Tom’s spiteful reaction spurred on a number of questions in my mind.
“By the way, is Jake a part of your mixer group?” I asked.
Tom was hesitant to reply. Even though he didn’t say the words, his silence acted as the equivalent of a resounding “no.”
Instead of responding to my question, he just avoided the topic entirely. “I really do need to be getting to work.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Tom went on his way, I turned my attention back to the case. Zeroing in on Patrick Doherty, I couldn’t help but feel that it was fitting that I had just finished speaking with a man who was still wrestling with the fallout of the dissolution of a former business partnership. Would Patrick talk in the same bitter terms about Andrew Stewart that Tom Dillon had about his former business partner?
Patrick was a five-foot-nine sixty-two-year-old who was in surprisingly good shape considering that he ran a chocolate shop. Amazingly enough, despite being surrounded by truffles all day, his belly had no pronounced bulge to it. His waistline wasn’t the only part of his body that had dodged a bullet.
Even though he was deep into middle age, he had also managed to keep a full head of brown hair without a single gray strand to show for it. Whether that was the work of a hair dye or just plain luck was as yet undetermined. Either way, the round-faced, hazel-eyed co-owner of the chocolate shop had taken good care of his physique over the years.
I approached the front counter of the shop and greeted him with a smile.
Patrick responded in kind. “Afternoon, Sabrina. You having a craving?”
Wow. Talk about a stroke of luck. Patrick thought I had come in for chocolate. This was just the start that I needed. With him looking at me like I was just a customer, he would have no clue about the questions that I was about to send his way. Knowing what a big surprise he was in for, I almost pitied him. The key word there was “almost.” After all, he was a murder suspect.
I was more than happy to indulge Patrick’s false assumption that I was just a customer. The benefit was two-fold. First, since he had brought it up, there was no reason to turn down some chocolate. After all, a woman only had so much willpower. Besides, if I kept things conversational and low key, perhaps he would give me some useful information without even realizing it.
“Caramel buttercream truffle,” I said.
Caramel was my absolute favorite. That was saying a lot, considering how many of the other treats I loved at this shop. The peanut butter patties here were delicious, too. Not to mention the butter toffee bars.
Mmm.
Honestly, you couldn’t really go wrong with any of the desserts sold here. I had a firm belief that you could cover almost any dessert item in chocolate and it would taste fantastic. That said, the creamy mixture of caramel and chocolate was hard to beat.
“Coming right up,” Patrick replied.
He reached into the display case to grab a truffle.
I glanced around the shop and lobbed an unassuming question his way. “Looks like you guys are back to business as usual, huh?”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. You know how it is. The business world stops for no one.”
In an effort to keep the conversation light, I didn’t switch the topic to Andrew’s murder quite yet. “Yup. Your business doesn’t care what is going on in your life. It only cares if you are turning a profit.”
Patrick let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s the truth of the matter. It’s pretty crazy how much of life revolves around money, isn’t it?”
I nodded unenthusiastically. “I wish it wasn’t the case.”
“So do I, but I have bills to pay.”
Speaking of a bill, I owed him for the truffle. I paid for my snack and took a bite. I was happy to report that the caramel buttercream was just as amazing as ever. Talk about a little taste of perfection. My taste buds were transported to chocolate heaven.
The only problem was how quickly I devoured the truffle. Two bites, and it was gone. My natural impulse was to order another, but that would only test my willpower even further. What I had learned about these caramel buttercreams was that if I didn’t muster enough restraint, I could plow through half a dozen truffles in short order.
I didn’t like owing my treadmill hours of my life. Besides, I was at the shop that day for a very specific purpose, which did not entail gobbling up chocolates.
Patrick was amazed by what quick work I had made of the truffle. “I guess it’s safe to say that you liked it.”
I gave him a smile. “For my money, these are still the best chocolates around.”
“Thank you.”
It would have been easy to fritter more time away discussing truffles, but it was time to get down to business.
“I guess I should appreciate these truffles now while they are still around, huh?” I asked.
Patrick tensed up. It was pretty clear that he sensed where I was going with my question. He seemed to be in no hurry to go there.
A few moments went by with me waiting for an answer that never came.
“How much longer will you be here?” I asked.
A blank look came over his face. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
What a crazy time to play dumb. Patrick must not have been aware that I knew about his push to get Andrew to sell this place.
“Aren’t you going to sell this place to Jake Williamson?” I asked.
Patrick bit the corner of his lip. “That is yet to be determined. The mourning process takes precedence right now.”
“Yeah. It’s terrible what happened to Andrew,” I said.
He nodded. “It truly is.”
“Do you have any idea who might have killed Andrew?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Whoever it was, they were out of their mind.”
“I have heard some pretty interesting rumors about Melissa Wilcox,” I said.
“Oh yeah?” he replied.
My eyes scanned the shop. “By the way, where is Melissa? Is she off today?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then where is she?” I asked.
“Leah fired her,” Patrick replied.
My eyes widened. “Really?”
He nodded but did not elaborate.
“Why?” I asked.
“Leah said that Melissa just wasn’t the right fit for the store.”
Enough with the understatement. Patrick clearly didn’t want to cause a scene, but I had no such qualm.
“So Leah didn’t fire Melissa because she was sleeping with Andrew?” I asked.
Patrick grimaced. “You know about their affair?”
I nodded. “I sure do. With Andrew dead, this is clearly a case of Leah not wanting Melissa around anymore.”
“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 fold
ed 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 reached 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 b
ehind 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.
Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Page 11
