by Tessa Kelly
“Miss James,” Carver cut in again, his voice friendly. “We’re just following procedure. Is there anything you can tell us about your whereabouts last night?”
I hugged myself around the middle. Sometimes, it didn’t matter how many relatives you had working for the police. Some questions could still rattle you.
“I was here,” I said. “I got home at ten thirty and didn’t leave all night.”
The detectives looked at Felisha. “Can you corroborate that, Miss?”
“I...” Felisha gulped and looked at me. “I was out at a club all night, I just got home.”
“Can someone else confirm your alibi?” Carver asked me.
I shook my head. “I was home alone.” The gears in my brain starting up again, I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. I told them about my conversation with Dora and how she never showed up after she’d called me.
“What do you figure she wanted to talk to you about?” Greene asked.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t say over the phone. I think she had information about Sonny’s murder, though.”
“What makes you think that?” Carver asked.
“Just... what she said and how she said it.” I repeated Dora’s words to him.
Carver took a last, rather loud sip of his smoothie and waved the empty container. “Sorry, you got a trash can here?”
“It’s in the kitchen,” Felisha said in a tiny voice. “I’ll show you.”
“Don’t bother.” He flashed her a smile. “I’m sure I can find it.”
He strolled down the short hallway, and I wondered if it was just a ploy to check out the premises for possible clues. The remaining three of us waited in tense silence until Carver came back.
Greene gave him a disgruntled look. “All done?”
“You bet!” Carver's voice was cheery.
Greene looked at me. “We’re finished here for today, Miss James. Don’t leave town while the investigation is underway.”
As the door closed behind them, I turned to Felisha. She looked just as bewildered as I felt, but she took me by the shoulders and steered me into the kitchen with grim decisiveness.
“Grilled cheese,” she said. “You need grilled cheese. And lots more coffee.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Is that your solution to every life’s problem?”
“Do you have a better one?” She forced me into the chair by the table and poured me a fresh cup of coffee, then peered into my face with concern. “Maybe you should skip work today. You look like you’re about to puke.”
“I can’t,” I said. “You know the rent is due in three days, and I’m still a hundred dollars short.”
Felisha frowned. “But I thought Angela’s wedding reception was supposed to take care of that.”
“That was the plan. Except Angela never paid us.”
“What?”
“I can’t exactly blame her. With everything that’s happened, she must’ve forgotten.”
Felisha folded her hands over her chest. “Sandie, this isn’t right. No matter what happened, she still needs to pay you guys.”
I sighed. “I know. But she and David haven’t been around. Kathy’s not going to go to their house and demand our paychecks, and neither am I. And I can’t exactly ask Alex, either. I’m probably his least favorite person right now.”
“Really?” She blinked. “Why?”
I waved her off, remembering that Felisha didn’t know about my less-than-friendly tête-à-tête with the older Sorrento brother. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes turned soft. “Look, don’t worry about the money. You can just owe me, it’s not a problem. I understand.”
I shook my head vigorously. Most months, Felisha was barely making her own rent, so I wasn’t about to capitalize on her sympathy.
“I’ll just have to work harder at the bakery for the next couple of days, that’s all. Now, didn’t I hear talk about a grilled cheese or something?”
As Felisha set about making my sandwich, I stared into my coffee and tried to come to grips with the news about Dora.
She was gone, having taken whatever she knew with her, and there were now two murder suspects in the James family. But what worried me the most was that, of everyone, this was probably going to hit Dad the hardest.
Could things get any worse?
Chapter 11
Kathy met me at the bakery door. I couldn’t be sure if the deep circles under her eyes were due to finding out about the new murder, or the fight she'd had with Jeff the night before.
“Will called me about Dora.” She gave me a hug and walked me in. “I spoke to Dad, he sounded devastated. I can't imagine how you must be feeling. You really didn’t have to come in today.”
“No. I knew you needed me.” I decided not to mention my rent. Kathy would just try to pay me for the catering, even though she hadn’t been paid herself, and Jeff would take issue with that. The last thing I wanted was to cause more tension between my sister and her husband.
“At least sit down for a few minutes.” Kathy pointed me to the couch and sat next to me.
A cheesecake brownie and a large mocha with whipped cream appeared on the table in front of us. I looked up, expecting to see Valeria. To my surprise, it was Josh. His cheeks were slightly pink.
“You look like you could use a whole lot of comfort food,” he said.
I was touched by his unexpected concern. “Thanks, Josh.”
“No problem.” Pivoting on his heels, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked behind the counter.
I thought he would get back to whatever he was doing when I came in, but he returned with an iced coffee for himself and a root beer for Kathy. It was still early for customers— assuming we had any today—so he pulled out a chair and sat down. His deep brown eyes fixed on me for a moment longer than usual before flicking away.
“I was sorry to hear about Dora,” he said. “She seemed like a nice lady, always friendly when she came in.”
I nodded. “She was. We all hoped she and Dad would...” No. It was too sad to think about. I concentrated on getting all the whipped cream off my mocha instead.
“How did it happen?” Josh asked.
My breath hitched. I had spoken to Will on my way over, and he filled me in on the details. Knowing them hadn’t made me feel any better, especially since it was a fair guess that by the days’ afternoon the whole thing would take center stage in the neighborhood’s gossip mill. Josh might as well hear it from me, instead of the colorful versions that were most likely going to sprout from this.
“A dog walker found Dora’s body early this morning,” I told him. “It was just a block away from my house. The police say she was strangled. They thought at first it might’ve been a mugging gone wrong, but nothing was taken from her, so they discarded that version.”
The door opened and Tyrone and Will walked in. They made a beeline over to us.
Tyrone shook his head in a stunned way. “Can’t believe what happened! You okay, girl?”
I felt tears coming on, but I quickly blinked them away and took a swig of the hot mocha.
“No, I’m not okay. I know Dora had something important to tell me last night. Maybe she had a new lead, or...what if she’d figured out who killed Sonny? If only I hadn’t fallen asleep last night! I should’ve gone out to meet her. Then she'd still be alive today, and we would know what she knew.”
“Or you might’ve ended up like her,” Will said. “Don’t do this to yourself, Sandie. I see people blaming themselves in these situations all the time. Fact is, you couldn’t have known this would happen, and Dora shouldn’t have gone to see you so late at night. She should’ve waited till morning and gone to the police.”
Anger twisted in my stomach. “Are you saying it’s Dora’s fault she got killed?” Sure, Will was a detective and had to stay logical, but blaming Dora for her own death—that was just cold.
“Of course I'm not saying that. All I meant was, I wish she’d wa
ited. And I wish she hadn’t dragged you into this. It’s worse for Dad now, too. He’s got no alibi for the time of the murder.”
Everyone looked at Will.
“Is that true?” Kathy asked, going pale. “They think Dad might’ve done it?”
Will sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. If whatever Dora knew could implicate Dad, it would’ve been motive for him to kill her.”
I swallowed, grateful Dad wasn't there to hear Will's words. “Did the police notify her relatives yet?”
“She didn’t have any,” Kathy said. “She was alone.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me once. She had an aunt who died last year and left her some money. She had no other family. That’s why she used to hang out at Luce della Vita almost every night. She was lonely.”
The five of us sat in silence after that, lost in our own gloom. Then Will rose from the table. “I better get going. They’re making Dad come in for questioning, and I want to drive him there.”
Kathy rose, too. “I better call Jeff. He got in so late last night, he was still sleeping when I left.”
I almost choked on my mocha. Kathy’s words were like a cold finger brushing the back of my neck, making the little hairs there stand on end. The conversation I had with Alex and the things he’d said about Jeff came hurtling back to me.
Will met my gaze with alarm in his gray eyes, and I was sure he was thinking what I was thinking. That Jeff also had no alibi for Dora’s murder.
Will scratched the stubble on his chin. “Uh, Kath? When exactly did Jeff get back last night?”
Kathy's thin five-foot-two frame went visibly rigid. A look of sudden fear flashed in her eyes. “I don’t know... not that late. I can’t remember.” Then she straightened her shoulders and turned to face him square on. “You don’t actually think Jeff did it. Do you?”
Will cleared his throat. “Kath, don’t get mad. It’s just—”
She marched up to him and stared him down, her eyes throwing lightning bolts. “Don’t you even go there, Will! My Jeff’s not a murderer, so get that thought out of your mind.”
I couldn’t help but feel relieved it wasn’t me Kathy was angry with. Not many people knew this, but my soft-spoken sister could be damn intimidating when she wanted to.
Will clearly agreed. He seemed to shrivel down into himself under her glare. He raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “Kath, please. It’s not me who calls the shots in this case. I don’t decide who the suspects are. But Greene and Carver do, and they don't usually miss much. They might ask for Jeff's alibi, so I'm just hoping he has one.”
Kathy wasn't willing to be pacified. She crossed her arms over her chest, her face set in a stony mask. “Will, I think you better leave now.”
“Kath, he's just doing his job,” I said, starting to get up. “He has to ask these questions.”
Kathy shot me a look that nailed me to my seat.
Will pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. He looked like he’d been slapped. Without a word, he turned and left the bakery. I watched him go with a hard lump in my throat. We needed to find Sonny and Dora’s killer fast, before this case tore our family apart.
Kathy stalked off into the back room, chin raised and lips pressed together in a tight line. Josh and Tyrone headed to their work stations, subdued, their movements careful so as not to explode the charged atmosphere.
I took my half-finished mocha and followed my sister. She may have been able to fool the guys with her angry front, but you didn't share a room with someone growing up without getting to know them quite well. I knew she was an inch away from breaking down.
Kathy was in the basement, in her tiny cubbyhole of an office, riffling through paperwork and old receipts. Even from the back, I could see her hands shaking. I approached her and lay my hand on her shoulder.
"Kath? I'm here if you want to talk."
She stopped fidgeting with the papers. Without a word, she turned and hugged me, sobs wracking her body.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown Will out. I feel awful!"
"I know," I said. "You can apologize to him later. I'm sure he'll forgive you."
"I'll call him. I'll make him dinner," she said between sniffling.
"That'll be a good start to mending things," I agreed, reaching for the tissue box on the shelf to my left and handing it to her.
Kathy let me go. Taking several tissues out, she dabbed her eyes with them. She shook her head. "I just keep thinking about poor Dora, I can't believe she's dead. And Dad..."
"I know," I said again, not sure what else I could say.
"Who could be behind it all?" she asked. "It makes my blood cold knowing there's a killer among us. And Jeff, going out last night? Where did he go? What was he doing?"
Though I had been wondering it too, I shook my head. "I'm sure he'll explain everything once he comes in."
But would he? And would the police believe his alibi, if he had it?
One problem at a time, I told myself. There was nothing to do but wait and see.
The news about Dora spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. Strangely enough, it had the opposite effect on business than Sonny’s murder. Before noon, customers were flocking in, asking questions, exchanging gossip, and comparing notes.
I stayed in the back room, keeping my distance from everyone. Kathy, who usually helped out at the front whenever it got too busy, chose to hide out with me, sending Tyrone to aid Josh with the lunch crowd. She was right to do so. As I passed close to the café on my way to the walk-in fridge, I heard the guys answering customers’ questions which, not surprisingly, had nothing to do with the specials.
“Is it true the police are saying it was Nicolas who did the second murder?” a customer was asking.
“Did he kill that poor woman, like he did the restaurant owner?” another one asked before Josh had the time to say anything. “I knew there was something strange about that man. I wish they’d just lock him up already! I’m scared to go out alone in the evenings.”
Their words rooted me to the floor. Some of those people had known my dad for years. Why did they have to believe the worst about him so easily?
I pressed myself into the corner between the door to the café and the fridge, wondering if my turn for this verbal lynching was coming up.
“Ma’am,” Josh said in a calm voice. “The police don’t think Nicolas actually killed anyone. They’re close to proving he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And as for last night, he’s got an alibi.”
Josh was lying to protect Dad. My chest swelled with a warm wave of gratitude.
The customer, apparently, wasn’t convinced. “Wait a second, you’re the guy that works in Nick’s book store, aren’t you? Did he pay you to give him an alibi, or what?”
Josh’s voice hardened, his next words letting the customer know the conversation was over. “Here’s your large cappuccino, ma’am. Would you like anything to eat with that?”
I didn’t wait to find out if the customer had ordered a snack. What I’d heard was more than enough.
I went through the rest of my day surrounded by a dense fog. My mind reeled from the shock of Dora's murder and its implications on us all. How had my Dad, our whole family, even the people who worked for us, suddenly become the center of such terrible speculations?
It was a relief to finally leave the bakery and go home. As I was rounding the block, I saw Kim walking down the other side of the street. She looked lovely in a short, pale-yellow sundress, but the dark circles under her eyes testified of lack of sleep.
Poor Kim. What she must’ve been through in the past three days. There was nothing I could do to help, except give her my condolences. Changing direction, I dashed across the street.
Kim saw me and her steps halted. The lines of her mouth tightened and her eyes flashed with hatred. Then she turned and stalked in the opposite direction, high heels clicking an angry rhythm on the sidewalk.
I stood frozen in the middle of the street, crushed and deflated. Obviously, like her mother, Kim held my family responsible for her father’s murder. I rubbed my temples where I could feel a dull headache coming on, then continued toward home.
Asimov and Hemingway met me at the apartment door with loud meowing when I got in. The two pairs of eyes, one green, the other tawny, stared at me with anguish that, coming from them, could mean only one thing.
I shook my head. “Uh-oh. Did Felisha forget to feed you guys today?”
Felisha had called earlier to ask if I 'd be okay without her as her parents, freaked out by the news of the second murder, insisted she stay over at theirs. Not wanting her to worry about me, I told her I'd be fine. So, I had the place to myself for the night.
I kicked off my shoes and followed the cats into the kitchen. They made a beeline over to their empty dish and stared up at me from the floor, tails swishing anxiously.
Yep, they were definitely starving. I opened a tin can of cat food and flopped the gelatinous stuff into it. As the cats pounced on the food, I poured myself a glass of Felisha’s mint lemonade from the fridge. Cold and refreshing, it was just what I needed to take the edge off the day and soothe my headache.
I took another sip and tapped my fingers on the counter, wondering what to do for dinner. Cooking for one didn’t appeal. I opened a drawer with the takeout menus. While I was sifting through them a text from Will came in, saying the detectives had finished questioning Dad and released him.
I thought about going over to Dad’s place and seeing if he was all right, but decided against it. Knowing him, he would want to be alone tonight. Just in case, though, I texted him with the offer to make him dinner, which he would probably decline.
Checking the rest of my messages, there was a new email from Will, but before I opened it my eyes were brought up short by a subject line that read, “Invitation to an Interview”. My heart skipped a beat.
The email was from Money Tycoon, a financial journal. It wasn’t one of the places I’d applied to. They'd found my profile on Linkedin and were inviting me to come in for an interview.
