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Death by Vanilla Latte

Page 19

by Alex Erickson


  “Do you think Cameron could have done it?” He sounded skeptical.

  “He gained quite a lot from Rick’s death,” I said. “But while he has a pretty good motive, I’m just not sure he could pull it off. Everyone knew he was Rick’s assistant and had access to his room. Why kill him there and then jump out the window? Why not lure him somewhere else?”

  “Rick was pretty stubborn. No one lures him anywhere he doesn’t want to be.”

  “Okay, fine, but why jump out the window? Why not just walk away? I don’t think anyone would have thought it strange for him to be there. He was Rick’s assistant, so people would expect him to be hovering around.”

  “Maybe he got blood on him.”

  I paused. Why hadn’t I thought about that?

  Dad looked contemplative. “Whoever stabbed Rick would likely have had to change afterward, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Even a little blood would stain. Black and red clothing might hide it, but it couldn’t erase the evidence entirely.” He shook himself. “But we shouldn’t be talking about these things right now.”

  “We shouldn’t?”

  Dad put his arm around me. “I’m thinking we find somewhere to sit down and grab a late lunch. We can discuss the details of the case over a hamburger.” His stomach growled, as if on cue.

  I glanced around Death by Coffee and realized I had no reason to be here any longer. All of the suspects were gone. Only Rita and her gossip pals, Georgina and Andi, were still here. Apparently, the rest of the authors had left when Cameron had gone, leaving me with no one to interrogate.

  “You’re right,” I said, my own stomach giving a small growl of approval. Other than breakfast, I had yet to eat. Time had flown right by—a hazard of investigation, I was quickly learning. “Where do you want to go?”

  Dad led me toward the door. “I heard about this place in town that’s supposed to have really good food. I think it’s called J&E’s . . .”

  22

  By some miracle of fate, Judith Banyon wasn’t at J&E’s Banyon Tree when we arrived. I was thankful because the ownership wasn’t exactly thrilled with me. Judith accused me of stealing her customers, because before I opened Death by Coffee, the Banyon Tree was the place to go in Pine Hills for your morning cup of joe. I’d been chased from the premises more than once now, and fully expected to have it happen again.

  We picked a table by the window and sat. I was so intent on keeping an eye out for Judith or her husband, Eddie, that I didn’t notice who our waitress was until she cleared her throat and gave me an expectant look.

  “Hi, Shannon,” I said, plastering on a smile. “I’ll take a Coke.”

  She gave me a strained smile and then spun and walked away, Dad having already ordered his drink.

  “You two know each other?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Shannon came back a moment later, drinks in hand. She set Dad’s tea down carefully. My Coke came down with a smidge more force.

  “What can I get you?” she asked, pointedly not looking my way.

  I felt bad. Shannon seemed like a nice girl, but we’d both fallen for the same man. And while I was no longer interested in Paul Dalton—shush, I’m not!—Shannon still was. I’ve never been the woman who’d come between a couple before, and didn’t know how to handle it now.

  Dad and I ordered. Shannon remained professional, but I was definitely feeling a chill coming off her. I knew her relationship with Paul was on the rocks, and I sorely hoped it didn’t have anything to do with me. I was with Will, so there was no reason why it should.

  Dad looked at me curiously when Shannon departed. I only smiled, shrugged, and sipped at my Coke. I was definitely not going to get into it with my dad.

  Somehow, we didn’t discuss Rick’s murder during lunch, despite what he’d said. I can’t say I wasn’t relieved. Every loud sound caused me to jump, and once, when an older woman passed by, I just about leapt from my chair and hit her upside the head with my purse, thinking Judith was trying to sneak up on me.

  “You ready to go?” Dad asked, half his sandwich still sitting on his plate. “You seem tense.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I don’t think my nerves could have taken much more.

  Dad paid the bill, refusing to let me chip in. Shannon’s smile was icy when she gave him his change and told me to have a good day. Someday soon, I’d have to have a sit-down with her to clear the air. I didn’t want there to be any bad blood between us, especially since she was once one of the only people in J&E’s who treated me with an ounce of respect.

  Dad and I had taken separate cars to the Banyon Tree, so my drive back home was quiet. I thought a lot about what I’d learned today, and wondered how best to approach it moving forward. How could I talk to Harland without him getting angry? Who jumped out of Rick’s window? What about Joel? Could he have anything to do with Rick’s death? And what wasn’t Cameron telling me earlier? I swear he knew more than he was letting on.

  When I got home, Dad was already there, in the bedroom, making a few calls. He sounded stressed when I peeked in on him, though he smiled when he saw me. In all of this, I kept forgetting how hard this had to be on him, and not just personally, but career-wise. The man who’d placed his books with publishers was now gone. He’d have to find someone new if he wanted to continue writing, because there was no way Dad was going to negotiate contracts on his own. I got my money sense from him, if that tells you anything.

  While he conducted his business, I tried to keep myself busy with puzzles. Misfit sat on the counter next to me, watching my pen, which remained mostly motionless. I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about my three best suspects: Cameron, Harland, and Joel. One of them had to have done it, and quite possibly, more than one of them could be involved if they were willing to work together. Could Cameron have convinced the two writers to take Rick out with a promise to sign them on later? It was a stretch, but people have killed for less.

  A knock at the door pulled me from my ruminations. I shoved my pen in my purse so Misfit wouldn’t make off with it, and then headed for the door. It was late afternoon, and I wasn’t expecting company. I peeked out the window to see a bright pink suit, before opening the door to a clearly distressed Jules Phan.

  “Jules?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked as if he was about to break down in tears. “It’s terrible!” he wailed. “It’s ruined!”

  I stepped aside to let him in. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He sucked in a breath and walked into the house. Misfit bolted to his feet, on the lookout for Maestro, but Jules hadn’t brought the little dog with him. “But Phantastic Candies isn’t.”

  “Oh no! What happened?”

  “A waterline broke in the bathroom. I was out front and didn’t hear anything because I’d turned the music up for the kids. It wasn’t until I saw a girl playing in the water that I realized something was amiss. By the time I tracked down the source, it was too late! The whole place is flooded!”

  My heart clenched, thinking of all the candy that was now soggy and ruined. I have an admitted sweet tooth, and the thought of all that sugar and chocolate being thrown into the garbage was a travesty of the first degree. Add to that the fact that Phantastic Candies was Jules’s lifeblood, and we had a near national disaster on our hands.

  “Did you get the water shut off?” I asked, glancing down at Jules’s feet. Sure enough, his lower legs were damp to midcalf.

  “I did,” he said. “But we have to close until everything dries out. I’m afraid I’m going to have to replace the floors, and one of the candy chutes is now clogged with so much gunk, I don’t think I’ll ever get it out.”

  “You have insurance, right?”

  He nodded, seemingly relieved. “I’ll still be responsible for some of it. And the fact that I won’t be making any money while they get it fixed is going to make things tight around here. Lance is on his way back home, but there isn�
�t anything he can do.” He closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “Krissy, what am I going to do?”

  I wrapped him in a hug. “It’ll be fine,” I said, hoping it was true. Jules was a good friend, and his candy store was a place the kids could go for some good cheer. “Maybe once everything is fixed, you can have a grand reopening event. It might bring in lots of customers that will make up for the lost time.” I knew I’d go, and I was pretty sure most of the town would turn out as well.

  He stepped back, eyes lighting up. “You’re right! I could hang banners, hire a live band to play for all the kiddies.” He clapped his hands together. “There could be balloons and I could set up stations for the kids to make drawings and hang them on the wall.”

  I nodded along, smiling. With Jules, everything was big. He truly cared about the kids he served, and I knew he would make the entire event about them, rather than himself. The celebration was probably going to be the go-to event of the year here in Pine Hills.

  “I could always help out if you need me,” I offered.

  “Thank you.” He enveloped me in an enthusiastic hug. “Maybe we could get the entire street involved. We could turn it into a block party of sorts. I have to make some calls!”

  Jules hurried out the door and over to his house, a skip in his step. With how I always seemed to turn other people’s mood sour when I was around, it was nice to know I could make a positive difference in someone’s life occasionally. I watched him until he stepped inside, calling, “Maestro! Krissy has given me a fantastic idea!” And then his door closed, and he was gone.

  “Who was that?” Dad asked, coming out from the bedroom.

  “Jules Phan,” I said, closing my own door. “He’s my neighbor. He owns the local candy store.”

  “Ah. Is everything okay? He sounded upset when he came in.”

  “I think so.” I crossed the room to pet Misfit, who was still on high alert, searching for Maestro. “Did you get things sorted out?”

  “I’m working on it.” Dad sighed. “There are some details I’m going to have to work out with my publisher now that Rick’s gone, but I don’t think there will be any problems.” He sat at the island counter as if the weight of the world was dragging him down. “This is a mess.”

  I sat down next to him. “We’ll get through it.”

  “I know. I just wish there was more I could do.”

  “Yeah.” I looked guiltily away before patting his hand. “I swear Cameron knows more than he’s letting on, but he’s not going to say anything that’s going to get himself into trouble.”

  Dad smiled wistfully. “If I was Bobby Drake, I’d have no qualms about breaking into someone’s house to dig for clues. It’s so much easier in books.”

  “Well, this isn’t one of your novels,” I said, flushing. I’d had my own Bobby Drake moments in the past, though I didn’t want him to know that. Breaking and entering wasn’t something you shared with your father. “Besides, Cameron doesn’t live in town. He’s staying at a hotel somewhere, so it isn’t like we can break into his place, anyway.”

  “I do know where he’s staying,” Dad said. There was something in his tone I didn’t like. “His room was two doors down from mine when I stayed at the hotel.”

  Our eyes met. “You don’t think he’d have anything there that would help solve the case, do you?”

  “He might.” Dad rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. “If he killed Rick, we might find something there. Bloody clothes. An incriminating e-mail on his laptop.”

  “Or, if he knows who did it, he might be in contact with him or her. Maybe he’s planning to blackmail them. Or perhaps he had a hand in orchestrating it.”

  Dad’s mouth crooked in a mischievous smile. “What do you think about paying Cameron’s room a visit tonight?”

  Something in the depths of my brain screamed at me to say no, but instead, I gave him a crooked smile of my own. “Sounds like fun.”

  Dad clapped his hands together and laughed. “It’s a date, then.”

  “Wait!” A new thought shot through me. “What if he’s there when we get there?”

  “We could tell him we’re stopping by to see how he is. Or maybe I could talk to him about my plans. I will need a new agent eventually.”

  “But we can’t snoop around if he’s there. Even if you are trying to distract him, there’s no way he’s going to let me riffle through his room.”

  Dad frowned. “So, now what?” He sounded disappointed.

  My mind raced. While breaking into Cameron’s hotel room was definitely a bad idea, it also might help prove one way or the other if he was involved in Rick’s death. To be honest, I didn’t want him to be. He seemed like a nice guy, albeit something of an opportunist.

  To this point, all I’d really done was spin my wheels, making no real progress on the case. Since Paul hadn’t come around asking me any more questions, and I hadn’t seen a hint of him or Buchannan since they’d released Rita, I was pretty sure the police were just as stumped as I was. Checking Cameron’s room for clues could only help, right?

  An idea trickled through my brain then. Cameron was doing his best to take on his former boss’s role as a literary agent. He wanted to work with some of the local authors in the hopes of finding a gem in the rough. I was pretty sure I could use that.

  I snatched my phone out of my purse and dialed before I could reconsider.

  “Hi, Rita,” I said when it was picked up on the other end. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “I’m terribly busy at the moment, dear.”

  “It’s about Cameron.”

  There was a pause before she said, “I’m listening.”

  “I was wondering, do you happen to have his cell phone number?”

  “Well, of course I do! I convinced him to give it to me in case I made any changes to my manuscript that he just had to know about. You know, he’s going to get me published and James Hancock and I are going on a world book-signing tour together. I’ve already started picking out the locations and dates!”

  I rolled my eyes, but didn’t burst her bubble. I needed her for this. “That sounds great. What do you say to calling Cameron up and setting up a meeting with him tonight?”

  “Why?” Suspicion practically dripped from the question.

  I could lie and tell her a tall tale about Cameron telling me he wanted to discuss her novel with her because he thought it had potential, but it would take all of two minutes of them talking before they’d both realize they’d been had. I’d never hear the end of it, and she’d likely find a way to get me into trouble afterward, out of spite. Besides, we needed time. And to get it, they needed to stick together for a lot longer than a couple of minutes.

  So, against my better judgment, I opted for the truth.

  “Dad and I want to make sure Cameron had nothing to do with Rick’s murder,” I said. “To do that, we need to get into his hotel room while he isn’t there.”

  “You really don’t think Mr. Little had anything to do with that horrible business, now do you?”

  “I hope not,” I said. “This is our way to clear his name. You call him, ask him to meet you for dinner to discuss your novel, and while he’s gone, Dad and I slip in, take a look around, and then get out before your dinner concludes. You’ll get alone time with him, so you’ll benefit from it, too.”

  “It could work. . . .” Rita sounded interested, as I’d known she’d be. “It’s just like your father’s novel—”

  I cut her off. “Exactly. Can you help? James Hancock would appreciate it.”

  He gave me a strange look as Rita squealed into the phone. “Of course, dear, I’ll help. Now you just give me five minutes to make the call and I’ll get right back to you. This is so exciting! I’m helping in a real murder investigation with James Hancock.” She actually sighed into the phone before hanging up.

  “Well?” Dad asked as I set my phone down onto the counter. I felt bad for coaxing her the way I had, but it had produced the d
esired result.

  “Rita’s going to see if he’ll meet her. She’ll call back once she knows.”

  My stomach was in knots as I waited. No matter what happened, I was worried about the consequences. If he refused to meet her, then we weren’t going to get into his room tonight, which meant evidence might never be found. If it did work, then we’d be committing a crime, one that would likely end with the both of us sitting in a jail cell, with Officer Dalton yelling at me for being irresponsible yet again.

  But could I really let this opportunity pass me by? It meant so much to my dad. He looked at least five years younger every time we discussed the case, and now that we were planning to take action, he looked even younger still.

  My phone rang, and I snatched it up off the counter. “Well?” I asked, not sure what I was hoping for.

  “We’re meeting tonight at seven,” she said. “I think he’s sweet on me, though all I want is a purely business relationship.”

  “Great!” I gave Dad a thumbs-up. He pumped a fist into the air and winked. “Try to keep him at least an hour. More, if you can manage it.”

  “I’ll have that man turned into putty if that’s what it takes.”

  I blocked the mental image of Rita trying to seduce the much-younger Cameron. “Thank you, Rita. You’re being a big help.”

  “Tell James I’m doing this for him.”

  “I will.”

  We hung up, and I looked at the clock. “We have about three hours before we should go,” I said, calculating travel time.

  “Okay, great. Let me hit the shower and get changed.” Dad started for the hall, stopped, and turned back to me. “I appreciate you doing this. I know we shouldn’t be doing anything at all, but there’s something exhilarating about being a part of an investigation like this. I haven’t felt this alive in years.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “I know the feeling.”

  With a wink and an excited clap of his hands, Dad headed for the bathroom. I looked at Misfit, who was watching me with his head cocked to the side, as if questioning my sanity.

  “What am I getting myself into?” I asked him.

 

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