Caffeinated Murder Page 9

  Anita brightened. “I know what I’m having. A burger with everything, except no sprouts. And curly fries. I love them.”

  Clair put down the menu. “I want mine with sprouts. The Festival’s coming, with all that rich food.”

  Small talk didn’t last long. Irma was smart enough to know we were there to pick her brain about the investigation. She cut to the chase. “Farlow hasn’t come up with anything. He doesn’t have a clue as to who or why. All alibis have checked out. He can’t discover a motive.” She flapped a hand at us. “He’s considering putting it down to a vagrant who must have wandered into town.”

  Clair shook her head. “Just wandered in, committed murder, and then what? Wandered out?”

  Irma put up her hands. “Before you say anything, I know it’s crazy. We haven’t had a vagrant in town in—forever. Well we thought we did two years ago, but that one was explained after Halloren here solved the case.”

  I wanted to quash the myth that I’d solved any murder case, but the waitress arrived with our lunch, and proved how short my attention span is. “These are the best burgers in town. I wonder what makes them so good.” I received only shrugs in reply. Everyone’s mouth was full.

  Anita waved a curly fry at Irma. “We’ve been thinking about alibis. Does everyone have one? Just take, for instance maybe, Konrad? Where was he?”

  Irma sat back and squinted at Anita. “Just for instance? I’d have to check, but I think he said he was home with Ava all night.”

  Anita nodded. “Oh, I see. And did Ava corroborate that?”

  “Who are you? Perry Mason? In answer to your question. Yes, as far as I know she agreed with him. Of course, being his wife, she would protect him. I mean if she thought he had anything to do with a murder.”

  I sat back in my seat. “So everyone has a husband or wife to confirm they were home on the night in question. Except Clair and me. I have Mason, but I doubt anyone would believe a cat. After all I feed him.”

  Clair shoved her plate away. “What about Melanie D’agastino?”

  Anita jumped out of her seat, startling the waitress who had arrived to collect plates. “Oh, sorry Tina.” She nailed Clair with intense blue eyes. “That little girl couldn’t have done it. You know that.”

  Clair shrank back in her seat. “Sorry. She’s not a little girl. She’s a teenager, but I agree, she didn’t do it. Just keeping the conversation going.”

  Irma shook her head. “Even Farlow says she’s not the type. He’s been studying criminal psychology.”

  This grabbed Clair’s attention. “Is he taking classes at community college in Warrenton?”

  Irma gave a loud guffaw and waved off the question. “Not hardly. His studies involve getting books from the library and watching cop shows.”

  I said, “That’s nice. He’s trying to better himself.” I wasn’t about to criticize him. His resources seemed to be the same as my resources in studies of the criminal mind.

  Anita pulled her hand bag from the booth. “That’s true. He could use some help in understanding people.”

  “Almost forgot.” She leaned toward Irma and whispered. “I wonder. Did anyone check on Carl Rocco’s alibi? We thought since he’s in the contest…”

  Another laugh spilled from Irma. “You girls are such fun. You’re way outside of the suspect pool. Rocco wasn’t anywhere near the place when the body was found. What reason would we have to ask him his whereabouts?”

  Anita shrugged. “We thought maybe he wanted his friend, the mayor, to be judge instead of Gold.”

  This elicited a roar from Irma. “Like Farlow is going to pull in the mayor’s friend for questioning, even if he was a suspect.” She nudged Clair out of the way and scooted out of the booth. “Gotta get back to real police work. It’s been fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” With that, Irma dropped her payment off at the cashier and left.

  My friends and I, feeling thoroughly chastised, picked up our checks and filed to the cashier as well.

  Carl Rocco happened to walk out of the kitchen in time to hold the door for us. “Good afternoon ladies. I trust you enjoyed your lunch.”

  Startled, we nodded like a trio of bobble head dolls. “Oh, yes. It was wonderful.”

  In the parking lot, Clair said, “We handled that like a bunch of clowns. Guilty clowns.”

  Anita stepped in close. “Did you see how he leered at us? Must have heard us asking about him.”

  Ever trying to bolster the troops, I said, “Did he? I wouldn’t call it a leer. He was being nice. That’s what owners do. You’re feeling guilty since we talked about him.”

  Anita didn’t seem convinced as she shuffled behind Clair to the BMW. I hurried to the wagon and glanced over my shoulder as I slid behind the wheel and turned on the engine. Movement caught my eye. Was that Carl Rocco peering from the restaurant window?

  Chapter Sixteen

  A quick jerk of the steering wheel saved me from landing in the ditch. Since leaving Burgers ‘N Bean Sprouts, I’d almost lost control more than once, while swerving to avoid a mailbox. It isn’t smart to drive with all one’s attention centered on the rear-view mirror. I’d been convinced Carl Rocco was on my tail, so kept searching the road behind me. He wasn’t. In reality there were no cars behind me at all. That revelation didn’t give me peace, nor did it keep my attention on the road ahead.

  Enough. I slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road, needing a few minutes to calm down. And to convince myself I wasn’t being followed by some murderous restaurant owner. I shifted into neutral, let the car idle, and practiced my deep breathing technique. Clair, the health fanatic, had shared the method with me. She seemed to think there were times I could use more self-control.

  After a few minutes, my muddled brain began to clear. During that time no cars had passed me traveling in either direction. Unfounded paranoia confirmed.

  While I enjoyed the moment of peace, I considered the case. What witnesses had I spoken to? What clues were uncovered that had been overshadowed by my obsession with Gold’s supposed girlfriend, who happened to be Clair?

  Shuffling through my memories of possible witnesses, Cheryl, the maid at E-Town Gardens, came to mind. She’d reported how surprised she was that her new friend Bob, i.e. Giles Gold, would steal from his room. Particularly an old, thread-bare blanket.

  His online reputation didn’t lead me to suspect him of petty theft. But what had happened to the blanket? Had they found one in the dumpster? In his rental car?

  I glanced at the road ahead. A large dark sedan slowed as it drove toward me. Faces pressed to the window, ogling the stranded motorist as they passed. Crap. It was Clive and Murine Baron.

  Before they could make a U-turn, I shifted into gear. The last thing I needed was my neighbor returning to ask if I’d had car trouble. Clive would have the Chrysler hood up before I had a chance to explain. With a quick check for traffic, I pulled the wagon onto the highway. Now to get home, sort my notes, and consider the implications.

  Cruising through town, I saw Officer Farlow crossing the street, apparently on his way to the police station. I slowed. Should I stop? It seemed like fate. So easy to ask him about the blanket. Maybe not easy. A conversation with him was never a treat. But following the man into the station would be worse. He could show off for everyone by kicking me out.

  I stopped in the middle of the street and lowered the window. “You-hoo, Officer Farlow.”

  He came to an abrupt stop and looked over his shoulder. Then, checking for oncoming traffic, he whirled and took a step toward me. Well, I suppose he recognized me, because he stopped.

  With furrowed brow, he shouted. “What is it, Ms. Halloren?”

  I put on what I considered an innocent smile. “Sorry to bother you. I see you’re on your way to work, but if you could spare a minute.” I was in luck. His rigid posture relaxed, so I charged ahead. “You know me. I can’t help but think about the complexities of the murder. Not that I’m interfering or anything. I’
m no investigator, but couldn’t help but wonder. When Giles Gold’s body was found in the dumpster, was there something out of the ordinary with it?”

  Farlow looked at the sky for a moment, tilted his head down, and glared at me. “Woman, what are you talking about?”

  Best not to take offense at his tone. “I know it’s a silly question, but if you’ll humor me. Was the body wrapped in anything, like a blanket?”

  “As if it’s any of your business, no.” He leered at me. I sensed the rigidity returning. “There was no blanket keeping the poor corpse warm.”

  I took a breath and forced a chuckle. “I know he didn’t need to be kept warm. He was dead. But I thought the killer might have wrapped the body in something before transporting it.”

  The mocking grin disappeared. Farlow’s expression turned stern and threatening. “Listen. And listen carefully. I’m not discussing this case with you. Keep your nose out of police business, in this instance, and whatever murders you may stumble over in the future. I won’t warn you again.” Farlow pivoted and stalked to the curb.

  I should have taken the cue. I should have stepped on the gas and sped away. But that hasn’t been my nature in the past and apparently not the present either. My car still sat in the street when Farlow stopped and twisted toward me. I caught sight of his expression, and froze. After a moment, he walked back across the street and stood close to my window. He lowered his voice to a menacing rumble. “What makes you think the body had been moved? While you’re here, Ms. Halloren, park your vehicle and come into the station. I want to talk to you.”

  Crap. “Why? I just thought it would have been difficult to kill the man inside the dumpster, so the killer had to have moved him.” I squeaked.

  “I’ll see you in my office. Come in now, or I’ll send a squad car for you.” Farlow did an about-face and stalked up the stairs to the station.

  A parking space opened just ahead, so I pulled the wagon into it. I sat for a moment, deep breathing again, until the trembling subsided. I coaxed the door open and followed the officer’s instructions.

  The door to Farlow’s office stood open when I entered the station. He sat at his desk, staring at me. I walked in and sat in the chair across from him. I’d left the door open, on purpose. Farlow got up to shut it.

  He still stood at the door when he said, “I remember you arrived late to the meeting at Ava’s Java the day the body was discovered. Where were you the morning of the murder?”

  I twisted to peer at him over my shoulder. “I was at home. All night. I was late to the meeting because my alarm didn’t go off and I overslept. I told you all this before.”

  He’d reached his chair and pulled out a pad of paper. “Who can confirm your story?”

  “Umm, no one. You know I live alone. Except for Mason, my cat.”

  “So, you have no alibi.”

  “Alibi? Why do I need an alibi? I didn’t know the man and certainly had no reason to kill him.”

  Farlow leafed through his notebook. “It’s come to my attention that you may have been acquainted with Mr. Gold. Contrary to what you may believe, we here at the department know how to investigate a crime. I talked to a workman at the hotel where Gold stayed. He described a woman who may have been in the area of Gold’s room. That woman could have been you.”

  “No. You’re wrong about that. Bud said the woman had short hair.” Oops. I skidded to a stop, wishing I could swallow those words.

  Farlow’s beady eyes snapped at me. “So, you have spoken to the plumber. Maybe trying to sway his testimony? Possibly an attempt to keep him from reporting what he saw?”

  “No! I was investigating. No, not investigating. I mean I happened to be at the motel and talked to him.” I stopped. The room had begun to swirl around me. How did I get myself into this? I gripped the arms of the chair and breathed in to clear my head. “Anyway, if you interviewed him, you know he said the woman in question had short hair.”

  Farlow tipped back in his chair and wagged a finger at me. “Easy mistake. The way you wear your hair slicked back in that tail thing, looks like you have no hair at all.”

  I gasped and put a protective hand on my pony-tail. “Does not.” I scooted out of my chair. “I’m not here to be insulted. Unless you’re going to arrest me, I’m leaving. This is ridiculous and I have things to do at home.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and wished I hadn’t used the word arrest. Detain? No, that wouldn’t have been a smart choice either.

  “I’m not holding you now, but heed this warning.” His eyebrows formed a straight black line. “Don’t leave town.”

  “I have no reason to leave town.” Flinging the door open, I scooted out.

  As I made my escape to the outside world, I heard Farlow bellowing in the background. “Amos, that plumber at E-Town Gardens. Get him on the phone. Tell him to get in here. I want to talk to him again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  W hy did Jimmy Farlow always pick on me? After my meeting with him, I’d spent three days holed up in my house, avoiding everyone. Even called in sick one day. Introverts need quiet time, so for me this was a vacation.

  In my sensible mind, I knew I was innocent and he would never find any proof I’d had anything to do with Gold’s death. Farlow’s interview with the plumber would prove I hadn’t attempted to influence him. Why Farlow had me so spooked, I couldn’t explain. Unless it was the badge, and the fact that what I’d done might be viewed as interference with police business. But no harm had been done.

  Thank goodness, after this time of seclusion, I seemed to be outside the net Farlow was casting. Three glorious days and no further threats from him. No policeman had shown up at my door. No summons. No squad cars arriving to haul me away.

  In these days of contemplation, I’d decided to forget all about Giles Gold, Konrad Kraus, and Carl Rocco. I’d called Clair and Anita to let them know I was finished with the investigation. And had even tossed the newspaper in the trash without opening it, lest there be a story on the unsolved crime.

  When I ventured back to the Java, I wouldn’t even listen to gossip. Maybe I’d find the set of earbuds that fit my phone. With those in my ears, it would be easy to ignore everyone. I’d make it clear I didn’t even want to know if the police accused one of my friends of homicide. As I thought about it, I figured there wouldn’t be enough evidence to accuse anyone of anything. Farlow would be forced to give up. He would go back to chasing down parking violators and delinquent library fines.

  I picked up my current novel and plopped on the sofa. I loved my house, doors closed and curtains drawn. Private. Quiet. Just me and my cat. Maybe I’d stay home a few more days.

  Unfortunately, and realistically, I would be forced to leave my sanctuary. Today I would go to work at The Rare Curl, but planned to stay firm in my resolve and remain ignorant of police activities.

  ~~

  I swung the salon door open, listening to the sweet jingle of the bells. Stacey glanced up from her styling chair, where she chatted with a customer. Rarity emerged from the back room, hauling a ladder. Gladys, the cleaning woman, followed her, carrying a bucket and mop.

  Rarity sang a hearty hello. “Tomorrow is the big day, so we’re doing a final cleansing and polishing of the shop. Gladys was good enough to take time from her busy schedule to give us a hand.” I tucked my handbag away and took my place at the reception desk.

  While Rarity positioned the ladder and climbed it to fiddle with the track lighting, Gladys swiped the mop around the shampoo bowls. As was her habit, the charwoman maintained a constant narrative. “I bet you’ll get a lot of visitors, just wanting to see your shop. People recognize an honest business when they see it. Nobody has ever said a bad word about you, Rarity. Everyone knows you’re a good woman.”

  Rarity, at the top of the ladder, called, “That’s kind of you, Gladys.” She pointed to the floor. “I dropped my rag. Would you toss it to me?”

  The cleaning woman propped the mop against a shampoo chair, grabbe
d the rag and gave it a toss to Rarity. “I’m not sure the festival is a good thing. Just hope it doesn’t bring in the wrong sort. There’s bound to be a bad element. Thieves and so on. We’ve got our own trouble makers. Sure don’t need to invite outsiders in.”

  She took a minute to rinse the mop. “It gets to me when I see even our own people taking advantage of what isn’t theirs. Did I tell you what I witnessed a couple weeks ago? Right over there, beside Ava’s. I was on my way to work. It was still dark, cause I had to get my cleaning done before the insurance office opened for business.”

  Gladys propped the mop again and planted her fists on her hips. “I was driving down Main Street when I saw it. There was somebody sneaking around, so I watched them. Turns out they were out to get free dumpster service. There were two of them and they carried a load of garbage into that alley over there. Stuffed a big bag into the can, as if they owned it. Ava has to pay for that service. It was obvious they knew they weren’t supposed to, else why would they have been sneaking around in the dark?”

  Rarity unscrewed a light bulb. “Now Gladys, maybe it was Ava getting ready for the day.”

  “Nope. It sure wasn’t Ava or Konrad. I know them. These two…”

  Rarity held out the bulb. “Gladys, can you help me with this light fixture. Let’s put all the bulbs in the sink and wash them. They’ll shine brighter, and everything in the salon will look cleaner.”

  I tried to be like Rarity and think about only good things. Gladys’s words rang in my brain. I covered my ears and reminded myself I wanted nothing to do with crime. But my thoughts made a beeline to murder.

  I spun my chair away from the desk. “Gladys, when was it that you witnessed somebody using the dumpster?”

  The cleaning lady stood with her finger to her chin. “Let me think.”

  Rarity’s ladder shuddered. She clung to it and raised her voice. “Grab this before I take a tumble.”