by Cindy Bell
When Wendy parked in front of Alisha's house, she noticed a big for sale sign in the front yard. There was also a car in the driveway. Wendy folded down the mirror from her visor and checked to make sure her strawberry blonde curls weren't too out of place. She wasn't sure how Alisha would react to seeing her. She closed the visor and stepped out of the car. As she walked up the sidewalk towards the front door she could see that the yard had been slightly neglected. There were bushes that had grown far too high, and grass that had become overgrown with weeds.
Wendy knocked lightly on the door. She watched for a flutter of the curtains or any other sign that someone might be inside. With the for sale sign posted in the front yard, she wasn't sure if the address would still be good. A moment later the door slowly opened.
“Wendy?” Alisha asked incredulously as she stood in the doorway.
“Alisha,” Wendy smiled warmly. “It's so good to see you again.”
“And you as well,” Alisha said, though there was a bite to her tone. “I wish it wasn't right at this moment though,” she added.
“Are you busy?” Wendy asked. “I could come back later.”
“I'll still be packing then,” Alisha sighed and opened the door further so that Wendy could see the piles of boxes in the front hallway.
“Yes, I saw the for sale sign. Are you and Doug moving?” Wendy asked. She took the opportunity to step inside the house, though she was keenly aware that she had not been invited.
“I think that Doug is moving, and I am moving, we're just not moving together,” Alisha explained with a strained smile. “Only a little under a year and the divorce papers are signed. He is selling the house, and I will get nothing from it.”
“Oh, Alisha,” Wendy gasped. “I'm so sorry.” Wendy found it particularly heartbreaking when a couple, whose wedding she had planned, separated. She knew that life happened, but she wished that it wouldn't be so difficult for so many.
“Me, too,” Alisha admitted. “It wasn't what I wanted, but it rarely is, is it?” she shook her head. “So, what brings you here, Wendy?” Alisha asked and met her eyes.
“Honestly, we have a situation, and your name came up, and I was wondering if you could tell me about it,” Wendy settled her gaze on Alisha to see if she would reveal any kind of reaction. Alisha remained calm, if not a little perplexed.
“What is it?” Alisha asked. “You know anything I can do to help you, Wendy,” she shrugged. “Come in, I have a few minutes I can spare.”
“Thanks,” Wendy smiled as she followed Alisha further into the house. She noticed that there were several more boxes in the living room and only a couple of chairs scattered around.
“I'm sorry I don't have much to offer you for seating,” Alisha said with a grimace.
“It's fine,” Wendy said and sat down on one of the folding chairs. “I'm sorry so much has changed, Alisha.”
“You know, it's funny, I look back on the day of our wedding and I was just so certain, we were so in love. It just doesn't make sense, does it, Wendy?” she asked as she met her eyes. “To have such bad luck?”
“I don't think anyone can ever make sense of it when things go wrong,” Wendy said soothingly. “But remember, it's not the end of the world.”
“Maybe not,” Alisha agreed. “But it sure does feel like it. I'm sorry,” she sighed again. “I'm going on and on about my personal problems and you still haven't even told me why you're here.”
“I'm here because there was a murder at a catering company,” Wendy explained.
“What could that possibly have to do with me?” Alisha asked with a short laugh of disbelief.
“Maybe nothing,” Wendy admitted. “But the catering company is owned by a mutual associate of ours. Oliver Handley.”
“Oliver Handley?” she repeated slowly. “As in Chef Oliver?”
“Yes, as in Chef Oliver.”
“Is he dead?” Alisha asked in a cold tone.
“No, he isn't,” Wendy shook her head. “But a health inspector was killed.”
“Oh, I see,” Alisha nodded.
“Would you know anything about that, Alisha?” Wendy asked calmly.
“About a health inspector being killed?” Alisha asked grimly. “What would I know about that?”
“Actually, I was referring to the health inspector being called to the business in the first place,” Wendy shifted in her chair a little. Alisha was hard to read. But it seemed to Wendy that she must be hiding something if she wasn't readily admitting to the fact that she was the one who had called the tip in. “Do you know anything about that?”
Alisha frowned. She ran her hands slowly along the curves of her knees and glanced around at the field of boxes that surrounded them.
“All right, I guess you already know, I was the one that called in the tip,” Alisha said with a slight shake of her head. “But I had nothing to do with any murder. I was just doing my duty as a concerned citizen.”
“Seems that way,” Wendy nodded and leaned a bit forward. “But I guess what I don't understand is why did you go to Handley’s in the first place?”
Alisha smiled sadly. “When the divorce was final, I was a bit of a mess,” she admitted. “I was stuck on our wedding and how happy we had been. But I was also thinking of all of the things that went wrong. Specifically, us not being able to have our wedding at the venue we chose.”
Wendy nodded slowly remembering how upset Alisha had been when the venue fell through.
“That was unfortunate,” Wendy said softly.
“We chose that restaurant because of Chef Oliver,” Alisha continued to explain. “Everyone said how wonderful his cooking was. He was the hottest chef in the area. I was so looking forward to trying his food. So, when the restaurant failed the inspection and was closed, I figured I would never have the chance to taste his food. I guess with the divorce being final, I just wanted to have one thing that I didn't get to have. I decided to track down Chef Oliver and try some of his food.”
“I understand,” Wendy nodded.
“So, a few days ago I visited the café attached to the catering company, and I ordered some food. It was delicious,” she admitted. “But I couldn't finish it, because while I was eating I noticed a mouse scamper across the floor. Then I noticed a few more heading for the kitchen. I just couldn't believe my eyes,” she shook her head. “I never believed the rumors that Chef Oliver kept a sloppy kitchen and that was the reason the other restaurant was closed. But obviously it had to be true, if he has mice at this new place, too. I felt obligated to report it. If I didn't, he might end up ruining someone else’s wedding, too,” she pointed out. “Since George did such a thorough job before, I thought it best that I should ask for him.”
“Your wedding still was beautiful,” Wendy reminded her.
“Sure, but it wasn't what I had planned,” Alisha pointed out. “That really matters.”
“You're right,” Wendy agreed. “I'm sorry you went through that, and that now you're going through this.”
“Me, too,” she admitted with a slow shake of her head. “Life has its twists and turns, and I'm discovering, it is rarely fair. I hope Oliver doesn't find out that it was me who reported him,” she sighed. “I'd hate to have him upset with me.”
“I'm sure that he won't find out,” Wendy assured her.
“Good,” Alisha sighed with relief. “I'm sorry I don't have any insight about the murder,” she paused a moment and then lowered her voice. “You don't think that Oliver could have been involved, do you?” she asked.
“I don't know,” Wendy said with a frown.
“Well, I do have to get back to packing and I don’t want to be up packing as late as last night,” Alisha explained. “I have a new business that I'm running while all of this is going on as well.”
“You do?” Wendy asked with surprise.
“Yes, I started my own aromatherapy business,” Alisha smiled proudly. “I've decided that just trying to balance my own energy isn't enough,
I need to balance the energy of others as well. Aromatherapy really helps with that. It even has some medicinal value. Have you ever used it?”
“Not really,” Wendy replied with a slight shrug. “I've heard of it though and always thought it was very interesting.”
“It is so interesting,” Alisha said in an almost giddy voice. She certainly wasn't someone who seemed to be worried about a murder investigation.
“Well see, you have a lot going for you then,” Wendy pointed out.
“No, I don't,” Alisha scowled. “I was supposed to be married and having babies by now.”
“All right, that was one plan,” Wendy said gently. “But not everything is in your control. Sometimes things just happen.”
“No, they don't,” Alisha insisted. “At least I don't believe they do. I think there are forces that influence our lives.”
“Okay,” Wendy said calmly. She didn't want to get drawn into a spiritual or theological conversation. “Do you have a business card or something?” she asked. “I'd love to come by and check out the shop some time. You could explain it all to me then.”
“Sure,” Alisha nodded. She rummaged in one of the boxes and then handed Wendy a postcard sized advertisement. It featured a photograph of Alisha as well as the rest of the staff who worked at her shop.
“Thank you,” Wendy said warmly. “I hope things get better for you, Alisha.”
“So do I,” she sighed and looked back at the boxes. “Like I said, I do have a lot to do.”
“I understand,” Wendy said before walking back towards the door.
“I do hope that this mess doesn't make things harder on me,” she added glumly as she opened the door for Wendy.
“As long as you don't hide anything, then you'll be just fine,” Wendy reminded her.
“Nothing to hide but my crumbling life,” Alisha said almost perkily.
Wendy studied her for a moment before nodding. “It was good to see you again, Alisha,” she said before stepping out through the door. Alisha was fairly quick about closing it behind Wendy. Wendy hesitated a moment. She thought about asking Alisha more questions about her involvement. But she didn't want to push her too far. She was already in a fragile emotional state considering her divorce, and Wendy had no real proof that she was the one who had committed the crime. She truly couldn't see Alisha tipping over a metal rack on top of a man and then locking him in the freezer to die. That would be cold blooded murder.
As Wendy was about to walk to her car her cell phone rang. She was using a new purse, that hadn’t had a mouse in it, and it was much too large with no compartments. With the postcard in one hand she tried to find the phone in her purse but couldn’t, so she quickly put her purse on the floor and rummaged in it for her phone. When she found it she saw it was Shawna.
“Hi, Shawna,” Wendy said with a smile as she answered.
“Hi, Wendy,” she replied. “I just wanted to see when we can go through the seating chart. I have almost finished it.”
“I have a walk through at The Mansion at four this afternoon,” Wendy replied. “I can stop by after that.”
“Perfect, thanks,” Shawna replied excitedly. After hanging up Wendy put her phone back in her purse. As she put the phone away she realized that she had forgotten the small planner for Shawna’s wedding at home when she changed purses. She heard Alisha walking around on the other side of the door as she picked her purse up off the floor and continued to her car.
As she walked back to her car her thoughts immediately returned to the murder. She couldn't place who else might be responsible. Someone had killed George, that was not in question. Was it possible that it was just a random crime? Perhaps there was no rhyme or reason to it, and someone had simply targeted George because he was accessible. It made much less sense than thinking that Alisha or Oliver had done it.
As soon as Wendy got back into her car she dialed Brian's number. She hesitated for a moment before hitting the call button, as she wondered how he would react to what she was about to tell him. Brian was very protective of her, but he also respected her resilience. Finally, she hit call. Brian answered on the first ring.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Fine thanks,” Wendy said swiftly. “I actually decided to follow up with Alisha.”
“Alisha?” Brian repeated. “You mean the main suspect in this crime?”
“Now, just because she called in a tip doesn't make her the…”
“Wendy,” Brian growled. “Did you talk to her?”
“I'm sitting outside her house right now, actually,” Wendy replied grimly. “I just had a conversation with her and though she was definitely upset about her wedding being ruined and blames it on the venue being closed, she claims that the tip she called in was innocently motivated. She said she visited the café a few days ago and spotted the mice. So, she called in the tip.”
“Wendy, I'm still stuck on you again going to the home of a murder suspect alone, without even calling me to let me know,” Brian said with frustration.
“Brian, focus,” Wendy insisted. “I need you to look into Alisha's story. Also, I think it's time we shared this information with Polson. He'll want to interview her and he might be able to get more information out of her because she might be intimidated by his badge.”
“Wendy, I don't like what you did,” Brian said sternly.
“I can respect that,” Wendy replied casually. “But right now we need to figure out if Alisha was involved in this crime. We can figure the rest out later.”
Wendy heard Brian sigh with defeat. Wendy frowned, as she hated for him to be unhappy, but she was also quite a determined and independent person. She appreciated Brian's concern, but she certainly did not need a babysitter.
“All right, I'll look into it. But when you speak to Polson, keep it short, don't say anything to involve or implicate yourself,” he warned. “Please listen to me on this.”
“I'm listening,” Wendy assured him. “I'm going to call Polson now.”
“Where are you headed after that?” Brian asked cautiously.
“I'm not sure yet.”
“Well, it’s almost lunch time,” Brian said. “Why don’t we meet at Mulligans?”
“Okay, I just have to go home to pick up the planner for the work I have to do this afternoon and then I’ll see you there,” Wendy replied before hanging up the phone.
After hanging up she glanced up towards Alisha's house. She noticed the curtain in the front window was pulled back. Alisha was watching her. Wendy guessed it seemed a little strange for her to be sitting outside her house. She started her car and drove towards her condo.
When she got home she turned off the engine and sat back. She pulled out her phone and stared down at Polson's name on her contact list. She was nervous about speaking to him thinking she might say the wrong thing.
On the other hand she hoped that sharing the information would create some goodwill between the two of them. She reluctantly hit call and put the phone to her ear. With each ring she thought about hanging up. When Delaney answered instead of Polson, she winced.
“Delaney,” he barked into the phone. Wendy thought about hanging up but decided that she needed to bite the bullet.
“Officer Delaney, this is Wendy,” she said swiftly. “I was hoping to speak to Officer Polson.”
“Well, he’s busy, you can speak to me,” Delaney said gruffly.
“I have some information,” Wendy said hesitantly.
“Well, do you now?” he asked. “Is it about the illegal dissemination of information regarding a tip?”
“Excuse me?” Wendy asked nervously.
“I tried to find out some information from the health department, but apparently there was a leak of information and so now they are being even stricter about what they will divulge. Essentially, I got nothing from them because someone beat me to it,” he said.
“I'm sure you don't think that was me,” Wendy replied, her voice wavering over every word.
She tried to be careful about what she said.
“Of course I don't. I think it was Brian,” he shot back. “I think both of you need to stay out of this investigation or Detective Dunn has authorized me to arrest you for obstruction.”
Officer Delaney’s tone and attitude were beginning to get on Wendy's nerves. He liked to use his badge to intimidate, and although she could see where that was necessary at times, she didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.
“So, you don't want the information then?” Wendy asked in a clipped tone.
“Tell me,” Delaney said sternly.
“It was Alisha Baker who phoned in the tip,” Wendy said shortly. Now, she wasn't so sure about sharing the rest of the information she had.
“Alisha Baker,” Delaney repeated. “Do you know anything else?” he finally asked. Wendy was silent for a moment. “Wendy?” Delaney pressed. “If you know anything else and don’t tell me I will…”
“Please, don’t threaten me,” Wendy warned him. “I know my rights, and I don't have to give you any of this information.”
It was Delaney's turn to be silent. After a few moments had passed, he cleared his throat.
“I'm sorry, Wendy,” he finally said but his voice still had an edge to it. “I know you didn't have to call Polson with this information at all. I'm used to dealing with criminals, not wedding planners.”
“I can see that,” Wendy grimaced. She kept to herself that she didn't think with that attitude he'd ever have the need for a wedding planner. “Now, I can tell you about the connection between Oliver, George, Nathan and Alisha, but it also involves me and I don’t want to implicate myself in any way.”
“You’re not even on our radar as a suspect right now.”
“All right,” Wendy said hoping that would never change. “I planned a wedding for Alisha and her husband, Doug. We booked the restaurant that Oliver was head chef of at the time, and a portion of the resort it was located in which was partly owned by Nathan. When the restaurant and resort were shut down, Alisha became very unstable and upset. Now, she is going through a messy divorce, and she is the one who called in the tip. George was the same health inspector that shut down the restaurant. She claims that she requested him by name, because she felt that he would do a good job, after she spotted mice running through Oliver's café.”
