Lattes, Ladyfingers, and Lies Read online

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “You knew Georgina was sleeping here! That’s why she was here that night. That’s why the alarm company didn’t call the police.”

  Dean looked sheepish, but I was so angry I didn’t care.

  “You lied to me! You asked me to help you, and then you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie. I—”

  “It’s still a lie if you leave out important information, Dean!”

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think it was important. I—”

  “I knew there was something wrong about your story. I knew it. I knew you were hiding something from me. But do you know what I thought it was? I thought you killed her! I thought you killed her, and you were blaming Alex to throw me off the trail. Why did you do that, Dean? Why?”

  “I—I just—”

  “You just what?” I knew it didn’t make any sense to scream at him. I knew I was being irrational, but I felt like he’d used me, tricked me into investigating Georgina’s death. But for what reason? What did he have to gain by sending me on a wild goose chase?

  “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “You didn’t think the reason she was at your store hours after closing was relevant?”

  “Well, you didn’t ask, so…”

  “Did the police ask?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “I said I…” He mumbled whatever he was saying so low I couldn’t make it out.

  “What?”

  “I said I didn’t know.”

  “Why, Dean? Why would you say that?”

  “Because…” Again with the mumbling.

  “Speak clearly, Dean.”

  “Because the insurance company would’ve had a fit. If they found out she was staying here and that the alarm company didn’t call the police, they would reject my claim. That’s a lot of money, Fran! I can’t be out fifty thousand dollars!”

  “You lied to me and to the police so that you wouldn’t get in trouble with your insurance company.”

  “Yeah, basically.”

  “You’re an idiot, Dean.”

  “What? Fran, I—”

  “Stop it, Dean. Did you even actually think that Alex was responsible?”

  “I thought it was possible.”

  “But not likely.”

  He shrugged.

  “Please tell me you asked me to investigate because you actually wanted Georgina’s killer brought to justice.”

  “Well, yeah.” He didn’t sound too sure about that.

  “Why did you really ask me?”

  “The police seemed…” More mumbling.

  “Speak clearly!”

  “The police seemed really focused on the robbery angle. I was afraid I looked like the most obvious suspect, and I’d either get arrested, or they’d never find a better suspect. If that’s what the police came up with, that’s probably what the insurance investigators would come up with, and then they wouldn’t pay out.”

  “So you sent me after Alex and hoped the police would follow me.”

  “Well, you figured out who committed the other ones. I figured the police would have faith in you.”

  “Even if there was no evidence?”

  He shrugged. I resisted calling him an idiot again.

  “Did you do it, Dean?” At that point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said yes. He was staging the robbery and accidentally killed Georgina in the process, so he thought he’d cover it up by pinning it on her ex-boyfriend. I hoped the security cameras recorded audio.

  “No.”

  I stared at him and waited.

  “I didn’t kill Georgina.”

  I kept staring.

  “You have to believe me, Fran! I didn’t kill her! I didn’t do it!”

  “Whatever, Dean.” I started for the door.

  “Really, Fran! I didn’t! Please believe me!” He reached out to grasp my arm as I walked by. I shook him off.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Fran, please!”

  My hand was on the door. “I don’t think you did it, Dean. This whole story is too stupid. I don’t think you could have pulled it off.”

  I opened the door and walked out of the jeweler’s and straight to my café. I maintained enough self-control to go around the back. I was too frustrated to smile and make nice with the customers I’d pass if I went in the front. I pulled open the back door, kicked the doorstop out of the door between the storage room and the café, and flopped down in my desk chair. I had no idea where to go from here. I had ruled out all my suspects on the basis of apathy, melancholy, or stupidity. I had no one left. In theory, my choices were to give it up or start over, but in reality, there was only one. I was going to start over.

  “Fran! You’re here.” Rhonda came in.

  “Yes,” I grumbled.

  “What’s wrong?” She came over and bent to look at my face.

  “Dean’s an idiot.”

  “I could have told you that.”

  “And I have no suspects left.”

  “Well, that’s new.” She sat on the edge of the desk. “Dean’s out?”

  “He’s a liar and an idiot.”

  “Alex?”

  “Heartbroken and has an alibi.”

  “Umm…”

  “Yeah, me too.” She was out of ideas, and so was I.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Start over, I guess.”

  “You leave for Italy in four days.”

  “So I’ll have to solve it by then.”

  “Fran—”

  “I know, Rhonda, but I can’t just forget about it. Georgina’s dead. If there’s anything I can do to catch her killer, I have to do it.”

  “You need a break.”

  “I’m going to Italy for two weeks.”

  “No, now. Well, tomorrow. How about that shopping trip?”

  “Rhonda—”

  “No, seriously, Fran! Getting away, even if it’s just for a few hours, will be good for you. You said before that you needed things to wear on your trip. This is the perfect opportunity. Besides, it’ll be a good morale boost for us before we slave away in your absence for two weeks.”

  It seemed so irresponsible to skip out on work for an afternoon. But I was so tired from everything that had gone on the past few days that it was really tempting.

  “We can go to Neiman’s!” she sing-song-ed.

  “I told you I can’t afford Neiman’s.”

  “We can go there anyway!”

  I actually laughed a little. “Okay, fine. Maybe it’ll be fun.”

  “Of course it will! And trust me. You’ll be thanking me later!” She hopped off the desk and headed back into the café.

  As it turned out, I would.

  Chapter 17

  The next afternoon, the five of us—Rhonda, Sammy, Becky, Amanda, and me—gathered in the coffee shop. The last customer had been served. Everything had been cleaned up. The sign in the window said “Closed,” and the one next to it explained that Antonia’s Italian Café would be closed on Friday afternoon for a team-building exercise. “Team-Building” also known as shopping.

  “Okay, anything else?” Rhonda sounded more than a little exasperated that we still hadn’t left for Boston.

  “Oh, I need to get a latte for Ryan!” Sammy put her purse down on the counter and ran around it to the espresso machine. “I promised I’d bring him one!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Rhonda muttered.

  “May as well get one for Mr. Stanton too.” Becky giggled.

  It took me a second to realize who she was talking about. Stanton, Detective Stanton, Mike—I was used to hearing him called all of those. Mr. Stanton somehow sounded strange, probably because it made me think of when I used to call his father that when we were kids.

  “We’re going to need more than one if we’re going to get Mike through the whole afternoon,” Rhonda said.

  “
I’ll make it for him.” I put my bag down and joined Sammy behind the counter. Mike has never been seen drinking any coffee that isn’t strong and black, so I put on a pot for him.

  Rhonda rolled her eyes as I made the fresh coffee and dropped her purse off her shoulder onto one of the tables. “May as well get a refill.” She rattled the ice in her otherwise empty cup of iced tea.

  “Get yourselves something, girls,” I said to Becky and Amanda, knowing they wouldn’t help themselves unless I told them to.

  Their eyes lit up, and they went straight for the dessert case like I knew they would. They each pulled out a giant cupcake and a soda from the refrigerator.

  “I miss having that metabolism.” Rhonda looked longingly at their cupcakes.

  When Mike’s coffee was ready, I poured it out into three large to-go cups.

  Becky giggled when she saw it. “Wow, you’re really taking him three cups?”

  I shrugged. “I’m taking three cups to the police department. If Mike wants to drink all three, he can. If he wants to drink one and give the other two away—” Rhonda laughed behind me. “He’s welcome to do that too.”

  Before she put the lid on, I caught sight of the design Sammy had poured into Ryan’s latte—a heart. I glanced at Rhonda to see if she’d seen it too. She wagged her eyebrows at me, and I knew that she had. Neither of us said anything to Sammy.

  She put Ryan’s latte into the last of the four slots in the drink carrier.

  “Can somebody grab my purse?” I picked up the drinks.

  “I got it!” Becky chirped.

  I carefully balanced the many cups of hot coffee as we went outside to pile into Rhonda’s minivan. Sammy locked up the shop, and I slid into the front seat. “Please drive carefully,” I said as Rhonda put the car in gear.

  “Not looking for a lap of hot coffee?” she asked.

  “Not looking to spend the next couple weeks in the burn unit.”

  She drove very carefully over to the police station, managing to only make the coffee slosh out the slightest bit. She pulled into a spot labeled “Reserved for Officers” and shifted into park. “You need help getting out?” She punched the button on my seat belt so I wouldn’t have to maneuver around the coffee to do it.

  “I’ll help her.” Sammy practically jumped out of her seat in the back.

  Rhonda and I exchanged a look. Neither of us was surprised.

  Sammy opened my door for me and took the coffee carrier. I almost let her go in by herself, but Rhonda shoved me out of the car. “Don’t let her think she’s being sneaky.”

  “Are Sammy and Ryan, like, together?” I heard Becky ask as I climbed out of the car.

  “Not according to Sammy,” Rhonda replied.

  “She sure doesn’t act like it,” Becky said as I closed the door.

  “Hold up,” I called to Sammy as I hurried to catch up.

  I thought I saw a look of disappointment cross her face as she glanced back, but she slowed down until I was beside her.

  Margaret Robbins, the talkative one, was at the desk when we walked in. “Special delivery?”

  “Mm-hmm. For Officer Leary,” Sammy said.

  “And Detective Stanton.” I caught Margaret’s eye. Sammy didn’t see her wink at me.

  “They’re in the conference room right here.” Margaret pointed to her right. “If they’re not, they’ll be back in just a sec.”

  Sammy and I went over into the room Margaret had pointed to. My eye immediately went to a row of plastic bags laid out on one of the tables. I wandered over while Sammy pulled Ryan’s latte out of the carrier and checked to make sure the image still showed in the milk foam.

  I started looking at the bags—some pieces of glass, some small rocks that looked like they came from the sidewalk, a cordless phone. And there, at the end, something with a dark brown stain on it that looked suspiciously like a brick.

  I hesitated but walked over to look at it more closely. It was definitely a brick, a relatively thin, tan brick, with what I could only assume was a bloodstain on it. Something about it seemed odd to me, even beyond the fact that it was stained with the blood of a woman I considered my friend. I reached out my hand. The brick was in a plastic bag. It couldn’t hurt anything to touch it, right?

  “One of those had better be for me,” Mike said. I looked up to see him striding into the room. He stopped dead when he saw me with my hand outstretched toward his evidence bag. He looked at me with an expression that seemed to ask if I was really doing what he thought I was doing. I pulled my hand back and put it in my pocket. He nodded curtly and walked over to the coffee. He reached out to grab one, but Sammy snatched it away.

  “That’s, um, it’s Ryan’s.” She stammered like she was doing something wrong. Mike hadn’t moved his hand yet. I wondered how rough his day must have been to be looking at her that way over a cup of coffee when there were three more still sitting on the table.

  “It has milk in it,” I said quickly.

  “Ugh.” He grunted and moved his hand toward one of the others. “These safe?”

  “Made fresh just for you,” I said. “I personally made sure not a drop of milk or sugar came near any of them.”

  “Good.” He picked one up.

  “I left a little room in the top of each in case someone else wanted some.”

  “Someone else?” He flicked his eyes at Sammy.

  “Anyone you might want to share with,” I said.

  He moved closer to the two remaining cups. “Every man for himself on a murder case.”

  I laughed even though I didn’t think he was joking. I would not want to be the one to come between Mike Stanton and a cup of coffee.

  “All right!” Ryan came into the room. “You’re the best, Sam! Thanks!” He started toward Sammy with his arms out but stopped when he saw Mike and me. “Uh, I appreciate it. How much do I owe you?” he asked, suddenly much more reserved.

  “Cops drink free, Leary,” Mike growled.

  Ryan nodded and took his cup from Sammy without trying to hug or pay her.

  “Thanks for stopping by, ladies,” Mike said. “But if you don’t mind, we have an investigation to get back to.”

  “Not a problem,” I said. “We have a shopping trip to get to. Plus, we’ve been gone more than thirty seconds now. Rhonda’s probably about to send out a search party. You don’t want to get between her and Neiman’s.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re closed for the rest of the day.” Mike looked pained.

  “Why do you think I brought you three cups of coffee?”

  “That’ll get him through the next hour,” Ryan said. “But what is he going to do the rest of the day?”

  “Very funny, Leary,” Mike said. “I think the ladies said they need to get going.”

  I headed for the door while Sammy and Ryan made little gestures like they wanted to hug but didn’t want to be seen hugging.

  “See ya, Mike!” I called over my shoulder as I walked back into the lobby.

  “See ya, Fran! Thanks for the coffee!”

  “No problem!” I waited a second to see if Sammy was behind me. She wasn’t. “You coming, Sammy? Do I need to send Rhonda after you?”

  “I’m coming!” She popped out of the room, turning around once to wave at Ryan before following me back out to the car.

  “Sheesh, did you two take long enough?” Rhonda asked. The doors were barely closed when she put the car in reverse. Neiman’s was calling. She put her arm behind my seat so she could twist around to look behind us as she backed up. She caught my eye when I glanced over at her. I tried not to laugh out loud as she flicked her eyes from Sammy over to the police station and made kissy faces. I had to look away and cover my mouth so Sammy didn’t notice. If she and Ryan just said they were seeing each other, we wouldn’t joke about it so much. It was just the fact that they tried to pretend there was nothing between them when there so clearly was that made us tease them.

  “You get the boys safely caffeinated?” Rhond
a pulled out onto the road.

  “Well, I’m not sure Mike consumes caffeine at safe doses, but we got it to them,” I said.

  “Did Mr. Stanton say if he was going to share?” Becky asked from the way back where she sat with Amanda. Sammy had the middle row of the minivan all to herself.

  “I believe his exact words were ‘every man for himself on a murder case,’” I told her.

  “Does that mean no?”

  Even Sammy laughed at that.

  “Yes, that means no, Becky,” I said.

  We chatted as we pulled onto the highway and didn’t stop until we reached Boston.

  I already knew Sammy and Rhonda pretty well, but I learned exponentially more about Becky and Amanda in that hour and a half than I’d known before. Becky babysat for Mike’s kids, which was part of why she called him Mr. Stanton. Amanda was just starting her junior year in high school, but she was already taking advanced chemistry and was planning on working as a cosmetic chemist after college. She went into incredible detail, explaining to us the chemical reaction that took place when coffee beans were roasted. I had no idea she was so smart.

  Rhonda pulled into the parking lot near the Neiman Marcus, and we piled out of her van. She made a beeline for the store and was halfway across the parking lot before the van doors were closed.

  “Come on, girls!” She pointed her key fob over her shoulder and locked the car as we followed her out into the street.

  Inside, she led us straight to the women’s clothing section. “Fran needs some new clothes for her trip. You girls can help us look or go do your own thing, and we can meet up later.”

  Becky and Amanda looked at each other and shrugged. “It’s okay if we just meet you later?” Becky asked.

  “Yes, but if you get lost, your mothers will kill me, so don’t get lost, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I had a momentary bout of panic thinking about anything happening to either of them. They were my employees. I was responsible for them. Their mothers had entrusted them to me. I took a deep breath and tried to put the thought out of my head.

  “You have all our cell phone numbers?” Rhonda asked.