Murder on Wheels (17 page)

Even without the alarm, I was up by six the next morning. My eyes felt gritty and my body ached. My body's internal clock had me trained to get up early. I tried to fall back to sleep, but sensing my movement, Emma licked my hand, indicating her need to go outside. I pulled myself to a sitting position. “Fine, but we're coming right back to bed.”

I opened the back door to let her out and was about to close the screen, when I heard a step on the porch. I whirled toward the noise, my hands up in a defensive position. Ten years of martial arts classes had taught me one thing: the stance.

“Hold on, slugger. It's just me.” Toby put his hands up to protect his face. “Seriously, you've got to lay off the caffeine. You're getting a little jumpy.”

I leaned against the doorway, taking in a few deep breaths to calm myself before I did kill him for scaring me. “What on earth are you doing out here?”

Toby shrugged. “I thought if you were up, we could have coffee together.” He held out a box. “I stopped at Lille's and got some donuts.”

I could smell the grease and fat, and I made a decision. “Come on in. The coffee's made but I'm running upstairs to change.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don't think this is going to be an every-morning occurrence.”

He held the door open so I could walk through. “Of course not.” His words were promising, but for some reason I didn't believe my new neighbor.

I climbed upstairs and went into my bathroom. My hair looked like I'd teased it using a blender. I brushed it into submission, then washed my face, brushed my teeth, and changed into cutoff shorts and a long tunic. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn. I wasn't ready to start the day, but I guess I didn't have much of a choice. Tomorrow morning, I'd definitely sleep in, I promised myself as I made my way downstairs.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, then grabbed one of the donuts and sat at the table across from Toby. I pointed the donut at him. “So, why are you here?”

“I got to thinking last night that you typically have an idea on who the murder suspects in a case are, sometimes before we can narrow it down. This Kacey Austin investigation is totally stalled and unless Greg can come up with a viable suspect, I think Austin is going to go down for a murder he might not have committed.” Toby opened his cop notebook. “So spill. What do you have on the murders so far?”

“Nothing.” I kept my eyes on the coffee I was sipping like it was ambrosia from the gods.

He pushed. “You can't lie to me. It's not very polite, and you are my boss. You're supposed to set a good example.”

I glared at him. “Fine, you want to know what I have?” I pulled out my notebook where I'd started writing out clues. “Nothing. I have nothing, and it's driving me crazy.”

He held out his hand. “Let's see. Maybe two heads are better than one.”

I paused, wondering what his game was today. “You're going to be in trouble with Greg.”

Toby shrugged. “Actually, I won't. He's told me I won't be working the case. Something about the mayor and overtime issues so he's not allowed to devote any hourly manpower to the investigation, unless the DA approves another suspect. I guess the mayor isn't in the Save Austin camp.”

“So you thought you'd work the case in your spare time?” I grinned. “Seriously Toby, when do you sleep?”

“Right now, after this thing with Elisa, I don't sleep very much.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Can you just give me a break here? Working helps keep me sane, and I need the distraction.”

I didn't want to pry about why Elisa had called it quits. Okay, I really wanted to know, but I didn't want to ask. I kept hoping Toby would just tell me. I looked at my notebook. “I'll share on one condition. You can't even think that Sadie or Nick are suspects.”

“You're kidding me, right? The pie lady and her soon-to-be-president son? You think I might consider them falling off the path of good to the dark side?” He tapped the notebook. “Just what have you got in there?”

“I need your promise.” I thought about Sadie's tearful confession about how she'd harbored bad feelings in her heart for Kacey. The woman would take the fall for her guilt alone even though I knew she couldn't kill anyone.

Toby sat back in his chair and looked at me. “You're really serious here, aren't you?”

I watched his face for a tell or reaction to my condition.

Finally he put his hands up in the air. “Fine, I'll take them off the possible suspects list no matter what I see in the notebook or what we find out later. You just better be right.”

I opened the notebook and started walking Toby through what I'd considered so far—especially my notes on Taylor. Of course, he hadn't done anything wrong, really. As I listed off the evidence, I could see the dismissal of Taylor as a real suspect in Toby's eyes. As I shared my facts and theories with my new sleuthing partner, I prayed that Sadie didn't look half as guilty to him as she did on the surface to me.

When we finished, Toby stood and refilled both our coffee cups without saying anything. Finally, he sat down and pushed the untouched cup away. He tapped the book. “You're right. The circumstantial evidence all points to our pie lady.”

T
oby and I made a plan of attack for the day. He'd go and research what was happening with Austin, but we both knew that hoping Austin was the killer was far-fetched even for South Cove. The guy just didn't have it in his DNA. I needed to tie up Sadie's alibi for the night the food truck was vandalized. We agreed to meet again over breakfast Saturday morning with what we'd found out.

After Toby left to get a few hours of sleep before his next shift at the shop, I took Emma for a run, my mind filled with what-ifs. I kind of liked having someone besides Aunt Jackie to bounce ideas off of. I knew that he couldn't be totally impartial since he was an actual police officer, but Toby was classified more as the brawn of the force than the brain. That was Greg's job, and apparently Toby had been restricted to his normal traffic cop, bar bouncer duties.

But one thing was clear in my mind: No matter who was helping me think through this puzzle, I needed another suspect. If Austin was too granola to kill, and Sadie was too nice, there had to be a third suspect and probably a different reason. Taylor and the club presidency seemed a little far-fetched, even for me. I started thinking about the food truck. I'd already considered and discarded Lille, but what if the food truck break-in was just a distraction? And what better way to set someone up by giving Sadie her recipes back?

I plopped down on the warm sand and watched Emma play in the surf. The seagulls were swarming around her and playing with the waves as she chased after them. What if Kacey was involved with the mob? Okay, a totally crazy idea, but I needed to separate out the real from the possible. If she was killed as part of a mob hit, she'd have a bullet hole rather than being killed with an overdose of wheat germ.

Which told me what?

My eyes widened. The method of death told me it wasn't a random or professional murder. Someone she knew killed her because only someone she knew would know that she was that allergic to wheat products. There was a big difference between following a gluten-free diet for your health and doing it because of a deadly allergy.

Kacey knew her killer.

I called Emma to come back from the shoreline and stood up from my thinking place. I dusted the sand off my hands and clicked Emma's leash back on her collar. I needed to talk to Austin.

By the time I needed to leave for work, I hadn't had any luck reaching him by phone. I packed my notebook in my tote and took off for town. If Austin was at his store, I'd stop in there and see if I could get a list of people who knew Kacey that well.

The bike rental shop was closed when I arrived. It looked like it hadn't been open for a week, and it had a handwritten sign on the door apologizing for the closure due to a death in the family. Well, that and an almost arrest of the shop owner. I went around back to the door where I could walk up the three flights of stairs to Austin's apartment.

I was a little winded when I reached the top floor, but that was probably due to the fact I'd run earlier, certainly not the donuts I'd had for breakfast and an early lunch. I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Nothing. Tempted, I tried to twist the doorknob. Locked. Defeated, I wrote a quick note and slipped it under his door. Hopefully he'd call me soon.

I started down the stairs and heard the door to the stairwell open. My luck was changing. I sped down the stairs to the second floor and stopped in my tracks. Amy was walking toward me.

“What are you doing in Austin's apartment?” Her cold stare made me a little angry.

I leaned against the stair rail. “I wasn't in his apartment, I was looking for him.”

“Sure, like you didn't know your boyfriend carted him off to the station a few days ago.” Amy shook her head. “For the sake of our friendship, at least you could do me the favor of not lying to me.”

“I wasn't lying.” My voice rose a little, and the words echoed in the stairwell. “Look, I thought he'd be home by now and I wanted to ask him some questions about people Kacey knew. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“So you're snooping again. Does Greg know?” Amy's eyes narrowed as she waited for my answer.

“No, he doesn't. And he doesn't need to know. I'm not doing anything wrong.” I felt my cheeks burn a little at that statement.

“Well, maybe we'll just see what he thinks about that.” Amy put her key into the lock and disappeared into her apartment, slamming the door on me.

I stood at the door, shocked about what had just happened. I leaned closer to the door. “You just keep your nose out of things, Miss Amy. If you don't, I'm sure there are a few things I can mention to Justin. Like how you turned on the GPS on his phone so you could find out where he went on his boys' nights.”

The door flew open. “You said you wouldn't tell him about that.” Amy's eyes were wide and crazed. “You promised.”

“Then don't be a tattletale to Greg.” I started down the stairs, then turned back, leaning against the stair rail. “We've known each other too long, and we both have a lot of ammunition in our arsenal. Can't we just stop?”

“Whatever.” Amy closed the door again, this time a little quieter, but it still echoed in the empty stairwell.

I stood stock-still, suddenly realizing I might not ever get my friend back. Tears filled my eyes, but I wiped the back of my hand over them to keep the tears from falling. I wouldn't cry. By the time I'd reached the shop, I'd kept that promise and now my emotional center bubbled like lava. Amy Newman was a self-centered egomaniac who could just disappear. I pushed through the front door and the bell clanged and the door slammed against a chair someone had left in the wrong place.

I picked up the chair and pushed it next to a table a few feet away. The table rocked with the force, and I had to steady it to keep it from falling over, too.

“Uh-oh. You're steamed. Who got you riled up?” Toby waved me over to the counter. “Come over and tell Uncle Toby all about it.”

“Does that line work on anyone?” I went to the counter and put my purse on one stool and climbed up on another. “Pour me a double-shot mocha with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.”

Toby glanced at the clock. “It's already five, you sure you want a double-shot?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to summon a superpower I didn't possess. The one that kept people from saying stupid things. “Just do it.”

Toby held up his hands. “Fine, just don't be blaming me when you can't sleep tonight. I'll be out on patrol and not even available to play rummy with you.”

A smile played on my lips, but I forced it away. “I don't play rummy at night.”

“That's not what Greg says. He's always complaining about your card habit. I hear you have a tendency to cheat.” Toby set my coffee in front of me, and I took a big sip before answering.

“He's a downright dirty liar.” I took a napkin out of one of the dispensers I'd found at a used restaurant supply store. I was sure they came from some 1950s cafeteria complete with bobby socks on the waitresses' feet and beehives in their hair. Wiping the whipped cream off my lips, I took another big draught. Coffee and chocolate mixed, that was an elixir of the gods. I sighed my approval.

“Better?” Toby leaned against the counter, watching me. I looked around. The place was empty except for a couple of teenagers who were over in the book side, reading on the couch and nursing frozen lattes.

“Much.” I pointed to the empty shop. “It been like this all day?”

He threw a bar towel over his shoulder and poured himself a glass of ice water. “Nope. I always have a good steady run of customers from about noon to three. Then it starts to slow down. The kids go home about now to get ready for their dates, or to eat dinner with their folks. And most of our walk-in customers have already returned to the bed-and-breakfast to get ready for their evening out.”

“You really have a handle on this shift, don't you?” I took another sip of my coffee.

Toby eyed me. “You really want to talk shop, or are you just keeping me from asking what's going on? Who were you so mad at? I hope it wasn't Greg. I like working for both of you.”

“Not Greg, Amy.” I told him about my brainstorm on the beach and then explained how we needed to cast a bigger net for Kacey's murder. “It has to be someone she knows, right?”

Toby nodded. “Good thought. I'll talk to Greg tonight and see if he's interviewed any of Kacey's friends. The real ones who didn't like the fact she was going back to Austin.”

“Like the women who visited the coffee shop before the memorial? Both of them seemed to hate Austin. Hey, I thought you were banned from working the case?” The mocha was making my body all warm and squishy. Some people used alcohol to get a buzz. I'd take my coffee fix any day.

Toby took off his apron. “I can't work the case. Nothing wrong with me talking to my overworked boss about what he's done.” He paused in front of me. “You going to be okay here alone? According to Jackie, this is kind of a dead night lately. Everyone heads out of town for their Friday night entertainment.”

“Then I'll get a lot of reading done.” I patted my tote. “Besides, I brought my notebook. Maybe I can figure out some more avenues of investigation we haven't come up with yet.”

“I love it when you talk sleuthing to me.” Toby grinned. “You know if Greg finds out we're doing this, we're both dead.”

I found myself defending my perceived slights against my boyfriend for the second time that day. When I paused to take a breath, Toby started laughing. “You are just trying to wind me up tonight.”

“I want you to be on your feet. I'll drive by a few times once I start patrol.” He held up a hand. “Hey, I could shuttle you home if you'd like?”

“I don't want a ride in the police car.” Toby had a habit of putting me in the back like a recently caught criminal. Not as sexy as it sounds in the movies: The backseat reeked of sweat, alcohol, and a faint odor of vomit. And that was when it was recently cleaned. “I can walk home all by myself. I've done it for years.”

“Call me if you change your mind.” Toby disappeared into the back office.

I walked around the counter and stashed my tote bag, pulling out the notebook and starting to doodle. The teenagers left a few minutes after Toby, and I was alone in the shop. After an hour of no customers, I tucked the notebook back into the tote, frustrated with the lack of progress I'd made. I really needed to talk to Austin. I picked up the contemporary romance I'd started yesterday and went over to the couch to put my feet up on the coffee table and read.

The jangle of the bell drug me out of the story, and I looked up and saw Dustin Austin standing in the middle of the shop. Surprised, I looked around the store and realized it was just the two of us. Had I somehow called him telepathically since I'd been just thinking about him? I shook off the unease and stood. “I thought you were still in custody?” The look on his face told me I'd overstepped. “I mean, what can I get for you?”

“For your information, I am only a person of interest. Your boyfriend sure isn't keeping you in the gossip loop.” Austin walked toward the counter and sat on a stool. “I thought your aunt worked the evening shift.”

“She does, but she had plans tonight.” I felt like a jerk so I repeated my question. “What can I get for you?”

“Coffee to go, black, three sugars.” He leaned on the counter. “Can you give your aunt a message?”

“Sure.” Now I was curious. What would Austin have to say to my aunt?

He pointed outside and toward his shop. “Tell her that I'm interested in selling the food truck, for the right price that is. Just because you'll have to repaint it doesn't mean I'm going to take any lowball offer.”

“Why do you want to tell Aunt Jackie this?” I pointed to my chest. “You know I'm the owner of the store, right?”

Austin smirked as I gave him his coffee. “Give me a break. Everyone knows that your aunt runs things around here. You may hold the purse strings, but she's the decision maker.”

“Nice to know what people think, but it's not true.” I rang up his coffee. “Two fifty.”

He gave me the exact change and then stood. “Just tell her I'm willing to talk about a fair price. I know you and Diamond Lille's were both interested in the truck when I bought it off of Homer. I'm coming to you first, as I promised him I wouldn't sell it to Lille, no matter what. I guess they aren't on the best speaking terms.”

I thought about Lille kicking Homer Bell out of her restaurant when he'd told her he'd sold the truck without even allowing her to make a better offer. If she'd had a gun, Homer would have been dead that day. “I'd say that was an understatement.”

Austin tapped a finger on the counter. “Just say I'm motivated for you guys to be the buyer.” He turned toward the door.

“Hey, Austin? Who was Kacey friends with?” The pain that shot through his eyes told me I hadn't been as delicate as I could have been. “I mean, who did she pal around with? Go out on girls' nights with?”
Cry on their shoulder when you left her
was one friendship task I didn't list out for the grieving widower. Who said I couldn't be sensitive if I tried?

“Kacey had a lot of friends. Everyone loved her.” He paused and I could tell he was thinking about the past. “After we separated, she started with that stupid GPS club. I don't think she'd hung with anyone who wasn't part of the club in years.”

“She was the president.” I thought about the people we'd met on our first outing. Maybe someone there hated Kacey enough to kill her? Over what? Finding too many geocaches? I wondered if this would be another wild goose chase.