by Hillary Avis
“Ben?” Bethany asked, putting a plate on the counter in front of Kimmy. Charley nodded. “But what about Trevor? Or Olive? Or Jen—maybe she got tired of being pushed around! Or Aaron—that guy didn’t want to stay a minute longer than he had to.”
Charley put down her fork. “Ben lost fifty thousand dollars, his relationship, and potentially his job because of Marigold. He had the strongest motive to kill her, by far, and he has no alibi. I know he’s not evil, Kimmy. He probably didn’t mean to hurt her—things just got heated. He pushed her, and she fell. It’s terrible and wrong, but it’s not evil.”
Kimmy dropped her hands from her ears and stared dolefully at her pasta. Charley put her arm around Kimmy’s shoulders and squeezed, murmuring sympathetically in her ear.
Bethany turned away and studiously ate her dinner, embarrassed to watch their intimate moment. It’d been a long time since anyone comforted her like that. She’d been so focused on getting Souperb Soups up and running that she’d completely neglected dating and most of her friendships for the better part of a year, and to be honest, she missed those connections. Maybe it was time to do something about that now that a couple of prospects were on the radar.
Not that Ryan is a prospect. He was just cute, not dating material, even if he had the brightest smile on the eastern seaboard. She should definitely set her sights on someone more like Milo, who clearly cared about his career and had a more normal life.
“I have to go to the station,” Charley said abruptly. She pushed back her stool and rinsed her empty plate in the sink.
“Right now?” Kimmy asked. “It’s almost midnight. Can’t you wait until the morning?”
Charley shook her head. “I need to update my report with the new information Bethany told me about the restoration fund theft and Ben’s changing alibi. We’ll question him about it in the morning, most likely—I don’t think we’ll be breaking down any doors tonight.”
“But you’ll probably arrest him,” Bethany said, guilt souring her stomach.
Charley nodded and seemed to recognize what Bethany was feeling. “You did the right thing, telling me.”
“What if I’m wrong? What if it was someone else? You know I’m too suspicious sometimes.” Bethany anxiously tapped her fork against her plate, the ting ting ting matching the pounding in her ears.
“Don’t worry—if Ben didn’t push Marigold, we’ll find out. I’m not interested in arresting innocent people.”
“Then why can’t you wait a couple of days, so we—you have a chance to ask more questions? Rule out the other possibilities first?”
Kimmy nodded. “Marigold’s memorial is on Saturday, and Olive has put so much energy into planning it. If Ben is arrested, it’ll ruin it for her. Can’t you just give her two more days? It’s not even two whole days...you could arrest him after the memorial on Saturday afternoon.”
“And by then I’ll—I mean, you’ll be really really sure,” Bethany added hopefully.
Charley rubbed her face with both hands. “This is crazy. I’m going to arrest a murderer, and I feel like I’m letting you both down. As much as I love you, Kimmy, I have to do this by the book. I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want me to come back.” She grabbed her coat and left.
Kimmy stared at the closed door, her mouth half-open. Bethany felt terrible for her. If she’d just kept her suspicions about Ben to herself for a little bit longer, Charley wouldn’t have had to make such a painful choice. “I’m sorry—I feel like this is my fault.”
Kimmy shook her head. “Did you hear that?”
“I know. She’s not coming back.”
“Not that—she said she loves me!” Kimmy turned to her with huge, glowing eyes. One look at her friend’s expression, and Bethany couldn’t help grinning.
“I did hear that. Loud and clear.”
Chapter 7
Friday Morning
CHEERFUL. That was the goal for Friday’s soup of the day. Something to help people forget the ugliness of the week. Curry lentil, maybe? No, she’d learned her lesson with the spicy oyster stew. A curry might be warm and uplifting, but it was too challenging for some Newbridge residents. Today required something that evoked a feel-good happiness that was both innocent and nostalgic. Classic tomato. Yes!
Invigorated by the decision, Bethany pedaled faster along the Newbridge waterfront, whizzing past the commercial docks where she often bought fresh seafood, the park with the curved sandy beach, and the houseboats and small sailing craft in the marina.
Prep at Café Sabine was simple. She had leftover chicken stock from earlier in the week in the freezer, the tomatoes were from a can (sweeter and riper than fresh ones, this time of year), and she had plenty of onions and garlic stashed in the back of Kimmy’s pantry. Yet, even after the soup had burbled on the back burner of the café’s enormous range for forty minutes and was seasoned perfectly, it was still missing something.
“Basil?” Bethany asked, holding a spoon out to Kimmy. “Thyme?”
Kimmy tasted the soup, smacking her lips, and tossed the spoon into the sink. “Cream.”
Bethany giggled. “You always say cream.”
“And I’m usually right.” Kimmy stirred her own soup of the day, a delicate vichyssoise.
“I wish Charley were here to give an opinion, too,” Bethany said, tasting the soup herself. It was fine, but maybe just a bit under-salted. Kimmy was right, cream wouldn’t hurt, either.
“She’d just say it needed chili peppers.”
Bethany nodded and gave a halfhearted smile. “She’s usually here by now. I guess she’s probably busy at the train station.”
“Probably,” Kimmy said, her voice tight.
“I’m kind of afraid to go over there. I don’t really want to see Ben if I can help it, to be honest.”
Kimmy turned to face Bethany with tears in her eyes. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t betray him, Bethany. He’s the one who did something wrong. He betrayed all of us.”
“I know, but I wish I felt more sure about it.”
“Hopefully he’ll just confess once he realizes the police know it’s him and save everyone some grief.”
Bethany nodded. “Except Olive—she’s still going to be bummed that her memorial service won’t be perfect.”
“We’ll just have to make sure it’s better than perfect. Plus, how great will it be for Jen to go home knowing that the person who killed her cousin is behind bars? That would have to be comforting.”
“You’re starting to sound like Charley.” Bethany winked.
Kimmy blushed. “Not really, but I am starting to appreciate that Charley is so by the book. It’s hard enough dating a cop, but imagine dating a cop that you didn’t think was following the rules. I mean, if she’ll bend the rules for her friends, that’s pretty much the end, isn’t it? That’s corruption, even if it’s benign. Another time it might not be.”
Bethany nodded. “Very true. And with Charley’s ambition, she’ll probably be police chief someday. Who better than someone who is so ethical that she won’t even delay filing a report long enough to have dessert? On that note, I should play by the rules and get to work, even though I dread seeing Ben. He’ll know I’m the one who told.”
“Maybe they arrested him already, and you won’t have to talk to him.”
“Ugh, I’m not going to hope for that, either. I’m going to hope that he had some magical proof that he didn’t do it, and they moved on to another suspect. I hope he’s sitting in his office, angry at me for causing trouble. That’s what I hope.” Bethany gave a firm nod.
Kimmy looked at her with sad eyes. “You do realize that if Ben is cleared, that means someone else did it. Who else would you prefer go to jail? Trevor, when his wife is about to pop?”
“I’d prefer it was nobody! I hope it was someone none of us have ever seen or heard of before.”
“Then the killer probably will get away with it, and might even kill someone else. Is that what you’re hoping for?”
/>
“Ugh.” Bethany brandished a spoon like a gun. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Kimmy?”
Kimmy sighed. “I’m just trying to make a point.”
“Point taken. I’ll stop hoping and just make my tomato soup like a good girl until the nice men figure it out.” Bethany flashed a sickly-sweet smile.
“And Charley. The nice men and Charley. She’s our only hope.”
AS SOON AS BETHANY set foot inside Newbridge Station, she heard the shouts echoing down the concourse. Olive was standing out in front of the Honor Roll, watching, and so was everyone else in the station. Two police officers were handcuffing Ben near the ticket booth while Charley read him his rights. Ben struggled, his loafers slipping on the worn marble tiles as he fought to avoid being cuffed, but he had little hope against the two strong officers.
Olive had a hand over her mouth, her brows furrowed with concern. “Oh, I hope they don’t hurt him. I really do.”
Bethany’s throat ached with unshed tears. A cycle of blame spiraled like a cyclone in her mind. This is my fault for telling on Ben. This is Ben’s fault for killing Marigold. This is Marigold’s fault for stealing the money.
Olive couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. “They didn’t have to do it like this—so publicly. They could have done it in his office.” Bethany was so overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn’t even respond. The officers finally got the cuffs on Ben and escorted him to the door. As he passed them, he spotted Bethany.
“I didn’t do this, Bethany! You know I didn’t! Find out who’s to blame. You find out!” His eyes bored into her even as the door closed, and she could no longer hear him through the glass. She could read his lips, though—you find out, you find out, you find out—as they put him into the back of a squad car.
“What a shame.” Olive fluttered her hand. “What a waste of a nice man like Ben Kovac.”
“Even nice men do bad things sometimes. I’m surprised, though, I guess. I thought it was possible he did it, but I guess deep down I didn’t believe he was capable. I somehow thought that Charley would clear him today.”
“Desperate people do stupid things, I’m sorry to say,” Olive murmured. “They’re wrapped up in their own little world, not thinking about consequences.”
Bethany nodded sadly. “Help me lift the soup onto the warmer?”
“Sure.” Olive trailed behind her over to the kiosk, and they lifted the heavy stock pot together. “Bigger vat than usual, eh?”
“I’m trying a new stock pot. I sell out so quickly that I figured I’d better increase capacity so the 12:55 folks aren’t always shortchanged.” Bethany wrote “Nostalgic Tomato” on the chalk board. “What do you think about pairing this with grilled cheese sandwiches on your classic white bread?”
“Or cheesy biscuits?” Olive suggested. “I don’t have a grill.”
“That’d work. Or you could make grilled cheese in the oven—have you tried that?”
Olive clapped her hands gleefully. “No, but what a fantastic idea. That way I can make a bunch at once, too. I’m going to go do a test batch to make sure it works before the rush. That reminds me, I wanted to ask you if you’d make a special soup for Marigold’s memorial on Saturday. I know you don’t usually cook on the weekends, but it’s for a good cause. I can’t pay you much, but—”
“Of course I will, and don’t say another word about money. Is there anything else I can help with? Especially now that Ben can’t be here?” Bethany hated to remind Olive about Ben’s arrest, but she also wanted to keep her promise to Kimmy to help make Olive’s event better than perfect, and that meant planning ahead.
“You know? Life goes on,” Olive said, her mouth straight and set in a very un-Olive-like expression. “We can’t make everything right, now can we?”
“No, I guess not. We just have to do our best for Marigold’s family. How are your houseguests? Hanging in there?”
Olive nodded, her face brightening. “They’re anxious to get home, of course, but they seem relieved that the killer has been caught.” She nodded over to the bakery, where Jen and Aaron sat in a table at the window. They looked more glum than relieved, staring at the cups of coffee on the table in front of them. Jen kept wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket until Aaron handed her a napkin. For such a prickly guy, he was so tender and gentlemanly with Jen. It reminded Bethany a little of Kimmy and Charley.
“Why don’t I come with you while you test-bake the cheese sandwiches, and I can talk with Jen about what soup she thinks would be best for the memorial?”
Olive nodded, and Bethany followed her into the Honor Roll. A wave of warm, pastry-scented air enveloped her the moment she stepped through the swinging glass door. Bethany’s stomach rumbled audibly, and Olive chuckled.
“Common reaction. Care for a multiplication muffin?”
Bethany nodded eagerly, and Olive brought her a citrus-scented muffin with an “X” made of orange zest on top. She thanked Olive and took the plate over to the table where Jen and Aaron sat. “Mind if I join you two?”
Jen shook her head and moved Marigold’s purse off the table so there was room for Bethany’s plate. Bethany sat and, to combat the awkward silence that followed, crammed a big piece of the muffin in her mouth. She chewed while they stared at her. “Um. How are you doing?”
“How do you think?” Aaron snorted. “What do you want?”
Bethany swallowed. Tough crowd. “Well, I’m planning to cook for Marigold’s memorial, and I wanted to ask about her favorites. What do you think she’d have liked?”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “If you want to know what she liked, you should probably ask someone else.”
“Stop,” Jen said. “It’s not important now.”
Bethany tried to suppress her curiosity out of respect for Jen’s grief, but it bubbled to the surface anyway. “What do you mean? Who knows her better than you?”
“You must have noticed that she had a habit of ‘borrowing’”—he made air quotes around the word with his fingers—“things she liked. I doubt she had any thoughts of her own.”
“I noticed, but I thought it was just me she was copying.”
“Not just you,” Aaron said.
“Interesting. So why do you think she ‘borrowed’ the money from Ben’s office? I mean, he’d obviously know right away that she did it, so how did she think she’d get away with it?”
“How did she think she’d get away with stealing your business concept?” Jen murmured. “She just gets what she wants.”
“And that’s why she’s dead.” Aaron sounded so satisfied that Bethany would have thought he was the murderer, if he hadn’t been on the train that hit her.
Wait. Was he on the train? Of course, he and Jen said he was, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was on the platform not because he’d exited the train, but because he had just pushed Marigold onto the tracks? Bethany’s heart raced.
She forced a smile onto her face. “You must be relieved that her killer has been caught.”
Jen shook her head. “I just want to go home. This whole trip has been a fiasco from start to finish. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”
The right thing to do would be to leave Jen and Aaron alone, when they clearly didn’t want to talk to her. But Ben’s words kept echoing in her mind. You find out, you find out. If there was even a chance that Aaron wasn’t on that train, or that Ben was telling the truth about being in the restroom when Marigold was killed, Bethany had to find out. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I know this is a hard time. Just out of curiosity, though...did you see Ben when you came out of the restroom on Wednesday morning?”
They both stared at her wordlessly. She kept talking to fill the awkward silence. “You know, he said he went to the restroom at the time of the murder, but before that he said he was in his office, so I wondered if you saw him. I mean, I saw you go in the men’s room, but he can’t have gone to the men’s room if you were in there, but maybe he went in as you w
ere coming out? Is that possible? Did you see him?”
“No,” Jen said flatly, and Aaron scraped back his chair and stood up.
“Enough of this. You need to leave now. She doesn’t want to talk about it any more. Come on Jen, let’s go.”
Bethany bit her lip. Ugh, she had to ask. “Where are you going?”
Jen closed her eyes. In a tired voice, she said, “Probably just walking down to the marina and back. We could use some air.”
“Enjoy. Um, there’s a little tea-and-toast shop on Sixth Street, down by the park, in case you get cold.”
Aaron nodded curtly and held the bakery door open for Jen on their way out. As Bethany watched them through the bakery windows, Olive came up beside her with a cheese sandwich on a small plate.
“Try this.”
Bethany took a bite. Crunchy, creamy, salty, buttery—everything a grilled cheese sandwich should be. “It’s genius.”
“Why, thank you.” Olive curtsied. “You better get over to your booth. Looks like you have a line already.”
Bethany did a little internal happy dance. Nostalgic Tomato for the win. Yesterday’s slowdown was just a fluke, a blip. And to her pleasant surprise, Milo was first in line.
“Hey, stranger.” She grinned at him. She wondered if he was here for the food or the company. “Is that your crime hat or your soup hat?”
“Definitely the soup hat. Where have you been?”
Maybe he was here for both. She tied on her apron and filled a container with the rich tomato-y goodness. “I was over at the Honor Roll talking to Marigold’s cousin and her fiancé about the memorial service tomorrow. They’re pretty upset about everything, understandably.”
Milo whipped his head around toward the bakery. “They’re here? Where?”
She pointed toward the exit. “See the woman in the red coat? That’s Jen. They’re just leaving now. Said they were going on a walk down to the marina.”
Milo put both hands on the kiosk counter, an apologetic grimace on his face. “Listen, I—”
