by Carly Winter
I pursed my lips together and shook my head. "That may be, but you need to think about others who would want to hurt Jake."
"Why? I'm innocent. The truth will prevail. I'm not going to jail for something I didn't do."
"It happens all the time, Carla," I said, getting angry. "There are plenty of innocent people in prison."
"Well, I'm not going to sit here and make up stories about others so I don't go to prison."
"I'm not asking you to lie or to finger anyone. I'm asking you to consider other options of who may have killed Jake. That's it."
"Don't get snippy with me, Tilly. I don't have the energy to deal with it tonight."
"Right now I'd like to knock you over the head with a two-by-four of common sense. You're being downright stupid. Have you forgotten that Sherriff Connor tried to pin Mr. York's murder on me? And now there's talk of him doing the same to you? You have to be prepared, Carla, with other names for him."
She opened her mouth to argue, but then sighed and shut her eyes, placing her head in her palms. I waited patiently, hoping the disagreement had resolved and she saw things my way.
"He's up for reelection in just a few weeks, Carla. He's going to want this murder solved. He won't want to go into the election with this hanging over him."
"That's something you'd see on television," she said as she laid her hands on top of the papers. "That's not real life."
"Let's pretend it's real life, okay? Just humor me."
She stared at me a beat.
"Come on, Carla."
"I don't like speaking ill of the dead."
"No one does, may Jake Martinez rest in eternal peace. But you could be saving your own hide here."
"Fine," she replied with a sigh. "Jake was not a very nice person to a lot of people. Conflict seemed to follow him around."
"Like what? Who?"
"Just thinking about the people who work here... he fought all the time with Sophia."
"About what?"
"Everything," she said with a sigh. "Especially the fact that she was dating José."
I furrowed my brow. "José the chef?"
"Yes."
"He looks like he's close to thirty years old! Didn't you tell me she's eighteen?"
"He's twenty-seven, and they started dating right when she turned eighteen."
I knew my jaw hung open. "That's quite the age gap."
"Yes. And Jake threatened to call the police on José and have him arrested, even though she's eighteen. Jake was thinking about trying to get José put away for statutory rape, but he couldn't. Both Sophia and José swore they weren't having sex. They were hanging out, and that's it."
“Do you believe that?”
“No. Not at all. It’s complete nonsense. Anyone can see that they’re lovers.”
"Wow. I get why Jake would be upset about that."
"I do, too,” Carla replied. “Jake wanted to protect his little girl, even though she was legally an adult. It was a huge fight between the three of them, and José said he loved Sophia and nothing would keep them apart."
"What did Sophia say?"
"That if her father tried to separate them, they'd run away and he'd never see her again."
"Why did Jake keep José employed here?"
"Because he's an amazing chef and good for business. That and Sophia begged and pleaded for Jake to keep him."
"Well, that's dramatic, but it doesn't mean that José murdered him."
"It's possible. I overheard him tell Sophia that if her father tried to keep them apart, he'd kill Jake."
I gasped and brought my hand to my mouth. "What did Sophia say?"
Carla shrugged and yawned. "I don't know, Tilly. I didn't hear her answer. Can we go home now?"
"Just a couple more questions," I replied. "What about the farmer that was here? What was his name?"
"Jerry."
"Derek pointed out something he said that made me wonder about him."
"What's that?"
"He said he thought things would be better after Jake's death. Derek was wondering if that meant he’d killed Jake and hoped you'd pay him, or if he’d heard about Jake's death and then hoped you’d pay him."
Carla ran her hand over her black curls and released a ragged breath. "I don't know what he meant. Jake fought with Jerry all the time. When I first started using him and Jake was late paying him, Jerry said he'd never supply the restaurant again. Then Jake paid in full, and Jerry delivered us more meat. It was a never-ending battle between the two."
"Maybe Jerry got tired of it."
"Perhaps. I would have."
We sat in silence for a moment as I contemplated our new suspects. Both would have to be looked at more in-depth, and I wished I had my notepad so I could jot down all the information.
"Anyone else you can think of?" I asked.
"Well... I haven't known Jake's brother, Tony, for very long. Word is that he works at a farm down south. He's really quiet and got out of prison about a year ago."
"Prison? For what?"
"I don't know," Carla said with another yawn. "I don't ask, and no one tells me. It's none of my business. I barely know the guy, but he's always been nice to me."
"Okay... I'll find out what he did."
"Why? He's fine, Tilly. Look, I just really want to go home."
"Okay," I said, standing. "Let me know if you think of anything or anyone else."
She muttered something under her breath as I strode toward the front door. Why couldn't she see I wasn't trying to pester her or stick my nose where it didn't belong, but I was attempting to help her?
The fall night air smacked me in the face like a cold washcloth. Winter was definitely around the corner.
I smiled as I slid into Derek's warm SUV, then placed my hands in front of the heating vents.
"Everything go okay?" he asked.
"Yes. I don't understand why Carla stays there. The place seems to be crazy with drama."
Derek pulled out of the parking lot and on to the main road. In a few miles, we'd hit the two-lane highway that would take us back to Oak Peak.
"Did you ask her why?"
"No. But I should."
"What did she say? Could she think of anyone else who wanted Jake dead?"
"Yes. José and possibly even Jake's own daughter."
Derek listened intently as I recapped my conversation with Carla about José and Sophia.
"Jake didn't have a leg to stand on legally, but I get why he'd be upset. That's a big age gap."
"It is,” I replied. “It looks like José is preying on Sophia, but who knows? Jake just wanted to protect his daughter."
"José seemed like an okay guy, so I'm surprised that he'd say he'd kill Jake if he tried to keep him and Sophia apart."
I hadn't really talked to José, but I kept thinking about his actions when Carla and I had found Jake's body. He'd pulled into the parking lot and then sped off when he saw the cops. Byron had said it made him seem guilty, and I had to agree. At the time I wasn't sure what he was guilty of, but now, I was considering him for the killer.
Maybe Jake had threatened to fire José if he didn't stop dating Sophia and José had followed through on his warning.
"What's going through that pretty head of yours?" Derek asked.
I smiled and glanced over at him. "I was just thinking that José had a really good reason to murder Jake."
"You know, I was thinking the same thing. Not only has he cleared the way to be with Sophia, but he's kept his job and once she gets her footing in running the business, he'll practically be a co-owner."
Dang, Derek had a smart head on his shoulders.
"That didn't occur to me, but you're right. He wins all the way around. He gets the girl and the restaurant."
"We should tell Byron about it," Derek said. "Just to let him know there are definitely other avenues to explore when searching for the murderer."
"I'm sure José is on Byron's radar already."
When
I told Derek about José leaving the parking lot, he nodded enthusiastically. "If that doesn't scream guilt, I don't know what does."
As he pulled into my driveway, I didn't want our time together to end, but when I glanced at the clock, I saw it was past midnight. I had to get to bed in order to be somewhat coherent in the morning for work.
"Thanks for helping out tonight," I said. "I really appreciate it, and I know Carla did, too."
"Sure. Let me know if she needs my amazing serving skills again."
I nodded, remembering that I needed to ask him about forgoing a paycheck. It made me uncomfortable to do so, but I had to let Carla know one way or the other.
"There's something I need to ask you," I said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
"What's that?"
"Well, it seems like the restaurant is in bad financial shape. I told Carla that I didn't need to be paid for tonight, and I was wondering if you'd do the same."
He stared at me a moment with a small grin, his eyes shining in the dashboard light.
"You're really sweet, Tilly," he said, his voice quiet. "No, I don't need the money."
"Thank you."
He sighed and stared out the front window.
"What's wrong?" I asked, now worried I'd somehow offended him. "If you want to get paid, that's fine."
"No, it's not that. I was hoping you were going to ask me something else."
"Like what?"
He turned to me again, his face serious. "I was hoping you were going to ask if it would be okay for you to steal a kiss from me."
My heart fluttered and I became incredibly warm and dizzy. Then I realized I wasn't breathing. Air escaped my lungs in a loud whoosh.
I had no idea what to say, so I opened the door and escaped.
Tears stung my eyes as I rushed into my home and Derek drove away. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel confident enough to do so, but fear held me back.
After shutting the door behind me, I pet Tinker while the tears fell. I hated my ex for making me so insecure. I had a perfectly good man who wanted to date me, and I couldn't get past being left for a pregnant waitress.
And the fact that I'd just bolted from the car like he'd asked me to cut off my own arm... I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he never wanted to see me again.
Besides, I didn't have time for romance—at least that’s what I kept telling myself. Another murder in the Tri-Town area should hold all my attention. I had to report on it and also hope the sheriff actually did his job instead of pinning the murder on my best friend.
6
I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Tinker's soft snores and berating myself for acting like such an idiot. I liked Derek. A lot. Fear held me back, and I had to push past it.
After a fitful sleep, I rose before my alarm sounded and glanced out the window. Derek's house remained dark in the early morning hours before the sun rose. He had nowhere to be since he didn't have a job, but instead, possessed a stack of money in the bank. I shivered in the cool air and realized I'd need to turn on the heat before long. I wished I could stay in bed as well, but no, as the only reporter in the Tri-Town area, I was needed, especially with a murder investigation going on. All I required was a cape, and everyone could call me Superman.
After a long, hot shower, two cups of coffee and some toast, I felt more awake, yet the pit of despair I'd developed after my horrible treatment of Derek continued to grow. The wind howled outside, and I held Belle as we stood at the window watching the autumn leaves tousle in the wind. Tinker stood on her hind legs with her paws on the windowsill next to me. She whined, and I knew she had to go to the bathroom but didn't want to go outside. My golden retriever was a summer girl and hated anything but bright, sunny days.
"Please don't go in the house," I said, sipping my third cup of coffee. "The wind isn't going to hurt you. You can be brave."
I glanced down at her and her up at me. Belle meowed in my arms. "Are you two judging me? If you are, you're right. I should follow my own advice and be brave with Derek. I know that. But this is one of those do as I say, not as I do, situations." I set Belle down and she and Tinker curled up on the couch together. "Please do your business outside, Tinker. Okay?"
She stared at me a moment, then shut her eyes. I'd been dismissed. "You two have a great day. Love you both."
After setting my coffee cup in the sink, I walked out the front door. The wind made it difficult to shut, and I had to really yank on it. I screamed as I slammed my finger and tears welled in my eyes. After getting the door locked, I stared at the tip of my finger. Broken? Just bruised? I wiggled it and it seemed to be moving okay without too much pain, so hopefully just a bad bruise.
As I drove past Derek's house, I vowed that I would visit him after work and apologize for my quick exit the previous night. I would tell him my fears and let him know I wanted to date him, but I really needed to take it slow. My anxiety and fragile ego couldn't take some big whirlwind romance that crashed and burned in tragedy.
As I pulled up in front of the office, I noted Harold was already in. That meant he would be full of high-fuel octane and going a million miles per hour.
I, however, needed another cup of coffee. And frankly, as I eyed Debbie's Deliciousness, I was craving a donut. Yet, in my current state, I didn't feel strong enough to resist. Even though I wanted to try to eat away my negative emotions, I wouldn't.
Debbie carried a wonderful line of sugar free products made with wholesome sweeteners, but I didn't possess the strength to decline the real thing. I'd skip a visit to the bakery for the time being. Maybe later this afternoon I'd be strong enough to say no. My weight loss wouldn't be derailed, even by a murder and my own fear of dating a man I really wanted to get to know better.
When I entered the office, I felt the electricity in the air before I laid eyes on Harold.
"Tilly! Good morning!"
"Morning."
"We've got a lot of work to do, my fair lady reporter."
"Yes, we do."
I knew that translated to I had articles to write and he had ad space to book, checks to cash, and layouts to complete. I'd be lying if I didn't admit his enthusiasm caught on and my heart beat a little faster. We'd been through the preliminaries of the investigation yesterday, but I knew Harold wanted to sink his teeth into the nitty-gritty of it all.
"Where do you want me to start?" I asked as I sat down at my desk.
"Let's get our plan together."
I nodded as he pulled over a chair.
"We know for sure Jake's death is a murder," he said, his pen poised over a piece of paper.
"Yes."
"You had said that Byron mentioned a poisoning. Do we know that for certain? And if so, what is it?"
"We know it's poisoning, but we don't know what kind."
"And they're still looking at Carla Marker for a suspect."
I gripped my pen so hard, I thought it may break. "She didn't do it, and I'm not writing anything that mentions her name."
Harold sat back in his chair and arched his brows. "Why not?"
"She's my friend. I know she didn't do this."
"I see," Harold said, tapping one end of his pencil, then the other. "You can't base your reporting off your emotions. We work with facts, and right now, she's suspect number one, according to the sheriff."
"Understood. But she didn't do it. I'm not going to ruin her life over what Sheriff Connor may think. I'm happy to write about facts, and the facts are that Carla is innocent."
Harold rose from his chair and paced the small space of our office, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Well, I think we need to go with—"
Both of us turned as the door opened, and I rolled my eyes when the sheriff came into view.
"Harold! How's everything going?" he asked as he strode over to my boss and shook his hand.
"Good, thank you. You remember Tilly, don't you?"
Harold pointed over the
sheriff's shoulder at me.
The man hadn't seen me tucked away around the corner from the door. As he faced me, his smiled faded.
"Of course," he said, tipping his hat to me. "How could I forget Tilly?"
I forced my lips into a grin and waved.
"What brings you around, Sherriff Connor?" Harold asked.
"Well, I wanted to check on this fantastic publication and see how things were going."
"We're fine. Just fine," Harold answered.
"Excellent," Connor said. "And how's the wife?"
"Nadine is super. Thank you for asking."
I glanced out the window and noted all his reelection posters that had been hung all around town onto light poles and in the store windows of his supporters. His trip to our office wasn't a friendly check-in. He never came to visit. He wanted an endorsement and knew that the paper would be in great demand while we kept the public informed on the murder.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Harold and I waited for the man to reveal his true reason for coming over.
He cleared his throat. "As you know, I'm running for reelection. My opponent is a man from Little River. Big city cop from Chicago who moved here a couple of years ago. The man hasn't lived in the area long enough to understand our community."
Harold nodded and pursed his lips for a moment. "Well, I've decided we're going to run a piece on both of you to help the folks in the Tri-Town area make informed decisions. Help everyone get to know him and his policies, his background and accomplishments, as well as get a refresher about our esteemed sheriff."
I could practically see the proverbial smoke shooting from Connor’s ears. "Well, I think I've done a mighty fine job as sheriff, and I was hoping your paper would endorse me. The townspeople know me and it would make a difference if our local paper gave me the thumbs up. Put the final nail in the guy's coffin, so to speak."
"Well, it's our policy that we don't endorse any candidate," Harold said with a smile. "We like to remain impartial. But as long as you're here, why don't we get that interview done that I was just discussing?"
Sheriff Connor fisted his hands at his sides while trying to hide his anger. "Of course, sure," he said. "Let's get right to it."
I pulled out my notepad as Harold rolled over a chair for him. The sheriff sat in the middle of our small office while my boss took a seat behind his desk, and I remained at mine.
