Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Read online

  I showed her a photo on my phone of the pink earring that had been found at the scene of the crime. As she looked at the picture, it was her facial expressions that intrigued me the most, rather than her actual answer. That was because I just assumed that she would deny recognizing the earring. After all, she had denied everything else.

  No matter what words came out of her mouth, her body language could betray her. That was why I peered deep into her eyes.

  A look of disgust came over her face as she drenched her response in sarcasm. “Gaudy, much?”

  “Is that a no?” I asked.

  “Of course it’s a no,” Melissa said. “The only person I know who has awful enough taste to like an earring that ugly is Leah Stewart.”

  As frustrating as it was to admit, Melissa appeared to be telling the truth. Either that or she was a better liar than I thought. While the earring was a dead end when it came to Melissa, plenty of suspicion still clouded her.

  I was eager to ask her some more questions. “Melissa—”

  She interrupted me. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

  “Wait. We’re not done here.”

  Melissa glared at me. “Maybe you didn’t understand me. I’m not saying another word to you.”

  Before I had the chance to ask her another question, she closed the door on me. Undeterred, I tried to talk to her through the door, but Melissa ignored me. When it became clear that there was nothing I could do to draw her out of her house, I walked back to my car and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The whole time that I headed back to my car, I was in shock over having a door slammed in my face. Going into this investigation, I knew that the suspects’ emotions were running high, but I hadn’t completely prepared myself for the hostility that I was faced with. As I got my bearings back, I was confronted by a surprise of a different sort.

  A fierce hunger came over me. My stomach rumbled so loudly that it became impossible to ignore. I had been able to keep all of my emotions at bay until that point, but my appetite could be ignored no longer.

  Suddenly, all thoughts about the case evaporated. My mind became completely fixated on food. With more suspects left to question, I wanted to power through, but a serious brain fog set in. My blood sugar had crashed and couldn’t recover until I grabbed something to eat.

  Luckily, I knew just the place for a quick bite. Even better, it was close by. I drove the ten blocks to Redwood Street, where my favorite sandwich shop was located. It was a place where the company was just as good as the food.

  My friend Shannon ran the place. She greeted me with a big smile as I entered. Unlike most days, when I gladly made small talk, getting some food in my belly took priority. The good news was that I didn’t even have to look at the chalk menu board behind the counter to know exactly what I wanted.

  Shannon’s bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a baguette was a favorite of mine, and I saw no reason to mix things up now. The one addition I always made was for her to throw in some avocado. It added a delicious touch that never failed to delight my taste buds.

  I ordered the sandwich and waited impatiently, glancing around the shop to distract me from my hunger. Shannon’s place had a number of interesting touches that separated her business from the usual sandwich chains. The back wall of her shop was lined with a cartoon mural of Treasure Cove that included each of the touristy highlights. Treasure Beach was included, as was the town square, Founders Park, Main Street, Treasure Forest, and the Montgomery lighthouse.

  Not to be outdone, another wall in the shop had a smattering of framed photos featuring the handful of celebrities that had stopped into the shop over the years. There was ample blank space left on the wall, mostly because famous people did not come to town that often. In addition, of the few who actually did, some were vehement about retaining as much anonymity as possible. That didn’t stop Shannon from remaining optimistic that one day she would be able to fill that entire wall with celebrity photos.

  The centerpiece of the place were the sandwiches. Her menu was displayed on a big board that hung behind the front counter. One of the things that made Shannon’s shop special was that she didn’t just make sandwiches. She also served a dash of reverence with a side of history. Each of the menu items had a special nickname.

  There was the Abraham Johnson—a ham-and-cheese sandwich on rye bread named after the founder of Treasure Cove. Not to be outdone, there was the Lance Carlson—a turkey club named after a professional surfer who had grown up in town. Of course, there was also the Edna Smith—a Reuben sandwich that Shannon had named in honor of her grandmother. The sandwich I always ordered had been named after the captain of the Triton–a fishing vessel that had famously sunk a few miles off of the coast.

  Sandwich monikers aside, I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into my meal. Thankfully, I had not come during the middle of her lunch rush, or I would have had to wait an uncomfortably long time.

  Shannon was able to plate my food in less than seven minutes. That was one of the perks of arriving during the lull in traffic between lunch and dinner. The minute my order was ready, I didn’t hesitate to take a bite of my sandwich. As expected, I was not disappointed. The comforting taste brought a smile to my mouth.

  When I began to devour the sandwich in short order, my friend let a sarcastic remark fly from the other side of the counter.

  “I guess you hate the sandwich, huh?” she joked.

  I took another bite before replying with a crack of my own. “Oh, yeah. It’s terrible. I don’t know how you stay open serving food this awful.”

  The playful one-liners continued. “You know me. I try my best to disappoint the customers. Especially my regulars.”

  “Well, you’re doing a great job of it,” I joked.

  We shared a few more laughs in between me polishing off the rest of the sandwich.

  When I had taken my last bite, she sent one more zinger my way. “It’s a shame you eat so slowly. You really suffered your way through it.”

  I dropped the sarcasm and let the truth be known. “I needed protein. It was getting pretty bleak there for a minute.”

  Even though I had made quick work of the sandwich, my meal wasn’t quite done. I popped open the bag of potato chips that came with my order and dug in.

  Shannon was confused. “What’s going on? It’s not like you to come in so ravenous.”

  I sighed. “It is just one of those days.”

  “I hear you. Life knows how to throw some surprises at you sometimes.”

  “Usually when you least expect it,” I replied.

  Shannon gave me a deadpan response. “Of course. What would be the fun otherwise?”

  “I’m not sure that I would call this fun.”

  “What would you call it?”

  I groaned. “A real pain.”

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “What I would like is some good news. Do you have any?”

  Shannon grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m coming up a little short in that department.”

  I gazed into her eyes. “Is trouble brewing with your love triangle?”

  “The mere fact that I am in the middle of a love triangle means that my life is not working out the way I expected it to.”

  “Any resolution in sight?”

  A frustrated look came over her face. “Not even close. I wish I could just choose both.”

  “I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t go for that,” I said. “If anything, that sounds like a good way to lose both of them.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Tell me about it.”

  I reached out to her. “This will all work itself out.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but do you have any idea how?”

  I shrugged. “That one is a mystery to me.”

  Shannon took a deep breath. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

  I could tell that she was eager to change the subject.

  She switched her foc
us. “How about you? Anything I can help you with?”

  I had come to her shop for the sandwich, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t leave with a leg up on the case. Shannon’s place did a lot of business. With robust foot traffic and the news of the murder being at the forefront of everyone’s minds, there was a solid chance that she could have heard a few pieces of juicy gossip in the last few days. There was one way to know for sure.

  “That depends,” I replied.

  “On what?” she asked.

  “Have any of your customers shared any juicy tidbits with you about the Andrew Stewart murder case?”

  She looked gravely concerned. “Wait a minute. Has David still not solved the case?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow. That’s crazy. I figured he’d have someone in custody by now.”

  “So did I. Now have you heard any interesting rumors from your customers?”

  Shannon’s forehead wrinkled. “Is he so desperate that he’s looking for idle gossip?”

  I wanted to make it clear that I wasn’t doing this on behalf of David. “I was asking because I was curious.”

  She looked long and hard into my eyes and saw something there that got her mind whirring.

  “Sabrina, what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Like I told you, I’m just curious about the case.”

  She gave me a highly critical look. “Who do you think you are talking to? You’re investigating this case, aren’t you?”

  She had caught me. Even more, she had been dead-on. Just like when I had been talking with my mother earlier, I realized there was no use in lying to Shannon.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Does David know you’re doing this?”

  I reluctantly shook my head.

  Shannon folded her arms. “Sabrina Daley, you’re even bolder than I thought.”

  I waited for the inevitable lecture about why I shouldn’t stick my nose where it didn’t belong. Thankfully, she didn’t try to discourage me. My mother had done plenty of that already without my friend deciding to pile on.

  Not that Shannon looked thrilled about me playing amateur sleuth. It was more that she had known me long enough to realize that when I set my mind to something, there was no talking me out of it.

  She stared out into the distance, looking like a deer in the headlights.

  Since she clearly wasn’t about to say the next word, I took charge of the conversation. “So have you heard any gossip about the case?”

  It took her a moment, but Shannon was able to calm herself down. When she was able to get a level head about her, she responded emphatically. “Are you kidding? It is all people have been talking about lately.”

  My curiosity was stoked. “What are they saying?”

  “What aren’t they saying? The rumors are flying.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “A number of my customers are sure that Andrew’s wife did it,” Shannon said.

  That didn’t really help me, given that Leah had an alibi. Still, I didn’t want to discourage Shannon. After all, if her customers had a way of poking a hole in Leah’s story, I wanted to hear about it.

  “How can they be so sure? Do they have any proof?” I asked.

  My friend scoffed. “Gossip doesn’t waste time gathering proof.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right. Of course.”

  “Although Colleen Tomlinson lives next to the Stewarts, and she overheard Andrew and Leah arguing pretty frequently before his death.”

  “Did Colleen hear Leah threaten to kill Andrew?”

  “Like I said, my customers are long on gossip and short on proof,” Shannon replied.

  “What other gossip did you hear?”

  “One of my other customers is sure that Hank Stewart is the killer.”

  “Is this customer so sure because they have proof?”

  Shannon shook her head. “No, but according to her, she was inside the chocolate shop on the day that Hank was fired. Apparently, Hank made a big scene right there in front of a bunch of customers.”

  “Was a threat of murder included in this rant of Hank’s?” I asked.

  “Not according to what my customer told me.”

  Once again, what started out as a promising lead ended up hitting a roadblock.

  The disappointment was hard to keep from my face, but I didn’t let it overwhelm me. “Anything else?”

  “That’s not enough for you?” Shannon replied.

  “When you’re trying to solve a murder, you can’t ever have enough details.”

  Shannon threw her arms out. “I wish I had something more to tell you.”

  “There are a lot of things I have been wishing for.” I took a deep breath. “Now if only some of those wishes would actually come true.” I switched my focus back to my investigation. “Anyway, I should get back to the case.”

  “Good luck,” she said.

  “Thanks. I need it now more than ever.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  With my hunger no longer monopolizing all of my thoughts, I was able to focus on the investigation once again. There was only one suspect left that I had not questioned, so I had no doubt about where I was going to stop next.

  I paid Jake Williamson’s sleek glass office building a visit, with my sights set on talking with the highly successful commercial real estate developer. As far as office complexes went, the headquarters of Jake’s firm were pretty immaculate. Then again, that was not a difficult feat to accomplish, considering the backdrop. The building was right on the ocean—representing the most prime real estate in town.

  In my mind, there would be only major drawback about working at a place like that—getting work done would just be so difficult with such a stunning view right out the window. I knew that if I was employed there, my productivity would tank since I would probably spend the majority of the day staring at the ocean.

  As it was, I had only briefly entered the building, and my eyes were already fixed on the horizon. The sound of the crashing ocean waves outside was hypnotic.

  The redheaded receptionist at the front desk did not have that same problem. She addressed me the moment she looked up from her computer.

  “Can I help you?” the assistant asked.

  Her question pulled my head out of the clouds.

  Having been put on the spot, I scrambled to regain my focus. “Uh…Jake Williamson, please.”

  Even though it wasn’t the smoothest delivery on my part, the receptionist got my drift. Unfortunately, she gave me the last answer that I wanted to hear.

  “He’s not in at the moment.”

  In the corporate world, that was often code for “I’m running interference for my boss.” I had a number of friends who worked in offices who were charged with the task of screening incoming visitors. According to my friends, the sentence “he’s not in at the moment” had a number of possible meanings.

  The first was that the boss truly had stepped out. There was also the possibility that Jake was actually back in his office but wasn’t accepting visitors of any kind. The final option was that her boss was in the building but was only willing to speak to those people who he deemed worthy of his time. With Jake’s actual whereabouts in doubt, I needed to cut through to the truth.

  Ironically, the best way to do that was by lying to her. Unlike the other suspects, who worked in very public places or could be reached at home, I knew that getting a chance to speak to Jake would be difficult. He was enough of a big shot in town that I had no delusions about just waltzing into his office without an appointment and chatting him up.

  So before I arrived at the building, I had concocted a cover story for myself. I had stopped into the local office supply store and had bought a large manila envelope to use as a prop. That proved to be a wise purchase.

  I pulled the envelope out in front of the receptionist. “That’s a shame,” I said. “I’m with Right Away Messenger Service. I have a very spec
ial delivery for him.”

  She stared at the envelope. “Well, you can leave it with me.”

  I deepened my lie. “These are some very confidential documents. I’m afraid they have to be signed for by Jake in person. Are you sure he’s not here?”

  “Mr. Williamson is at lunch. He should be back around two.”

  “These documents are really time sensitive. Do you know where he went to lunch?” I asked.

  Thankfully, she bought my story.

  “Mr. Williamson has a standing table at Antonio’s,” she replied.

  I gave the receptionist a big smile and thanked her then headed out.

  ***

  Antonio’s Ristorante was only a few blocks away from Jake’s office. I darted over there, desperate to catch him before he returned to work. Not only was it better to question a suspect out in the open, but if he made it back to his office, I probably wouldn’t be able to fool the receptionist a second time around.

  When I arrived at Antonio’s, thankfully, Jake was still there. Imagine my surprise, though, when I saw that he wasn’t alone. Even more, he wasn’t just dining with any old acquaintance. In a fortuitous twist, I didn’t just happen to know the person he was eating with—she also happened to be a suspect. So who was this familiar face? None other than Melissa Wilcox, Andrew Stewart’s mistress.

  How fascinating. Now it made sense why Melissa had been wearing a cocktail dress when I talked to her earlier. I must have caught her just as she was getting ready to step out to meet with Jake. Seeing them together added a whole new wrinkle to the case.

  Initially, I was prepared to head into the restaurant and start a conversation with him. Those plans had changed. Hanging back and observing Jake and Melissa seemed like a much better course of action at the moment.

  The reason for this was simple. If I headed into the restaurant, the chances of Melissa spotting me were high. Not only would that blow my cover, but my previous encounter with Andrew’s mistress had not ended congenially.