And she did.
Kate fell into deep concentration, laying down tiles and carving putty between the cracks. But when she reached the far edge of the compacted dirt an hour later, she noticed that the soil looked loose.
She pressed her fingertips into it, realizing the loose soil was a circular area about eight inches in diameter. She hadn’t noticed it before, but then again she hadn’t scrutinized the edge of the area over here. However, it wouldn’t do. If the soil wasn’t compacted enough, then the tile over it was at risk for cracking if someone stood on it, so she grabbed her trowel and began pressing the dirt down, adding putty as she went, until the area was just as firm as the rest. As soon as it was, she laid down a tile and continued on, as the sun set on the horizon.
She was two tiles away from finishing, when her cell phone vibrated in her overalls. It was Scott, so she quickly answered the call.
“What’s up?”
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he began. His tone was solemn, and it sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.
“Becky?”
“No,” he said quickly to put her mind at ease. “Carly.”
Stunned to hear her friend’s name, she asked, “What about Carly?”
“She lied. She didn’t go to Daisy’s Luncheonette that morning to pick up pancakes. There was no pancake order.”
“Scott, she didn’t do it. You can’t arrest her,” she warned.
“I don’t have enough to arrest her and I don’t know that I will. But she lied. And I take lying as a sign of guilt.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take her in for questioning. I’m telling you this so you don’t find out from her and go off half-cocked.”
Stoically, Kate listened to what he had to say, but in the back of her mind, she had no intention of minding her own business when it came to Carly. Quite the opposite in fact.
Chapter Four
Immediately after leaving Meredith Joste’s house, Kate drove into the center of town where Daisy’s Luncheonette was aglow. Night had fallen, but it wasn’t late by the time she stepped inside the diner and had a quick look around. There were a fair amount of customers, but the restaurant wasn’t crowded. Daisy’s Luncheonette was still very much considered a breakfast and lunch place, and though everyone in town knew Daisy had opened her doors for dinner service a few months back, few of them had caught on.
She saw Celia and Alex Demblowski, one of Rock Ridge’s reporters, who had moved to town a few years back and got swept into a whirlwind affair with the town gossip around the same time her husband, Ken Johnson, was murdered. Celia waved at her and Kate did the same before noting who else was in the diner. Hazel Millhouse was seated with her book club in the far corner, Marla Zook and her two teenaged daughters were in throws of some kind of hormone-induced argument near the windows, and Detectives Garrison and Masey were hunched over their dinner plates at the bar.
If Scott was planning on interrogating Carly simply because she’d said she’d ordered pancakes, then Kate needed to find out for herself whether or not her friend had lied. Kate knew that in Scott’s line of work, a single lie could unravel a whole new story, but in Carly’s case, she doubted it would turn into such a thing. Maybe Carly had been mistaken. Maybe she had told the truth, but Scott spoke with the wrong person at the restaurant, who knew? All Kate wanted was to give Scott a reason to spare Carly a nerve-wracking interview. Her friend had been high strung enough.
She made her way through the diner and rounded the far side of the bar where the hostess and waitresses often gathered, waiting for the hot plates that the cooks made in the back. She didn’t notice Daisy around, which made sense. As the owner, Daisy had the luxury of working normal hours and leaving the manager, Blair Courser in charge of the night service.
Kate didn’t know Blair behind his face and name, but she greeted him in a friendly manner anyway.
“Did you need a table?” he asked then glared at the hostess, who looked young enough to still be in high school. “Please stay at the hostess stand, Emily.”
The young woman rushed off, as Kate said, “Oh no, I was hoping to ask you about something.”
“Yes?”
The other waitresses grabbed a few plates that the cooks in the back had just set out on the ledge, and then they padded off to their respective tables.
“I wanted to ask you about a pancake order my friend Carly put in the other morning. I believe she’s in the system as Sunshine Florist.”
Blair looked momentarily confused, but asked, “Okay?”
“Could you look it up?”
“Come with me,” he said, leading her through the kitchen and into the office in the back. When he sat, he tapped on the space bar of his computer keyboard. “Carly...”
“Yes.”
“That was a crazy morning,” he commented. “That poor man.”
“I was concerned that in the commotion Carly’s order was overlooked.”
He stared at her then blinked. “You’re not here to pick up her pancakes, are you?”
“No,” she smiled.
“If something like that occurred, an error on our end, we’ll certainly reimburse her.”
“That’s not really the point of this visit.”
Blair went back to scrolling through the orders from a few mornings ago. “No,” he said. “No order was placed.”
Carly wouldn’t lie, but Kate didn’t point that out. Rather she asked, “Do you know who was working that morning?”
“Let me see,” he said, pulling the lap drawer of the desk open and grabbing a tattered schedule. “Daisy, for one,” he told her right off the bat.
Daisy had been highly accusatory that Carly had something to do with Clifford’s murder, so speaking with her would get Kate virtually nowhere.
“That early in the morning, we only have two waitresses and one cook working. It looks like it was Janet and Kendra waiting tables and Grady McMullen in the kitchen.”
“Are any of them here right now?”
“Janet and Grady are.”
“You don’t mind if I speak with them, do you?”
Blair seemed to be holding his breath, as he rose from the desk. “Try to catch them when they aren’t rushing around, okay? Dinner service hasn’t exactly caught on, and if people around town hear that the service is slow.... Well, then it doesn’t help our chances.”
“Right,” she said. “No problem.”
As she passed through the kitchen, she saw a number of cooks, but had no way of knowing who was Grady McMullen.
When one of the cooks, a young man with heavily tattooed forearms, neared her to get a bottle of olive oil, Kate asked, “Could you tell me who Grady is?”
“Yeah,” he said then glanced over his shoulder to indicate the man Kate was looking for. “Big guy near the grill.”
The kitchen wasn’t especially big, and she couldn’t see herself squeezing through to get his attention. “Would it be possible for you to have him come over here?”
The young cook looked at her quizzically, but obliged, crossing through to Grady and whispering something in his ear that Kate couldn’t hear. A moment later, Grady stalked towards her. He was big to say the least. Kate guessed that he had to be at least six foot four, and he was overweight to the effect that he looked more than a grizzly bear than a human being.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Kate Flaherty, the local handy woman. Mrs. Fix It? You might have heard of my small business?”
He didn’t look impressed. “So?”
“I just wanted to find out if you recall a pancake order two mornings ago?”
He snorted a laugh. “Look, lady, this is a diner. All we make is pancakes. I made a ton of pancakes that morning.”
“A ton?” she challenged, her eyes glazing over to show him that she wasn’t impressed.
“We weren’t that busy,” he admitted. “But sure, I made some pancakes.”
“Do you k
now the names of the customers?”
“It’s noted on the slips, but I don’t read all that, because I don’t need to know. I just get the food order and get on with it.”
“Do you recall an order that was made but never picked up?”
Perhaps sensing that she wouldn’t let the matter drop until he supplied concrete answers, Grady took a moment to wrack his brain. Then his eyes lit up, but what he said next wasn’t at all what she was expecting.
“I can’t afford to lose my job.”
“Why would you lose your job?”
He sighed. “Daisy has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to skimming.”
“You mean taking food?”
“Which happens all the time. Customers send plates back because they think something is wrong with it, and we’re just supposed to throw it away.”
“Did you eat pancakes that were never picked up?”
“Yeah.”
“Were they for a woman named Carly?”
“I have no idea, but Daisy almost caught me. When I walked away from the box, which I’d only had a bite of, she threw it away in the dumpster out back and told everyone not to mention it.”
“Did she do anything else that seemed strange that morning?”
“Yeah, but who could act normal? As soon as she dumped the pancakes, we all got word that some guy had been murdered in the parking lot.” Grady took a moment to think things through then said, “The strangest thing was that ordinarily the hostess arrives first and lets the cooks in. Usually, Daisy doesn’t show up for about an hour. Yet, that morning, she was the first one here.”
“Interesting...”
As soon as Kate had begun to contemplate the possible reasons Daisy might have shown up so early, she was startled at the sound of the woman’s barked tone.
“What are you doing back here?”
When Kate turned, she found Daisy staring at her with wide eyes and looking appalled.
“Just checking on the shelves I put in,” she said.
“The shelves you put in two years ago?” she challenged.
“That’s right.”
“The shelves that are on the other side of the kitchen?”
“Just being friendly,” she supplied, padding through the kitchen and into the restaurant with Daisy at her heels.
“You can’t believe a word he says.”
Kate turned to face her. “Why?”
“If you can keep it to yourself, I’ll tell you.”
Kate was the last person to gossip, and Daisy knew that, so simply holding the woman’s gaze was confirmation enough.
“The most affordable labor comes with hiring...men of questionable repute.”
It sounded familiar.
“Ex-cons?” she asked.
“I really can’t have the customers finding out,” said Daisy.
“Did you tell Scott?”
“Why would I?”
Kate had to stop her jaw from dropping. “Because Clifford Green had been released from prison recently. If you have ex-convicts working here, they could’ve known Clifford. One of them could’ve had a reason to kill him. Scott is wasting his time investigating Carly for goodness sake.”
“Please stay out of it, Kate.”
She held Daisy’s gaze for a beat then started through the restaurant for her truck.
When she reached it, she dialed Scott.
“Yeah?” he said as soon as the line opened up.
“Carly didn’t lie. Daisy did,” she blurted out.
“Can we discuss this tonight when we’re both home?”
“I don’t want you interrogating Carly,” she asserted.
“It’s not going to be an interrogation. It’ll be a conversation, and one I have to have with her.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because Carly knew Clifford Green.”
Taken aback, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. “How?”
“Let’s just say Carly was the reason Clifford got locked up in the first place.”
Chapter Five
Kate had every intention of speaking to Scott about his intriguing comment to her over the phone, but he never made it home that night. She sat up awake in bed for hours pondering how Carly, her best friend for the past three decades, could’ve kept something from her as huge as having been the sole reason a man was sent to prison.
The only reason she was able to eventually fall asleep was because Scott texted her that it was going to be another long night and that she shouldn’t wait up. Tacked on to his first text message was a second, which stated he hadn’t spoken with Carly yet.
The next day, Kate woke like a lark, bolting upright in bed with Carly at the forefront of her mind. But as she showered and got ready for her day, she wondered if it would be more productive to speak with Clara, the owner of Bean There who had been romantically involved with Clifford. Which woman would be more likely to open up to her? Kate would have liked to think Carly, but if her friend hadn’t mentioned it in all the years they’d known one another, she had little reason to believe she would explain the situation now. Carly had kept mum, after all, even in the face of finding Clifford dead. Kate reasoned that could have been because she didn’t want to implicate herself further. If she had been the reason Clifford was sent to prison, it would stand to reason that people would assume his release had driven her to kill him. But still, Kate wished Carly trusted her enough to tell her about all this in the first place.
At least with Clara, Kate could argue the barista owed her. Clara had been under Scott’s scrutiny last week when Cookie had been killed, and Kate had done a careful job of exonerating her. Maybe Clara would be more apt to talk.
So Kate drove to Bean There and hoped she could get a few moments alone with Clara.
Stepping through the coffee shop door, she noted it was just after eight in the morning. Clara was alone behind the counter tending to a few customers, but for the most part Bean There was pretty quiet. The morning surge had yet to flood through.
“Hey Kate,” Clara said in a heavy voice when she approached the counter.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
Clara sighed. “It comes in waves.”
“I really need to ask you about something if you have a few minutes?”
Clara glanced over her shoulder and shouted Mary-Beth’s name then the young barista stepped out, wiping her damp hands on her apron.
“Can you watch the counter for a few minutes?”
She stood post, inviting the next customer to step up and order, as Clara found a vacant table in the back.
When they sat, Kate took a moment to formulate how she might delve into such a sensitive topic.
“I need to ask you about Clifford’s history,” she began.
“What about it?”
“Did he ever tell you about the reason he was incarcerated?”
Clara seemed to clam up, but gradually said, “You’re referring to Carly?”
“So he did tell you?”
“Pieces,” she said admittedly. “He didn’t like to talk about it.”
“Can you tell me what he told you?” she asked when Clara fell silent again.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable speaking ill of the dead.” Kate didn’t want to have to point out that she’d saved Clara from going to prison for Cookie’s murder, but she had no choice, and as soon as she mentioned it, Clara said, “All right, okay. I’m sure you heard Clifford had gotten into some trouble back in high school and he ended up leaving town. Well, he ended up coming back, not to stay, but to try to sell drugs. All I know is that Carly saw something and she reported it. So Clifford fled, leaving town right away. Then he went to Philadelphia to try to sell there but got busted. It was minor though, and he should’ve gotten a light reprimand, but the investigating detective pulled up a record of every little report ever made about Clifford. Carly was all too willing to drive out and testify, and between these multiple minor offences he got put away.” Clara d
rew in a deep breath then added, “Carly probably didn’t mention it to you, because it might have been a small thing to her. But it was a big thing to Clifford. He hated her. And when he came back to town to try and help Cookie, I got involved with him mainly because I was spending so much time and effort to keep him away from Carly. He wanted to confront her, and I kept telling him that it would be a bad idea.”
“Even if he did catch up with Carly to confront her,” said Kate, thinking out loud, “she wouldn’t have killed him.”
“Whoever killed him had a gun,” Clara added.
“Which hasn’t been found as far as I understand.”
“Look, Clifford met a lot of bad people in prison. He went to federal and kept getting moved around the country to different facilities until he ended up right here in Pennsylvania. Any number of the convicts getting hired around town, especially at that amusement park, could’ve done it.”
Kate agreed, but she also couldn’t rule out the possibility that residents were catching on that convicts were migrating to Rock Ridge—and because of it, they made the perfect scapegoat. After all, that was what had happened when Cookie turned up dead. Kate herself had suspected Clifford. And the reality was that Officer Gunther had taken her life.
Was that what was happening now? Or had Clifford’s dark past finally caught up with him?
She thanks Clara for her time, as they got up from the table.
“Let me get you a coffee to go,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
Behind the counter, Clara poured dark roast in a large to-go cup and handed it to Kate.
When she reached her truck, she checked the time. She needed to get back to Meredith’s and finish the patio, then make a full list of furniture items and submit a budget to Justina, and on top of that, she would have to get into the mayor’s office to fix up Jared’s office. Just thinking about all she needed to do was daunting, and it didn’t help that she was in a constant state of worry over Jason.
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