Murder Has a Sweet Tooth Page 4

  “It would be a total and complete surprise for Jim,” I said, convinced.

  “Yeah, Bellywasher’s burning down on your wedding day. That ought to do it.”

  I forgave her the sarcasm. After all, she was right.

  And I was so enamored of the idea, I was beyond being able to listen to reason!

  I scooted forward on my chair. “I was thinking I’d make some traditional Scottish dish. You know, like—” Since I hadn’t had the chance to give it much thought and I wasn’t familiar with any traditional Scottish dish beyond the biscuit cake Alex had made for me, I was stumped.

  “Oatmeal?” Eve suggested.

  Do I need to point out that I was thinking of something a little more upscale and a little less breakfasty?

  I pretended to consider the idea anyway. Just so I didn’t hurt Eve’s feelings. “I’m going to look online,” I told her. “I’m thinking it should be something I can make at home. Then I’ll smuggle it into the restaurant the day before the wedding, and have Marc and Damien serve it. It will knock Jim’s socks off.”

  I knew better than to respond to the slow upward slide of Eve’s eyebrows. She was thinking that if it was anything like my usual cooking, it might knock Jim’s socks off, all right. Literally.

  “I’m going to try really hard this time,” I said, defending myself, though I knew I didn’t have to. Eve understood. That’s what best friends are for. “I’m going to practice until I can make whatever it is I’m going to make absolutely perfectly. You’ll see. It’s going to be fabulous.”

  It was another reason Eve is my best friend. She actually believes me when I say things like that. She propped an elbow on the table and cradled her head in one hand. “You think there might be a traditional Scottish recipe for chocolate cheesecake?” she asked. “That would be fun.”

  “There’s more to fun than cheesecake,” I told her. I actually might have believed it if Stacie didn’t walk out of the kitchen at that moment. She headed back our way—two pieces of delectable cheesecake poised on the tray in her hands—and I realized there were pluses even to murder investigations. I was at Swallows without Jim for the first time ever. I didn’t have to share my cheesecake.

  I actually might have enjoyed pigging out if I didn’t keep thinking about Alex and how miserable he looked when we said our good-byes at the jail.

  When Stacie set our pieces of cheesecake in front of us, I signaled to Eve to keep the oohing and aahing to a minimum so I could do what we’d come to Swallows to do in the first place. (Which was not—just in case I need to point it out—to eat Baileys chocolate cheesecake.)

  “So . . .” My fork poised above the drizzle of dark chocolate that made a fancy, curlicue B on top of the cake, I looked up at the college-age girl with pitch-dark pigtails. “Is this where the murder happened?”

  Stacie closed her eyes for a moment. No doubt she was praying for patience. “That’s all anybody can talk about today,” she said, and I bet her bosses were as tired of hearing about it as Stacie was, because she kept her voice down and looked toward the woman standing behind the hostess station before she said anything else. I didn’t need to work in a restaurant to know that Stacie had been instructed to keep talk of what had happened there the night before to a minimum. After all, murder is bad for business. She sighed. “Everybody who comes in here today is asking about the murder.”

  “Well, you have to admit, it is pretty interesting,” Eve blurted out, and I blanched because, let’s face it, when most people think of murder, they think of words like disgusting or frightening or horrifi c. But then, most people haven’t been embroiled in as many investigations as we have. The next second, I thought about Alex, about how pale and anxious he was when last I saw him. I’d bet my piece of cheesecake he didn’t think Vickie’s murder was interesting.

  “What Eve meant,” I said, giving her a long look so she could pretend to be repentant, “is that it’s such a shame. We’ve been here a few times before and we never thought . . .” As if I hadn’t taken a long, hard look around when I walked in—and believe me, I had—I took a long, hard look around. Swallows wasn’t nearly as quaint or as cozy as Bellywasher’s, and I didn’t like it nearly as much, but then, when it comes to Bellywasher’s, I’m more than a bit prejudiced. Still, Swallows is a pleasant enough place. Its walls are painted a minty green that’s perfect with the oak floors. It has a wide front window that looks out over the street, clean, modern lines, and a sleek bar that takes up all of the wall opposite from where we sat. There’s a tiny stage just inside and to the left of the front door and a dance floor in front of that.

  “Never in a million years would I think this was the kind of place where a murder would happen,” I said.

  “Well, it didn’t exactly happen here. Not right inside,” Stacie said. “The police found the woman’s body out there.” She tipped her head in the direction of the alley we’d tried to check out before we walked in. Since there was crime scene tape draped between Swallows and the building next door and a uniformed police officer making sure no one crossed it (not even Eve, who did her best to charm him into making an exception), we didn’t get very far.

  “They found a suspect, too, right? That’s what we heard on the news.” I’d coached Eve on the way over, and she played her part perfectly. She didn’t have to pretend to sound horror-struck, but she did manage to make it seem as if she’d never been so close to a murder before. “The woman’s body was out in the alley, and so was the guy who they think killed her. You must have been so scared when the cops showed up!”

  “My shift doesn’t start until eleven,” Stacie said. “I wasn’t here when it all went down. From what I heard, there was a whole lot of blood.”

  Just thinking about it made me second-guess my cheesecake. I didn’t want to ask for details, but I had to. Sure, it’s my nature to be thorough, but let’s face it, there were other things to consider. I knew Alex, and I was certain he wasn’t a violent man. More importantly, I knew Jim, and with all his heart, Jim believed Alex was innocent. If Alex’s word meant that much to Jim, then it meant that much to me, too. All I had to do to make everyone happy and ensure justice was done was prove that Alex wasn’t the killer.

  With that in mind, I knew I couldn’t trust Eve to ask all the right questions. I took over. “So you weren’t here when the cops arrived,” I said, reinforcing the information Stacie had already given us. “But somebody was, right? Somebody actually saw it? The body? And the blood? And the guy they arrested?”

  “He didn’t exactly see it.” Stacie looked over her shoulder at the bar. The only employee over there was the bartender, so I knew that was who Stacie was talking about. She bent close enough for me to get a good look at the tattoo on her neck. It was the Tasmanian Devil. “Truth be told, Jason didn’t even know anything was going on until he saw the police cars outside. At least that’s what he told all of us when we came in. But Jason’s pretty slick when it comes to getting tips. He knows that the better the story he tells, the more people will drink, and the more they drink . . .” Stacie made a face. “We’re supposed to pool our tips and share them at the end of the shift. But I’ve seen Jason over there. He’s talking up a storm and customers are slipping him money. He puts it right in his pocket. Every time he tells the story, he adds more detail and he makes it sound more gruesome. By the time tonight rolls around, he’ll claim he was there watching when the guy slit that woman’s throat.”

  Both Eve and I had wedges of cheesecake on our forks. We didn’t need best-friend ESP to think the exact same thing. Two bodies with one mind, we set down our forks. While Eve took a big gulp from the cup of coffee in front of her, I cleared the sour taste from my throat and said, “So Jason didn’t even know the body was there. Don’t you think someone would have noticed?”

  Stacie shook her head. “Nobody ever uses that alley. The kitchen door leads out back, not into the alley. That alley doesn’t even go anywhere. I guess it used to, before they built those condos
back on Ninth Street. Now the alley’s just a dead end.”

  “But someone must have known the body was there.” It was the first time the idea occurred to me, and I threw Eve a look to signal her that it might be important at the same time I wished I’d thought to ask Tyler about it. “If nobody uses the alley, how did the cops find the body in the first place?”

  Stacie’s shoulders rose and fell, and when the hostess looked our way, she grabbed a nearby coffeepot and pretended to refill my cup. I had a feeling she wasn’t as worried about the hostess finding out what we were talking about as she was about being accused of loafing. “All I know is what I heard when I got here. Jason gets here early to stock the bar and make sure everything’s ready for the day. He didn’t have a clue that anything was wrong. Not until the cops pulled up outside. When they did, he went out and took a look. He’s the one who said that stuff. You know, about all the blood.”

  “Wow.” I pretended to think about what she said, but I didn’t have to think long. I knew exactly what I wanted to ask next. “They were in here together last night, right? That’s what I heard. You heard it, too, didn’t you, Eve, on the TV news you watched this morning? We heard that the victim and the suspect ate dinner here together last night.”

  Stacie had stalled as long as she could. Another look from the hostess and she replaced the coffeepot and stepped back from the table. “I couldn’t say. I’m only here during the day.”

  She walked away, and really, what choice did we have but to finish every last bite of that cheesecake? If we didn’t, we would look suspicious. Then again, it seemed Eve and I weren’t the only ones at Swallows interested in the murder. Just as we finished up, a camera crew from Channel 4 arrived and set up outside. While everyone else in the small post-lunch crowd concentrated on the news crew, we left a nice-sized tip for Stacie to share with her fellow employees, sauntered over to the bar, and sat down.

  Jason ran a bar cloth over the counter in front of us. “What, you two gonna wash down your cheesecake and coffee with a shot or two?”

  I excused the sarcasm. He’d already seen us talking to Stacie, so there was no use pretending we were there just for the cheesecake. “I hear you were the first one in here this morning.”

  Even though neither of us asked for it, he poured two glasses of ice water and set them down in front of us. “You’re reporters.”

  I took a sip—and ignored the question. “You were here when the cops arrived. You saw the body. What I don’t understand is how anybody knew the woman was there in the first place. That alley’s a dead end.”

  Jason looked over to where Stacie was delivering beers to another table. “Stacie has a big mouth.”

  “She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. But that’s not why you care, is it? You don’t want her telling the story because then you won’t have a chance to tell it. And to collect some big, fat tips in the process.” I propped my elbows on the bar and leaned forward. “You’d better tell me everything. You know, before Stacie spoils it for you. At least if you tell us, we’ll know we’re getting our information straight from the only person who was here when it happened.”

  “I wasn’t here. Not when it happened.”

  I had to control myself or I would have rolled my eyes. When it comes to murder, people are so literal. “I didn’t mean in the alley,” I explained. “I meant here. In the restaurant. Did you work last night?”

  “I didn’t see a thing. I was too busy pouring Guinness all night.”

  “And the guy they think killed the victim, did you pour for him?”

  I wasn’t done with it, but Jason whisked my glass away. “I don’t pay any attention to where the drinks are going. I don’t have the time. The waitresses give me their orders and—”

  “So if a waitress served them, they weren’t here at the bar, they were sitting at a table.” This fit with what Alex had told me. I scanned the restaurant, wondering which table was Vicki and Alex’s usual. “It wasn’t their first time here. They came every Tuesday.”

  “And every Tuesday, we’re slammed.”

  I was getting nowhere fast and nowhere wasn’t where I wanted to be. A man down at the other end of the bar signaled to Jason for a refill on his scotch, and I waited as patiently as I was able. With no cheesecake to nibble and no one to talk to, I felt self-conscious. There was a stack of Swallows coasters in front of the seat to my right and I grabbed one. I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in it. It was an attractive advertising piece, round and made of heavy cardboard, just a little bigger than the bottoms of the glasses stacked neatly behind the bar. It featured a sepia-toned photo of the sign that hung above the front door. The coasters were eye-catching, cheap souvenirs. I had no doubt many a patron left with one.

  Once a business manager, always a business manager: I showed the coaster to Eve before I slipped it in the pocket of my jacket. “I just wonder. That’s all. I wonder how much they cost per thousand.”

  By the time Jason came back, I was ready to steer our conversation in another direction. With any luck, Stacie was right, and he’d be more forthcoming when it came to making it sound like he was at the center of the morning’s excitement.

  I caught Jason’s eye. “Stacie tells me you saw what happened this morning.”

  “I might have.” He glanced down at the empty bar in front of me.

  And I got the message.

  I reached into my purse, fished out a twenty, and set it on the bar. Frugal business manager that I am, I kept my fingers on it. After all, I was paying for information. And so far, I wasn’t getting much of anything from Jason.

  “The man who was arrested—”

  “Drunk as a skunk. Even this morning.” Suddenly more talkative, Jason glanced briefly at the twenty before he returned his gaze to me and Eve. “When the cops tried to walk him to the patrol car, he couldn’t even stand up. They had to call an ambulance.”

  This tallied with what Alex had said. He said he didn’t remember anything that happened after he ran out of the restaurant after Vickie. If he’d been that drunk . . .

  That didn’t tally with what I knew about Alex. He liked a beer or two or three. But in the weeks I’d known him, I’d never seen him drunk.

  “They say there was a knife in his hands.” Eve must have known I was lost in thought. That’s why she asked the question.

  “Obviously not when I saw him.” Jason glanced at the money again before he looked toward three women who’d walked in the door. They were loaded with shopping bags and I heard them say something about martinis. I knew Jason had to take care of the paying customers before he worried about the nosy ones, so I had to move fast.

  “How did the police know the body was there?” I asked him.

  Jason grabbed one bottle of gin and one of vodka. “I heard one of the cops say something about an anonymous tip.”

  That might be helpful. It might not. I filed it away for future consideration and drummed my fingers against the twenty. “Who worked the tables last night?”

  “Jennifer does an extra shift on Tuesday nights.”

  “And Jennifer is . . . ?”

  He glanced over to where a platinum-haired waitress with a nose piercing had finished taking an order and was walking toward the kitchen.

  Just before I popped up to follow her and signaled Eve to come along, I slipped my hand off the twenty.

  Surprise, surprise! Jason, it seemed, was something of a magician as well as a bartender. The money disappeared in a flash.

  So did we. While the door that led into the kitchen was still swinging, Eve and I slipped inside. We were just in time to see Jennifer go out the back door, and before anybody even noticed us, much less had time to stop us, we followed her outside.

  By the time we got there, she was already angled against the back wall of the restaurant, lighting a cigarette.

  “You worked last night. You waited on Vickie, the woman who got killed.”

  Something told me it wasn’t the first tim
e that day that Jennifer had been singled out. That’s why she wasn’t surprised by us or by what I was talking about. No doubt I’d see her quoted in the next day’s newspaper, or on TV that night. She naturally assumed Eve and I were just part of the army of reporters who had already talked to her that day. She pulled in a lungful of poison and before she let a stream of smoke out of her mouth, she turned her head away. I liked Jennifer already.

  “Waited on them every Tuesday. I thought they were a cute couple.”

  “But not last night.”

  Jennifer flicked ash off the end of her cigarette. “Nothing seemed strange to me. Not until right before the woman ran out of here.”

  I was getting good at picking up on nuances. “Alex didn’t drink more than usual?” I asked.

  “Alex? Oh, the red-haired guy. Yeah, you’re right. I remember a couple weeks ago, he told me that was his name. He was really nice and really funny. I didn’t think—” Beneath a heavy coating of blush too orange for Jennifer’s pale complexion, she blanched, and I knew I had to get her back on track before she was derailed by the emotional strain of knowing a murdered woman and the man who supposedly killed her.

  “He was drunk.” It wasn’t a question, but still, I hoped she’d answer.

  She pulled on her cigarette for a couple long moments before she said, “I didn’t think so. I mean, I wouldn’t have served him if I thought he was. It’s against company policy. Did he have a couple pints? Sure. I delivered his last Guinness just as he and that Vickie woman were getting up to dance. But hell, I’d seen him drink more than that on some nights and still leave here as sober as a judge. He’s a big guy. He can hold his liquor. And he seemed fine to me. Right up until the very end, anyway.”

  Jennifer’s cigarette was almost gone and I knew when it was, she’d have to get back on the floor. I didn’t wait to ask my next question. “What happened right at the end?”

  “Well, they had a fight. I didn’t catch exactly what was going on, but . . .”