemplated another possibility. “Well, maybe Gordon is the murderer and he paid Baron to make it look like the murder occurred in his restaurant. If Neil had been poisoned in his own home or in Gordon’s home, then it would have been much too easy to figure out. But at the restaurant with so many employees who could have done it…” I trailed off to a faint whisper as a horrid realization came to me like a punch in the gut.

  Chapter 10

  “What’s wrong, dear? You look white as a ghost.”

  Shakily, I said, “Baron wanted me to make salads on Saturday. I was scheduled to be the hostess, but he stuffed me away in the kitchen and now I know why. I was supposed to be his fall guy! He purposely tried to make it look like I had poisoned the salad! He knew that the police would come after him because of his bad history with Neil. And Gordon knew it too. That’s why he chose Baron to team up with; he knew Baron still held a grudge against the food critic for that despicable review. So they just needed a third party to take the fall!”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that Baron was willing to let an innocent young woman go to prison for the rest of her life so that he could get away with conspiracy for murder?” Dottie summed it up with a stricken look on her face. After all her years of experience with the good, the bad, and the ugly of humanity, sweet Dottie couldn’t believe that anyone could be that ugly.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. There’s no other explanation. I’ve figured it out.” Pride laced my voice as I parked outside the police station and willed my body to stop trembling. “Come on, let’s hope Detective Feldman is on duty tonight. We have quite a story to tell.”

  “Wait a second! Charlotte, wait!” Dottie pleaded, gazing into my eyes with raw fear. “If you’re right about Baron’s plot, then maybe some poison was in the salad after all! You could be walking straight into a trap! If those lab results have come back and the bowl tested positive for any of those toxins, then you could be arrested!”

  Terrified, I merely nodded and walked woodenly back to the car. A battle waged inside of me as I knew the truth and needed to convey it to the authorities so they could arrest the right people. At the same time, I couldn’t risk losing my freedom. Before I had a chance to decide which path to take, a strutting Detective Feldman approached us.