Danger, Deceit and Dark Chocolate Cake Page 9

  Beth and I got busy talking to everyone working at the Black Cat. In between chatting with the waitstaff, Beth and I called the six people whose numbers Owen had given us. All of them confirmed that Owen had been with them all day Sunday, and they’d all been busy hiking.

  By dinnertime, Beth and I had talked to almost every single person who worked at the Black Cat, including a couple of waitresses we hadn’t talked to previously, the kitchen staff, and the bartender. Unfortunately, we didn’t get much in terms of results, other than hoarse voices and a realization that we were both sick of jazz music.

  Vanessa hadn’t worked the evening shift, so most of the staff didn’t even know who she was. A few people told us they’d heard rumors that the ghost had poisoned a waitress and was maybe looking for its next victim. The general consensus was that nobody had any idea who might’ve wanted to hurt Vanessa. Nobody knew of any suspicious activity, and nobody could guess who Vanessa’s stalker might’ve been. As I’d seen this morning, breakfast time was quite busy, and there were a number of groups of office-going men eating and listening to music.

  “This has been a waste,” I grumbled after we’d talked to just about everyone. “I’m starving, but I also don’t want to stay in this place a minute longer. It would be nice to get outdoors.”

  “It’s dark now,” said Beth. “It’s not like you can go hang out at the beach.”

  I grumbled some more, and then Beth came up with a brilliant idea. “Let’s go see your mom and Aunt Kira. We don’t have to cook dinner, and we can catch up on local gossip.”

  A few minutes later, we found ourselves sitting at the dining room table at my mom’s house. The dining room was well-lit and pleasantly silent. The large wooden table seemed solid and reassuring, and the wall-hung prints were familiar and comforting. The place might not be as trendy as the Black Cat, but it was home.

  “You caught me on a good day,” Aunt Kira said. “I don’t have a date tonight. I’m trying out a new Internet dating site, and it’s going well. But tonight’s a break from all that.”

  “Which dating site?” Beth asked.

  “Beautiful People—the Santa Verona subsite.”

  Beth nodded. “It’s hard to meet people here. It’s all college kids and retirees.”

  “I’ve met some nice people through the site,” said Aunt Kira. “If you girls want, I can set up profiles for you.” Just then, my mom walked in with a bowl of steaming pasta. “I keep telling your mom to get a profile, but she won’t.”

  My mother put the bowl down in the center of the table and gave Aunt Kira a stern look. “Is this that Beautiful People thing again? I’ve already told you, I’m not ready.”

  “It’s been years,” said Aunt Kira. “You need to move on.”

  “No,” said my mom as we all helped ourselves to salad and sourdough bread and pasta. “I don’t.”

  Aunt Kira shot me a look that said talk to her. But what would I say? It had been twelve years since Dad had passed away, and I thought about him all the time. I’m sure my mom felt the same way.

  “What if you live till you’re a hundred?” Aunt Kira said. “You need someone to spend your days with.”

  I looked at my mom, who was staring at the bread she was busy buttering. Aunt Kira had a point. I didn’t want my mom to be alone forever. On the other hand, I couldn’t really muster up any enthusiasm for her dating someone else.

  My mother looked at me and said, “So. I hear you’re dating Ethan again.”

  I narrowed my eyes and glanced at Aunt Kira. I knew Mom was just trying to change the subject, but I couldn’t help falling for the bait. “I told you, I’m not dating him.”

  “It looked like a date to me,” said Aunt Kira. “I know a date when I see one.”

  “We’re working on a case.”

  “Sure,” said Aunt Kira. “But you’re also dating.”

  I searched around for something to say. We’d gone out for dinner three times so far, which made it sound like we were dating. But I wasn’t really sure what was going on.

  “Why are you doing this again?” said my mom softly. “If you move, you’ll just hurt the poor boy again.”

  “I might not move,” I argued. “And we’re both adults.”

  “Why not make a fresh start?” said Aunt Kira. “There are lots of nice young men if you’ll just look around.”

  “I’m sure there are,” I said. But I didn’t want lots of nice young men. Surprisingly enough, I wanted Ethan. I could admit that to myself now. Even though he might not really want me.

  Beth said, “We found this incredible lead today. A waitress at the restaurant, Sally Smith, is on the run from her abusive husband.”

  I shot Beth a grateful look, and in response, she continued talking about Sally, drawing my mom and Aunt Kira into the intrigue. Could Sally have done something to Vanessa? Or maybe her husband had tried to poison Sally’s only new friend?

  The conversation shifted away from Ethan and onto our investigation, and I let my thoughts drift as I chewed my pasta. Sally was trying to make a fresh start; I was doing the opposite. I was picking things up where I’d left off. Maybe things would be different between Ethan and me this time.

  I heard Aunt Kira saying, “Insurance fraud is more common than you think,” and I knew the topic had shifted to Owen. I’d wanted to believe Owen when he’d said he had nothing to do with the poisoning, but the threat of bankruptcy might have caused him to do something out of character. I remembered him saying that Howard Rocheford had offered to buy the Black Cat, and I knew that tomorrow, we’d look into Owen’s claims. Beth and I had met Howard on a previous investigation, and I knew that Howard would be happy to spare a few minutes for us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Beth and I had an appointment to see Howard Rocheford just before lunch. We’d tried to make an appointment with the other businessman Owen had mentioned as being interested in buying the Black Cat—Matthew Norris—but as expected, Mr. Norris was too busy to see us. At least Howard remembered us from our previous case and was happy to spare some time to answer our questions.

  Beth and I decided to pop into the Black Cat and have another look around while we waited for the appointment, and see if we could learn anything new.

  We turned while Neve was busy singing onstage. Today, she was incorporating moody glances and arm motions to supplement her singing, and while I thought it all seemed rather pretentious, the audience loved it. She was wearing a tight pink dress and had her hair down in loose waves. I had to admit, she looked and sounded like a professional, and the large crowd of breakfasters seemed to like the performance.

  We walked through the dimly lit seating area over to the bar and said hello to Melissa.

  “Where’s the rest of your staff today?” asked Beth. “You seem a little understaffed for this big crowd.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “They’re talking to Owen in the kitchen. Everyone’s in a panic.”

  My pulse quickened. “Why are they panicking?”

  Melissa smiled wryly, as though she couldn’t believe what she was about to tell us. “Someone left a rose on the doorstep of every girl who works here. I don’t know about the evening and night shift girls yet, but it seems like all the morning shift girls got one.”

  I looked at her, finding the story almost impossible to believe. “All the girls got a rose? Am I hearing right?”

  “You’d think it was a taping of The Bachelor,” said Melissa, rolling her eyes again. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “Why would someone leave all the girls a rose? A stalker stalking one person, I can understand. But this?” I shook my head. “It’s nuts.”

  Melissa shrugged. “There’s a rumor that the ghost did it.”

  Beth laughed, and then she stopped when she saw that Melissa was serious. She said, “People really believe a ghost left them a rose in the middle of the night? Where do ghosts even get roses?”

  Melissa raised her eyebrows and smooshed her lips together, a
s though she couldn’t believe what was going on. “See for yourself,” she said. “Most everyone’s in the kitchen.”

  Beth and I hurried over to the kitchen.

  The small room was packed with waitresses, and a far cry from the sophisticated seating area outside. The kitchen was brightly lit, crowded and loud with the voices of unhappy waitresses.

  “All of us!” someone was saying. “We’re all going to get killed!”

  “She poisoned Vanessa,” said someone else. “And now she’s going to poison me.”

  “Calm down, ladies,” Owen said, waving his hands to make his point. “I need you to listen.” Silence fell slowly, and when the only noise left in the room was a quiet murmuring, and the chop-chop-chop noise of Xenia chopping up chives, Owen said, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Number one, ghosts don’t exist.” A loud grumbling broke out, and Owen raised his voice to be heard. “Number two, even if they do exist, there’s none here. I had someone look into it—nobody died in this building. We don’t have ghosts. Not a single ghost.”

  Owen’s glance caught mine, and I winced in sympathy. He looked thoroughly frustrated.

  “Then how do you explain the roses?” said someone.

  “It’s probably a prank,” said Owen. “I’ll find out who did this. Calm down, nobody’s going to get hurt. I’ll make sure of it. You’re all safe working here.”

  He spoke with sincerity, and his words seemed to have their desired effect. A few of the waitresses left the kitchen, some of them talking to each other in low, hushed tones. A few of the girls lingered, and I noticed that Sally was one of them. She looked pale, as though she couldn’t believe that bad luck had followed her to Santa Verona.

  A waitress—I think her name was Phoebe—went to Owen to talk to him, and I waited till she was done.

  I overheard Owen explaining to her that, yes, he was sure nobody had died in this building, absolutely sure, and yes, he could hang some garlic in the kitchen just in case.

  When Phoebe left, Owen turned to me and did an exasperated palms-up. “This is my day. This is the thing I have to deal with, first thing.”

  The waitresses had all streamed out of the kitchen by now, and it was just Beth, Owen, Xenia, the kitchen hands, and me.

  Beth said, “Xenia. Nobody gave you a rose?”

  The woman stopped chopping and looked up at us. “I guess not,” she said. “I suppose I haven’t been chosen this time.”

  Her words were sarcastic, but I caught a hint of relief in her tone.

  “And none of you guys?” said Beth, looking at the kitchen hands, who were all men in their early twenties.

  They shook their heads no.

  “I guess someone was targeting the women,” I said softly. “Just the waitresses.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Owen, sounding annoyed. “It just makes my life difficult.”

  I looked at him, surprised. “How does it make your life difficult? Other than the early-morning pep talks.”

  Owen emitted a low, exasperated grunt. “Ever since I opened this place, it’s ghost this, ghost that. I don’t know what the deal is with these ghost rumors. All the girls keep wanting to quit. And now these roses…”

  His voice trailed off, and I said, “What do you know about these roses?”

  “Nothing,” said Owen. “I was going to have breakfast at the Black Cat, but Melissa called me and said all the girls were panicking because they’d gotten red roses last night.”

  “How do they know it was at night?”

  “Well, first thing this morning. They got up and found the roses.”

  Beth and I exchanged a glance. It sounded a lot like Vanessa’s stalker’s MO, but it was a bit silly for a stalker to think he could stalk a dozen-odd waitresses.

  “So,” I said slowly, “each girl found one red rose on her doorstep.”

  “That’s what I’m hearing,” said Owen.

  “No note? Nothing else?”

  “Nothing else,” said Owen. “I’ll admit it’s spooky.”

  “All these roses,” I said slowly. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

  “Everyone’s spooked,” said Owen. “Maybe I’ve calmed them down for now, but there’ll be something else—another set of roses, or maybe orchids this time—and half my staff’s going to quit on me all at once. I can’t deal with this.” He looked at me, disheartened, and then his eyes sparked with an idea. “You’re an investigator! Why don’t I hire you to find out whoever’s sent everyone a rose?”

  “That sounds like a plan,” I said slowly, “But I’ve already been hired to look into Vanessa’s poisoning. I’m sure the rose-sender will come up in the investigation.”

  “Hmm.” Owen rubbed his chin. “I suppose you’re right. Either way, it’s a good thing Vanessa’s boyfriend hired you. I need to get to the bottom of all this. I can’t just have my staff be terrorized by this.”

  “We’ll look into it,” I promised him as Beth and I headed out to talk to Sally. Perhaps she knew something more than the others about these mysterious roses.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I thought this place was safe,” said Sally softly. “I can’t believe what’s happening.”

  Beth and I watched her closely. She had five minutes before she needed to go over to a table of men who’d just come in, and take their orders. The place was bustling, and everyone went about their work with smiles plastered on their faces. But their sense of unease was palpable.

  “What happened, exactly?” I said.

  “I’m not sure.” Sally shook her head. “I live in a small apartment building, up north. I got up this morning, and when I opened the door to leave for work, I found the rose. Long-stemmed, red.”

  “Expensive,” said Beth. “Some florist’s done good business.”

  Sally nodded. “Well. I didn’t really think too much of it. I mean, of course I thought of Vanessa. But I thought it was a fluke. A onetime thing. Then I came into work, and everyone was talking about the roses they’d gotten.”

  Onstage, Neve finished a song and received a smattering of applause. I paused to watch as she smiled gracefully and then began another song.

  “Did the rose have a note with it?”

  Sally shook her head. “No, just the rose.”

  I frowned. “It’s not even that threatening, other than the fact that everyone—well, all the waitresses, at least—got one. That must’ve taken some time, dropping off the roses. How’d the guy even get everyone’s addresses?”

  “You know,” said Beth, “all this time, we assumed that Vanessa had a stalker, who’d followed her home. But to know everyone’s address…”

  Sally shuddered. “I hate what’s going on. Maybe I should move again.”

  “Don’t move,” I said quickly. Of course, I couldn’t rule out the fact that she might be involved somehow, and I needed her to be easily accessible for any more questions. But I also thought that perhaps Owen was right—perhaps the roses weren’t as sinister as all the recipients thought they were. “Maybe it’s just a big prank.”

  “Besides,” said Beth, “if you’re looking to rebuild your life, constantly moving around won’t help. Bad things happen everywhere.”

  Sally sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’m just going to have to be careful.”

  “Who could have access to everyone’s address?” I asked.

  “Let me see,” said Sally. “I guess Melissa has a big file on everyone. Their addresses, phone numbers, all those details. Owen probably has access. I think she keeps a printout of it at the bar, so she can look up someone quickly if she needs to.”

  I groaned. “So technically, anyone could swipe that copy and find all the information.”

  “It would probably be someone who works here,” said Sally. “I can’t imagine a customer getting hold of it.”

  “If Vanessa’s stalker is a regular,” said Beth, “he probably knows where things are kept. He might have snuck behind the bar when Meliss
a took a break, or went over to talk to someone. The bartender wasn’t here yesterday, so if Melissa stepped away, the bar would have been unattended.”

  “I guess that could’ve happened,” said Sally doubtfully.

  “Did you see anything like that happen?” I asked.

  Sally shook her head. “No. I noticed Melissa stepped away a couple of times to make phone calls, but I didn’t notice any customers going behind the bar. But I was busy, so maybe I just didn’t notice. Whoever got the printout was sneaky.”

  I nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t want you to be too spooked about this, though. You don’t think it might be your husband, playing a cruel prank, do you?”

  Sally shook her head. “Subtlety isn’t William’s forte. He hasn’t found me yet, I’m sure of it.”

  I hoped, for her sake, that she was right. Beth and I smiled and nodded brightly, told her not to worry, and then turned to each other.

  “This is serious,” said Beth as soon as Sally was out of earshot.

  “I know,” I said. “And Owen seems really worried. Maybe he’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “We can’t rule him out until we talk to Howard Rocheford,” Beth reminded me. “The insurance payout would’ve been a big incentive to Owen.”

  “To kill Vanessa and set this place on fire. But not to play a silly prank on everyone who works here.”

  “This is odd,” Beth agreed. “I guess we just have to talk to everyone who got a rose. Maybe one of the waitresses noticed something strange. Something that’ll lead us to this rose-sender.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Beth and I spent a few hours talking to everyone who was working at the Black Cat. Every female employee had received a rose, except for Xenia.

  “I guess this is like one of those reality TV shows,” Melissa joked when we talked to her. “We’ve each been chosen for the next round.”

  I smiled wryly. “I’m not sure how much fun the next round will be. Any idea how this guy got everyone’s address?”