Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “Your father really was willing to do anything for you.” I finally had one part of the equation figured out. There was still another key component to this. “Now, about Walter—”

  David cut me off. “That was an accident.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “Really, an accident?”

  He nodded. “After his acquittal, I couldn’t stand the idea of him walking around town freely. It made me angry to no end that he’d be able to just move on with his life, while the rest of us would be struggling to pick up the pieces. I went over to Walter’s house that night to talk him into leaving town. Even though I’d never truly be able to get over the fact that he’d been acquitted, I figured that if he moved away from Hollywood, maybe having him out of sight might be able to take him out of my family’s minds, even if just a little.”

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  “He said he wasn’t going anywhere. I tried reasoning with him, but he just wouldn’t listen. Instead, he just got angrier and angrier, then told me he still had some unfinished business in this town.”

  “What kind of unfinished business?”

  “He told me that he wanted to see my family suffer. As if we hadn’t already suffered enough, right?” David started getting choked up. “Apparently, he blamed me and my parents for Sadie breaking up with him. Walter said that we poisoned the well and had convinced her that he was the wrong guy for her.”

  “How did you respond?”

  “I said, can you really blame us? I mean, you were crazy enough to kill her.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Realizing that I was getting nowhere, I turned around to leave. That’s when he came at me from behind. He pushed me against the wall and tried to choke me, but I fought back and ended up choking him to death in self-defense. You see, I had no choice. It was either him or me, and I wasn’t about to let him get the better of me,” David explained.

  It was an elaborate story. One that seemed too detailed to make up on the spot. The look in his eyes seemed genuine, but my suspicions remained.

  As much as I wanted to believe David, one part of his story didn’t add up. “If you killed him in self-defense, why didn’t you tell the police that? You could have avoided all of this.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, right. Like they’d believe me. When I just told you this was an accident, you didn’t even believe me. I was at Walter’s house hours after he’d gotten acquitted on charges of killing my sister. If the police found that out, they would have thrown me in jail immediately, regardless of the truth, and you know it.”

  I had a hard time arguing with that. As I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see any wavering. I believed he was telling the truth, that he’d acted in self-defense.

  He continued. “Face it, if you look guilty, people think you are guilty.”

  “You saw that, but that wasn’t the truth with Walter Clayton when it came to that jury. And he was guilty. You’re innocent. Tell the truth and trust the jury to make the right decision this time.”

  He argued with me. “I can’t.”

  I stared him down. “You have to. Your father’s life depends on it.”

  David took my words to heart and grew quiet. As much as he hated to admit it, it became clear to him what he had to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After some hemming and hawing, David eventually turned himself in to the police and confessed to killing Walter Clayton. With David’s confession, Mark Cambridge was released from prison. Unfortunately, the troubles were far from over for the Cambridge family. While David pleaded self-defense in killing Walter, the district attorney disagreed with David’s story and filed murder charges against him.

  Like the Walter Clayton case that had come before it, suddenly the David Cambridge case became the only thing the residents of Hollywood talked about. The trial was locally televised, and I watched every second of it, hoping that justice would be done.

  For five painstaking days, David’s attorney laid out his defense. Finally, on the sixth day, after two hours of deliberation, the jury returned with a verdict.

  I waited impatiently as the foreman stood up in the jury box, holding David’s fate in his hands. As the foreman turned to the judge, I said a quick prayer to God, hoping to hear a not-guilty verdict.

  I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. David’s entire life rested on the words that were about to come out of that foreman’s mouth. I knew what the verdict should have been. But, if juries had proven anything, it was how unpredictable they could be.

  Finally, the wait was over. As I watched the television intently, the foreman opened his mouth and said eight of the sweetest words I’d ever heard in my entire life.

  “We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.”

  The End.

  Murder Of A Restaurant Critic

  Prologue

  My pulse pounded as the car accelerated to eighty miles per hour. I looked over at my brother, Joe Hadley, to see if he was sweating, but he looked as calm as could be. Granted, he was a police detective with training for this sort of thing, but his cool under pressure was still enviable. I could not say the same for myself. While Joe was focused on chasing the murder suspect who was trying to break away from us, I was moments away from a full-blown panic attack.

  How did things come to this—a dangerous car chase at absurdly high speeds? Suddenly, I found myself entertaining thoughts that had never occurred to me before. Things like, how good were the airbags in this car? Would my seat belt really be able to hold me back in the case of a collision? Would my body crumple up like an accordion on impact, or would I be able to walk away from this with only minor scrapes and bruises?

  If I wasn’t careful, my thoughts could turn into nothing more than a minefield. I tried not to let fear get the best of me. That was a more difficult struggle than I had anticipated.

  Once again, I turned my attention to Joe, wondering how he could be so calm at a time like this. Then again, I wouldn’t have wanted him to be any other way, especially since he was the one behind the wheel. His eyes were only focused on one thing—the evergreen-colored sedan that was in front of us.

  Car chases were the kind of things that were always so entertaining to watch on television from the comfort of my living room, but terrifying to be in the thick of. During my years in Los Angeles, I had seen a lot of high-speed chases, as L.A. was sort of the unofficial car-chase capital of the world. Conversely, I could count on one finger the number of times a car chase had occurred in this corner of Florida. I was quite thankful for that. Unfortunately, I had a passenger seat for that one and only car chase.

  In addition, right then, I didn’t have time to count—my fingers were bracing myself in case impact was imminent. In person, these high-speed pursuits were nail-biting affairs. I felt like I could die at any moment. All it would take was one wrong move by either Joe or the suspect in front of us, and it could lead to a disastrous crash.

  Things had started simply enough. After questioning this suspect, Joe had assigned a patrol car to tail their every move, in case they tried to leave town. It was fairly standard procedure. In this case, it also happened to be necessary. A few hours after we’d finished questioning the suspect, they made a break for it, desperate to bolt out of town.

  Joe’s deputy had notified us of the suspect’s departure, and we sped across town to join the chase. Thanks to some unexpected traffic leaving town, the suspect was slowed down, allowing Joe to take a shortcut to catch up with them. Now, we were hot on the suspect’s tail burning down the highway on the outskirts of town, waiting for the suspect to slip up.

  As we looked ahead on the highway, traffic appeared to be intervening. There seemed to be a slowing of traffic in front of us. The closer we got, the more I realized why. There was an overturned big rig taking up two of the three lanes on the westbound side of the highway. All the traffic in front of us was being funneled into one lane while a crew cleaned up the mess associated with the big rig accide
nt.

  Normally, this would be a good thing for us. With traffic slowing down, logically, the suspect would have to slow down as well, right? Only, the suspect kept gunning it.

  Suddenly, we were hurtling full speed ahead towards a worst-case scenario. Didn’t the suspect see the traffic slowing down right in front of us? Or did they not care?

  To Joe and myself, this was a grave concern. We didn’t want casualties at a time like this. Joe’s job was to protect and serve the public at all costs. Unfortunately, it looked like a grim end to this situation was inevitable.

  The suspect kept approaching the traffic snag at full speed, almost destined to plow into the bumper of one of the cars in front of him. I prayed for the suspect to slow down and stop this madness. That prayer wasn’t answered.

  The suspect had other ideas. They made a slight turn to the right at the last moment, swung onto the shoulder of the highway, and kept driving.

  Joe followed behind them. How long could the suspect keep this up? Did they really think they could drive all the way down the shoulder to get beyond this traffic snag?

  I got my answer in short order. A few seconds later, the suspect made a wild turn to the right, following the highway exit, narrowly missing a number of cars as they drove on the shoulder of the off-ramp.

  Joe followed suit and was barely able to keep from hitting the cars as well. Somehow, he managed to just make it.

  I took a deep breath. Phew. That was close. Too close.

  If there was one bright spot in all of this, it was that at least we were off the highway now. As a benefit, this particular exit was in a sparsely populated area. There were more trees out here than people. Conversely, it meant that the suspect had more open space to work with. That could make it much harder to bring this chase to an end.

  That’s when it happened. Just as my worries reached an all-new high, the suspect suddenly made a decision that altered the dynamics of this chase. Before I knew it, everything changed in the blink of an eye, and I realized that things would never be the same.

  Chapter One

  One Day Earlier

  “Are you all right?” Daniel Jacobsen asked.

  It was turning into an odd evening. Things had started off well enough. My boyfriend had taken me to Romancing Jane Burroughs, a new romantic comedy movie that I absolutely loved. In my mind, they couldn’t make enough chick flicks. Unfortunately, Hollywood seemed to be producing less of them than ever these days. What a shame. But the paucity of new romantic comedies coming down the pipeline made seeing a good one even more satisfying.

  After the movie, Daniel figured we’d follow up the movie with a great meal. He’d brought me to Mario’s Italian Restaurant on Beach View Boulevard. We’d been here before and always had wonderful service. The staff was a highly professional bunch and always seemed to be on top of things.

  Only, that night was different. Antonio, our rotund, goateed, twenty-eight-year-old server, had just brought a cup of orange juice and a glass of milk to our table. That would have been fine, had we ordered either of those things. In truth, we were expecting a glass of house white wine and Chianti respectively.

  I would have dismissed that as just a simple misstep, had it been the first mistake of the evening. It was not. When we first arrived, while the hostess was away seating another party, Antonio led us to a table by the restroom when we’d specifically requested a booth that was as far away from the restrooms as possible. Antonio’s mind was clearly on other things, which had prompted Daniel to ask him if everything was all right.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” Antonio replied.

  Even if Antonio hadn’t stammered his answer, it would have been clear by the shaky tone of his voice that things were not going well.

  To be fair, it wasn’t just Antonio’s head that appeared to be in the clouds. There was a general sense of uneasiness in the air. All of the restaurant’s staff looked tense and on edge. The question became, what was the cause of all of this anxiety?

  Usually, I was the nosy one in the relationship. This time, Daniel took the lead. “Really? Then why did you just serve us a glass of orange juice and milk when we ordered wine?”

  Antonio looked down at the table and appeared genuinely shocked to see the orange juice and milk there. That was how distracted his thoughts were that he was only just noticing his error right now, after Daniel had pointed it out to him.

  Antonio’s face went as red as marinara sauce. “I’m so sorry. Your wine will be right up.”

  We didn’t care so much about the apology. The wine, we’d get soon enough. What concerned us more was getting to the bottom of this string of mistakes that kept cropping up.

  “Now, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” I asked.

  He gave a meek answer. “I’m not sure that I’m supposed to.”

  “Antonio, it’s okay. You can tell us,” I said.

  He looked to the left then to the right to make sure no staff members were passing by. Then he leaned in and gave us an explanation.

  “Claude Giraud was just here.”

  Daniel had a visceral reaction that manifested itself as a gag reflex. “The food critic?”

  As a fellow restaurateur himself, my boyfriend had plenty of experience with Claude and his ability to make a restaurant staff’s hairs stand on end. When Claude had come to Daniel’s place a few months before, it almost caused my boyfriend to have a panic attack. Luckily, that story had a happy ending. Claude’s review of Daniel’s restaurant ultimately turned out to be favorable. The same could not be said for a number of the other local restaurants in town.

  Antonio divulged further. “Claude completely eviscerated the place. He told Mario to expect a scathing review.”

  Mario Donatelli was the owner and head chef of this restaurant. The man had an ego the size of the country of Italy. The only thing he had a higher opinion of than himself, was the food he cooked. So for a noted local food critic to rip him apart was not just a blow to his ego, it could also have a drastic effect on his bottom line.

  If Claude’s review ended up being as scathing as he threatened it would be, it could really hurt sales here. And with a cut in revenue, it could mean laying off staff, or worse, possibly even closing. That was all projecting well into the future, but it had happened before to other restaurants in town that had gotten on Claude’s bad side.

  “No wonder everyone is so on edge,” I said.

  “Yeah. Business has been slow enough around here already. If this review tanks things even further, I may not be able to pay all my bills.”

  “That’s awful. Did Claude say what was so wrong with his meal?” Daniel asked.

  “As far as he was concerned, nothing was right about it. The pasta was too bland, the sauce was too lumpy, the garlic bread was undercooked, and the meatballs weren’t flavorful enough,” Antonio said.

  “That seems ridiculously harsh,” I said.

  “Mario must be beside himself,” Daniel added.

  Antonio nodded. “Oh, he was absolutely crazed. So much so that he started having it out with Claude.”

  “When you say he had it out—”

  Antonio took Daniel’s lead and filled in the blanks.

  “Mario started railing against Claude, claiming his review was completely biased because this was one of his estranged wife’s favorite restaurants in town.”

  “I’m sure Claude took that well,” Daniel joked.

  “Mario wasn’t done there. He argued that ever since Claude and his wife separated, he’s been letting his frustrations about his divorce trial bleed into his reviews,” Antonio said.

  “Nothing like accusations of bias to stoke the fires even more. What kind of tongue-lashing did Claude give him after hearing that?”

  “He told Mario to shut up and take some cooking classes before trying to pass off any more mediocre meals on the public.”

  I grimaced at that statement. To me, it sounded as much like a personal attack as it was a line from one of his futur
e reviews.

  Daniel took a bite from the basket of bread that Antonio had previously brought to the table. “The food doesn’t taste bad to me. But what do I know? I’m just a fellow restaurant owner.”

  Antonio muttered under his breath. “I wish you were a reviewer instead of Claude.”

  Daniel extended his sympathies. “I feel bad for Mario. Tell him to hang in there.”

  “I will, when he comes back,” Antonio replied.

  My curiosity was piqued. “Wait a minute. He’s not here?”

  Antonio shook his head. “He stormed out after his confrontation with Claude. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Chapter Two

  Luckily, the rest of the evening was without incident. Then again, between Claude threatening to leave an eviscerating review and Mario storming out, there was already enough drama for one night. For the record, both my meal and Daniel’s were perfectly delicious. While we savored our food, we saw no sign of Mario anywhere. As far as we knew, he didn’t return to the restaurant at all last night. Apparently, he’d taken the news of the impending review even worse than I’d first assumed.

  After a dinner fraught with such tension, I hoped that my breakfast the following morning with my brother would be carefree. Unfortunately, I did not get my wish. As I arrived at Home Sweet Home Cooking Café to meet Joe, he was just getting up to leave.

  That left me puzzled. “Where are you going?”

  “I hate to do this to you, but I have to go right now,” Joe said.

  He clearly hoped that I wouldn’t push him for more information. The fact was, his answer had only made me more curious. “Why? What happened?”