Caffeinated Murder Page 8

  My cup was still almost full but cold, so I followed Clair for a warm-up.

  She leaned against the counter. “Guess I should have shared the story with you right away. When I didn’t hear from him again, not even to cancel his part in the contest, I figured he went back to New York. Let me tell you, I was as shocked as anyone when he turned up in the garbage.”

  We took our cups back to the sofa, and the three of us lounged in Clair’s living room. We cradled our coffee mugs for a long time in silence. Anita spoke first. “We’re right back where we started, aren’t we?”

  “Not quite.” I glanced at my friends. “How many men do you know can keep a secret? Or better yet, what do you think a jealous wife would do if she knew?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A t The Rare Curl, I was enjoying one of my few quiet moments. Rarity cleaned brushes and Stacey read a magazine when the front door swung open. The string of bells, attached to the handle, jangled me out of my private meditations. I struggled to get my feet off the desk while Rarity jumped out of her chair and marched to greet the unexpected guest.

  “Gloria Belletrist, it’s good to see you. How have you been?”

  Anyone new to town would never guess the robust lady in our waiting room governed Evelynton’s public library. When I think of a librarian, I tend to see a quiet, mild mannered woman. She would be wearing a conservative outfit. Maybe a twin sweater set. She would definitely wear sensible shoes, and her hair would be pulled into a bun. This was most likely from my childhood.

  Today our librarian wore a striking teal shirt, jeans, and turquoise jewelry. Topping it off were cowboy boots and leather vest with fringe swinging almost to her knees.

  “Life is fantastic. Worked all week to get the new spiritual wing open. I expect there will be lots of interest now that we have a murderer on the loose. People tend to get spiritual when they think about death.”

  “Oh dear, that incident has us all on edge, but I trust Evelynton’s finest will get it cleared up before we know it.” Rarity waved her hands. “Let’s think about something more fun. What can I do for you today?”

  Gloria put both hands in her hair. “This mop needs cutting and I haven’t found the time to call for an appointment. So I thought I’d drop in while I was in the neighborhood.”

  Rarity retrieved a shampoo cape. “How about right now? I have just enough time, if you’re free.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s do it. And while I’m here, I’ll kill two birds.”

  The comment startled me for a moment, until I reasoned she didn’t really mean to use the gun she often carried.

  “Needed to talk to you about the Marshmallow Festival.” While Rarity commenced the shampoo, Gloria raised her voice to be heard above the running water. “Girls, I know we’ve all been distracted by the murder. And Clair, who was the driving force of our festival committee, has completely dropped the ball. Another week has gone by and the festivities are a week closer. Nothing has been settled about the promotions.”

  A better friend would have jumped to Clair’s defense, but I had to admit she hadn’t been herself lately. There had been no urgent meetings. No calls to action. Then I remembered that I had been given a project to work on, but couldn’t recall what it was.

  After wrapping Gloria’s hair in a towel, Rarity planted her hands on her hips. “You’re right, none of us have been thinking about the festival and it’s such an important event. What can we do?”

  “Fortunately for all of us, I’ve devised a plan.”

  Rarity grabbed a comb and tugged tangles from Gloria’s hair. “Tell us what you’re thinking.”

  Gloria swiveled her chair to face Rarity. “I’ve done more than think. I’ve taken action. Went to the print shop and ordered fliers offering a special gift to anyone who presents it at a business on Evelynton’s Main Street. Every store on the street will come up with a little gift for each visitor on the day of the festival. I’ve phoned almost everyone.” She pointed at Rarity. “You’re one of the last on my list. Knew I’d be seeing you.”

  Rarity returned the styling chair to its original position and gazed at Gloria’s reflection in the mirror. “That’s a lot of gifts. I don’t believe we have enough time to order anything in bulk.”

  Gloria pointed at her hair to encourage Rarity to continue combing. “That’s the genius of my plan. Of course the restaurants will offer a sample of whatever they have entered in the marshmallow contest. So that’s easy. And any business, who can’t come up with an item, will hand out a card with an encouraging quotation, suitable for framing. The text will be spiritual, motivational, or an amusing line from a book. I can help with appropriate quotations. There are a ton of them in my arsenal.”

  I hadn’t noticed Stacey listening, and was surprised she was interested in anything other than fashion magazines. But she shuffled closer to the librarian and raised her hand like a middle-schooler. “Oh, I know what I can do. I’ll offer a free braid to everyone. I bet I can even wind the braid up to form the shape of a marshmallow. And I’ll put a ribbon on it.”

  Rarity squinted at Stacey. “That’s a nice idea. But would you have enough time? You’ll have your regular customers, too. I wonder how many visitors we’ll have.”

  My coworker’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, gosh. I could be working all night. Let’s cut the offer down to girls twelve and under. That’ll be more fun anyway.”

  “Good idea. You’ll have to make a poster explaining what they’re getting.”

  Stacey gave a satisfied nod and glanced at Gloria. “And Rarity always has awesome quotations. There won’t be any problem with that.”

  Gloria grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

  I glanced at the wall where Rarity’s current mantra had been stenciled. ‘Rejoice Always.’

  Gloria pulled from Rarity’s grasp once again, and turned to me. “Even Patricia thinks this is a great idea. Said she has a case of scarves that never sold. She’s going to dust them off and give them to visitors.”

  With a hand on either side, Rarity gently directed Gloria’s head so she faced the mirror. The librarian raised a finger. “By the way, the deadline for your commitment is tomorrow. I have to put in our order at the print shop. The cards will be done by next week. Fliers will be ready this afternoon.”

  She strained her eyes to glare at me while keeping her head still. “If you’d ever finished that book you were going to write, you could do readings at the library.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  Gloria continued. “I’m getting a team assembled to distribute the fliers. I’ll drive a stack of ‘em to towns west of here. Stacey, do you mind driving north as far as the state line? There really isn’t anything east. Patricia is taking the vicinity of Warrenton. She wants to go shopping anyway.”

  Gloria spent the rest of her time in the chair describing card stock and designs for the quotation cards. “So, we’re in agreement?”

  Three of us nodded. Stacey and Rarity looking forward to their contribution. Me, thankful I wasn’t a business owner, and sort of thankful I didn’t have to spend the festival days giving public readings.

  ~~

  I stepped into the street to cross to Ava’s Java, keeping an eye on traffic while I spoke to Anita on my cell. “Fine Women’s Detective Agency we are. I’ve asked all over town and haven’t discovered anything about Giles Gold’s activities before his death. No one seems to have seen him. Except Clair. And we’re keeping that quiet.”

  A rusted white pickup blasted their horn at me, and I hustled to the safety of the opposite curb. “You haven’t come up with anything more. I say we put the investigation aside until after the festival.”

  I could hear Anita’s sigh through the phone. “As much as I hate to say it, I agree. I’ve been helping prepare for the church bake sale that will run during the festival, but I thought you would be working on the case. You know, since you aren’t involved in the festivities.”

  “I am involved. Rarity’s kept me
busy getting The Rare Curl cleaned and organized. She wants to be ready for all the new visitors.”

  “What’s she giving away? Maybe I’ll stop over.”

  “She brought in a case of travel sized hair spray to pass out along with the quotation cards.”

  “Cool. I’ll wait ‘til the last day and see if she has any left.”

  I said goodbye and clicked off the phone, without telling my friend I was at the Java. The coffee shop wouldn’t be crowded, and I wanted to be alone. Time to drink coffee and think about nothing.

  My first thought of the morning had held the hope that all the stress of this case would magically melt away. I didn’t care if we never found Giles Gold’s killer. As long as Farlow didn’t pin it on one of my friends, I’d be fine.

  That didn’t describe any mystery writer I knew. Guess I chose the right business, penning nice travel articles that would never scare the little old people who read them.

  The lovely coffee aroma met me at the door. The earring was still beside the cash register. I should tell Clair to come in and say she lost it. She did, just not in the coffee shop.

  I slid into my favorite table, content to bask in the atmosphere, and not worry about anything. Alone.

  Ava cleared a table and ventured over to my haven.

  “Do you mind if I sit a moment?”

  “Of course not. Please do.” I sorta did mind.

  The barista let out a sigh and lowered herself into the chair across from me.

  I guess, as Rarity would say, the Lord didn’t have quiet time planned for me. “You seem troubled, Ava. Anything wrong?”

  She put her elbows on the table. “It’s Konrad. He’s after me to give up Ava’s Java and retire. He’s been harping on it since the murder. But now he’s got it into his head that we should move out of town.”

  I stared at her. “Move? Away from Evelynton?”

  “He said to another state. Maybe out west.”

  My heart started to race. “That’s awful. What about your life here? Do you think the killing brought this on?”

  Ava shrugged. “I suppose that’s the main thing. I told him in a few months it would all be over and we could get back to normal. But he insisted we should have a new beginning.” Ava put her hands palm down on the table and leaned toward me. “Imagine. A new start at our age! I don’t know what’s come over him.”

  My mind was whirling. “He can’t mean for you to leave your home and friends. I bet he’ll think about it and realize how painful that would be for you.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve given him plenty to think about, but the man is obsessed. Said that right after the festival, he wants me to talk to Clair about putting the shop on the market.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Gotta get back to work. Thanks for listening to me.” Ava stood, slid her chair under the table, and scurried away to wait on customers. Poor Ava.

  Poor me.

  My favorite coffee spot would never be the same. No one could run it like Ava. Would she surrender her coffee recipes to the next owner? I gave myself a mental slap, and muttered. “Stop whining, Lauren. It’s not about you.”

  Wait. What if new owners changed the Java? What if it wasn’t even a coffee shop anymore? What if it became a hardware store or something? I ran my hands over the table top, cool, familiar. No more special seat by the window. What would Ava’s loyal customers do? What would I do?

  “Okay.” I scolded myself. “You’re being selfish. This is about Ava and Konrad, not you.”

  But why was Konrad acting that way? He’d always been strong, unflappable. He and Ava were innocent bystanders of this crime. Surely he knew it would be resolved soon. They would be fine.

  Was he sure of it? I sympathized with Konrad’s desire that his wife retire. She worked long hours. But why did he want to leave town? He had friends in Evelynton, too. What was he running from?

  It seemed the Woman’s Detective Agency was destined to meet again. Had anyone checked into Konrad’s whereabouts on the night of the murder?

  I cradled my precious mug of Ava’s Killer Blend for a moment before I picked up my cell. Then, I sent texts to Anita and Clair calling a meeting. This time we would gather at one of our homes.

  I hated my suspicion. If I was right, it would kill Ava.

  Chapter Fifteen

  C lair must have been watching for me. As soon as I pulled my 1975 Chrysler New Yorker station wagon into her driveway, she hustled out. While depositing her bag on the seat, she complained. “Don’t know why you wanted to drive. I would have been happy to take the BMW.” I waited while she leaned out again and put one foot on the concrete for leverage in wrestling the door shut.

  When I thought she’d settled into the seat, I shifted into reverse and pulled into the street. “I like driving. There’s no reason you and Anita always have to use your cars. Besides, the wagon has been a good ride, very reliable.”

  Clair still fidgeted in the seat. “There will be a day when it won’t be reliable. You should be looking at used cars. Are these seat belts even safe? They have to be outdated.”

  “They’re fine. I’m a careful driver and never drive fast enough to risk an accident.”

  Clair huffed. “That’s not particularly reassuring. Anyway, what’s the urgent meeting about? I thought we were taking a break from detective work.”

  I took a moment to maneuver the wagon onto a road that led out of town. “I think we need to rethink a suspect or two. And I’m afraid it isn’t safe to wait. Let’s talk when we get to Anita’s so she won’t feel left out.”

  Clair and I discussed plans for the Marshmallow Festival, but spent most of the three miles into the countryside in relative silence. My mind was occupied with thoughts of Konrad. Clair’s must have been occupied with her mortality, since she kept rechecking the latch on her seat belt.

  Anita’s picture perfect farm house sat at the end of a long tree-lined drive. Neither she nor her husband farmed. Instead, they leased out the surrounding land to a soy bean grower.

  I parked the car in front of a pristine white outbuilding I knew from experience was filled with snow mobiles and a barbecue grill. As we disembarked, two resident Labrador retrievers trotted over to welcome us. Clair made a fuss over them, with hugs and ear scratches. I gave each an awkward pat on the head and a “Good dog.” After all, I’m a cat person.

  At any rate, the dogs were kind enough to accompany us into the house. The younger of the two, a large chocolate brown beast, disappeared into the kitchen while his older brother sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor and began to snore.

  We heard a welcome greeting from somewhere in the house, stepped over the dog, careful not to disturb him, and sank into Anita’s comfy flowered sofa.

  Our friend arrived from the kitchen with a tray of coffee. After serving, she backed up and plopped into an overstuffed arm chair. “What’s up? Thought we were on hiatus? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always up for an adventure. But why the change?”

  I enjoyed a big slurp of my coffee, then took my time in relating the conversation with Ava. After I’d shared my suspicions, my friends stared at me with round eyes and open mouths.

  Clair broke the silence first. “Konrad did it. Why would he want to leave town unless he had something to hide?”

  Anita placed her untouched coffee on a side table. “Oh dear, who would ever suspect that nice man? Don’t you think there’s another explanation?”

  Clair twisted toward Anita. “I suspect him. Obviously Lauren does too. What other answer is there?”

  Blond curls bounced as Anita stood and paced around the room. “I don’t know. But I’m sure there is one. Maybe family problems? Perhaps they have to leave to take care of a sick aunt.”

  Clair shot back an answer. “They don’t have any family in the states. And if that were the reason, Ava would have told Lauren.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Clair glanced at me. “We’ll have to check on his alibi.”

/>   I nodded, drumming my fingers. “Did he have an alibi? I don’t remember anyone saying.”

  Cell phone in hand, Clair began scrolling through her contacts. “Irma will know. She has access to the reports at the police department.”

  Anita had collected herself and returned to her seat. “Irma wouldn’t technically be able to tell us about anyone’s alibi, so we’ll have to catch her in the right mood.”

  After a pensive sip of coffee, I offered the answer. “Let’s ask her to lunch. She likes Burgers ‘N Bean Sprouts. I bet she’ll loosen up and talk then.”

  Anita, back in the game, offered, “While we’re at it, we can ask if Farlow checked into the owner, Carl Rocco. I never discovered any real proof that he was working late the night of the murder.” Cutting her eyes to Clair. “We got sidetracked by the earring.”

  ~~

  Standing at the door of Burgers ‘N Bean Sprouts, I scanned the room. Clair and Anita had yet to arrive but I saw a menu seemingly standing on its own in a booth at the opposite wall. I suspected that would be Irma, the upper half of her body hidden by the board. Probably the tiniest adult in Evelynton, but what she lacked in size she made up in attitude.

  “What looks good?” I slid across the red vinyl seat opposite Irma.

  “Hey, Halloren. How’s it goin’?” She dropped the menu on the table. “I decided I’ll have sprouts on my burger today. I’ve always figured they were weird, but other people eat ‘em. I’ll give it a try. Where’re the girls. My stomach’s growling.”

  “Clair went to pick up Anita. They should be right behind me.”

  We heard Clair and Anita before we saw them. Their chatter grew louder as they walked through the restaurant. Irma and I scooted over, in our respective sides of the booth, to give them room.

  Anita smiled at Irma. “So good to see you, Irma. How’s Frank’s indigestion?” I didn’t remember that her husband was named Frank, and had no idea he’d had indigestion. Anita kept track of everyone.

  “Frank’s back to eating everything in sight.” The diminutive woman handed both the newcomers a menu in a not-so-veiled attempt to hurry things along. “While we’re on the subject.”