“There’s still no better way to start off a day than with a cup of coffee,” Betsy said.
Despite being an octogenarian, my grandma was still as feisty as ever. Besides, she looked much younger than she actually was. That was most likely due to her active lifestyle. Even though she had retired over a decade ago, she kept a busier social calendar than a lot of women who were half her age. Not that she didn’t relax. She did plenty of that. Her days were filled with equal parts leisure activities and wisecracks.
Between her pottery class and her book club, she would sprinkle in a yoga class or an afternoon at the beach. The specifics of her itinerary weren’t nearly as important as the fact that fun was always on her agenda. Her motto was simple—life was too short to do anything she didn’t enjoy.
That had not always been the case for her. After my grandfather had died of a stroke six years ago, Betsy had been crestfallen. For months, she didn’t even want to get out of bed. My mother began to worry that my grandma had given up hope. That her depression had consumed her. Then my mother found a local support group for recent widows. Betsy reluctantly went to a meeting, and it ended up turning her whole life around.
At the support group, my grandma met a woman who gave her a new perspective on life. That woman reminded Betsy that tomorrow was promised to no one. That each day was precious. And that life should be cherished. My grandma took those words to heart.
Although one thing remained the same. Regardless of what events were on my grandma’s calendar, she always began her day with a cup of coffee. I couldn’t wait to see her smiling face come into the shop shortly after the café opened. That day was no different.
I joked with my grandma. “With a slogan like that, you could have gone into advertising.”
Betsy looked around. “Nah. Advertising is about selling people things they don’t need. Why waste your time doing that when you can serve people the perfect cup of coffee? Now that’s a delicious way to spend your life.”
I got playful with her. “You sure brewed yourself a lot of success doing that.”
Betsy gave me a smile. “Why don’t you leave the puns to me?”
I chuckled. “Sure thing, Grandma.”
“The real thing that brewed at this shop, even more than coffee, was love. If I hadn’t gone into the coffee business, I might not have ever met your grandfather.”
She wasn’t wrong. Shortly after opening Daley Buzz nearly half a century ago, my grandfather came through the front door looking for a job. My grandma ended up hiring him as her assistant manager. Over time, he became more than just my grandma’s employee—he turned out to be the love of her life. They ended up tying the knot less than a year later and remained married for forty-two years until my grandfather’s death.
Betsy got a wistful look in her eyes.
“Are you thinking about Grandpa?” I asked.
Betsy nodded. “Not a day goes by that he isn’t on my mind. A love like that—you need to treasure it when it comes around.”
“You were very lucky to experience a love that deep.”
“I sure was. Then again, luck seems to run in our family.”
I knitted my brow. “How so?”
“The way your grandfather used to look at me, it’s the same way I see David gazing at you now.”
It warmed my heart to hear that. I cared deeply about David. More than I had about any man in my life. At the same time, David and I hadn’t even spoken about getting married yet.
“I can only hope that David and I will be together as long as you and grandpa were,” I said.
Betsy replied with confidence in her voice. “You will be.”
I smiled. “I’m happy that you feel that way—”
“I don’t just feel it. I know it. Trust me, your grandma is never wrong.”
“I’m not going to dispute that.”
Betsy’s sassy streak returned. “That’s why I love you, Sabrina. You tell me that I’m right. That’s something that I never get tired of hearing.”
My mother approached from the back office.
“Who does get tired of hearing that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Elizabeth, you know the famous saying—compliments are like cake for the soul,” Betsy replied.
“Mom, just because you made that saying up doesn’t make it famous,” Elizabeth said.
“All right. Maybe that quote isn’t famous, but it should be,” Betsy replied. “Besides, you’re missing my point.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Which is?”
“Everyone knows you can’t ever have too much cake. The same goes for compliments.”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “I’m pretty sure there are plenty of dieticians and personal trainers who would wildly disagree with that cake comment.”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “Why are you letting the truth get in the way of my scrumptious story? You should be more like your daughter. She always lets her grandma be right.”
“I’ll give you this, Mom. You’re always unique,” Elizabeth said.
“I think awesome is the word you were looking for,” Betsy replied.
My mother rolled her eyes. “Oh dear. It’s getting sassy in here.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Betsy replied.
At that point, Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh.
My grandma decided to move on to another topic. “Speaking of, how is David doing with this case?”
I exhaled. “Not great.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s terrible what happened to Andrew. He deserves justice.”
“He sure does.”
“Is he going to get it?” Betsy asked.
“David is working on it,” I replied.
“Tell him to work harder. Otherwise, I might have to crack this case myself,” Betsy said.
“I’m not sure you have the time to do that with all the activities that are on your schedule,” I replied.
“You’re right. Speaking of, pottery class awaits. And I have to say, I’m feeling pretty fired up,” Betsy cracked.
My grandma waited for a laugh.
Elizabeth groaned. “Fired up?”
Betsy shrugged. “What? You didn’t like that pottery pun?”
My mother shook her head.
Betsy let out a sigh. “Tough crowd. Anyway, I don’t want to keep the kiln waiting too long. After all, the world doesn’t stop spinning for anyone.”
Once again, Betsy hoped for a laugh.
That crack got a chuckle out of my mother. “Now there’s a better pun.”
Betsy grabbed her coffee cup and headed for the exit. “You two take good care of my shop, you hear?”
“You know we will,” I said.
“We always do,” my mother added.
“Okay. See you tomorrow,” Betsy replied.
My grandma headed out.
That left my mother and me alone in the coffee shop.
My thoughts suddenly drifted to a new topic.
I turned to my mother. “Mom, has Tom Dillon come in today?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No.”
I looked at the time on my phone and bit the corner of my lip. “That’s weird. He’s usually here by now.”
“Maybe something came up. After all, we’re living in crazy times.”
“Maybe.”
Or maybe he didn’t want to come in today because I had questioned him the day before about his secret meeting. While I was wrapped up in my thoughts, my mom was confused about why I had asked her about Mr. Dillon.
“Why are you so interested in Tom?” Elizabeth said.
My mother had asked the question, but she wasn’t prepared to hear the whole truth. Her mind was already on overload running the coffee shop and mourning Andrew’s death. If I clued her in about the secret meeting David and I had stumbled upon the other night, it would just be too much for her to process.
I gave her a customer-service-friendly answer. “I was just curious. After all, h
e’s a regular, and I know how you feel about the regulars.”
“The regulars keep this business running,” my mother said.
“Exactly.”
Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkled. “Maybe he’s just running late. After all, with everything that has been going on, we have all been thrown for a loop lately.”
“That’s true.”
I didn’t pursue the topic any further with my mother, but as my mom headed back to her office, I couldn’t help but wonder privately why Tom hadn’t come into the shop. Unfortunately, that answer, like so many others, eluded me.
Chapter Sixteen
Speculating about why Tom Dillon had not come into the coffee shop could only distract my mind so much before my thoughts drifted back to the issue that had been gnawing at my brain all morning. Finally, when my break time came at work, I wasn’t able to shelve the topic any longer. I was desperate to know if the tests that the crime lab conducted had uncovered some form of incriminating evidence against one of the suspects.
I called David, hoping that he would be able to provide me with an update. Three rings later, I found myself in the unfortunate position of being forced to leave a voicemail. I paced back and forth, waiting for David to return my call. Much to my chagrin, as my break came and went, I did not hear back from my boyfriend.
While the time had come for me to physically return to work, my mind remained fixated on the case. I couldn’t help it. Getting closure was imperative to me. The idea of a loose end dangling in the wind, especially one as horrifying as a murderer still being on the loose, was the kind of thing that could keep me up at night.
Frustratingly, as the day wore on, I remained woefully short on updates. Even more, the longer I went without hearing from David, the more my patience was tested.
Finally, shortly after three o’clock, my boyfriend entered the coffee shop with a frustrated look on his face.
Ugh.
Talk about an uninspiring start.
Even so, I tried not to get discouraged. After making brief small talk with David, I dove into this issue.
“Did you get the results back from the crime lab?” I asked.
David slowly nodded.
“And?”
A pained look came over his face. “The results aren’t good.”
“How bad are they?”
“Let’s just say I’m no closer to finding the killer.”
I scrunched my nose. “Wait. So what exactly did the lab results say?”
“Not a whole lot. The medical examiner wasn’t able to make a DNA match. We also have no fingerprints to work with. Forensically speaking, we’ve drawn a complete blank.”
“Even on the murder weapon?”
He shook his head. “Other than Andrew’s blood, it was clean.”
“How about the earring?”
“No prints or DNA. Like I said, I’m no closer to finding the killer,” David replied.
So much for my optimism. What was left of it evaporated in a hurry.
No wonder David looked so discouraged. I knew that he had been banking on the crime lab being able to come through for him.
Despite the latest setback, if David was going to solve Andrew’s murder, he would have to find a way to break through to the truth. The problem was that his options appeared to be limited.
“So what now?” I asked.
David was so disheartened that he didn’t even try to hide his sagging spirit. Not that it would have mattered if he had attempted to conceal his emotions. I knew him well enough to be able to tell when he had hit a low point.
As I gazed into his troubled eyes, I saw that he was more than just discouraged. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he looked stumped.
David tried to put on the best face that he could. “I’m working on what to do next.”
I stared back at him. “What have you worked out so far?”
He broke eye contact. “Not a whole lot.”
A sense of panic came over me. “You’re going to keep investigating, though, right?”
David attempted to muster some resolve. “Don’t worry. I’m not giving up. I’m just not sure where to go from here.”
“How about reinterviewing all the suspects?” I asked.
My suggestion left him visibly distraught. “The problem is, even though none of the suspects have verifiable alibis, there isn’t any hard evidence to pin any of them to the crime, either.”
There was a frantic tone in my voice as I responded. “David, you can’t let this case go unsolved. Andrew’s death cannot be in vain.”
He took my hand. “Sabrina, I haven’t given up. I’ve just hit a roadblock.”
I began to ramble. “There are already enough unsolved mysteries in this town—”
David stopped me. “I know what you’re worried about. That this case will go cold—that it will go unsolved, just like your sister’s disappearance. But that won’t happen.”
My anxiety was really ramping up, to the point where I had to concentrate solely on my breathing. To calm myself down, I took a series of slow, deep breaths.
David stared long and hard into my eyes. “Trust me. I’m going to find out who did this. You just need to be patient.”
Over the course of our relationship, David had shared with me a number of details about detective work. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that one of the more unsavory statistics of the job entered my mind.
“Aren’t you the one who is always telling me that the chances of solving a case go drastically down once the case goes beyond forty-eight hours old?”
David winced. “Technically, that’s true. But just because the odds go down doesn’t mean that I can’t solve the case. Sometimes, all I need is a lucky break.”
I let out a sigh. “The problem with luck is that you can’t depend on it.”
“No, but there is something you can depend on,” David said.
He had my attention.
“What is that?” I asked.
“The fact that human beings are inherently flawed. And because people are so imperfect, there is no such thing as a perfect murder. Knowing that, I just need to figure out where the killer went wrong.”
David had done his best to convince me, but I remained discouraged. It wasn’t because I lacked confidence in him. He was a great detective. It was more that even the best investigators hit a wall every once in a while.
I couldn’t allow this case to hit a dead end. No matter what it took, I wouldn’t be able to rest until Andrew’s killer was brought to justice. I also could no longer just stand idly, by waiting for my boyfriend to give me updates.
At first, I had been reluctant to get directly involved, but the more this case appeared to be slipping away from David, the more I felt compelled to take action. I never thought I would say it, but it was time for me to get proactive. To throw myself into the fray. To do everything in my power to uncover the truth.
Like that, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I was going to take the investigation into my own hands by doing some sleuthing of my own.
Chapter Seventeen
Andrew’s funeral was the following day. In addition to giving me an opportunity to pay my last respects, his service could act as fertile ground in turning up a lead that could ultimately reveal the identity of his killer.
Wow.
Talk about uncharted territory. Never before in my life had I ever considered a funeral to be anything other than a way to honor to the deceased. For me to look at his service as a research opportunity was unprecedented. Then again, considering how invested I had become in this murder investigation, I was already treading on much different ground than I was accustomed to. If I was going to play the role of sleuth, this would probably be just the first of many odd developments.
Now that I was looking at this situation as more than just memorializing an old friend, it would be interesting to see what observations I could make. One thing that was working in my favor was that most of the suspects in t
he case would all be here. With emotions running high, would the situation become combustible?
As I looked around the pews of the church, there was certainly an unusual vibe amongst the funeralgoers. Uneasiness hung heavily in the air. That led to awkward glances and a sense that the suspects were focused more on themselves than honoring Andrew’s memory.
Granted, I had not been to many funerals in my life, but I had never attended one quite like that. The death of a loved one typically brought a family together. The sight of a corpse had a way of making the living value how fragile life was. From personal experience, when the universe reminded me that tomorrow was not a promise, but rather a gift, I found myself wanting to live my life to the fullest.
Apparently, I was the only one in the church who felt that way. Andrew’s death only seemed to deepen the divide within his family. Old wounds appeared to have been reopened. The suspects looked jittery, like they were uncomfortable in their own skin.
If these suspects wanted to look innocent, they were doing a very poor job of it. Maybe that was a clue in itself—that they weren’t afraid of looking guilty. After all, innocent people had nothing to hide. On the flip side, perhaps their anger for each other was just too much to keep bottled up.
The deep divide between the suspects wasn’t the only oddity I spotted. The entire time I had known Andrew’s wife, she had always worn gaudy outfits. Leah Stewart’s wardrobe seemed to consist of nothing but bright clothes and garish jewelry. That morning, I discovered that she owned at least one understated outfit.
The blond, trim fifty-eight-year-old wore all black to the funeral. In addition, her neck, ears, and wrists were absent of any jewelry. It was a completely different Leah than I had ever seen before. She was certainly playing the part of a mourning widow. But was it just an act?
That was all yet to be determined. In the meantime, I pushed my sleuthing aside for a moment to say a last good-bye to Andrew. I approached his closed casket and paid my respects.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” I said. “You deserved so much better than this.” I found myself getting choked up and had to take a moment to calm myself down. A few deep breaths did the trick. When I had steadied myself, I continued. “I just want you to know that I won’t rest until I find out who did this to you. Justice will be served.”
Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set Page 91
