Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse (A Cape Bay Cafe Mystery Book 1) (11 page)

M
ike raised
his eyebrows and was silent for a moment longer than I was comfortable with. “You know who killed Gino Cardosi,” he finally said slowly.

I nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Mike looked at me silently for longer than I would have liked. “And who is that?”

“Karl Richards. You might not know him. He’s new in town, but I did some investigating, and I’m confident that he did it.”

“You are,” Mike said, more as a statement than a question. The way he kept using that flat tone of voice was making me nervous.

“Yes.” I flipped through a couple of pages of my notes, looking for the one that had my findings about Karl. “See, he and Mr. Cardosi were both dating Mary Ellen Chapman, which in and of itself isn’t necessarily a huge motive for murder, but I did some research online…” I hesitated when Mike stood and started walking back and forth on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. I wasn’t sure what that was about, so I just kept going. “And I found out that he has a criminal record. A major one. Six months ago—”

Mike spun around and slammed his hands on the table. “Do you think I don’t know that?” He sounded really pretty angry.

“Um, I don’t—I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think what?”

“I didn’t think you knew the thing about Mary Ellen. I only found out because Matt and I went looking for Mr. Cardosi’s cell phone because Chris at the cell phone shop told me Mr. Cardosi was looking for a new one, and when Matt and I found it, there were just a bunch of calls to Mary Ellen’s number—” I was rambling, but Mike was making me nervous.

“Have you ever heard of phone records, Fran?” Mike asked, sounding exasperated.

“Yes.” Of course I had. That was what the phone company sent me every month with my cell phone bill—a complete record of everyone I’d called.
Oh.

“We’re the police. The first thing we do when we have a murder victim is pull his phone records. We don’t have to go looking for his cell phone. The phone company knows all that. Hell, the phone company can give us the contents of all his text messages. Sent
and
received.”

I was starting to feel a little bad. As soon as Mike said it, it made perfect sense that they had pulled Mr. Cardosi’s phone records and knew everyone he’d talked to. But the thing about Karl Richards—that had to be new information, right? Against my better judgement, I said it. “But Karl Richards—?”

He rubbed his face. I got the sense he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

“Karl Richards just finished serving twenty years in prison. You think he’s going to kill somebody so he can get himself sent right back?”

“You think he’s not?” I asked, a little indignant. He couldn’t just blow off my theory because he thought Karl would abide by the law so he could avoid prison. Prison hadn’t seemed to scare him very much over the fifteen years he was stealing jewelry and hoarding the evidence. “You don’t think Mr. Cardosi could have found out about Karl’s criminal record and threatened to out him to Mary Ellen? You don’t think Karl could have killed him to stop him?”

“No, I don’t,” Mike said firmly.

“And why not?” I asked.

“Because he was at his doctor’s office in Boston when Gino Cardosi was killed.”

Oh. Well, that changed things. I went from feeling a little bad to a lot bad. And like maybe my detective skills weren’t as good as I thought they were. The metal chair I was sitting in suddenly felt very cold and hard. I tried to think of where I had gone wrong, what lead I’d failed to track down. Apparently I’d forgotten to check Karl’s alibi, but it had seemed like such a slam dunk!

“You can’t go poking your nose in police business,” Mike said, interrupting my thoughts. “There’s a reason why we don’t just leave it to civilians to solve crimes. Hell, there’s a reason we don’t just let rookies investigate crimes on their own! It’s hard. It takes training. A lot can go wrong, and you can ruin someone’s life by accusing them of a crime. It’s not something to be taken lightly!”

I couldn’t remember ever seeing Mike so worked up, except maybe on the football field in high school. It made me realize why police interrogations worked so well. Normal Mike was a pleasant enough guy, but this version of him was a little scary. If I’d committed a crime, I’d be shaking in my boots from watching him pace around and rant and rave.

He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to calm himself down. “Look, I know you were just trying to help Matt figure out what happened to his dad, but you can’t just go messing in people’s lives. Do you know how freaked out Karl was after you talked to him? He thought you were going to tell the whole town that he was a convicted jewel thief. He thought he would have to pick up and move again to get away from the rumors. He’s an old man, Fran, and he’s paid his debt to society. It’s not up to you to make him continue paying.”

I barely heard the rest of what Mike said after he mentioned that Karl had been freaked out after I’d talked to him.
How did he know that?
I held up my hand to stop him. “How did you know I talked to Karl?”

Mike sighed. “He came in here and told me.”

I was confused. “He just walked in here and told you that? Why?”

“Like I said, because he was worried.”

“So he just came in here and confessed that he was a jewel thief and said he was worried that I was going to drive him out of town?”

Mike looked at me as if I wasn’t getting something obvious. “I’d already questioned him, Francesca.”

He’d used my full name. That was bad.

“When I identified him as a suspect, I pulled his criminal record,” Mike said. “I interviewed him and asked him about it. Then when you showed up, talking to him about the Cardosi case, he got worried and came in to talk to me. He moved here to start a new life where people didn’t know his name and his face, and you took that from him. You think something like that will stay a secret for long in Cape Bay? And what do you think Mary Ellen’ll do when she finds out? You think she’ll just be cool with it? God, Fran, you’ve got to just leave it alone from here on out, okay? No more investigating, no more slinking around asking people questions. You’ve got to cool it, okay?”

I nodded. I was embarrassed to say the least. I thought I’d been slick enough that Karl hadn’t realized I suspected him of anything, but apparently I was wrong. I’d accidentally tipped him off to my sleuthing, which wasn’t exactly a brilliant investigative technique, and possibly ruined his newfound anonymity and romantic relationship. I hadn’t set out to ruin anybody’s life—at least, no one other than the person who’d killed Mr. Cardosi—but apparently I’d done that, or nearly done it anyway. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

“I’m not the one you owe an apology,” he said curtly.

I nodded. I did owe Karl an apology. I might not be able to fix what I’d done, but I could at least let him know I was sorry.

Mike stood there for another minute or so before he asked me if there was anything else I wanted to share with him.

“No,” I said quietly. “There’s nothing else.”

“Do you need a minute, or are you ready to go?”

Apparently I was more visibly shaken up than I realized. “I’m ready to go.” I gathered up my papers.

Mike put his hand on the doorknob then looked back at me. “Just so you know, I’m not mad at you. Like I said, I know you were just trying to help Matt, and I know it’s personal for you because you found the body. And that’s on top of you already having a rough summer. Just try to chill out a little, okay?”

I nodded as I picked up my notes and walked to the door. Mike patted my back as we went out.

“I’ll see you around,” he said as he bid me good-bye in the lobby.

“See you,” I replied.

I walked outside and stood on the sidewalk, facing the park. I could go straight across the park toward home, where I could crawl back into bed or curl up on the couch to watch some crappy daytime TV court shows. Or I could turn left and go to the café to bury myself in work for a while. But I turned right to go down the street to Paul Hamilton’s electronics shop. I wanted to apologize.

A
fter my first visit
, I knew not to expect anyone at the electronics shop to appear immediately upon my arrival, but it still took so long that I was hunting for the bell before Karl came out to greet me. He didn’t exactly look excited to have a customer in the first place, but his face got even more miserable-looking when he saw me.

“If you’re here about your radio, it’ll be ready tomorrow,” he said by way of greeting.

“That’s actually not why I’m here, but thank you.” I had butterflies in my stomach. I always got nervous when I had to admit to screwing up or doing something wrong, but when I had to admit to a man that I had thought he was a murderer and had even gone to the police to tell them, I was extra nervous.

He just stared at me. I guessed if I wasn’t there about my grandfather’s radio, he wasn’t interested in finding out what I did want. Not that I blamed him, under the circumstances. I tried to smile. We were standing barely a couple of feet apart with only the counter between us. I wasn’t sure if anyone was in the back, but I thought I heard some shuffling. Assuming that whoever was back there didn’t know about Karl’s history, I didn’t want to negate my apology by filling them in.

“Karl, I understand that I owe you an apology,” I said quietly.

He gave no indication that he’d heard me but none that he hadn’t either.

“I made some assumptions and leapt to some conclusions and came up with something that was totally wrong. I should have stayed out of it and let the police do their job. I’m sorry,” I said.

He stared at me for a few seconds then gave me the slightest of nods. “Thank you.” We looked at each other for a few more seconds. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” I replied. “That’s all.”

“We’ll call you when your radio’s done,” he said and turned to go into the back.

He was a strange man for sure, but I didn’t fault him for not wanting to hang around talking to me. I waited until he had disappeared, just to make sure he wasn’t going to suddenly turn around and come back, then left to go home. I could have gone to work, but I needed to think. I tucked my papers under my arm and shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked toward the park and its shortcut to my house.

It had been, by pretty much every imaginable measure, a pretty awful summer. First my fiancé had left me, then my mother passed away, then Mr. Cardosi was murdered, then I accused an innocent man of the crime. At least only one of those things was my fault. The rest of it was just the universe trying to mess with me. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? That was what my mother would have said anyway. So far the only good that had come out of the past few months was getting to quit my job and escape the New York City rat race. That, and getting to reconnect with Matt. Spending time with Matt again was like getting transported back in time to my high school days, but without all the awkwardness that came with being in high school. Being with him now was just fun. I was my adult self, with all of my knowledge and confidence, but without all the awkwardness that usually came with dating someone new. Not that Matt and I were dating. We just didn’t have any getting-to-know-you discomfort when we hung out.

Being so off-balance from all the changes in my personal life had to be how I’d gone so wrong with the whole Karl debacle. Everything I’d relied on for so many years had been completely upended. I’d latched on to my investigation of Mr. Cardosi’s murder as something to give me purpose and direction, but work could give me that. Redecorating my house could give me that. My friends—Matt and Sammy—could give me that. My new pet could give me that, as soon as I found him. I didn’t need to be an amateur detective to have purpose, especially since I was apparently pretty terrible at it. My work, my house, my friends, and my pet would be my focus. That was what I would do with myself and my time.

I was in the park, walking past the chess tables. A dog ran along by the tree line. It stood out to me because stray dogs weren’t common in Cape Bay. I thought he must have gotten off his leash or escaped his yard. He didn’t have a collar, but I remembered one time when I was a kid and my best friend and I were walking her dog. He had managed to slip completely out of his collar and left us standing with an empty collar hanging from the leash. I wondered if this dog had done the same thing. He didn’t seem particularly interested in or afraid of me. He just ran along, roughly keeping pace with me as I walked fairly quickly through the park. Eventually, though, he turned off and ran down the hill ahead of me, as if he’d suddenly realized he had somewhere to be.

It must not have been too far away, though, because as I got toward the stairs, I heard him barking. The closer I got, the louder and more frantic it got. I usually almost ran down the stairs, but when I reached the top, I realized the dog was right at the bottom, barking furiously. I hesitated, resting my hand on the railing. Just as I decided not to show the strange dog any fear and lifted my foot to take the first step, I felt something sweep my feet out from under me.

I yelped as my face flew down toward the steep concrete stairs. My papers went flying, and I barely stopped myself from tumbling down the stairs head over heels. If my hand hadn’t already been on the railing, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. Sharp pain shot up my right leg as I twisted on it in an attempt to regain my footing. The dog flew up the stairs past me, still barking loudly. My arm wrenched as my body rotated toward the top of the stairs. I saw feet clad in men’s shoes disappearing back toward the chess tables, assisted by the cane I instinctively knew had been used to trip me. The dog perched on the top stair, barking at the fleeing feet.

I struggled to my feet to follow the tripper and his cane, but as soon as I put weight on my leg, it gave out beneath me. With the amount of pain I felt, there was no way I was walking anywhere. I wiggled around so that I was sitting on one of the steps, my hurt leg stretched out in front of me. I tensed up when the dog came down the couple of stairs to where I was sitting. When he immediately shoved his wet nose into my palm, I calmed down, though. He was a friendly dog. His mouth was shaped as if he were smiling. Medium-sized with scruffy gray and brown fur, he looked like a stray. I wondered where he had come from.

It occurred to me, if not for his barking, I would have been going a lot faster and not holding onto the stair railing when I was tripped. He wasn’t just friendly—he was
my
friend. I scratched his head in thanks.

As soon as I did, as if that indicated to him that I was okay, he ran back up the stairs and barked again. I turned as best I could to look up toward where he was standing, but he disappeared from my view and his barking faded. I sighed. Maybe he wasn’t my friend after all. I was glancing around at my notes scattered all over the ground and trying to figure out how I’d get myself up or down the stairs when I heard his barking get louder again. I looked back up to see the dog return. He scampered down the stairs, bumped his nose against me, then took off back up the stairs, barking furiously. The barking got fainter then louder as he repeated his run-away-and-come-back pattern. I wondered if it was possible that he was trying to get help. That seemed like an out-there idea and I hadn’t exactly had the best track record with crazy ideas lately, but what else could he be doing, running back and forth like that?

I couldn’t just sit there and wait, even if he was trying to help me. I glanced up and down the stairs. I had definitely landed closer to the top than the bottom. I pushed my right heel into one of the steps below me. Pain shot back up my leg. Definitely my knee hurt. I tested my left leg. That one had been spared. I braced my palms against the step above me and pushed up with my arms and my left leg. I only had a few steps to get up. As long as I didn’t put any pressure on my right leg, I was okay. I worked my way up the stairs as the dog continued to race back and forth. I crested the stairs and scooted off to the edge of the sidewalk.

The dog raced back again and sat on the pavement next to me. He kept barking, so loud it hurt my ears a little, and I had to lean away. Even so, I couldn’t help but reach out to scratch my new buddy’s chest.

“Franny, is that you? Are you okay?”

I looked up, shocked to hear Matt’s voice. “Yeah, I just had a little tumble.”

Matt hurried over and crouched down beside me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. At that time of day, I expected him to be at work.

“Looking for you. What happened? Did you trip over your feet or something?”

“More like I was tripped.”

Matt looked startled. “You were
what
?”

I sighed. “I was walking home from the police station, and someone with a cane tripped me when I got to the stairs. If it wasn’t for this guy, I would have gone down a lot harder.” I gestured toward the dog.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking me up and down and seeming to focus on the awkward way I was holding my leg.

“I twisted my knee. I can’t really put weight on it.”

“God, Franny, we need to get you to a doctor. Come on, let me help you up.”

Matt stood and reached down to help me to my feet. Well, to my foot, since the left one was the only one doing me much good at the moment. He stood on my right side and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“We’ll get you out to the street, then I’ll run and get my car, okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” I replied. We started limping along. “Wait! We need to bring the dog!”

Matt looked back at the mutt still sitting on the ground where I’d been.

“Are you sure he doesn’t belong to someone?” he asked me.

“No, but he doesn’t have a collar. He saved me. The least we can do is help him find his owner if he has one.”

“All right.” Matt shrugged. He patted his leg with his free hand. “Come on, boy!”

The dog popped up and trotted over to us, following along as we limped out to the street.