A Cup of Jo (10 page)

'Do you want a towel?' he asked.

I ignored the offer. 'Is Rebecca right? Did you sleep with her sister?'

Michael started to shake his head in the negative.

I lowered my voice a couple of notches below hysterical. 'It's important, Michael. Whatever you tell me will go no further, but I have to know.'

An inner struggle reached his face. That was my answer, but I needed more. And Michael didn't want to say the words.

'Just nod, then. Did you have an affair – or even just a one-night stand – with JoLynne?'

And, finally, Michael Inkel nodded.

But he didn't buy coffee before leaving, either.

'Incredible,' Sarah said, coming back into the shop proper from our storeroom. 'What do people think, they just come in here to act out? Do we do that at their stores?'

'Yes,' I said absently. I was still trying to get my head around this jolt of fresh gossip. To understand. Rebecca had been right about Michael. That meant she wasn't completely delusional. Her sister is . . . was 'sleeping around'. And JoLynne had said one of her 'circle' was Pavlik.

Boy, did I know how to pick 'em.

'True.' But Sarah was agreeing with whatever I'd just said, not thought. 'Though what's there to buy? Piano lessons from Christy? Catering from Art? Advertising from Rebecca and Michael?'

'Advertising, definitely.' This answer came from a different quarter. At some point, Amy had begun prepping the espresso machine. 'We should be publicizing our new location.'

I might be dripping wet and devastated by what I'd just learned, but I couldn't let anyone think I'd fallen down on my job. 'I
did
publicize it. The grand opening, the newspaper stories.'

'You mean this one?' Sarah tossed a copy of the daily
CitySentinel
to me. The issue was folded to a photo of JoLynne's body, taken by someone neither as sensitive nor considerate as Jerome. The paper did have the decency to blur her face, but the caption read: 'Freak coffeehouse death mars Milwaukee–Brookhills commuter-rail dedication.'

'They could at least have mentioned which "freak"ing coffeehouse,' I muttered, taking a stack of napkins to blot off the rain on my face.

Sarah and Amy must have heard some of Rebecca's pronouncement, but – maybe by mutual agreement – they didn't bring it up. Which was good, because I didn't intend to, either, for the time being. First I wanted to crawl into a hole – aka, my house – and think.

'Here we are.' Amy pointed to the fabric partially obscuring JoLynne's leg. The Uncommon Grounds logo was clearly visible. It was even being held upright by the raised edge of the saucer, the only part of the whole thing that still had air in it.

Including JoLynne, as it turned out.

'And that's not all,' Sarah said, grabbing the paper away from me and flipping to an inside page. 'Look at this.'

I did. A photo of Sarah accompanied an article headlined, '"From L & Back" says it all for local woman.'

No wonder my partner was in a good mood. 'By the time I listened to your message, it was too late to return the call. I'm so happy for you.'

'Sure you are.' Sarah thrust the paper back at me. 'Read it and weep.'

Knowing that she would value my perceived envy over my professed congratulations, I didn't argue and took the paper.

The story went on to explain – for a very long three paragraphs – exactly what 'all' its headline signified, pretty much as Sarah had waxed eloquent with me. The last, blessedly succinct, sentence reported that the train would be known as 'The L' for short.

Thank the lord. 'Did they interview you?'

'Nope, they just used the information on the entry form. I sent the photo, too.' Sarah was turning over the 'CLOSED' sign on the door, something we should have done three non-customers ago. 'To be fair, though, there really wasn't time for the
CitySentinel
to do an interview after Anita Hampton telephoned last night to tell me I'd won.'

So Pavlik was right: Anita was picking up the slack left by JoLynne's untimely death.

Before I could comment, the morning rush started in earnest. And I do mean 'rush'.

At the old Uncommon Grounds, most of our early customers were commuters, too, but they were commuting in their own cars. They came in small, manageable waves, drivers seeming to leave for work on the hour, half-hour or quarter-hour. (Had anyone thought that maybe backing out of their driveways at 7:23 instead of 7:30 might cede them a lead on the pack?)

The small 'waves' were nothing, though, in comparison to the tsunami that hit us fifteen minutes before the first of the two scheduled trains arrived at 6:50 a.m.

'Holy shit,' said Sarah as a parade of cars passed our windows and descended into the big commuter parking lot. 'Do we have enough to feed and water this herd?'

'Not every head of steer will come in,' I said. 'Some of them will go right to the boarding platform.'

I might have been right, but all I could see were the people coming in our door, folding umbrellas and stamping their wet feet on our wooden floor.

Since Amy was still the only one who really knew how to run the cash register, she handled the order window and Tien's baked goods. I took the espresso machines and specialty drinks, with Sarah on the express coffee window.

We'd added the express window so the 'I'll have a medium, black' crowd, didn't have to wait behind the 'triple-shot, extra large, non-fat, no-foam latte' cultists. Still training on the espresso machine, Sarah was the ideal person to serve folks who wanted regular old coffee instead of the more time-consuming specialty drinks. Her 'take it and get out' attitude probably didn't hurt, either.

Our system, though admittedly overtaxed, proved to be a good one. At first, the two lines were fairly equal, but as boarding time grew short, people migrated to the express line and I moved off the espresso machine to keep old-fashioned coffee brewing.

'Whew,' Amy said as the second train finally departed at 7:45 a.m. 'This was the morning from hell.'

'L,' Sarah corrected. 'We need more staff. And machines, both coffee-makers and espresso.'

'We sure did today, but this was our first experience with the train's regular schedule.' For the fourth time in ninety minutes, I was filling up the creamer on the condiment cart by the door. Good thing I'd sent Amy to the store yesterday. 'What if this morning's early shift was an aberration?'

'Or morbid curiosity.' Amy, who was mopping up the puddles on our planked floor, gestured toward the window. 'When do you suppose they'll take that down?'

She was referring to the stage, now empty except for torn remnants of police tape skittering across. Both the rain and our cup/saucer were gone, the former heading east on to Lake Michigan and the latter likely hauled off by the crime-scene unit some time after we'd left the prior day.

'I'll call Kevin.' I tossed the empty half-and-half carton into the wastebasket under the sink. 'They probably don't know the police have cleared out.'

'Sheriff's team,' Sarah corrected. I'd noticed she was doing a lot of that, probably fueled by her win in the train-naming contest. 'And Kevin Williams himself may not be there. From what Anita Hampton told me last night, he's your boyfriend's prime suspect.'

Well, lah-de-dah. And how exactly could Anita know that? 'Really? The only thing Pavlik said to me was that JoLynne died by asphyxiation.'

'Don't they always suspect the husband first?'Amy asked.

Or the wife's lover. But I didn't want to think about that. Or start a debate over it.

Sarah seemed to be counting the empty brewing pots lined up on the counter. 'Anita said the county guys know it was murder and Pavlik is focusing on Kevin. Is there something I should do with these?'

'Wash them,' I said.

'How?'

I pointed at the sink. 'Hot water, soap.'

'Or you can use the dishwasher,' Amy said gently. 'Here, I'll show you.'

Thankfully, Amy had patience, because I certainly didn't. At least not today. It wasn't even Sarah's fault. We should have trained her on all the equipment ahead of Dedication Day. Problem was, the last of the paraphernalia hadn't been installed before Monday and we'd opened on Wednesday.

Amy, though terrific, still had just two hands. Even when Sarah got up to speed, the three of us wouldn't be able to handle long-term the magnitude and urgency of the crowd we'd had this morning. 'I've got a train to catch' wasn't just blowing smoke in this case.

Would the commuters keep patronizing our shop long-term? I couldn't predict. But I did know we had a very defined – and narrow – window of opportunity to prove we could serve our customers efficiently enough to assure them they'd make their trains. If we failed at that, it wouldn't be long before our 'to-go' cups would be replaced by ones from Dunkin' Donuts and Mickey D's.

Amy seemed to read my mind. 'It'd be awkward to hire someone only to lay them off if things quieted down. Do you think Tien would consider helping us out as a stopgap in the morning?'

'Not a bad idea.' Sarah pushed the 'wash' button and, with a pat on the dishwasher's stainless steel head, stepped back proudly. 'We'd need her for only a couple hours.'

The dishwasher sounded less like a cat purring in appreciation than one hawking up a hairball, as in 'ker-chuk, ker-chuk'.

Sarah might be on the high side regarding our need for Tien. It was more like an hour and a quarter, from 6:30 to about 7:45, when the second train left. Seventy-five really hectic minutes, though an extra pair of hands could make all the difference.

'Tien arrives here at closing time to do her baking, so she's not in the way during business hours,' I reminded them. 'I can't very well expect her to come back.'

'Maybe she'd be willing to work midnight to eight?' Amy asked.

'I don't know, but I can ask.' I wasn't looking forward to it.

'It's not such a bad shift,' Amy went on, 'at least compared with what Tien is already doing. If she didn't start work until midnight, she could still go out to dinner or see a movie beforehand. As it is, she'll have no time for any social life.'

Only someone who
has
a social life would conceive of such things. I came close to asking Amy to call Tien, but as a partner, it was my responsibility. Or Sarah's.

The latter, pots now in the dishwasher, had picked up the frothing pitcher and was gazing into it like milk was a foreign substance. My partner had enough on her proverbial plate.

'Amy, if you show Sarah how to froth milk, I'll go phone Tien right now.'

And I did just that. Awakening her, of course.

'I am so sorry, Tien.' I glanced at the clock. Eight fifteen. The calm between the commuters and the soccer moms who, I hoped, would drop their kids off at school and continue on to Uncommon Grounds. 'I didn't even think of what time it must be.'

'Not a problem, Maggy.' Even half asleep, the woman was perky. 'How's it going so far?'

'Well, that's what I'm calling about.'

'Uh-oh. Was something wrong with my food?'

I should have realized that Tien Romano, as conscientious as she was, would fear I was calling to complain about something.

'Just the opposite. Your pastries and sandwiches were a huge hit,' I said honestly. 'We even ran out of coffee cake.'

'Oh, dear. I knew I should have made two.'

'No, no, no,' I said sternly, '
you
are perfect. Your
food
is perfect. I am the screw-up who didn't realize we'd be bombarded this morning.'

'Really? There was a crowd?' Tien's voice was sunny again.

'Crowd? The line went out the door. We literally could not keep up.'

'That's wonderful!'

'Wonderful, yes. But –' worming into my reason for calling – 'it's a problem, too.'

'A problem?'

'A "good" problem, Tien. We had a ton of customers, only we couldn't serve them all before each train left.'

'Oh.' A thoughtful silence.

I joined her in it, and then: 'I just don't know if this gold rush will last. The novelty of the train may wear off.' Or the novelty of the murder at its dedication.

Another silence. 'You know, if you wanted me to, I could schedule my work in the kitchen so I can stay later into the morning and help you out.'

'Really?' I was almost ashamed of myself.
Almost.
'Tien, I couldn't ask you to do that.'

'You're not asking me. I'm offering.'

OK. Now I
was
ashamed of myself. 'Honestly, if you can do that, I would be really grateful. And I promise that it won't be for long. Once we get a gauge on things, we'll have a better idea how to staff.'

'Don't be silly, Maggy. I really enjoyed working the counter yesterday. It made me realize how much I miss the store.'

Tien and her father Luc Romano had owned An's Foods, the market around the corner from the original Uncommon Grounds. When the plaza that both operations rented in had collapsed, the father/daughter team decided not to reopen in another location. Luc had wanted his beautiful daughter to have a life outside managing a family store. Tien, in turn, said her father needed to stand somewhere other than behind a butcher counter.

Both of them thought they were giving the other what he or she wanted, but it had turned out like 'The Gift of the Magi' with shopping carts. Luc and Tien each had sacrificed what one loved most for the other. Sticking point: they both loved the same thing, the market that bore the name of Tien's deceased Vietnamese mother.

'In fact,' Tien continued, 'if we need more help, I bet my father would be happy to pitch in occasionally. I know he misses the socialization our market gave him, too.'

'And we'd be happy to have Luc,' I said. I hadn't thought about a male barista, shame on me. 'Isn't he enjoying retirement, though?'

'Of course not,' Tien said flatly. 'You know how he can be. But I'm working on him to get out more.'

'You know, that might be a side benefit of shifting your hours.' I was now drawing on what Amy had told me. 'You'd be able to go out to dinner, enjoy the night life.'

'Date, you mean.' She laughed. 'Did you talk to my dad first?'