A Berry Cunning Conman_A Laugh-Out-Loud Cozy Mystery Read online

“It’s possible,” Belinda said.

  Agatha laid her knitting needles to rest in her lap. “You said that he shared a lot with you about his life.”

  “He did. He was very open. Of course, the more he shared, the more I shared…” She looked chagrined. “It never once occurred to me that he might be priming the well to get information out of me.”

  “What did he tell you about his life?” I asked.

  “Hmmm,” Belinda said as her gaze shifted out over the rest of the café. She seemed to be collecting her thoughts. Then she refocused on the group. “He was raised by his mother. He was an only child, and she was a single mother. He didn’t get the chance to see her much because she worked two jobs for as far back as he could remember, and when he did see her, she tended to talk to him like an adult. He said that he supposed that was why he tended to prefer the company of older women.”

  I felt bad for Belinda in that moment. Morgan had purposely said things to build hope in Belinda that his interest in her could be more than casual. Even now, with Morgan exposed as the kind of person you wouldn’t want to know, I saw a brightness in her eyes and heard a wistful excitement in her voice as she spoke about him.

  “Morgan’s mother died soon after he graduated college,” Belinda said. “She’d been his only family, and at just twenty-three years old, he found himself all alone in the world.” She shook her head as if pondering the gravity of it. “After that, he worked for a hearing aid company. He’d been one of their best salesmen.”

  A hearing aid company… That was the type of business that would definitely cater to an older clientele.

  “When the company opened a brand new store in Lexington, the company offered him the chance to move down from Indiana to lead the sales team at the new store. That’s how he ended up in Kentucky. But after he got down here, the whole company went bankrupt. But he liked Kentucky and the people, so he decided to stay.”

  “How did he end up in Camden Falls?” I asked. Lexington wasn’t an overly large city, not like Chicago or New York, but it was much, much bigger than the sleepy little tourist town of Camden Falls.

  Belinda shrugged again. “He said he didn’t like the traffic in Lexington, that he preferred small town life.”

  “The traffic in Lexington can get awful,” Prudence said. “I won’t go anywhere near Lexington around the holidays. All the shoppers just swarm there.”

  “That’s just what I thought,” Belinda said. “It made perfect sense to me that he’d want to move here.”

  But I wondered why Morgan had chosen to go from specializing in hearing aids to working in a specialty shoe store.

  “Was Morgan a manager at the shoe store?” I asked Belinda.

  “No, I don’t think so. At least that’s not the impression I got. He waited on me like any sales clerk would. In fact, I don’t even think that he liked his manager.”

  “How come?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Belinda said. “He never said anything against the man. I didn’t see anything unprofessional happen while I was in the store, but the store didn’t feel like a happy place. It was all very, I don’t know… sterile. It felt a bit like a starched shirt.”

  “Do you know how long Morgan had been in Camden Falls?” I asked.

  “Hmmm, let’s see. I’m not sure he specifically said, but from the way he talked, I got the impression that it had been somewhere between six months and a year. He was still making friends and getting connected with people. He said that was one of the reasons he asked me out to dinner.” She looked pleased, but then her face fell as if suddenly remembering that he was now dead. Not only dead but murdered by somebody who presumably didn’t like him very much. “Well anyway,” she said, “I knew that something was up after Danielle Stokes called me up all excited. She’d been asked out by this handsome, much younger man…” Her fallen expression turned into a scowl. “It didn’t take much for me to put it together that Morgan had moved on from me to ask another older lady out.”

  “How old is Danielle?” I asked.

  “Sixty-nine.”

  “Does, um, she wear shoes from Sole Support?” I asked.

  “Yes, she does.” Belinda’s lips had thinned and she looked unimpressed. I guessed that it wasn’t fun to find out that the person you thought considered you special or unique hadn’t felt that way at all. I should know. Dan had taken me for granted in so many ways, ways I hadn’t realized until I’d pushed him out of my life.

  Nancy’s knitting needles clicked and clacked without missing a beat. “Me and George went to the Bird’s Nest for our anniversary, and I saw Edith Green there with Morgan. Of course, I didn’t know it was Morgan with her at the time. I’d thought she was out with some nephew I’d never met. I never dreamed she was out on a date with him.” She frowned. “But come to think of it, there were a lot of smiles between them and Edith was laughing like a school girl.” Her knitting needles stopped, and her eyes went wide. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! They were flirting with each other.”

  “How old is Edith?” I asked.

  “I never asked her, but I think she’s in her late fifties to sixties.”

  Sounded like Edith Green was younger than the other women Morgan had asked out, but there was still a significant age gap between him and her. And Mrs. Green was of retirement age like the other women. That meant there was a chance that Mrs. Green had retirement savings to live off of.

  “The Bird’s Nest?” Belinda said. “I would have liked to go there.”

  “Is it a nice restaurant?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Well, at least that’s what I’ve heard. It’s a little rich for my blood. I’ve heard you can’t get out of there for less than fifty dollars a plate.”

  Oh! I turned my attention back to Nancy. “Did you happen to notice who picked up the tab?”

  Nancy tsked. “Noooo, I’m sorry. We left before they did.”

  Agatha’s needles were hard at work again. “I’m not sure, but I think that he took Felicity to the Bird’s Nest, too.”

  Belinda threw up her hand, exasperated. “Well, now I just feel left out. My dinner cost less than sixteen dollars at the Roadhouse. If he was wanting to swindle me, the least he could have done was take me someplace fancier.”

  I smiled, glad to see that Belinda was keeping her good humor about Morgan testing out whether or not he wanted to try to take advantage of her.

  “Kylie, I want to know once and for all what Morgan’s game was,” she said. “Do you do deliveries? I want to order a dozen of your delicious cupcakes to be delivered to Mrs. Jameson. It’ll give you a chance to grill her on what went on between her and Morgan. And if you don’t find out what you need to know from her, I’ll do the same for Edith Green and Danielle Stokes.”

  “Uh, sure, yeah, I can do that,” I said. I’d never made deliveries before, but there was always a first time.

  “Didn’t take me to the Bird’s Nest…” Belinda continued to fume. She leaned over and talked to the floor. “I hope you’re nice and toasty down there, Morgan.” Then she turned her attention on me. “And sweetheart, dinner was delicious, but next time add a sauce for the chicken. It got a little dry.”

  I gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I hoped that I’d be able to get to the bottom of what Morgan was up to. Ms. Belinda Jackson was not a woman I wanted to disappoint!

  Chapter 12

  “What should we do next?” I asked as Joel, Zoey and I huddled together near the grill bar. Agatha’s knitting group, including Belinda, had left.

  It was late, and I was so tired that I felt shaky. Sam still had good energy, though, and he was doing a great job of taking care of any straggling customers. And I’d gotten no fewer than five texts and three phone calls from Dan. I’d ignored them all even though his last text said that he needed help. I felt a niggle of guilt, but I boxed it away, locked it, and shoved it into the same corner of my brain that contained such details as where I’d left my orthodontic retainers wh
en I was fourteen.

  I didn’t have the energy for Dan. Not now. Not ever again.

  I didn’t even have the energy to cook anything else for the rest of the night. Instead I’d put “loaded baked potato” up on the board with instruction for Sam to add cheese and bacon to one of the already baked potatoes if someone wanted more than pastries to eat. I didn’t have it in me to provide more than that. I knew that not offering a proper dinner for the late diners equaled a loss of revenue for the café, but it was the best that I could do.

  “The shoe store where Morgan worked probably has in-store surveillance equipment. I could tap into it,” Zoey said. “But any video that I’m able to access will take hours to comb through.”

  “I could come over,” I offered. “We could make a girls’ night of it.” It was late and I was exhausted, but time with Zoey always seemed to have an energizing effect. I was sure that watching people get murdered and almost getting murdered ourselves had nothing to do with it.

  Zoey looked me over from head to toe. “You’ll fall asleep.”

  “No, no…” I said as I covered my mouth and yawned. “Really, I’m fine.” I was so not fine, but I wanted to have a day where I did more than run myself ragged taking care of the café only to go to bed and then get up and do the exact same thing the next day.

  I had spent a lot of time with Zoey and Joel today, and it had been great, but it had not been relaxing. Falling asleep as we drove out into the middle of nowhere to discover that we’d walked into the center of an active crime scene didn’t rank very high on my fun-o-meter. But spending time with Zoey, relaxing over a glass of wine and getting to talk about how insanely handsome Joel was… well, that was a night I could stay up late for.

  The café’s door chimed. As one, Joel, Zoey and I turned to see who it was. In walked Brad, and he wasn’t smiling. Not at all. Not even his painted on uniform could distract me from the outrage that was written all over his face.

  “I heard what you guys did,” he growled as he reached us. “And you,” he pointed at me, “what do you think you’re doing running around with him?” He pointed at Joel.

  “Excuse me?” Cute or not, a representative of the law or not, Brad had just crossed a very thorn-covered and dangerous line. His pushiness had just gone from cute and endearing to excessive and unwelcome. If he didn’t play his cards right, it wasn’t going to be just his attitude that was unwelcome in my café.

  “Kylie,” he said as everything about him softened, “how many times does somebody gotta almost kill you before you start leaving this stuff alone? Leave it to me. A professional.” He smiled, self-deprecatingly. “Let me be the one who gets shot at. It’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

  He glanced at Joel and the good humor that had replaced his outrage was instantly replaced by outright anger. He looked as though he wanted to invite Joel to go out back with him so they could have a conversation with their fists. To Joel’s credit, he was the picture of affable and laid back. He had his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans, leaving him completely vulnerable to attack by Brad. He wasn’t interested in a fight, but his slow smile and twinkling eyes said he had no regrets about involving me in yet another murder mystery.

  “Kylie,” Brad said, pulling my attention back to him. “This stuff, it’s not a joke. People get hurt. People get killed. Good people. People who don’t have it coming. People like you, Kylie. I’ve had nightmares of being called into a crime scene only to find your dead face staring back at me.”

  He’s had dreams about me… He’s terrified of losing me…

  Every ounce of resentment I’d felt with Brad and his over-the-top bossy attitude drained away. Instead, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and tell him everything was okay.

  “I want to call in my raincheck for a date,” he said. “Tonight.”

  Oh! “I can’t,” I said, the words rushing out of my mouth before I’d had a chance to think about them. “I’ve got plans with Zoey.”

  “No she doesn’t,” Zoey said. “Not a one. Zilch. Zip. Her evening’s wide open.”

  This time it was Joel shooting the dirty looks, and he was directing them right at Zoey. She was impervious, though. He could have tried to stare her down all day. It wouldn’t have done a bit of good.

  “Let me make you dinner,” Brad said.

  “I already ate.” I really, really had to get control of my mouth! Why did the truth keep tumbling out with Brad when I was so deft at lying all the rest of the time?

  “You had dinner?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Did you have lunch?”

  “Uh…” I had to think. Had I had lunch? Nothing came to mind. My body took over its truth-telling escapades and my head shook itself no.

  “There, see. It wasn’t dinner you had, it was lunch. And that means I get to make you dinner. What do ya say?”

  Zoey had been right. I would have fallen asleep at her place. I was exhausted. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to tell Brad no. I didn’t want to.

  “I’d love that,” I finally said, and was surprised by how much I meant it.

  Chapter 13

  An hour and a half had passed by the time Brad’s knock sounded at my apartment door. Since leaving each other’s company in the café below I had taken a quick power nap, showered, dusted on some make-up, and had dried my hair with a brush in front of an open and hot oven.

  I really needed to do something about buying myself a few personal items. I was still using my once-pretty red princess coat as a bed cover, even after it had been set on fire. It was all I had…

  And sometimes all you have is enough, I reminded myself, as I smoothed my hands over my high-waisted, sleeveless emerald green dress.

  The only thing I’d walked away from my marriage with was a suitcase of beautiful clothes, clothes I hadn’t gotten the chance to wear while working in the café.

  This particular dress was one of my favorites. It was flattering without being overly ostentatious. With the right pair of shoes and jewelry, it was at home at a cocktail party, a boardroom, or spending the evening at a neighbor’s backyard barbecue. I’d done them all, and I’d done them in this dress.

  But going out on a date—or in, rather—that was a first. I had not dated in over eleven years. I was more nervous than that first morning I’d walked downstairs into the café to run it without having a clue as to how. But I got through that, and I knew that I’d get through this as well.

  Brad’s knuckles sounded again, and this time I opened the door. That’s when my mind went blank. I didn’t know what I’d expected. I’d always seen Brad in his tight, crisp uniform. I’d never even imagined him in anything else.

  “Wow, I underdressed,” Brad said. He was wearing faded denim jeans that had molded themselves into a perfect fit through what had to have been countless wears. His shirt was a simple, long-sleeve blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular forearms.

  Every little flex and movement he made shifted the landscape of his arm. It was mesmerizing. And okay, I had to admit, it was beautiful.

  “No, you’re perfect,” I said. Then I realized what I’d said, and my cheeks heated in what I knew had to be a deep red blush.

  “You’re pretty perfect too,” Brad chuckled as he leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The paper bag he cradled in his arm crinkled. I could see the stem of a bottle of wine peeking out and other produce I couldn’t yet name.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked, stepping out of his way to allow him to enter.

  I closed the door behind him and followed him to the kitchen. He knew his way around just fine. There was no telling how many times he’d been in the apartment prior to me moving in. I was a little fuzzy on the nature of his and my cousin Sarah’s relationship, but I knew he had a key to what had been her apartment, so they’d definitely been close.

  “Fresh pasta, shrimp linguini,” Brad said. He set the bag down on the kitchen’s huge center island and started pl
ucking out the contents. “Grab a seat on the counter over there. Take a load off. Let me show you how it’s done.” He winked.

  A shock of worry flashed through me as I wondered if I would have the pots and pans he would need, but then he pulled a big frying pan out of the bag as well. I guessed that it had been standing up on its side to fit in with all the rest.

  Doing as he’d suggested, I went to the counter facing him where he was working at the center island and tried to hop up. If it had just been me there, I would have hiked a leg up and rolled my way onto the counter. But I wasn’t alone, and I was in a dress.

  “Let me help you with that,” Brad said, suddenly near enough for his warm breath to tickle my neck. He turned me around, and then his strong hands were on my waist. “Alley-oop,” he said.

  Alley-oop wasn’t a term I’d heard before, but I took its meaning from his body language and jumped. A little hop was all it took to find myself sitting on the counter. Brad’s strong arms had done most the work, and I missed his touch when he stepped away and returned to his position as my personal chef for the evening.

  He went back to unpacking the grocery bag as I did my best to recover my senses. But then I frowned. “Something’s wrong with your shrimp,” I said. They were gray and looked a little sickly.

  Brad laughed. “They’re raw. They’ll pink up when I cook them.”

  Embarrassment, yet again, at how much I didn’t know about cooking in the face of everybody else’s seemingly effortless expertise.

  “How did I not know that?”

  “Okay, so you didn’t know that, but I bet you know something else in its place. Somethin’ I don’t know.”

  I thought a moment. “Hmmm, I guess so. I do know an awful lot about heating and cooling systems.” I kicked my purple pumps off and let them fall to the floor before crossing my legs at the ankle.

  “That was the business you and your ex ran, right?”

  I cringed, hating that the topic of my ex-husband had come up on my first date with Brad.