Through the Liquor Glass, page 10
“Oh?” Alicia acted as though she hadn’t known and didn’t care.
I tried another angle. “You’ve lived in Shady Creek a long time, right?”
“My whole life.”
“Do you remember the woman who died? Dominique? I’m told she visited Shady Creek a few years ago.”
“No,” Alicia said, her voice clipped. She tore my receipt off the register and handed it to me. “Have a nice day.”
I didn’t budge. “I’m sorry,” I said, not ready to give up. “I thought someone mentioned to me that you knew her. I can’t remember how, exactly. Maybe something to do with writing?”
To my astonishment, Alicia burst into tears. She turned and fled, disappearing into the back of the store, pausing only briefly to say something to one of her colleagues on her way by.
“Is that young lady all right?” my mom asked as she set two jars of apple cider jelly on the counter. “She looked upset and sure took off in a hurry.”
“Maybe she has bad allergies,” I said, not about to confess that I’d triggered Alicia’s tears.
My mother would have been horrified. I was slightly so myself. I hadn’t meant to upset Alicia, but I did want to get to the truth about her feelings toward Dominique. If she turned out to be the killer, I’d no longer feel so bad for making her cry.
I stuffed my receipt into my purse and moved out of the way. Another employee came rushing forward to take over the cash register. I lingered by the door as my mom paid for the jars of jelly, but Alicia didn’t reappear.
When we left the cidery a few minutes later, I had a snack in hand to assuage any physical hunger pangs that might strike, but my appetite for clues remained unsatisfied.
Chapter 14
My mom and Aunt Gilda dropped me off at the Inkwell. They were going to take a drive through the surrounding countryside before visiting the Five Owls Winery, where they planned to have a late lunch. Aunt Gilda was going to cook dinner for my mom so they could have a quiet evening in. I’d spend more time with my mom the next day, and throughout the coming week. I was looking forward to it, but I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d balance sleuthing with visiting with my mom. I’d have to play it by ear.
I had a busy afternoon at the Inkwell, with many locals and tourists stopping by for a drink and a bite to eat. I stamped nearly a dozen cards for the bingo game that was part of the food and drink festival. The game was designed to get more people eating at Shady Creek’s various restaurants. Anyone interested in taking part could stop by the town’s visitors’ center and pick up a card. The cards featured twenty-five squares, with the name of a local eatery in each one, and all participating restaurants had a special stamp to use for the cards.
Customers who presented their card while paying their bill received a stamp on the square for that particular establishment. Whenever a participant had a full line of stamps, they could take their card back to the visitors’ center, where they would receive a coupon or gift certificate to use at a local business. I was pleased to see how many tourists and locals were taking part in the bingo game, and it seemed to be having the desired effect, as many of the cards I stamped had already received several stamps from other restaurants.
In the middle of the afternoon, Zoe brought the empty coolers back from the town hall and reported another good day. All the drink samples had been given away and the pile of menus and fridge magnets had dwindled down to just a few. I set what remained out on the bar for customers to take and soon every last one was gone.
In the early evening, my friend and local reporter Joey Fontana showed up with an appetite. He ordered a pint of beer, a burger with fries, and a slice of Once Upon a Lime, a delicious key lime cheesecake that I’d recently added to the menu after Booker came up with the idea. I’d taste-tested several slices before offering it to my customers. Far more than I really needed to, but better safe than sorry, I figured.
Joey sat at the bar, chatting with a man who worked at the local hardware store, but when I brought him his cheesecake after he’d polished off his burger, he was alone, the other man having left minutes before.
“I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat,” Joey said as I set the plate of cheesecake on the bar in front of him.
“Me too.”
Joey knew that I couldn’t keep my nose out of a real-life mystery, and since he was a reporter and co-owner of the Shady Creek Tribune, he was always chasing down leads and clues as well. We’d traded information in the past, but I always had to offer Joey something to get something in return. I didn’t share everything I knew with him, though. Sometimes there were things that I didn’t want showing up in the next edition of the local newspaper.
“I’m sorry Grayson’s in hot water,” Joey said as he sank his fork into his cake.
“I hope you know he’s innocent.”
Joey took a moment to enjoy the first bite of his cake before speaking again. “I don’t believe he did it for a second, but it’s not looking good for him.”
Even though I knew that was the case, I didn’t like hearing it stated out loud.
“His name will be cleared,” I said with determination.
Joey grinned. “And you’ll be the one to do it, right?”
“If need be. And it does seem like it needs to be.”
“Any idea where he’s hiding out?” Joey asked.
I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You seriously think I’d say if I did?”
He laughed. “No, but I had to try.” He dug his fork into the cake again. “Do the police think you know where he is?”
“I’m not sure, but I told Detective Marquez the truth when I said I don’t know.” My spirits threatened to do a nosedive when I spoke those words. I didn’t think I could get used to not knowing.
“I’d say either they think you know or they think Grayson might try to get in touch with you,” Joey said.
“That’s probably safe to assume.”
“It’s not just an assumption. Not exactly.”
Apprehension prickled down the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”
“When I was on my way here, I noticed an unmarked car parked in Grayson’s driveway, facing Creekside Road. It’s far enough up the driveway that it doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but whoever’s sitting in the front seat still has a view of this place.”
The prickling at the back of my neck intensified.
I was under surveillance?
I probably should have expected that, but the thought sent my stomach into a twist.
“They’re most likely wasting their time,” I said, trying to sound unfazed by the news. “Grayson has purposely kept me in the dark so I can’t get in trouble with the police.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Joey said. “Still, I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it.” I really did. I knew he too was trying to keep me out of trouble.
Even though I was glad to know that I was being watched, that knowledge made me nervous. I realized I’d been holding out hope that Grayson would make an appearance at some point. Now I doubted that would happen. He probably knew the police were watching the gristmill. It would be too risky for him to show up here, even in the dead of night.
Never mind, I told myself as my spirits started to sink again. I just needed to get Grayson’s name cleared quickly so we could be together again. Not quite thirty-six hours had passed since I’d last seen him, but I already missed him like we’d been apart far longer. It didn’t help that I had no clue where he was or whether he was okay.
“Have you got anything to share?” Joey asked after I’d mixed a few cocktails and delivered them to waiting customers.
I considered what I wanted to tell him.
“There’s another food writer in town,” I said. “Phoebe Ramone.”
Joey nodded, unimpressed with that bit of intel. “I’ve already met her.”
“Did you know that she and Dominique didn’t get along?”
Now he appeared more interested. “How do you know that?”
I told him about the spat the women had in the Inkwell’s restroom. “And Phoebe sure doesn’t seem cut up about Dominique’s death,” I added.
“Huh.” Joey didn’t say anything more, but I knew he was tucking that information away in his mind.
I moved out from behind the bar to clear and clean a couple of tables before returning to Joey.
“Dominique was staying at the motel off the highway,” I said.
“I know. The cops searched her room, but someone beat them to it and tossed the place. The killer, most likely.”
I nodded. “I heard that from the manager.”
“Her car was found here in town,” Joey continued. “Not surprising, seeing as she was at the brewery.”
“But it wasn’t parked in the brewery’s lot,” I said.
“I heard it was found on Maple Street.”
That was within easy walking distance of the brewery. Had Dominique parked there early in the day and walked to multiple places before heading to the brewery? Or had she left her car on Maple Street so she could approach the brewery surreptitiously?
“One of the car’s windows was smashed,” Joey added.
That was interesting.
“Was anything taken?” I asked.
“Impossible to know without Dominique to ask.”
Of course. I should have thought of that.
“Do you have any suspects aside from Phoebe?” Joey asked.
“I’m guessing you know about George Keeler’s history with Dominique.”
“It’s hard not to. And I hear he wasn’t too happy to see Dominique back in town.”
“You heard right,” I said. “I was at the Village Bean when he ran into her. It wasn’t a pleasant scene.”
“So the guy’s got a motive,” Joey said. “What about opportunity?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
“Let me know when you do?”
“Maybe,” I said with a smile.
He grinned at that and drained the last of his beer. “I need to get going.”
“Chasing down leads?” I guessed.
“Not tonight. I’ve volunteered to help out with the haunted corn maze. There’s a meeting over at the community center in fifteen minutes. I’m walking so I’d better get a move on.” He pulled some bills out of his wallet and left them on the bar for me. “Let’s compare notes again.”
I hoped by the next time I saw him I’d have more information worth sharing, and I hoped he would too. It would be even better if there was no longer any need to compare notes.
The good-sized crowd in the pub kept me busy for the next couple of hours. Business had slowed slightly when Jason claimed the bar stool that Joey had vacated earlier.
I delivered pints of beer to a middle-aged couple at the other end of the bar and then headed over Jason’s way.
“Any news?” I asked him in a quiet voice.
“Not really,” he said, to my disappointment. “I was going to ask you the same question.”
“I’ve learned a few things,” I said.
“We shouldn’t talk about it here.”
I agreed. I didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing us discussing Grayson.
“Upstairs?” I suggested. When Jason nodded, I turned to Damien, who was mixing cocktails at the other end of the bar. “I’ll be up in my apartment for a few minutes. Text or holler if you need me.”
“Things should be fine down here,” Damien assured me.
I left the main part of the pub for the back hallway, with Jason following me. We didn’t speak again until we were up in my apartment with the door shut.
“Have you heard from Grayson?” I blurted out as soon as I thought it was safe to do so. “Is he okay?”
His response triggered another pang of disappointment. “I haven’t heard from him. That’s probably a good thing, considering that the cops are keeping an eye on me. You too.”
“Joey gave me a heads-up on that.” I sat on the arm of my couch, suddenly feeling Grayson’s absence more keenly than ever. “You really don’t know where he’s staying?”
“All I know is that he had a place in mind, but he didn’t tell me anything more than that. Maybe I could guess where he is, but it’s probably better not to. You can’t be going looking for him, anyway. You could end up leading the cops right to him.”
“I know. I just wish . . .” I didn’t bother finishing my sentence.
What was the point in wishing things were different? The situation was what it was. The only way to change it was to make progress with my investigation.
A thought struck me. “What if we clear Grayson’s name and he doesn’t realize it because he’s gone so deep into hiding? How will he know when to come back?”
“He’ll know,” Jason assured me. “He won’t go far. He’s as determined to find the real killer as you are. He can’t do that if he’s on a beach in the Cayman Islands.”
“True.”
Wimsey was lying on the back of the couch. I stroked a hand over his fur, and he closed his eyes and purred. The sound soothed me.
“The police found the wrench,” Jason said.
“I figured they must have. Have you heard anything else? Anything that could help us find the real killer?”
“All I know is that Grayson thought it would be good to dig into Dominique’s more recent life.”
“But he didn’t have a chance to do that before he took off?” I asked.
“After you left, he packed a few things and then he was gone.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking. “I can look her up online.”
“I did that earlier, but I didn’t come up with much. She angered a few restaurant owners over the years with harsh reviews, but it seems like she’d mellowed since then. Her recent reviews haven’t been as scathing as some of her early ones.”
“So if one of those restaurant owners wanted to kill her, they probably would have done it a while ago,” I said. “Unless, like George Keeler, they came face-to-face with her and that brought up all their old anger.”
“As far as I can tell, George is the only one with that sort of grudge here in Shady Creek,” Jason said. “I looked into his background. He’s had a couple of speeding and parking tickets, but otherwise he hasn’t had any trouble with the police.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not the killer.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jason agreed. “I talked to a couple of people about George. Apparently, he hangs out at the pool hall now and then. A couple of times he almost came to blows with another guy who frequents the place, but the police never had to be called in.”
“So being violent wouldn’t be out of character for him.”
“Not by much.”
“I’m going to find out more about him tomorrow.” I was determined to make that the truth. “Once I know if he had the opportunity to kill Dominique, I’ll know if he should stay on my suspect list or not.”
“Don’t do anything dangerous,” Jason cautioned. “And don’t give George a chance to turn his temper on you. If you need backup, text me. Day or night, okay?”
I nodded, suddenly fighting tears. “Thank you.”
“We’ll get Grayson’s life back, Sadie.”
I could only nod again.
He left, but I stayed up in my apartment for a few minutes longer, stroking Wimsey’s fur as I went back over everything Jason had said.
If Grayson wanted to stay involved in finding the real killer and wanted to dig into Dominique’s more recent life, he would need access to a phone or computer. He couldn’t turn on his own phone without risking the police tracking him, and he also couldn’t come here or return home or to the brewery.
Where else could he go?
I could think of one possibility.
Now I just had to wait.
Chapter 15
The next hour seemed to pass at a crawl. I kept looking at the Guinness wall clock and ended up double-checking the time on my phone to make sure the clock was working properly, which it was. I tried to distract myself by chatting with the pub’s patrons, and it worked—sort of—but I was still overly aware of the minutes slowly passing.
Finally, it was time to say good night to the last of the pub’s customers. Teagan left on their heels, and I locked the door behind her before cleaning tables with help from Damien. Eventually, Damien left too and I was on my own. I figured I should probably wait a while longer, until the majority of the town would be fast asleep, before going ahead with my plan.
I checked my e-mail and my social media accounts, but by then I was practically twitching with impatience. I gave up on waiting any longer and hurried upstairs to my apartment, where I dug around in my closet for some appropriate clothing. I didn’t wear much black, but I managed to find black leggings and a matching hoodie that I hadn’t worn for at least a year.
Wimsey observed me from his comfy spot on my bed as I changed my clothes. I thought he watched with a critical gaze.
“I’m not getting up to any mischief,” I assured him.
He didn’t appear convinced.
“In fact, I’m probably wasting my time,” I continued. “But if there’s even the slightest chance that I could see Grayson . . .”
Wimsey shut his eyes, no longer interested in my explanations, if he ever was.
I zipped up my hoodie and gave him a quick kiss on the head.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
I made sure all the blinds and curtains in my apartment were closed, and I turned off all the lights save for a lamp in my bedroom and another in the living room. All that was left to do was to figure out how to get away from the gristmill without the police noticing. Considering the size of the Shady Creek Police Department, I figured there was a good chance that there was only one car stationed outside to keep an eye on me. Going by the information Joey had provided, the officer watching the gristmill was stationed to the east and had a view of three sides of the building. That meant they couldn’t see the pub’s front door, which was on the west side of the mill. That probably didn’t worry the police much, since the only obvious route to take from the door was toward Creekside Road and into the watching officer’s line of sight. That meant I needed to take a less obvious route away from the gristmill.
