Southern Double Cross, page 11
I put my hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off and kept chopping. “We’d really like to find a way to get in touch with these men. They have some information that might help out a friend of ours.”
She snorted. “Who, Mac Leonard? He’s a liar and a thief.”
“No, it’s someone else.”
Heather finally stopped chopping and slammed the knife down on the cutting board. “Look, Mac tried to take the three of them down with him when he went to jail. They didn’t do anything. I saw Mac stealing that stuff. He did it alone.”
Delilah wasn’t buying her story. “If they were so innocent, why did they split that night before the police showed up, while Mac stuck around and got caught?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.”
Delilah griped, “That’s what we’re trying to do. We just can’t find them.”
I thought I saw a ghost of a smile cross Heather’s lips as she went back to chopping celery.
She said, “Sorry I can’t help you.”
We weren’t going to get anywhere with her, although it was no secret that she knew way more than she was willing to tell us. We’d have to Internet stalk her when we got home and find out exactly who she was and what her connection was to the three waiters. Then maybe we would come back and have another chat with her—that was, if we could unearth something to use for leverage to make her talk. Right now, we needed her to think that we believed her and intended to leave her alone.
Although I didn’t mean a word of it, I said politely, “Thanks for your time, Heather.”
We moved to the behemoth of a gas stove, where James Fong was stirring a pot of bubbling raspberries in syrup, I assumed for making either a sauce or a jam. I wished I were invited to whatever event they were catering. The food, even in the prep stage, looked and smelled beyond amazing.
Delilah and I introduced ourselves to James Fong, showed him the waiters’ photos, and started in on our questioning.
Delilah asked, “What can you tell us about these three? They went by the names Homer, Augustus, and Cicero. Or Joe, Mike, and Tom.”
He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Are you guys cops?”
“No. We’re simply trying to help out a friend who’s been wrongfully accused.”
“Oh.”
James was putting out a suspicious and standoffish vibe. I’d done enough interviews to know that people who acted this way usually had either something to hide or some kind of information that would be helpful to our investigation. These types of people were never easy to talk to (like Heather), but if they were willing to share what they knew (unlike Heather), they were worth the extra effort.
Delilah prompted him, “So what can you tell us?”
“I—I remember working with them.”
“Right. They were there the night Mac Leonard got busted for theft at one of the events you catered.”
He turned his attention to stirring the pot in front of him. “Mmm-hmm.”
She added, “And they were more to blame for it than he was. It was their idea.”
James’s face turned a bit green. “I’d heard that rumor.”
He was acting increasingly strange. I was beginning to get the feeling he knew something huge, but was afraid to tell us. We had to find a way to get him to open up.
I said, “It’s not a rumor. They’ve done it again.”
He flinched. “Robbed another house?”
Delilah said, “Yes.”
I went for it. Dropping my tone to barely a whisper, I said, “And this time, they added a murder.”
He froze, dropping the wooden spoon he’d been holding, causing some of bubbling raspberry syrup to splatter onto the cooktop. His voice raspy, he said, “Murder?”
Chapter 12
“Maybe we should talk outside,” James said, turning the burner off and setting the pan aside to cool.
“Sure…” Delilah replied, raising an eyebrow at me.
James led us out the back door to the most lovely little outdoor patio space. Covered by a pergola entwined with globe string lights, the area was bursting with potted flowers. Two beautifully set tables were surrounded by low wicker couches abounding with overstuffed pillows. If the catering business ever dried up, Mason Waring could make it as a decorator.
James ushered us to one of the couches and pulled up a chair to face us. He wiped his brow, which was now beaded with sweat. “Did you say murder? Are you sure?”
I replied, “A friend of ours allied himself with them to rob a home on Saturday during a catered event. It looks like one of them—not our friend—got caught by the homeowner and decided to kill her rather than face the consequences. The murder weapon ended up in my friend’s car along with some items he didn’t take. Kind of like how they set up Mac Leonard to take the fall alone. Our friend was arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. He’s going to spend his life in prison if we can’t track these guys down. Can you help us?”
Breathing a deep sigh, he put his head in his hands. “Homer’s name…it’s not Homer. It’s…Clayton Foster. I went to high school with him.”
Delilah and I both stared at him, slack-jawed and in shock.
D found her voice first. “Did you not come forward and tell the police his name when Mac was arrested?”
He shook his head.
“Why in the world would you cover for those lowlifes?”
Looking at us with anguish in his eyes, James admitted, “I stayed quiet before because…Clay threatened me. I mean, Mac did steal some stuff, so it’s fair that he got caught and put in jail.”
I said, “That’s a crummy reason to justify withholding evidence, though. It wasn’t fair that the others didn’t get caught, especially since they masterminded it and it was their idea. It’s likely that Mac wouldn’t have stolen anything if they hadn’t brought him in on their scheme.”
He frowned. “I get that, and I realize what I did was wrong. But making sure Clay got punished for a little theft from people who clearly wouldn’t miss their possessions wasn’t worth it to me to get beat up over.” He blew out a breath. “This time is different. If there’s been a murder, the right person should be behind bars.”
Delilah smiled. “That’s fantastic. Do you know where we can find Clayton Foster?”
“Wait. Before we get any further in this, I need you to understand that no one can know that I’m the one who narced. If you tell the police you got your information from me, I’ll deny it.”
My sister and I shared a worried glance. Here was yet another person with information who didn’t want to come forward as the official source. I guessed getting information this way wasn’t totally different than us researching and connecting the dots to figure things out.
I made one last effort. “The cops can protect you if you talk to them.”
He snorted. “How? Is a cop going to follow me around twenty-four/seven? I doubt it. Besides, I should have spoken up months ago and didn’t. They probably wouldn’t even want to help me.”
Rufus and Detective Flynn, while not always easy to work with, were good men. I knew they’d give him a fair shake.
I said, “I know the detectives working this case. I could talk to them for you or help you talk—”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “No. Not happening. They could slap me with obstruction of justice, and I don’t want to go to jail because of stupid Clay Foster. He was horrible to me in high school, and he’s been horrible to me as an adult. I also don’t want to lose my job. I can’t imagine Mason would be too happy to hear that I could have helped out and didn’t.”
Delilah sighed. “Fair enough. We won’t bring up your name. Tell us more about Clayton Foster.”
He relented, “Okay. First off, I’m not at all surprised he’s in on an ongoing theft ring. He was a loser in high school. But murder?” He shrugged. “I’m not so sure about that. He’s not a good person, but I don’t think he’s a killer.”
I said, “Actually, he’s not. Without getting into too many details, we know that he couldn’t have killed Magnolia Stiles. The timing doesn’t work out. But we’re pretty sure one of the other two is to blame.”
“I know nothing about his partners in crime. I made sure to steer clear of all three of them that night, especially since they seemed so chummy. I kept my head down and did my work. I even made sure to call Clay ‘Homer’ in front of the other staffers. I didn’t know what he was playing at by using a fake name, but I didn’t want any part of it, so I didn’t ask questions.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
“I don’t have his phone number or anything like that.”
Delilah thought for a moment. “You said you two went to high school together. Which one?”
“Jenkins.”
“Do you remember where he lived back then?”
Rubbing his forehead, he said, “On Vicksburg, I think. Not too far from the school.”
Seeing where my sister was going with this, I asked, “Do you know if his parents still live there?”
He shook his head. “No idea. Sorry.”
Delilah stood. “No problem, James. You’ve been a huge help. We promise to keep your name out of it.”
I stood as well. “Yes. We can’t thank you enough for the information you’ve given us.”
He got out of his chair, seeming weary. “You can thank me by keeping my anonymity.”
Delilah said, “Will do.”
My sister and I thanked Mason and left the Tres Chouette kitchen.
As we were walking down the shady sidewalk of Abercorn Street toward D’s truck, she said, “Well, that was definitely interesting.”
“And fruitful. We’ve got some digging to do.”
Giving me a playful wink, she quipped, “I love it when an investigation comes together.”
* * *
—
On the drive back to the B&B, I called Pepper to invite her over so we could tell her about our breakthroughs with Lance and the Tres Chouette employees. She arrived shortly after we did, looking like she’d barely slept. A rocker chick to her core, Pepper usually went fairly heavy with her makeup, especially her signature smoky eyes, even offstage. But today, even though she’d only bothered to swipe on some lip gloss, her eyes were ringed with dark circles.
“Did you get any sleep, Pepper?” I asked, ushering her inside and showing her to our back porch, where Delilah had set out leftover iced tea and cookies from Papa Sal’s magic show for us.
“Not really.” She sank into one of the chairs.
D and I dived into the snacks, but Pepper waved them off when we tried to share.
I knew I was about to bring up a sore subject, but I couldn’t not ask about Parker’s court appearance. “Um…how did…how was Parker’s court appearance this morning?”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she dashed them away. “Horrifying. It’s not every day you get to watch your baby brother stand in front of a judge to be formally notified that he’s been arrested for murder.”
I took one of her hands. “I’m so sorry both of you had to go through that.”
D said, “Me, too. Let’s get to work so we can get Parker out of there.”
Pepper nodded, taking her hand away from mine and sitting up straight. “I did a lot of thinking in all the hours I spent staring at the ceiling last night.”
Delilah was always eager to hear new theories. “What did you come up with?”
“I kept coming back to how Mrs. Stiles was seen fighting with a bunch of people there and realized how powerful and connected her frenemies are. Then there’s her ex-husband and her current husband, who could easily be considered suspects simply based on their relationship to her. And then I came back around to my original theory, but with a twist—I started wondering if the waiters could be contract killers and the whole theft angle was just a ruse to cover up a straight-up murder.”
Delilah nodded. “I’ve been thinking about old Mags and her ridiculous number of enemies, too. I know you guys are set on the waiter angle, but some of those rocky relationships are just too juicy to not consider in all this. And although I’m totally digging the contract killers idea, I’d be more sold on it if I hadn’t just heard all about the heist they’d botched in January.”
Pepper shook her head as if to clear it and held out her hands. “Wait. Other heist? What other heist?”
D smacked her forehead. “We didn’t tell you this last night?”
Pepper’s expression darkened. “No, you didn’t.”
Delilah apologized and filled her in on the incident that had left Mac Leonard locked up in county. Pepper seemed to waver between excitement, frustration, and despair as Delilah told her about the three waiters’ other heist and the patsy they’d pinned it on.
She finished her story by saying, “But the most important thing we found out was one of their names: Clayton Foster. He’s ‘Homer’—AKA ‘Joe.’ ”
Pepper grabbed two fistfuls of her plum-colored hair and cried out. “Of course it would be our luck that the one guy we could give up to the cops is the one we know is innocent. Of murder, at least.”
I said, “Maybe once we find him we could force him into telling us the names of the other two.”
Pepper stared at me. “How exactly do you expect the three of us to be able to force one of the bad guys into rolling on his pals, Quinn? Are we going to beat it out of him or what?”
“Well…we could threaten to turn him over to the cops.”
“For what? We have no proof he was in on Saturday’s heist. All we have is Parker’s word.”
I pointed out, “But we have both photo and eyewitness proof that he was at the event Saturday. The police will have no record of speaking to him, which will prove he split before he should have. That right there could get him in more trouble with the law than he’ll want. And we know that the police are looking for him—maybe not by name, but by description—in connection with the other robbery. We can get at least three people to vouch for the fact that he was at that other party and left yet again before the police arrived. Leaving the scene of a crime is pretty serious, and since he’s mixed up in much more than that, I don’t think he’ll want to give the police any reason to come sniffing around him.”
Delilah grinned. “Baby sister, I can’t tell you how excited I am that you’ve finally turned a corner. That’s good old-fashioned blackmail you’re proposing.”
I made a face. “Ooh, that’s right, it is. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”
Pepper said, “I have no problem with it.”
“Me, neither,” Delilah said. When I continued to hem and haw around, she added, “It’s not like we’re shaking him down for money in exchange for our silence. We’re simply trading information for our silence.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make it not blackmail. And if you want to talk technicalities, we’re also obstructing justice on top of it.”
Pepper snorted. “Oh, please. We’re all way past obstructing justice here.”
I supposed she had a point. Our “meddling,” as my two detective friends liked to call it, didn’t help their investigation. Well, it did eventually when we would figure out who the real killer was before they did. But leading up to that point in time, our work was generally seen as a nuisance and potential messer-upper of their case.
“Fine. But let’s try to sweet-talk it out of him first. The blackmail can be our last resort.”
Delilah couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “Are you volunteering to do the sweet-talking?”
“Not even in the slightest. That’s all you. He would recognize Pepper and me from the fundraiser.”
“Oh, right. Didn’t think about that. Well, if I must, I must.”
I narrowed my eyes at my sister. “Don’t even try to act like you aren’t going to enjoy every minute of it.”
“You know I love undercover work.”
Pepper said, “Mind if we get back to the topic at hand? I spent my day—except for the time I was at the courthouse—running down and re-interviewing the catering staff about the time between five and five-thirty.”
I asked, “What did you find out?”
She got out her phone and pulled up her notes app. “Not a whole lot. Nellie was stuck in kitchen the whole time, making more galettes to replace the tray of them that Parker spilled, which I already knew because I was in there. But she did say that she noticed Tom luring Elise out of the kitchen, which we know had to have happened around five twenty-five, as Parker was heading upstairs to the master bedroom. I didn’t notice that.”
Delilah nodded. “That backs up what Sofia and Elise told us yesterday.”
“It does. Parker saw no one during that time because he was slipping around between the house and the parking area, so he’s no help.” She consulted the notes on her phone again. “Surprisingly, I was able to get Jen to speak to me.”
“Did she offer you your job back?” I asked.
“No, but at least she wasn’t openly hostile toward me. When I asked her about our window of time, she said she was outside part of the time, making sure everything was running smoothly after the whole galette thing. She didn’t want Mrs. Stiles to have more fuel for her fire. She said she was so freaked out she wasn’t really thinking straight, so she wasn’t paying attention to who on staff was doing what, aside from making sure no one was fumbling any more food onto the guests.”
I said, “I hope this doesn’t ruin her business. I won’t lie…some of the committee members were pretty dead set on blaming her for the whole mess.”
Pepper shook her head. “It’s already starting to happen, I think. She said she had two people call in yesterday to cancel for events they’d had booked for months.”
