by Anne Hagan
“So was he the chef then?”
She snorted. “Oh no! Let’s not even go there!”
“Go where Libby?”
“Ben doesn’t have any culinary training. His cooking is divine but he’s completely self-taught. He tried to hire a chef early on but they clashed in the kitchen all of the time. He ended up firing him and that’s when he hired Manny.”
“Manny isn’t a chef?” I was just asking questions trying to get at crux of Ben Tracy’s life and the people that surrounded him.
“Not officially, no.”
“Pardon?’’
“He went to culinary school but he didn’t finish.”
“I see. Did Ben and Manny get along?”
“Most of the time.”
“But not all of the time?”
“What are you trying to say Sheriff? People argue. They argued from time to time. Are you trying to tell me that Ben’s cook had something to do with his...his murder?” She looked like she was about to cry.
I backpedaled again. “No ma’am,” I said softly. “I’m just trying to figure out if anyone had something in for Ben. Let’s look at this a different way; did Ben have any enemies Libby?”
She shrugged but didn’t answer.
I could see I was going to have to go back in the direction she kept avoiding. “Libby, remember that I said Ben had the club drug Ecstasy in his system when he died?” She nodded. There’s evidence that he was a fairly long term user. Where was he getting Ecstasy?”
“I don’t know. Probably at the clubs...”
“What clubs did Ben go to?” Because there aren’t any dance clubs in the Zanesville/Newark area and the closest gay bars of any decent size are in Columbus!
“In Columbus sometimes. I don’t know. Obviously, I wasn’t with him!” She eyed me with a knowing look. “Most of the time when he was gone, I got the impression he was going to private parties and such.”
“So he would tell you where he was going?”
“Not exactly but, in general, I knew...a wife knows.” She turned and looked at the wedding band on Treadway’s left hand which happened to be resting on her bed rail and then she peered directly into his eyes. Joe is a married man and, I’d always assumed, a happily married one. I’d never heard any different.
Libby Tracy must have unnerved him a little. The look on his face was priceless. I shuddered. I didn’t even want to explore that topic with him. Instead, I looked at him and asked, “Joe, anything you think I haven’t touched on?” I was trying to distract her and let him off the hook.
Treadway blew out a breath. He started to shake his head no but then he stopped himself. “Ma’am you said your husband was at the restaurant every day but you’re also telling us he’d be gone from home all of the time, for days at a time. I guess, for me, those two things just don’t add up.”
The man has a point!
She stared again at Treadway. When she finally spoke, she took us both by surprise.
“I’m not there at home all of the time myself, you see. I visit with family, I...I stay with um...friends, I work at this and that as needed.” She waived her hand in the air as if to signify that there was nothing unusual about this marriage of convenience, this open marriage which she and Ben had, had.
He continued, “You never told us what went on after you got up yesterday afternoon.”
“I honestly don’t recall Deputy...”
Well, I for one don’t think she’s being honest with us!
I stopped into Dana’s room since I was again at Genesis. She was sitting in one of her bedside chairs picking at her hospital issued dinner.
“Well, look at you! Up out of bed!”
“Mel, I’m not a complete invalid! I can’t stand to be in that bed all the time. I can’t wait to get out of here!”
Before I could even frame a reply, Tron, Dana’s nurse walked in. He nodded in my direction but his focus was all on Dana. “Did someone say they’re tired of our hospitality here?” He smiled at her and touched her shoulder.
Dana smiled back at him. “You know it’s not you. It’s just being stuck in a hospital in general; any hospital!”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that the reports back from physical therapy are very positive and, as long as you have a handicapped accessible place to go while you’re still not fully mobile, we’re going to get you out of here tomorrow!”
“Really?” Dana’s voice rang with excitement.
I chimed in, “What all has to happen for a place to be deemed accessible?”
Tron turned to address me, “Well, she’s partially mobile but all one floor accessibility is a plus. Absolutely no stairs! She’ll be needing to use crutches for quite some time other than during therapy and she’ll use a cane for a while after that. She also has to have easy access to the bathroom facilities.” He jerked his thumb toward the restroom in Dana’s room.
“Dana, do you remember my den?”
She nodded.
For Tron’s benefit, I said, “It’s on the ground floor.” I turned back to Dana. “It used to be a bedroom but I turned it into a den. It has a sofa bed and a three piece bathroom with a step in shower.”
“It has a bathroom?”
“The door was closed the time you were in there...you were looking at my stuffed piebald deer...”
“Ah, I remember that! But, well, there are steps to get into your house...”
I looked back at Tron. “That’s very easily remedied. There are a few contractors in the family. I can have a ramp built tomorrow morning.”
He grinned at her. “Well then it looks like you’re all set girl! I’ll just make some notes for the doctor. Tomorrow, you are out of here!”
Chapter 8 – The Hive
Wednesday, May 28th, 2014
The Hive opened for breakfast at 6:00 AM. Things gear up early in the small cities and villages dotted throughout Ohio’s farm belt. I wanted to get in there and talk to some of the staff while they were all present and accounted for before I headed home again to check on the building of a ramp at the house I shared with my twin sister Kris and her teenagers Beth and Cole.
I’d talked with Kris and the kids after I left the hospital. Kris was fine with Dana staying with us for a while. The kids were indifferent. Another adult being around didn’t affect their teenage universes.
My contractor uncle and his son were all lined up to build the ramp. My nephew Cole did get excited about that. Who knew what that boy thought he was going to pull with a handicapped accessibility ramp! He always seemed to be one crazy stunt away from death. He was 15 but I swore he had the common sense of a toddler or even a rock sometimes.
The restaurant was hopping in high gear when I walked in there just after 7:00. I hadn’t expected that. It appeared that Ben’s death hadn’t slowed them down a whit.
I stepped to the counter and was immediately approached by a waitress barely out of her teens. “Hi, I’m Bree! What can I get for you officer?”
“Hi Bree; I’m Sheriff Crane. Is there a manager or someone in charge around that I can speak to?” I remembered as I started speaking to Bree that Libby Tracy had said there was no manager that had been under her husband Ben.
“This is about Mr. Tracy isn’t it? Oh, I bet you can’t really talk about that. I’ll see if Manny can come out here. He’s in charge right now but he’s pretty busy.” She waved her hand to indicate the crowd massed in the place.
“Would there be a better time for me to come back?”
She paused and thought for a few seconds. “Well, on weekdays it slows down a little after 8:00. Any time after 9:00 would probably be a better time.”
“That’s fine. I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll be back after 9:00 sometime between the breakfast and lunch rushes.”
“I’ll let Manny know.”
“Thanks Bree.”
I headed back to my county issued SUV.
I stopped in at the station to let Holly know that I’d be at home briefly but t
hat I’d be in radio contact and then I headed out. When I pulled into the driveway just before 8:00 my uncle Brian and his son Damon were already unloading wood from Brian’s long bed pickup. Home improvement projects start early in the country too. There are no noise ordinances out here.
Uncle Brian only has 10 years on me and my cousin Damon is only about 9 years younger. I think of both of them more as peers in the family realm than as uncle and cousin.
“Hey Brian, thanks for doing this.”
“It’s no problem sis.”
“No, now, I know you’re starting to get pretty busy at this time of year. I really appreciate you squeezing this project in at the last minute.”
Brian grinned. “So tell me, this lady that’s coming to stay here; I take it she’s someone special?”
He likes to push my buttons and he knows he can get me to blush. He’s the only one that can do it though because all his ribbing is so good natured. There isn’t a malicious bone in his body.
“Could be. Could be. Let’s just say, for now, that I’m just trying to help a friend out.”
“Okay. Whatever you say, sis!” He punched my shoulder lightly, grabbed a tape measure out of his tool belt and started surveying the area at the front of the house.
After 90 minutes of measuring the area and then measuring and cutting wood, a recognizable ramp was forming. I snapped a quick picture with my cell phone of the work being done in case I needed proof later that the house was now fully accessible and then I left the two men to finish their task while I went back downtown. First, I needed to talk to Manny at The Hive and then I was going to go and see when Dana would be sprung from her hospital bondage.
It was nearly 10:00 AM when I walked back into the now deserted restaurant. Some of the staff was sitting, having brunch, since they were firmly between the breakfast and lunch rushes. Bree hopped up from the table the staff was surrounding.
“Hi again Sheriff! Manny’s in the back. Would you like me to go get him?”
“Please. That would be great. Thanks!”
Moments later a fairly young, slim, nice looking Hispanic man came out to greet me. He was in cooks whites that were pristine. How does he cook all morning and stay so clean and, for that matter, how does he cook for a living and stay so slim?
“Sheriff Crane, is it?” His voice was lilting.
“Yes and you must be Manny.”
“Yes Sheriff, Manuel Rojas.” He extended his hand and shook mine briefly and very lightly. He was either a soft touch or, I suspected, gay. My gaydar was, in fact, pinging off the hook.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Rojas led me through the kitchen to a small office that was near the back. It was sandwiched between a walk in cooler and what appeared to be a dry storage room. He indicated a chair in front of the desk and I took a seat while he skirted the desk and sat down gingerly.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You were slow to sit...I thought maybe you were hurt.”
“No, not at all. It’s just that this is...was...Ben’s desk and no one ever used it but him and the bookkeeper when she stopped in sometimes.”
“He didn’t do his own books?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, he did. He tracked the daily receipts and such but a bookkeeper handled payroll and taxes and those sorts of things. Ben wasn’t much of an accounting guy.”
“What will happen to this place now that he’s gone?”
“I don’t know Sheriff. Mrs. Tracy, she don’t come in here very much. She never ran the business at all. There’s no manager. Right now, at Mrs. Tracy’s request, I’m handling things but I’m doing little more than I ever did. I gather up the daily receipts and put them aside for the bookkeeper. I fill out a deposit slip and I drop the day’s cash take off at the bank. I don’t handle the credit card stuff or anything else.”
“It’s only been a few days. Do you think Mrs. Tracy will give you full responsibility?”
He didn’t reply, at first. Finally he said, “I don’t know ma’am and I don’t know if I want it if she offers it.”
“Why is that?”
“Don’t get me wrong, but this isn’t where I want to stay. I want to go to a bigger place, to someday have my own place; a full service one with fine dining. Mr. Tracy...Ben, he didn’t want to expand, to grow and he wouldn’t listen to me about those things. He was happy with things here, just as they were. This is not what I want.”
I can see now why they might have fought... “Manuel, do you know why I’m here?”
“I assumed to talk about Mr. Tracy. We have heard that his death was ruled a murder.” He was quick to add, “I don’t know any details and I don’t how I can help you though.”
“You and the rest of the staff here probably saw Ben as much as anyone did. You may know more than you think that could help us find his killer.”
“I don’t think so Sheriff but you can ask me anything.”
“Did you, yourself get along with Ben Tracy?”
“Of course.”
He paused and waited for me to speak but I played the listening card. When I didn’t reply, he continued, “We weren’t what you would call friends Sheriff. We didn’t hang out after work...” He looked away then down at the desk. We, he...he was my boss.”
“You said he wouldn’t listen to your ideas about expansion. Did you argue about that?”
He nodded.
“Did you argue about anything else?”
“Am I a suspect Sheriff?”
“We don’t have any suspects yet. We have very little information to work with at this point.”
He drew a breath and let it out slowly, “Yes, I admit, we argued from time to time.”
“What about?”
He finally looked up from the blotter on the desk, “Food mostly. We argued about food. I went to culinary school. Mr. Tracy did not. He was a good cook, it is true, but he did not go to culinary school at all. He always wanted to tell me how to run the kitchen.”
“So you’re a chef?”
Silence hung in the air. Finally, he spoke again, “No. I am not. I left school a few months before I would have been finished to take care of...family business.” The look on his face was pure defiance.
“So Ben Tracy, as the owner, was within his rights to advise you on how he wanted the kitchen run?”
Manny sighed. “Yes. But, I went back to school last month to finish. In another couple of months I will be a chef. The training I had before was still all up here Sheriff.” He tapped his forehead. “It’s about more than making food. It’s about running the whole kitchen side of the operation. I know what I’m doing!”
“I see.” So, he’d been going around with Ben just like the actual chef who got fired that lead to him getting hired. Interesting!
“Is there anything else?” His tone was dismissive but I wasn’t finished with him.
“Yes, actually, there is. I really need more information about Ben himself; his comings and goings and his business associations.”
“Okay, I guess. I’ll answer what I can.”
“Was Ben here a lot?”
“Most days he was here for at least part of the day. I usually came in early to do prep and opened the doors for breakfast at 6:00. He would get here by 7:00 and be on hand for the biggest crush of the downtown morning rush.”
That surprised me. “What was his demeanor when he would come in?”
“What do you mean Sheriff?”
“Was he tired, out of sorts, well rested and ready to go?” I waved my hand in the air.
Manny looked away from me. “He was fine most of the time.”
“Define ‘fine’.”
“Alert, polite...”
“And the rest of the time; when he wasn’t ‘fine’?”
“Look, sometimes he’d come in looking like he’d been out all night. He’d be running on adrenaline and coffee.
As the morning would go on, he’d start crashing.”
“What was he like at those times?”
“He would argue with me, with his suppliers...whoever was in his path.”
“Were those the times you usually argued?”
“We didn’t ‘usually’ argue,” He made air quotes. “But yes, when we would disagree, it was often on such a day.”
I decided to throw it out there, “Manny, are you aware of Ben Tracy ever taking any recreational drugs?” He looked away yet again. I’d bet my last dollar a lie is coming!
“No.”
“None?”
“How would I know Sheriff? I told you, I didn’t socialize with him.” He still wouldn’t look me in the eye.
I decided to take the interview in a slightly different direction. “You said Ben argued with his suppliers. Is there anyone in particular that he took issue with?”
Manny looked up at the ceiling as if he was lost in thought. After several long seconds he replied, “Ryan McClarnan.”
I know...or, at least, know of several McClarnan’s but the name ‘Ryan’ doesn’t ring a bell. “Who is Ryan McClarnan?”
“He’s this...this strange...weird man that supplies us with all of our honey and, in the Summer, some of our locally grown produce.”
“What’s strange about McClarnan?”
Manny stared through me like I wasn’t even there. “He’s, I don’t know how to put it, he’s one of those live off the grid, live off the land types that doesn’t believe in government...”
“A separatist?”
“Yes! That’s the word I was looking for.”
“What did he and Ben argue about?”
No answer was forthcoming; Manny simply shrugged.
“I need a bit more specific information.”
“Sheriff, you name it. They seemed to have a prior history and they clashed over lots of things...politics, taxes, the price of produce...”
“Do you know where I can find this Ryan McClarnan?”
“No. He’s local though. Probably lives within the county, but that’s all I know.”
“Do you have any of his products on hand right now?”
“Ah, of course! We have honey bottles with his label. I should have thought of that!” He got up and retrieved a bottle for me. It was labeled with the company name Pure Country with Ryan McClarnan as the owner and it listed an address off of Route 60, south of the little Muskingum River town of Philo. The area was in my jurisdiction but there was little in the way of developed housing down there; just some fields in the low delta areas along the river. The rest was made up of heavily forested rolling hills, the foothills of the Appalachians. Still, I thought, someone could certainly be running a bee keeping operation and growing a little produce down there.
