Coffee & Crime (7 page)

Zelda grabbed a bar towel and wiped down the counter. "Says who?"

I closed the laptop, dumped my coffee cup in a bus tray, and collected the sugar holders. "George wasn't."

Zelda stopped and turned to me. "Are you sure?"

The front door swooshed open and effectively halted our conversation. Ted Jordan stood at the entrance and greeted us with a smile. He dangled Zelda's car keys. "Evening, ladies."

Zelda rushed across the dining room to Ted. "Finally! What did you do, rebuild the engine?"

Ted looked more handsome than I remembered, even with wet hair plastered to his forehead. "Hi Ted."

He shoved the wet hair off his brow and smiled. "Hello Scotti, how are you?"

Zelda snatched the keys out of Ted's hand. "Enough chit-chat, where's my jeep?"

Ted pointed through the front window. The jeep was parked in front on Foothill and glistened in the evening rain
—
its hood no longer dimpled. I stepped closer to the window and scrutinized the jeep. "Did you paint it too?"

Zelda squealed and looked out the window. "No way!"

Ted laughed. "No we didn't paint it. But Frank detailed it inside and out then took his buffer to it." He shifted his gaze to the jeep. "Looks pretty good, don't you think?"

"It looks amazing," I said. "I've never seen it look that good."

Zelda cracked the door and looked out. "How's it running?"

Ted turned to Zelda. "Great. Considering the damage to the hood, we decided to replace the radiator, just to be on the safe side."

Zelda pushed through the door. "I better go do a test drive."

"Zelda, it's raining. Put on a coat."

She waved me off with a backhanded gesture and went through the door. A few seconds later, the familiar rumble of the jeep's engine sounded. Zelda waved as we watched her pull away.

For a moment Ted and I stood in the middle of the dining room looking at each other. And he seemed perfectly comfortable to stand and stare at me but I felt the burn of blood rising to my cheeks. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

Ted followed on my heels and he smelled really good. I'm a sucker for that freshly showered man smell — and it made me nervous.

Ted took a seat at the counter and I poured him a cup of coffee. He added no cream or sugar and took a sip. "Good coffee."

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded and reached for a menu. "I could eat. What's good here?"

"I just made big pot of roast beef vegetable soup."

He put the menu back in its holder. "Then soup it is."

Ted had two bowls of soup, three rolls, and a vat of coffee before he sat back and said, "That was good."

I did a little girl curtsy. "Thanks, I made it myself."

He touched my hand briefly and smiled. "Right, you're a chef. Well, if the soup is an example of what you can do, then I'd recommend you open your own place."

I nodded and refilled his coffee mug. "That's the plan. I'm going to buy this place."

Ted sipped his coffee then smiled. "Ambition
—
I like that in a woman."

He locked eyes with me and I felt the blush in my cheeks again. I turned to the pastry case. "Dessert? We've got pie, cookies, and brownies." When I turned back I bumped right into him. Taking a step back I said, "Wow, you're quiet. I didn't even hear you get up."

Ted looked down at me with probing green eyes. "I've had a little training in stealth approaches."

I sidestepped and pointed at the case. "See anything you'd like?"

Ted didn’t look at the pastry case and kept his eyes on me. "What does your boyfriend think about your buying this place?"

I cleared my throat. "I don't have a boyfriend." Ted liked that answer. I put my hands on my hips. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter what he thought of it. I make my own decisions."

Ted nodded in approval. "Independence
—
I like that in a woman too." He stepped a little closer and his scent made my insides quiver. "And I have a weakness for blue eyes."

The door swooshed open, bringing cold, wet air, and a rain-soaked Zelda inside. Ted and I broke from our trance. He returned to his seat and I wiped down the counter with a bar towel. "So, how was your test drive?"

She crossed the dining room, shaking her head like a wet dog, and sending rain splatter everywhere. "Great!" Plopping into a seat next to Ted she said, "So you aren't going to charge me anything for it?"

Ted nodded. "I'm not."

Zelda looked at me. I shrugged.

Ted's cell phone chirped and he answered the call. After a brief conversation he put his phone back in his pocket. He stood and said, "Time to settle up. My ride is here. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," I said.

He seemed surprised. "Nothing?"

"Not even a tip," I said. "Dinner's on me tonight."

"Well, thank you. That's very nice. I'll have to take a rain check on the dessert though." He pointed to the pastry case and smiled. "I’ll be back for a piece of that blueberry pie."

"Okay, I'll save you a piece."

We grinned at each other and probably would have stood there for another five minutes if Zelda hadn't barged in. "Okay Ted. Well, thanks a lot." She flashed a thumbs up.

"And tell Frank I said great job."

Ted continued to grin at me. "Sure Zelda, happy to do it."

Outside, a horn honked and pulled Ted's gaze to the front window. A black SUV idled on Foothill. He turned back to me. "Good night." He shrugged into his trench coat, walked to the door, and pulled it open. Before he stepped outside he glanced at me and said, "I'll be back for that pie."

I watched him get into the SUV and then the car pulled away. Zelda snickered. "What's so funny?"

She batted her eyes and said, "Do you really think he was hitting on me?"

I opened my laptop again. "You got something in your eye?"

Zelda craned her neck. "Now, what are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for the funeral home where George's viewing is being held." I found the link I needed and clicked on it. "Here it is, Brooks & Sons."

Zelda frowned at the computer screen. "You want to go to a funeral home?"

I wrote down the address for the mortuary, then closed the laptop. "I'd like to pay my last respects."

Zelda shuddered. "Those places creep me out."

I glanced at her. "Have you ever been to one?"

"Yeah, they made me go when Grams died." She shivered from the memory. "It wrecked me."

I patted her back. "But you were a little kid then. You're all grown up now."

Zelda's dark eyes got misty. "Wouldn't you rather remember George the way he was the last time you saw him? Believe me, once you see someone you loved dead, you can't un-see it."

Maybe she was right but I’d go anyway. "I have to go. Say my goodbyes properly. Besides, I should return the briefcase – I don’t feel right about keeping it."

Zelda raised her head. "We should open it first."

"No!"

"Why not? There could be something in it that we need to know."

I scoffed. "Like what?"

"I don't know." She thought a minute then snapped her fingers. "Daniels said Mrs. George thought he was murdered. Maybe she's right. Maybe there's a clue in there. Or some cash?"

I started cleaning up so we could shut down. "Nice try. But you're not getting anywhere near it. Tomorrow it'll be back where it belongs, with George's family."

Zelda got up, dumped Ted's dinner dishes into the bus tray, then wiped down the counter. She tilted her head at me. "That reminds me, what did you mean the other night about killing George?"

I looked away and wiped down the coffee machine. "Nothing, I was over-reacting. I told you that."

Zelda stepped closer and studied me in profile. "No, I don't think you told me that. I think I told you that. Come on, give."

I tossed the rag on the counter and looked at Zelda. "It's stupid. And I'm probably wrong." Zelda waited. I blew out a big breath. "When Daniels said George died from a brownie he ate, I immediately thought it was one of mine."

Zelda gaped. "But the brownies you made for George were specially created for him. No nuts, or nut type ingredients. So how could that be?" I turned off the coffee machine then filled and stacked coffee filters for the morning shift. "Scotti?"

I moved onto cutting lemon wedges. "George had a standing order for a dozen brownies every week. His office manager Peggy, the girl we met at his office? Usually picked them up on Wednesdays." I glanced at her. “George died on a Wednesday."

Zelda puckered her lips. "So?"

I sighed and pointed to the pastry case. "You see the brownies in the case?" Zelda nodded. "Which are nut-free and which are regular?"

"The nut-free have a chocolate kiss on top. The regulars have a walnut on top." She shrugged. "So?"

"So, if you took the walnut off a regular brownie and put a chocolate on it, could you tell it apart from the nut-free brownies?"

Zelda shook her head slowly. "That's what the murderer did?"

Frustrated, I threw up my hands. "I don't know. But if someone wanted George dead, it would be a clever way to do it. Who'd suspect? Everyone would think it was an accident. He ate the wrong thing. Respiratory failure. End of story."

Zelda's dark eyes gleamed with interest. "You agree with Maggie Manston?"

I went to the cashier stand and started counting the drawer. "George was very careful about what he ate." I looked up from the cash drawer. "I never met anyone more careful about their diet than him."

Zelda sidled over to the cashier stand and leaned on the counter. "You do agree with her."

I shrugged and shook my head. "If it wasn't an accident, somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it look like one."

Zelda chewed on that for a while. I put the register tape, receipts and money in an envelope, dated, signed it and slid it into the safe drop slot. I removed the cash drawer with the opening bank in it, placed it in the cabinet below the register and locked the cabinet. Then left the register drawer open so any would be robbers wouldn't break the windows in order to get to an empty register.

I left the cashier stand and stuck my head in the pass-through. Chewie looked up from the grill, spatula in hand. "We're checking out, Chewie. I'll lock the front door and then we’re out of here."

He nodded. "Adios chica."

While I locked up and turned the sign Zelda slumped at the counter. Grabbing our stuff from beneath the counter I asked, "You coming?

Zelda got up absentmindedly and followed me through the kitchen to the time clock. We punched out, said a final good night to Chewie and left through the back door.

The lot was wet with rain and surreal in the odd silver light provided by the cloud cover above. Her jeep and my car were parked next to each other. We each went to our vehicles but Zelda stood at her door without getting in.

I buzzed down my passenger window. "You have to get in the car in order to drive it."

Zelda glanced at me. "I know what your common bond with Maggie Manston is."

I waited.

She nodded and raised her eyebrows. "You both think he was murdered." She climbed into the jeep. "And if you can't bond over that, you can't bond over nothing."

Brooks & Sons was on Allen in Pasadena and housed in a two-story brick building that looked like it was a bank in a previous life. It had a colonial style with white columns flanking a highly polished mahogany door. And though the lot was generous, parking spaces were few.

I craned my neck as Zelda trolled for a parking space. "Do you think all these cars belong to people here to see George?"

Zelda found a space a few rows from the front door, assuring we'd be wet by the time we got inside. She peered through the windshield at the funeral home. "I don't know, looks pretty big to me. There could be lots of dead people in there. And their friends."

I belted my raincoat and reached into the foot well for George's briefcase.

"Leave that here."

I clutched the briefcase to my chest as though Zelda might snatch it away. "No, I'm going to give it to Maggie Manston."

Zelda sighed. "Look, I'm over the whole let's look inside thing. But you don't know if Maggie Manston is in there. It's not like this is a scheduled event. It's a chance for people to come, pay their respects, and get the hell out. We don’t know who's in there. And second, who brings a briefcase to a place like this?"

Zelda was right - bringing the case inside would only draw attention to me and I wanted to avoid that. Sighing, I put the briefcase back in the foot well. "Fine."

We got out of the warm car and into the dreary wet night. When I stepped into the first puddle I regretted wearing heels
—
likewise, flat-ironing my hair, that frizzed back to its natural shape within seconds. Zelda was smart enough to wear boots and never cared how her hair looked.