by Pam Moll
“I don’t think for one minute that you are.”
“Then why ask around town about me?”
He looked surprised. “I get it. A small community, everyone knows everyone’s business. We’re eliminating everyone. And you have to admit, you found the body, you grow mint, Granny’s cane marks—or someone’s cane marks—in the sand … and there’s more that points to this café, at least. And more specifically, you and …,” he paused, “… and Snickers.”
“Snickers? Surely you can’t think because me and my dog found the body …”
“… and Erica.”
“Okay I give you that, but come on, me?” I looked at Snickers sunning on the porch. “Us?”
He nodded.
Aurora returned and placed a latte in front of him, and a plate of pastries between us. I noticed the fresh pink frosted cupcakes and thought about my stop later tonight.
When Aurora left the book nook, I asked Drew, “Who else do you have?”
Lucky shrugged. “We had been looking at his on-again-off-again girlfriend.”
My heart thudded. Did he mean Erica? I nodded like I knew who he was talking about. I had a good idea anyway. At least he was talking to other suspects.
“My barista?” I asked.
Lucky didn’t say anything, so I figured it was her he was talking about. I waited, hoping I could outlast him. I did.
He took a sip of his latte. “Some of your customers saw them arguing the day before his body was found.”
So, they already knew about the argument. But they didn’t know about Jim and Erica’s marriage? But wouldn’t she now be ruled out? I did know that neither Jim or Erica had mint gardens at their houses.
I nibbled on a blueberry muffin. It was late, and I felt a huge relief not to be going to the station. But that relief only lasted a few minutes, until I saw Detective Lacey and her partner show up.
Lacey had that look in her eye. It was the same one she had at Erica’s house.
Drew and I discussed Erica’s prognosis, while Detective Lacey placed her coffee order. Her partner had gotten a call and stepped outside to take it.
“Thank goodness, she’ll be okay,” I said to Drew at Erica’s update. “When can I see her?”
“She’s having memory problems right now. She can’t even remember who hit her or where she was at the time of the injury, and all.”
“Poor girl,” I nodded.
“Well, well, here we are again,” Lacey said, walking up to me and Drew. “We’re here on police matters, if you’re willing to talk here.” She pointed at an empty seat. “You’ve already been to the police station once in the past few days. You don’t really want to make a second trip, do you?”
I shook my head and took my eyes away from her to Drew, and back at her. “Sure. Pull up a chair. I see no harm in speaking here.” I felt relieved. How serious could it be if they wanted to chat here versus an interrogation room. Unless I was being the fool. Did this mean I was giving information freely without a lawyer? Maybe it would feel good to clear the air. And my employees and customers could see I was cooperating with the police, even collaborating with them.
It was evident after a few minutes, I was being a fool.
“Tell me again,” Detective Lacey said. “You were checking on Erica because she missed work? And because she had an argument with the dead guy? What did they discuss?” She couldn’t hold back her sneer.
“Yes, as I said for the third time, I was worried about her. Did you check her house? Did she have a garden?”
“I’ll ask the questions here.”
“I already explained that I didn’t know what she had argued with Jim over. I went to her house because I was worried about her. Do you have her cell phone, and did you check it? You can see my worried text and voice messages.”
“I’m not going to mention it again. We’ll ask the questions.” Detective Lacey rolled her eyes.
“Oh, sorry.”
We went around and around with the same questions and my same answers.
Each time I told my story, I remembered new pieces of information. I recalled the coffee pot had been left on. I remembered the texts I had sent her.
I had been told that when a suspect—was I a suspect? — was telling their alibi, they didn’t tell the exact same story each time. If the person is telling the truth, it would be the same answer, but with additional information recalled as the story was repeated. This was the case of my responses today. I kept with the truth. I had been there to check on Erica. The fact that I wanted to see if she had a mint garden or a wheelbarrow in her garage, I had omitted from this conversation.
It did feel good to clear the air. I discussed everything. Well almost everything. I ignored the voice of common sense that should have prompted me to confide in Deputy Drew a day ago. I told them about Erica and Jim’s marriage, and how she wanted a divorce. I told them about the Mayor’s son and the fisherman that were upset over the contest money. And the allegations of Jim cheating to win. I didn’t tell them I had already spoken to the Mayor’s son and that he had a solid alibi. I’d let them chase that.
I even told them about the surveillance tapes from the bridge, which they already knew about.
“So you knew what vehicles were on and off the bridge between those hours before the bridge got stuck in the up position?” Detective Lacey asked again.
“Yes, like I said, I have a friend who let me look at the tapes.” I wasn’t going to let them know Aurora had led me to the drawbridge operator.
“Well, then you wouldn’t mind coming to the station to look at the tapes with us and help identify the vehicles you know?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
Detective Lacey stopped and read through notes in a small ratty spiral pad. “Didn’t you dislike Jim?” Detective Lacey threw at me.
“Who said that?” I had no idea who would have said that. “I really didn’t know him.”
“Can you just answer the question? I understand that after Jim spoke with Erica, you banned him from the café?”
I nodded. I had told my employees that he wasn’t allowed inside the café. But who would have told the police that?
“Why was that? Just because he had words with Erica?” Her eyes narrowed at me.
Drew turned away.
“Jim’s a man of many words, most of them containing four letters. And since he always found it difficult to omit the colorful language, I had to ban him from entering the café. His buddies can come in and buy his coffee, but he needs to drink it outside.”
“And he never approached you about this?”
“No. I just suggested it the other day. I hadn’t seen him since. I never got the opportunity to tell him because, well then, he showed up, um, on the beach.”
“Isn’t it true you left Erica off the schedule this week, before she was injured?”
“Yes. But that’s because she hadn’t called in.” How had she reviewed my baristas work schedule?
Detective Lacey leaned forward, one elbow resting on the table, her face inches from mine, “We’re getting a warrant to search the café and your apartment.”
“What?” My chest tightened and my palms became sweaty.
“We found a napkin on Jim’s body.” She stopped for effect. Before Detective Lacey could pick up one of our white napkins stamped with our brown logo, I knew what she was going to say. “It was your napkin.”
I gulped in air, but it didn’t seem to reach my lungs.
Drew handed me a glass of water. I waved it away. “But his body was found outside Addicted to the Bean, and that napkin could have blown there from anyone leaving our café.”
“No, I said it was your napkin,” Detective Lacey said. “And it was stuck to a Velcro strap on his fishing vest. Forensics thinks it adhered there while the victim was moved to the beach.”
The air in the café felt stifling as I tried to digest her words. Why would my café napkin make me a suspect?
“The contents
of the napkin had coffee stains on it.” Detective Lacey pointed to the napkin sitting under my coffee cup.
“So? That could be from anyone that comes in here.”
“The coffee stains had been analyzed.”
“And?”
“And, it was yours. Can you tell me how that got on the body?”
“That’s ridiculous. What do you mean mine? How can you tell it was mine?”
She pointed a finger at my cup of coffee. “Coffee with low-fat milk, sweetener and cinnamon, right?”
I nodded, shooting a glance at Drew. The look on Drew’s face made my hair stand on end.
“A perfect match to the stains all over the napkin,” Detective Lacey said.
The room spun. Where did they get this information? I looked at Drew again. Had he told her how I took my coffee? Was our date at the Bridgeport Falls Brew house only a set up?
Here I was analyzing my customers by the kind of coffee they drank. But the cops were doing one better. They were analyzing the kind of coffee I drank to pin a murder on me!
“But, but, anyone can take their coffee that way,” even as I said the words it sounded shallow.
“I understand that. But when you combine that with the other stains on the napkin, it really narrows it down.”
“Other stains?”
“The other stains we retrieved from the napkin were a perfect match to Snickers’ slobber.”
Was that a smirk she hid behind her coffee cup?
A small breath escaped my lips. My fingers felt cold against my cheeks and the room was spinning. “But, that can’t be …”
Before I could utter another word, the café door jingled. An older, large man with gray hair in a white shirt, red and blue striped tie and black suit pants entered. He walked over to our table and said, “This conversation is over.”
“And you are?” Detective Lacey asked.
“I’m Duncan Clawson, Miss Brewster’s lawyer.” He produced a card and handed it to Lacey.
Lacey shrugged. “Just so you know, we’ve applied for a warrant to search your client’s business and home,” she said as she stood up.
Mr Duncan Clawson shrugged his meaty shoulders.
I exhaled with relief. I honestly didn’t know the man in front of me, but I knew Aunt Tammera had gotten Granny’s message.
Detective Lacey and her crew turned to walk out. Drew avoided my eyes.
Lacey turned toward me and said, “Don’t leave town.”
Duncan Clawson showed her his best smile.
Caffeine made me do it.
~ Anonymous
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I stood on the café porch and watched Deputy Drew Powell drive away, wondering if this would be the end of our budding relationship. Of course, it would. He was an officer of the law and I was a possible murder suspect.
Back in the café, my employees gawked at me.
“Well, that was interesting,” Aurora said, breaking the ice.
“Thank you, Mr. Clawson,” I said to Duncan. “Orange isn’t my best color.”
“Call me DC. And don’t you worry, you’ll never see the inside of a cell,” he said.
“Did Aunt Tammera send for you?” I asked.
Granny gathered closer. I noticed she had on her shawl, and that indicated she was ready to leave.
“No, who’s that?” DC answered.
“Who called you?” I was puzzled how DC knew the cops were here talking to me.
“I got a call from my brother, Mayor Clawson,” he grinned.
“Of course, now I recognized your name. You two are brothers? But how’d the mayor know?” I could see DC’s resemblance to our town mayor.
“He said someone at the Palma County Sheriff’s Department told him about your so-called meeting here tonight, and that you might need a lawyer.” DC took a sip of the Bay Isle’s House Blend coffee Aurora had prepared for him.
“Well, who could that be?” I said out loud, but I knew it could only have been one person: Deputy Drew. I smiled. Maybe there was hope in our relationship after all.
“Maybe you need to get friendlier with the handsome Deputy Lucky and find out who he has on his suspect list. Besides you, I mean.” Aurora smiled.
I felt my stomach clench when I realized I was still the main suspect. I wondered if the deputies knew that one of the Doughty cousins had a crush on Erica? That could have placed them on the suspect list for Jim’s murder as a jealous lover, but that didn’t explain Erica’s injuries. Aurora was right, I’d have to work faster to clear myself before their list of suspects whittled down to just one suspect – me!
Aurora mistook my silence as I was lost in thoughts. “Sorry, I was only teasing,” she said, touching my arm lightly.
I nodded. My friends were there to help me, and this was no time to feel sorry for myself.
“I’ll need to meet with you tomorrow,” DC said. “And think of who would set you up with this evidence they have against you and Snickers.” DC stared over the top of his cup while we all stood around the front counter.
“Set me up?” It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment.
Aurora and Granny leaned in.
Bales called Snickers inside and shut the door, and then flipped the sign to closed. It wasn’t quitting time, but I had agreed to close early tonight. We were all exhausted from the excitement of the news of Erica’s attempted murder. The extended stay of the police cars out front had caused the Bay Isle residents to gather and gawk.
“Yes, dear,” Granny said. “Don’t you see it? Someone has made sure you are the main suspect. The mint, the napkin with your coffee ingredients, Snickers’ saliva, and even where the body was dumped behind your apartment and the café.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why would someone want to frame me?”
“Because the real murderer wants you to take the fall,” Aurora said.
“Listen to us, sweetie,” Bales put her hand on mine. “You need to be careful. There’s a dangerous murderer out there running loose. He’s killed one person and attempted to kill another.”
“She’s right,” DC said. “You need to watch your back.”
“The police have to see it’s a setup, don’t they? What motive could I have? And how would I have gotten poison?”
“Your grandmother was a nurse,” DC said.
“A hundred years ago,” I replied. “No offense, Granny.”
“None taken, my dear. Come stay with me and Henrietta tonight and get some rest. And stop trying to figure this out. We can meet tomorrow and discuss our lists of possible suspects and then you can meet with DC.”
Everyone said their goodbyes and there were hugs all around, except for jolly DC. He took a bag of pastries and snuck out the back door to avoid some gawkers who still lingered outside.
Aurora had been perched on a stool. She jumped down and mentioned to me to follow her to the back office.
“I have something for you,” Aurora said. She reached in her purse and pulled out a silver and green flash drive. “Here,” she said, holding it out.
“What’s this?”
“I asked Tony the Ten-Cent bridge tender keeper if I could have a look at the camera shots from that night.”
“And he let you take copies of the photos?”
“He conveniently went to make a cup of coffee while I looked at the photos and copied them.”
“I love you,” I said, jumping up and planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Wait until you see the photos first from that night before you profess your love for me.”
“What? Are they useable?”
“Maybe a few, but for the most part the photos are blurry.”
The suspense was killing me, and if I had time I would have looked myself. “Did any stand out?”
She thought for a moment. “From the looks of the photos, there were a lot of black and white cars that drove on and off the island that night.” She grinned.
“The photos are black and white?” I was disap
pointed.
“Yes. But the black cars are distinguishable from other colors even through the grainy exposures. More than half were black cars.”
Everyone I knew had a black car. I often drove Grandpa’s black Saab. Aurora had a black Mazda. Erica drove a black Honda Civic. And Jet, Granny’s gardener drove a black SUV. I’d even seen Detective Lacey driving a black mid-sized SUV the morning I discovered Jim’s body.
I hated to admit it but the photos on the bridge that night may not give us any clues. And besides the bridge access, I still had boats to consider. But without a dock on the bay side of the beach, and the low tides it would have taken a paddle board or canoe-type water vessel to carry a body to the beach.
“There was one truck that I saw twice. Both coming to and leaving Bay Isles over the bridge.”
“Truck? Like a pickup truck?”
“No. It was a delivery truck.”
“Delivery?”
“Yup. The Doughy Delight delivery truck. I recognized their logo even though the photos were blurry.”
I rubbed my chin. I thought about Felix’s commented about Erica that morning.
“What are you thinking?” Aurora asked.
“I’m thinking if any delivery truck had the right to cross over the bridge it would be theirs. The Doughty cousins live here on Bay Isles and their pastry shop is in Bridgeport.” Plus, they made early morning deliveries around Bay Isles. My search for alternative suspects was leading nowhere fast. “Do you recall ever seeing Erica with Felix or Jack?”
“No. Other than hanging out at Smuggs.”
“Smuggs?”
“The after-hour dive bar. Smuggs as it’s known to the locals, but its full name is Smugglers Tavern. Rumor has it that Smuggs was named after the smugglers that were shipwrecked on the island.”
“I get it. The smugglers were stranded here, so they opened a bar and sold legitimate liquor where people with parrot tattoos could drink and eat pizza.”
Aurora smiled. “Something like that. It does attract the younger population. They serve low priced drinks and stay open until early morning hours. It hits the bifecta for criteria for the younger crowd at bars in Bay Isles.”
“I’m pretty sure bifecta isn’t a word.”
