The Secret Ingredient to Murder, page 11
His choice of wording sent a chill down Rick’s spine. Was he really thinking of Veronica as a black widow? Parental worry gnawed at him, and it was making him crazy. The stakes were simply too high. He had to talk to Adam about the situation and get him to rescind his request. His daughter’s safety was his priority even as he delved deeper into the questions of who killed Gideon Styles and who stole Tyler Winkle’s secret recipe.
Sally greeted Rick just inside the front door. She cradled a small stack of menus in front of her, treating them like they were a precious cargo. “Afternoon, Rick.”
“Hey, Sally. How are you?”
“Chipper as ever. And busier than all get out.” She paused, looked beyond Rick at the closed door, and made a face. “You’re alone and kind of early for dinner. I’m assuming you’re here to ask questions about what happened the other day.”
“Right choice. I actually have several questions.”
“Fire away.”
“Let’s start with what happened inside the restaurant. I’ve heard that Tyler Winkle was meeting with Gideon Styles. What can you tell me about the meeting?”
“You know what? You want to talk to Di. She was the server, and she overheard something you’ll want to know about.” Sally raised her hand and motioned for one of the servers, a petite woman with short, wavy hair, to join them.
“What’s up, boss?” The woman asked as she approached.
“Di, have you met Rick Atwood? He runs the Seaside Cove B&B and does some consulting with the police when they need a little expert advice.”
“I think you’re overstating my role a smidge, Sally,” Rick said sheepishly. “Anyway, we haven’t met before.”
Sally shook her head as they introduced themselves. “Hard to believe in this little town. Anyway, Rick’s got some questions about the lunch meeting you were telling me about.”
Diane, or Di, as she liked to be called, rolled her eyes. “Oh. Piece of work, that one.”
“Which one?” Rick asked.
“Not the guy with the bakery. That’s Tyler, right? No, the other one.”
“Gideon Styles?”
Di frowned, then shook her head. “That’s not the name on his credit card. It was Russell Caraball. I remember the name because I’ve got a cousin with a similar name. My cousin is Russell Carstairs.”
Rick said, “I didn’t see this one coming. Styles had an alias? Did the card go through?”
“Sure. No problem at all.”
The story sounded similar to one he’d worked in New York. A man had assumed more than a dozen personas, all with their own credit cards, bank accounts, and IDs. If that was part of Styles’s game, how many aliases did he have? “Did the card look like it had been used a lot?”
Di did a double-take before she answered. “Come to think of it, no. It looked brand new.”
“Does that mean something?” Sally asked. ”We don’t care what credit cards our customers use. If the card can be authorized, we’re good with it.”
“If Styles had two identities, why wouldn’t he have more?” He told them about the New York story, then said, “Why he used a different credit card here is kind of a mystery. And why the second card wasn’t in his wallet when we found it near the body raises even more questions.”
“I don’t know about a missing card, but he might have pulled this one out by mistake,” Di said. “He was getting his wallet just as the girl started going off on him. He looked kind of flustered when he pulled it out.”
“And once he’d handed you the card, what could he do? Say, oops, that’s not me. Sounds like Mr. Gideon Styles was a conman, pure and simple.” Rick paused, thought back to the crime scene, then mused, “So why didn’t we find multiple IDs in his room?”
Sally and Di both gave him blank stares. Rick grimaced and shook his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking out loud.” Trying to regroup, Rick looked again at Di. She had almond-shaped emerald green eyes that sparkled with curiosity. A smattering of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. It gave her a look of pure innocence, but Rick suspected she’d gotten plenty tough in her line of work. “You mentioned Veronica making a scene. What can you tell me?”
“I think everybody in the restaurant heard it,” Sally chuckled. “Let me tell you, that girl knows how to get loud.”
Di laughed along with Sally. Her smile revealed a small gap between her front teeth. She looked at Rick and added, “I’ve seen and heard some crazy things working in restaurants, but quite honestly, I was embarrassed for the way she was acting. She aired more dirty laundry than I go through in a month!”
“Like what? Anything you can recall might be helpful for the investigation.”
“She basically accused her uncle of being in cahoots with this Styles or Caraball or whatever his name is. After she got going, it got ugly. She claimed that not only had her mother promised her the business, but so had he. He got pretty flustered and said he’d only told her he’d consider it. When she called him a liar, he said this was exactly why she couldn’t be trusted. He called her irresponsible. That ticked her off even more, and she claimed he just wanted to keep her under his thumb. She threatened to sue him for emancipation, and then she was going after him for fraud. That’s when she stormed out. He looked super upset and followed her.”
“Wow,” Rick said. “All that? All with a roomful of people around them?”
“Oh, yeah. Like I said, it got ugly. Then, while her uncle was outside with her, this Styles guy places a phone call.” Di looked back to her tables, seemed satisfied that everything was still under control, and turned her attention back to Rick.
“Did you hear any of it?” Rick asked.
“All I heard was him telling somebody to work fast.”
The break-in, thought Rick. Had he been giving somebody a signal to go ahead?
“Does that help?” Di asked, her nose wrinkling as she awaited his answer.
“More than you know.” Rick finished the conversation with Di, who excused herself and returned to work her tables. “She was very helpful, Sally. Thanks for connecting us. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Oh, yeah. Let me tell you what happened outside. But first, let me get these people seated.”
22
Alex
I’ve got the skillet on the stove and the bottle of olive oil out. All I have to do now is finish washing my hands. While I’m doing that, I look across the room at Mom’s old grandfather clock. It’s only taken me about fifteen minutes to get everything ready. Easy, peasy. I have time before I have to start cooking. Maybe even enough time to run up to my room and do a little research on Veronica.
On my way through the living room, I spot Barrington Rhymes sitting on one of the couches. There’s a notepad on his lap and a pen poised in his hand. He looks lost in thought.
“Hey, Barrington. What are you working on?”
He looks up, smiles, then raises the notepad. “A haiku.” He sounds like he’s super enthusiastic.
“A what?”
“It’s a form of Japanese poetry.”
“Oooh. I love poetry.”
His eyes light up, and he shifts position so he’s facing me. “Haikus are a specific type of poetry. They have three lines with a 5-7-5 syllable count. It sounds easy, but finding the right words can make it very challenging.”
Maybe I should have told him that I love reading poetry, but I’ve never actually tried writing it. I’m feeling a little awkward, so I say, “We’ve studied sonnets in school.”
“Ah, yes, Shakespeare. A bit verbose for me. The Japanese are much more succinct. Especially if you’re a purist. That’s my preference. I like sticking to the original form rather than the more relaxed styles.”
I have to admit, if Robbie wrote a poem for me, I’m sure I’d like it no matter how many rules it broke. But Robbie isn’t into poetry. I’ll bet Miss Redmond is. Oh, snap! That’s it. “Can I see it?”
“Why not? It is about your town. Or, rather, its setting.” He hands me the notepad so I can read what he’s written.
His writing is super neat. And he’s right. The poem isn’t long at all. But there’s something about it. The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s surprisingly deep.
Golden sun rays dance,
Sea waves whisper, gleaming bright,
In blue, serene joy.
The words paint a vivid picture. A sunny day near the sea. It’s the sort of calm I feel down at the harbor. Somehow, that little poem stirs something deep inside me. I read it again and discover a new layer in the simple structure. Miss Redmond would love it. “That’s awesome.”
I think he kind of blushes a little. Like maybe he’s embarrassed by the compliment. “Thanks. A haiku is an illustration of the power of words. The art of haiku is something truly beautiful.”
Oh, yeah, this guy is gonna be perfect for Miss Redmond. “So how’d you learn about these…”
“Haikus?”
“Yeah, that. Have you been to Japan?”
He chuckles and gets a faraway look in his deep blue eyes. “Oh yes, several times. It’s a beautiful place, filled with history and tradition. I’ve always been fascinated by it.”
He starts talking about his travels. His voice and words give me visions of ancient temples surrounded by lush greenery, bustling city streets illuminated by neon lights, tranquil gardens where time seems to stand still, and cherry blossoms that paint the sky pink. He talks about the people, their warmth, their discipline, and their dedication to preserving their culture.
“But what fascinates me the most is their poetry,” he says, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Sorry, I get carried away. Especially when I’m talking about haikus.”
“Like this one?”
“Exactly. Haikus are a form of expression that captures the essence of a moment in just 17 syllables. My travels in Japan deepened my appreciation for them. There’s something magical about how much emotion and imagery can be packed into such a concise form.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.”
His fingers drum on the armrest of the couch. “I’ve been longing to go back. There’s still so much I’d love to explore. And well, it would be truly special if I could share that experience with someone.”
Oh, yeah! He’s perfect. “Like a girlfriend?”
“Well, yes, I suppose. Or even a good friend. Sharing experiences often makes them more meaningful, don’t you think?”
“Totally.” My mind is already racing with ideas. If Operation Green Smoothie works, his wish might come true. I hand the notepad to him and notice how he seems lost in thought. “Hey, you said you liked Seaside Cove, right?”
“I do. It’s a nice little town.”
“Would you like to learn more about it? Maybe see how the locals do stuff?” Uh oh. I almost said how they shop for groceries. Talk about boring. And sounding lame.
“I love doing that sort of thing. Getting to know the places I visit is a passion of mine.”
My heart’s pounding a million miles a minute. Am I really gonna ask this? It’s the only way to get him together with the future Mrs. Barrington. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon, after I get off school, we could go grocery shopping?”
He blinks hard. “Excuse me? You want me to go to a supermarket?”
“Yeah. We don’t have any big chain stores or anything. It’d be like going to Japan and seeing what kinds of stuff they have on the shelves. That can tell you a lot about the people. Right?”
“I suppose.” His voice trails off, and he looks down at the notepad.
I gotta do something before he says no. “It’s a great way to learn more about Seaside Cove. All the locals shop there, so you’ll get a real taste of the town.”
He kind of makes a face. “I don’t know, Alex. I’m not really a ‘grocery shopping’ kind of guy.”
“You probably shopped in Japan. Right?”
“Well…yes.”
“This would only be a little different. Think about it. It’d be epic! You could even pick up some ingredients to make sushi. Or better yet, find something new to try!”
He drums his fingers on the armrest of the couch a little more, then frowns as he looks at me. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“My dad says I’m super persistent.”
“Alright, Alex.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s do it. Let’s go grocery shopping.”
“Awesome! You won’t regret it. I promise.”
“Somehow, I already do. But I’ll go with it.”
“Are you going out for dinner tonight?”
“Yes, I have a reservation at the Crooked Mast.”
“Awesome. It’s a great place.”
“So I’ve heard.” He looks at his watch, closes up the notepad, and adds, “In fact, I should be heading out.”
“No problem! Enjoy your dinner.” If Operation Green Smoothie works, he might want to go there again tomorrow night—with a date.
I don’t have time to check out Veronica, but that’s okay. It’s feeling like Operation Green Smoothie is gonna be a total success. I can’t wait until Miss Redmond sees Barrington. They’re totally gonna fall in love!
As I fire up the stove to start the veggies, I realize I’m humming Here Comes the Bride.
23
Rick
At the mention of customers, Rick looked to his side and saw an older couple waiting patiently. Sally told the couple they’d be seated right away, then motioned for one of her waitstaff to escort them to a table. When she looked back at Rick, his gaze locked onto hers. The ambient noise of The Rusty Nail faded into a distant hum, the clatter of dishes and buzz of conversation merely a soundtrack to their exchange.
“Rick,” Sally began, her voice steady and serious. “Unfortunately, I have to divulge a secret to give you the whole story. I hope you’ll pretend to be surprised when the big moment comes, but Alex has been trying to make money. She wants to buy you and Marquetta a first-anniversary gift and has been working as a courier for some of the local merchants.”
“Excuse me? How did I not know about this?”
Sally gave Rick an embarrassed smile. “We were all so taken by what she was doing that we agreed to keep her secret.”
A warm glow spread through Rick’s chest, a mixture of pride and surprise. His little girl was working to buy him and Marquetta a first-anniversary gift? But the internal warmth was quickly overshadowed by a pang of guilt. She was only thirteen. Should she really have to worry about such things?
“She delivered an order to the store the day Veronica fell,” Sally continued, her clear blue eyes filled with concern.
Thinking about the timing of when Alex and Veronica had shown up at the B&B, everything suddenly made sense. Rick’s heart pounded in his chest. “Let me guess, Alex was delivering right when this whole argument took place.”
“Pretty much. Alex showed up to deliver what I’d purchased from Howie’s Collectibles just as the argument was ending. Veronica rushed past her, and Alex went out the door after her. Veronica’s Uncle Tyler had started to unload on your Mr. Styles when there was a big gasp from the front section of the restaurant.”
“Is that when Veronica fell?”
“Yes. Several of our guests later said they actually saw Veronica fall into the planter. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like Alex called out to her, and that’s when she fell. Her Uncle Tyler must have heard the commotion at the front of the restaurant because he rushed out to help.” Sally grimaced, and her eyes filled with sadness. “The poor man was trying to care for his niece, but it only upset her more. All his trying to help did was start another argument. I went through something similar with my youngest daughter when she was the same age.”
Rick swallowed, his throat dry. He hoped he and Alex never got into that situation but could picture the scene all too well. In this case, he could see Tyler, his face flushed with anger and guilt, facing off against Veronica, defiant and hurting.
“And then Gideon Styles showed up. I realized how dangerous the situation looked, so I ran outside with my cell. I was going to call Adam, but it all happened so fast.”
“What did?”
“Veronica had another meltdown, and her uncle turned on Styles and got into his face. He said that he was tired of him changing their deal and messing with their lives. That’s when things got really ugly.” Sally’s gaze never left Rick’s face as she took a long breath and shook her head.
“Uglier than what sounds like a knockdown, drag-out argument? What did Tyler do, threaten to kill Styles or something?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what happened. Styles said the bakery had been going downhill ever since Tyler’s sister’s death. And then Tyler threatened him. He said he was going to bury Styles. Rick, I don’t want to make any trouble for that poor family, but he looked like he was angry enough to kill.”
Rick’s mind raced, his thoughts tumbling over each other. Who killed Styles? Tyler? Veronica? Both had made threats…and how many others had threatened Styles? “Gideon Styles seemed to have a knack for making enemies. I wonder how many others wanted to kill him?”
“Glad I only have to deal with customers who complain about their meal not being cooked properly. You have my sympathies.”
“Thanks.” Rick let his gaze drift around the bustling restaurant. The waitstaff was rushing around, ferrying plates of seafood to the patrons, their faces, a blur of concentration and cheerfulness. The rustic charm of The Rusty Nail, so comforting and welcoming, hardly seemed like a place where a motive for murder might surface.
“You’re keeping busy, Sally,” he commented, forcing a smile.
“We always are,” she replied. “I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to help Adam, too. You deserve a medal.”
