Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “I can’t speak to Leah’s motivation,” Patrick replied. “All I know is what she told me.”

  I leaned across the counter. “From what I have heard, Leah tells you a lot.”

  He shot me a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  I stared deep into his eyes. “Patrick, I know you and Leah are sleeping together.”

  “I don’t know where you heard that—”

  “Hank told me,” I said.

  Patrick scoffed. “And you believe him?”

  “I have no reason not to.”

  “How about this? That man has an ax to grind.”

  “I’m not denying that, but why would he make up a rumor like that?” I asked. “It was Andrew who fired him. If he was looking for payback, he would have made up a rumor about Andrew, not you two.”

  Patrick gave me a dismissive wave. “I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

  “That’s not a denial.”

  “Sabrina, it’s none of your business,” Patrick said.

  “I won’t dispute that, but it is something that I’m sure the police would be interested in hearing.”

  He became hostile. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I folded my arms. “A friend of mine was murdered. You were sleeping with his wife. In addition, you both wanted him to sell the place. You have to admit, that’s very suspicious.”

  His temper flared up even more. “Who do you think you are? You’re a barista.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t be interested in the truth. In this case, I have a feeling those details are very messy.”

  He pointed toward the door. “Why don’t you go back to slinging lattes and leave this to the police?”

  I stood my ground. “You don’t think the police are suspicious of you, too? From what I hear, you don’t have a verifiable alibi.”

  Patrick narrowed his eyes. “You have a lot of nerve coming in here and accusing me of things, especially since you have no proof that I did anything wrong.”

  “I’m just asking you questions. You’re the one getting defensive.”

  “How would you like it if I went into your coffee shop and flung accusations at you?” he asked.

  “If I wasn’t guilty, I wouldn’t be worried. The only people who are afraid of the truth are the ones with something to hide.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Patrick said. “I’m annoyed. There’s a big difference.” He stared at the front door. “Get out of here.”

  I didn’t budge an inch. “What I find curious is that Leah has a confirmed alibi for the time of the murder, but you don’t. Isn’t that a little curious to you?”

  Exasperation was in his voice as he replied, “What part of ‘we’re done here’ don’t you understand?”

  “If you want me to leave, just tell me the truth.”

  “I didn’t kill Andrew,” he replied. “That’s the truth, plain and simple.”

  I shot him another stare. “I want a little more than that.”

  “I have nothing else to say to you. Now you either leave, or I’ll call the police.”

  I chuckled. “You’re going to call the police?”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t back down.

  “Do you want them to know that you were sleeping with Leah?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t care anymore. So Leah and I are together. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s no proof that I did anything wrong.”

  I tried to make another point, but he kept talking.

  “Save it,” he said. “You’re not getting anything else out of me. So either you leave my shop right now, or I’ll call the police and tell them you have been harassing me and causing a scene when I’m trying to do business.”

  As I stared into his eyes, I could tell that he wasn’t messing around. There was suddenly no doubt in my mind about two things. The first was that he would most certainly call the police if I stuck around. The second was that no matter how many questions I fired at him, it was clear that he wasn’t about to give me any straight answers.

  His response put me in a really awful place. If the police, and more importantly, my detective boyfriend, got word that I was doing some unsolicited investigating of my own on this case, I would find myself embroiled in drama. Given those unfortunate circumstances, I reluctantly left Patrick alone and exited the shop.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Going into this investigation, I knew that things wouldn’t be easy. After all, David, who was a professional detective, had been stumped by this case. I was just an amateur, meaning the odds were stacked even higher against me. Even so, this investigation was proving even more baffling than I had expected.

  The most frustrating part was that I seemed to keep having different variations of the same conversation as I went from one suspect to the next. The more interviews I conducted, the more I became desperate to find something that might crack this case wide open.

  I had a feeling where I might be able to find that elusive game changer. My instincts led me to the back alley behind the chocolate shop, where all the trouble had begun.

  As I entered the alley, a shiver went down my spine. One thing was abundantly clear—I would never be able to look at this alley the same way again. Not when I knew what had happened here. Other people didn’t have to wrestle with that haunting image of finding Andrew’s lifeless body. Nor would they ever.

  With the murder having occurred a number of days before, not only was Andrew’s body no longer there, but the yellow police tape that had cordoned off the area was long gone now as well. That wasn’t the only thing that was different. As I glanced around the alley, there were no lingering signs that this had ever been a crime scene.

  In fact, the whole area had reverted to its former state. It looked like any other back alley once again. That was pretty striking to me. If I didn’t know better, I would have no reason to believe that anything deadly had ever happened here.

  It was another example of how time never stopped ticking. The world kept on spinning, regardless of the circumstances. I knew that. Life went on. Things couldn’t stay same forever. But how quickly the world carried on with business as usual bothered me just as much now as it had after my sister’s disappearance. I didn’t see what was wrong with taking a little more time to contemplate what had been lost. Unfortunately, the world clearly disagreed with me.

  As I stood in the exact spot where I had discovered Andrew’s body, a flurry of emotions took hold of me. My mind began to drift to thoughts of my old friend and how sad it was for his life to be cut short in such a harrowing manner.

  I averted my eyes before my head drifted too far into the clouds. Letting my mind wander off was not an option. There was serious work to do, and I needed to get down to it.

  A few deep breaths later, I regained my focus and searched the alley for anything that resembled a clue.

  I was fully aware that the police had not only searched the alley, but that they had scoured every inch of it. Then again, my entire investigation was an attempt to defy the odds. Deep down, I hoped that they had overlooked something, even if the chances of that were almost nonexistent. Still, I didn’t have much choice.

  For the next ten minutes, I rooted around the alley, looking for anything that stood out. Unfortunately, my search proved to be fruitless. It was looking like I would be leaving the scene completely empty handed.

  Groan.

  I was right back where I started. It would be easy to let frustration sink in, but I tried to stave it off. That proved more difficult than I expected. Irritation was finding a way to creep in. It was hard to escape the feeling that I was being thwarted at every turn. It was a good thing I didn’t have any quit in me. I took a deep breath and prepared to carry on.

  That was when I heard footsteps behind me.

  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Who was it? My fear was that it could have been one of the suspects sneaking up behind me. Instinctively, went into self-preservation mode. I rea
ched into my purse for my can of pepper spray. In one quick motion, I pulled the can out and whirled around, ready to spray if I had to.

  That was when I saw a homeless man heading toward the dumpster behind me.

  A sigh of relief was in order.

  I knew the man wasn’t there to hurt me. He wasn’t there for me at all, actually. He just wanted to root through the dumpster for empty cans.

  It wasn’t the first time I had seen him in this alley doing just that. His name was Paulie Milton. The sixty-eight-year-old had a thin, wiry frame, a scraggily beard, and dirty, tattered clothes. Typically, he reeked of alcohol, but that wasn’t the case that afternoon. Judging by the desperate look in his eyes, I had a feeling that he would be paying the liquor store a visit shortly after he turned his bag of empty cans in for a refund at the local recycling center.

  While I was relieved that one of the suspects hadn’t followed me into this alley, Paulie was experiencing a different set of emotions. There was a look of shock on his face, no doubt stemming from the fact that I had a can of pepper spray pointed at him.

  He jumped back when he saw the can. “Hey, what’s the big idea?”

  “Sorry. I just heard rustling and didn’t know who was behind me,” I replied.

  “It’s just me, Paulie. I’m just here looking for cans,” he said.

  He held up a garbage bag that was half-full with empty soda cans.

  I put the can of pepper spray back in my purse so he could see that I meant him no harm. I then stepped back to let him go about his business.

  “They are all yours,” I said.

  Paulie began rummaging through the dumpster but not without firing a question my way first. “What’s a woman like you doing back here, anyway?”

  I normally didn’t make conversation with homeless men in back alleys, but as the events of the morning had proven, this was far from an ordinary day. Besides, perhaps Paulie’s curiosity would prove to be fortuitous for me.

  I was so eager to try and get information from him that I completely ignored his question and lobbed one of my own back at him. “Did you know that a man was murdered back here a few nights ago?”

  Surprisingly, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s terrible what happened.”

  I couldn’t contain my shock. Whether it was right or wrong of me to assume, I had not expected Paulie to have kept up with the news. Although perhaps that was a sign of how big of a story Andrew’s murder was that even the homeless population in town were aware of his death. Or maybe there was another reason why Paulie was aware of the murder.

  I sought some clarity. “How you did hear about the murder?”

  “I’m homeless, not stupid,” he deadpanned. “Everyone in town has been talking about it.”

  I was hoping for some better insight than that, but I kept the conversation going on the off chance that some juicy gossip might have made it his way.

  “What have they been saying?” I asked.

  “Just how terrible it is that he was murdered and how crazy it is to think that a killer is on the loose in our town.”

  While I empathized with what Paulie was saying, he was providing me with a distinct shortage of actionable information.

  “Where were you on the night that Andrew was killed?” I asked.

  Andrew jumped on the defensive. “I didn’t do it.”

  Wow. I hadn’t asked him that question because I suspected him of murder. What was he so jumpy about?

  I had to calm his nerves a little. “I wasn’t accusing you of killing him.”

  He let his guard down a little, but there was still reticence in his eyes.

  “I was just thinking that if you happened to be around here on the night of the murder, maybe you saw something suspicious that could help identify who did kill Andrew,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t around.”

  I became discouraged. “That’s a shame.”

  “Says you. If I was around, I could have been killed too.”

  “You’re right.” My mind drifted to another subject. “Is this the first time you have been back here since the murder occurred?”

  He gave me a leery look. “Why?”

  “Relax. I was just wondering if you might have spotted anything out of the ordinary in or around the dumpster.”

  Paulie threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. It’s a dirty alleyway—no different from any other back alley I have ever been in.”

  “I meant did you see anything in this alley that stuck out to you? Like, a pink earring for example?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  There was something very off about our entire conversation. Paulie had been very defensive and jumpy with me. In addition, he had tried his best to avoid eye contact with me. My gut was telling me that he wasn’t sharing everything he knew.

  Before I gave up, an idea popped into my mind. I pulled a ten-dollar bill out of my purse.

  “Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anything that could help me identify Andrew’s killer?” I asked.

  Paulie stared the ten-dollar bill down then let out a sigh. “A buddy of mine saw Andrew arguing with a woman in this alley a few hours before he was killed.”

  Paulie reached for the bill.

  I pulled the bill back. “What did this woman look like?”

  “My buddy told me she was in her twenties and had long blond hair.”

  Only one suspect matched that description—Melissa Wilcox.

  “Did your buddy hear what they were arguing about?” I asked.

  “No. But it must have been something serious because the woman ended up storming off.”

  Paulie reached out for the money again.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I handed him the ten-dollar bill.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Paulie shoved the bill in his pocket then focused all of his attention on the dumpster. “Can I go back to collecting my cans now?”

  I let him get back to his can collecting.

  Suddenly, paying Melissa Wilcox a visit seemed urgent. So naturally, that was when I found my progress interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.

  Once again, I was on high alert. I reached into my purse to grab my can of pepper spray, worried that I would need it.

  Then I heard a familiar voice.

  “Sabrina,” my mother said.

  I spun around and saw Elizabeth standing in the back doorway of my family’s coffee shop. She was holding a bag of trash in her hand. I didn’t know how long she had been standing back there, but judging by the wrinkle in her forehead, she had heard enough of my conversation with Paulie to have become concerned.

  “Can I have a word with you?” Elizabeth asked.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My mother may have asked me a question, but based on the tone of her voice, it came across as more of an order. She put her bag of trash in the dumpster then went back inside the coffee shop. The stern look on her face made it quite clear that she expected me to follow her.

  I didn’t put up a fight. As I joined her in the storeroom of the coffee shop, I sensed that a lecture was coming my way.

  Ugh.

  I was not looking forward to this. Unfortunately, I only had two choices. I could either play dumb, or I could come clean. Knowing how much it would bother my mother to hear that I was putting myself in danger by interviewing murder suspects alone, I tried to keep a safe distance between myself and the truth.

  “What do you want to talk about, Mom?” I asked.

  The dimwitted act did not work on my mother. “Who do you think you’re fooling? What was that about?”

  After the awkward suspect interviews I had conducted, the roles were suddenly reversed, and it wasn’t pretty. Despite my mother’s forceful nature, I tried to keep her in the dark. “It was nothing.”

  “Sabrina, I’m your mother. You can’t hide things from me. You know that, right?�
�

  Uh-oh. My mom really meant business.

  “Who says I was trying to—?”

  Enough small talk. My mother wanted answers. “What were you doing in a back alley asking Paulie Milton about Andrew’s murder?”

  I grimaced. She had heard far more of my conversation than I had thought. So much for deflecting. Since I had been forced into a corner, I didn’t see any choice but to tell the truth, no matter how painful that was.

  Before I was able to give her an explanation, she was able to figure it out for herself.

  “You’re investigating Andrew’s murder, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked.

  I remained quiet, but the truth lingered in the air. With each passing moment that I didn’t shoot down her theory, it became more obvious that she had been spot-on. It turned out that keen instincts ran in the family.

  Now that she knew the truth, the next obstacle was getting her to accept the fact that I was playing the role of an amateur sleuth. That was no tall task. I had a feeling she was going to go bananas on me. Clearly, she didn’t approve of my actions. The disappointment was written all over her face.

  Not that I blamed her. She had already lost one daughter. The idea that her other daughter was throwing herself into danger by questioning murder suspects wasn’t the most comforting thought. My only shot was to get her to see where I was coming from.

  As I tried to find the words to explain myself, my mother fired another question my way.

  “What does your boyfriend think of you investigating the same case he’s working on?” Elizabeth asked.

  My mother sure knew my pressure points. It was like she was singling them out one after another.

  I broke eye contact. “He doesn’t know.”

  Disbelief came over my mother’s face. “You haven’t told him you’re doing this?”

  I reluctantly shook my head.

  “You do realize how thin the ice you’re skating on is, right?”

  “Unless I find the killer—in which case he’ll be thanking me instead of scolding me.”

  Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think it’s a big ‘if’?”