After hearing David sound so grumpy on the phone, I had a hunch that he hadn’t eaten. David’s voice cracked when his blood sugar was low. Before receiving the phone call, I had originally planned on just throwing a TV dinner in the microwave for myself.
I scrapped those plans and decided to prepare David’s favorite meal for him. A grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup were waiting for him when he arrived. It was times like that when I was greatly appreciative that he was a comfort food kind of guy who had simple tastes. There was no way I would have been able to prepare anything more complex on such short notice.
The moment I opened my front door, I was glad I had made him the sandwich. The expression on his face that evening was one of extreme turmoil.
I was eager to hear an update about the case, but I managed to find enough patience to serve him the grilled cheese and let him get a few bites before asking him what had transpired. As expected, he was supremely grateful for the meal. When he had made quick work of the grilled cheese, I finally brought up the investigation.
“I take it you haven’t found Andrew’s killer yet,” I said.
“Not even close,” David replied.
I had not expected him to be so candid with his opinion. Going into this conversation, I knew it had been a rough day for him, but I suddenly got the feeling that the situation was grimmer than I had originally thought.
“What have you found?” I asked.
David groaned. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but all I really have is a crazy amount of frustration.”
I gave him a look of deep empathy. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
At the same time, he wasn’t the only one who was frustrated. I had prayed that this would be an open-and-shut investigation. Clearly, that was far from the case. If anything, it sounded like things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.
Before I jumped to any more conclusions, I turned to David, looking for any glimmer of hope.
David provided none. He remained dour. “Trust me. You’re not as sorry as I am.” He took a deep breath. “I can tell this case is going to be a beast.”
Once again, he was short on details. Without knowing all the facts, I couldn’t tell if he was letting off steam or if things truly were as dire as he was making them out to be.
“What information was the medical examiner able to give you?” I asked.
“As we both assumed, the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”
“Which means the killer either snuck up behind him—”
“Or Andrew and the killer were engaged in some kind of conversation,” David replied. “Then when their discussion was over, Andrew most likely turned around to walk away—”
“Giving the killer the opportunity to hit Andrew from behind,” I said.
David nodded. “That’s the working theory.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Was your team able to find the murder weapon?”
“Believe it or not, Andrew was killed by an old frying pan.”
“A frying pan?”
“The forensics team found the blood-stained pan in the dumpster. The crime lab has confirmed that blood on the pan belongs to Andrew Stewart,” David said.
“Were you able to pull any prints from the pan?”
“That’s the crazy part. There were no prints on the pan of any kind.”
I stared out into the distance. “Well, at least now you know that this murder wasn’t premeditated.”
“How so?”
“Who brings an old frying pan to a back alley to kill someone? If the killer had planned on murdering Andrew, they would have brought a gun—or at least a knife.”
“That’s a fair point,” David replied.
“It’s funny that you mention the murder weapon being a frying pan.”
David wrinkled his nose. “Why?”
“A couple of days ago when I was on my break, I saw the chocolate shop getting a delivery of brand-new pots and pans. To make room in the kitchen, Andrew threw a bunch of his old pans in the dumpster.”
His face was filled with disbelief. “In doing so, he unknowingly provided his killer a weapon to later murder him with.”
I exhaled. “Crazy, huh?”
“Everything about this is nuts.”
“Do you have the time of death?” I asked.
“Between nine and ten o’clock.”
“Can all of the suspects account for their whereabouts at the time of the murder?” I asked.
“They all have stories. I just can’t verify any of them.”
“At least you have a bunch of leads, though.”
He was quick to stop me from getting too excited. “The problem is that I have almost too many. I mean, it’s one thing to have a handful of suspects. It’s another thing to be able to prove one of them is guilty. Despite my suspicions, the one thing I am missing is hard evidence against any of the suspects.”
I took David’s hand. “It’s still early. Some might surface. In the meantime, are you leaning toward anyone in particular?”
“It’s still too early to single anyone out.”
I groaned. “You’re right. That is frustrating.”
Irritation came over David’s face. “The problem is, each of the suspects looks guilty in their own way. And after having talked to them, I wouldn’t put it past any of them to have done this.”
There was plenty of doom and gloom to go around. Instead of wallowing, I tried to determine how to move forward. “So what now?”
“I’m waiting on some more results to come back from the crime lab. If we get lucky, those tests might produce a lead that can pin down the killer.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
“Please do. This is our last best hope for a simple resolution to this case.”
I almost hated to ask, but there was one question that continued to gnaw at the back of my mind. “And if you don’t get a simple resolution?”
David stared out into the distance. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Chapter Fifteen
The rest of the night, David and I tried our best to relax. I said tried because neither of us succeeded. He wasn’t able to shake off his stress any more than I was. All either of us was able to do was to try to make the best of a bad situation. Even though the evening had ended in a disappointing fashion, a new day provided a new hope.
In the morning, I tried to muster all the optimism that I could as David drove over to the police station in search of an update from the crime lab. While David made his way to police headquarters, a work shift awaited me at the coffee shop.
It would have been fine by me to do nothing but stand behind the counter all day waiting for news about the case. My eighty-year-old grandma, Betsy Daley, wasn’t about to let that happen.
“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, he’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 force
d 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 him.
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, David 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.
Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Page 7
