Ristretto and Revenge (Cup of Jo 9) Read online

  “This has to be bad for the hotel’s business,” Cam says. “A murder before you even construct the building has to be a bad sign.”

  “It’s definitely not good,” Quentin says. He puts his hands on his hips as he studies the concrete.

  I bend down to see the blood splatter closer. “This was where the victim’s head was, right?” There’s more blood, but I’m guessing if the carotid artery was severed it would have caused more blood splatter, but if that was the final wound, maybe that’s not the case. I’m almost afraid to ask Quentin if he knows.

  “What are you thinking?” Quentin asks after nodding.

  “Well, there’s more blood here. I initially thought it was from the neck wound, but I could be wrong since he was stabbed in both the stomach and heart first.”

  “If the heart wasn’t pumping blood, there would be less blood to spurt from the carotid artery,” Quentin says.

  Cam looks green.

  Why is there so much blood then? Maybe I’m wrong about the order of the stabbings. “Will the medical examiner be able to tell where Simon Porter was stabbed first, second, and third?”

  “I’m sure they’ll be able to give us a good idea after they examine the body.” Quentin drops his arms to his sides. “I’m not sure I can get you in there to see the medical examiner, though.”

  I’d rather not go. I don’t want to see the body if I can help it. “You can relay the information to me. I’d prefer it that way.”

  Quentin bobs his head.

  “So all they’ve managed to do on this hotel is lay the foundation?” Cam asks, looking around.

  “Yeah, the project is still very new.”

  “And what does your list of suspects look like?” I ask, wondering if he even has one yet.

  “Well, we’re going to look into everyone who has access to this job site.”

  “Isn’t that anyone?” I ask. The place isn’t locked by any means. There’s not even a fence around it. Anyone could walk onto the job site.

  “I know it makes it more complicated, but I was actually thinking about employees of the construction company. Maybe one of them had an issue with Simon Porter.”

  “See if he knew any of them outside of work,” I say. “I’m willing to bet this was personal and not necessarily related to the job itself.”

  “I’m not ruling out anyone yet. Your theory about this being personal makes sense because it allows the killer to come into close contact with the victim, but that doesn’t mean it’s what actually happened.” Quentin looks around at the machinery and tools. “If someone was here and pretended to be hurt to get Simon Porter to approach them, they could have easily stabbed Porter when he went to help them.”

  Okay, that does seem plausible. I nod. “If you can get a list of employees, I can have Mo and Wes check them out.” Mo and Wes are both whizzes with computers. I turn to them often when I need information on suspects in Quentin’s cases.

  Quentin looks around some more. “Are you picking up on anything else?”

  I’m supposed to be finding things he missed, but there isn’t much to go on. The floor is concrete, which means no footprints since the killer wasn’t careless enough to step in blood and track it across the floor. I walk around, inspecting the ground for other things. A strand of human hair would be great because it’s DNA. “Just once, I’d love it if the killer would drop their wallet at the crime scene, complete with their license.”

  Quentin chuckles. “Yeah, you and me both.”

  Nothing on the job site looks like it was used as the murder weapon, which means this person either took it with them or brought their own knife. “Are any tools missing? Has the construction company done inventory yet?”

  “No, not yet. They haven’t been allowed in here.”

  “You should have them go through everything. It will tell us if Simon Porter was killed with one of their tools or if the killer brought the weapon with them. That might also give us an idea of whether or not this was premeditated.”

  Quentin looks upset by the suggestion.

  “What?” I ask.

  He lowers his gaze and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. Just that I should have thought to do that.”

  “If you weren’t going through so much right now, I’m sure you would have.”

  Quentin clears his throat. “I’ll get a list of employees for Merkel Construction and the security company where Simon works. In the meantime, maybe we should go talk to Simon’s wife, Lisa Porter.”

  “Great idea,” I say, hoping I don’t sound patronizing. I’m trying to throw Quentin a bone here because I know he’s feeling awful about his current state. He’s even harder to be around when he’s sulking, so I want to avoid that at all costs, but I’m not sure I’m pulling off my excitement for his suggestion. I mean, the spouse is usually the first person questioned in murder cases, so it’s not like his idea is original at all.

  Quentin eyes me, and I know he’s on to what I’m doing. “I’ll text you the address. We’ll meet there.” He gestures for us to leave the crime scene and head back to our car.

  Once we’re on the road, Cam says, “It’s like he’s broken or something.”

  “I think he is.” Quentin doesn’t like not being in control. He wants to be able to dictate how everything in his life goes, but he has no control over his son’s fate.

  Lisa Porter lives in a cute little neighborhood. The road loops around at the end, and there’s a basketball hoop set up on the bend for the neighborhood kids. Most of the yards are fenced in and well-kept. Lisa’s house is white with green shutters. It’s almost identical to the house on the right of it. The only difference being the house on the right has gray shutters instead of green. There’s a gray SUV parked in the driveway, so I’m assuming she’s home. Of course, it would look very suspicious if she went to work on the day her husband was murdered.

  Cam pulls into the driveway and parks. The curtain in the front window moves, and a tiny dog appears. It barks at us as we approach the front door. A woman opens the door before we can even ring the bell.

  “If you’re reporters, I have no comment.”

  “Are you Lisa Porter?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “We aren’t reporters,” I say. “I’m Joanna Coffee, and this is Camden Turner. We own Cup of Jo on Main Street.”

  Lisa furrows her brow. “Then why are you here?”

  “We’d like to talk to you about your husband.”

  “You mean about my soon-to-be ex-husband. Or at least he would have been. I suppose he’s my late husband now.”

  “You were getting divorced?” I ask. If things weren’t good between Lisa and Simon, it could mean she had motive to kill him. And killing him before the divorce would likely mean she’d get all his money.

  “It’s not like it’s a secret. We were almost finished with the negotiations. Feel free to talk to my lawyer,” she says, most likely knowing a lawyer wouldn’t divulge any information to us since we aren’t police officers. Speaking of, where is Quentin? I turn and look back at the road.

  “Are you looking for something?” Lisa asks me.

  “More like someone,” I say. “The lead detective on the case is meeting us here.”

  “I’m still not sure why you’re asking about Simon. You own a coffee shop. What interest could you possibly have in Simon’s murder?”

  “We sort of consult with the BFPD on cases like this.”

  The sound of tires on gravel alerts us to Quentin’s patrol car pulling up in front of the house. When he gets out, he looks upset. Did the hospital call with bad news? Or did Samantha call and stress him out about something?

  “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Quentin says. “Mrs. Porter, I’m Detective Perry. I’m investigating your husband’s murder. May we come inside and talk?”

  Lisa finally steps aside to let us into the house. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Simon and I have been separated for four months now. He doesn’t even live here anymore. I don’t know anything about his comings and goings. To be honest, I was surprised I was on his contact list.” She brings us into the living room. “I’m afraid I just finished the pot of coffee.”

  More like she’s telling us she doesn’t want this questioning to take too long. “That’s okay. We’d like to ask you a few questions, and then we’ll get out of your hair,” I say.

  She gestures for us to sit on the couch, and she sits in the oversized chair.

  “When was the last time you heard from your husband?” Quentin asks as he sits down.

  “I saw him last Friday. We met with our lawyers to try to get the divorced finalized.”

  “Was your separation amicable?” I ask.

  She cocks her head at me. “Are you really asking if I wanted Simon dead?”

  Okay, she saw right through me there. “I imagine divorces can be quite…” I struggle to find a word that won’t set her off more.

  “Most of what Simon and I fought over was money. His company went without work for months. Apparently, the owners were married, and when they divorced, the company was shut down temporarily. I was supporting us. He sat around this house doing nothing but eating all the food in the fridge. He didn’t even try to get a part-time job until work picked back up. No, he cost us more money by eating like a pig.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

  “When was that?” Quentin asks, his notepad and pen out as he jots everything down.

  “Six or seven months ago. I’m pretty sure this hotel was the company’s first job back.”

  “So he was out of work for some time,” Cam says.

  “Yeah, but I only lasted about three months. I couldn’t take how lazy he’d become. I told him to get another job or get out.” She scoffs. “He l
eft.”

  “Were you surprised by that?” Quentin asks, completely missing Lisa’s body language, which is making it clear she didn’t expect that reaction from her husband.

  Lisa uncrosses her arms and laces her fingers together in her lap. “You know, Simon managed to clear out the fridge, but he wasn’t gaining any weight.”

  “I fail to see how that answers my question,” Quentin says, not realizing where this is going, but I do.

  “You think someone was helping him eat the food,” I say.

  Lisa nods. “It’s the only plausible explanation.”

  “Do you think he was having an affair?” I try to keep my tone gentle and sympathetic.

  “I’m not sure what woman would have an affair with an out-of-work, lazy…” She doesn’t finish her statement.

  “Did you ever ask him about it?” I’d think she might get more in the divorce if she got Simon to admit to cheating on her.

  “Not outright, no.” She looks down at her lap, and that’s when I notice she isn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  “You didn’t want to know for sure,” I say.

  “Simon and I have been through a lot over the years. I’m not sure how he could throw all that away, but he changed.”

  “How so?” Cam asks.

  “It was little things at first. He forgot our anniversary. He said he didn’t have money to buy me flowers or anything because he was out of work, but I know he forgot altogether.

  “Did you get him a gift?” Quentin asks.

  “I brought home dinner from his favorite restaurant, and he had the audacity to yell at me for spending money we didn’t have. But I was the one working full-time to pay our bills. And I was trying to do something nice.” She bobs one shoulder. “I thought maybe he felt guilty for not getting me a gift, so I shrugged it off.”

  “When did you realize it might be something more?” I ask.

  “I’d call him, expecting him to be home since he wasn’t looking for another job, and he’d be out. He claimed he couldn’t sit in the house all day and went for drives to clear his head. I believed him for a while. But one day, when I was doing laundry, I saw what looked like makeup on the sleeve of one of his shirts. It didn’t match any makeup I wear.”

  She doesn’t wear much at all. I don’t think she has any foundation or blush on right now. Really, she only has some eye shadow.

  “But you didn’t question him about it?” Quentin asks.

  “I felt like an idiot,” Lisa says. “I realized that’s where all our food was going. He was probably meeting her and bringing meals since he couldn’t afford to take her out. When Simon and I first started dating, we’d go on picnics a lot. The thought of him doing the same with another woman…” She shakes her head. “That was the final straw for me. I told Simon I wanted a divorce.”

  I have a feeling I know where this is going. “He didn’t put up a fight, did he?”

  She surprises me by smiling. “Not at all. He even told me I could stay in the house until we figured things out with the divorce lawyers. That’s when I knew.”

  “You knew he was having an affair because he had somewhere else to live,” I say.

  She bobs her head.

  “Do you know where he was living during your separation?” Quentin asks. “This is still listed as his home address.”

  “His mail still comes here as well. He came by once a week to get it.”

  “Then you don’t know where he was living,” I say.

  “No, I didn’t want to know.”

  “Why is that?” Quentin asks, and I can tell he’s thinking she feared she’d retaliate in some way. Saying so could throw more suspicion in her direction.

  Lisa stands up. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to figure out if I killed him because I was angry he cheated on me and ruined our marriage. I get it. Now that he’s dead, everything he had will be mine. Except if you look into his accounts, you’ll see he didn’t have much. The money in our bank account is mine.”

  “But you get to keep this house now,” Quentin says.

  Lisa scoffs. “Well, isn’t that just great? To be honest, I would almost rather have killed him. Then, at least, I’d have the satisfaction of knowing I got even in the end. Sorry that’s not the confession you were looking for, but that’s all I’ve got. I’m glad my husband is dead. If you ask me, he got what he deserved.”

  Chapter Three

  Cam and I head back to Cup of Jo after leaving Lisa Porter’s house. I don’t think Lisa killed her husband. I do believe she wishes she had, though.

  Mo and Wes are seated at a corner table, and Mo waves us over.

  “I need to check the display cases and see what needs to be refilled,” Cam says. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  I nod before walking over to take a seat with Mo and Wes. “Hey.”

  “We came to have lunch with you and Cam, but Jamar said Quentin had you working a case with him.”

  I get them both up to speed.

  Mo stifles a laugh behind her coffee cup. “I wish I’d seen Quentin’s face when the wife said she wished she’d killed her husband. Did he look at you?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’ve never wanted to kill Quentin for cheating on me.” I bob one shoulder. “Hurt him, sure, but never kill him.” That reminds me of how Quentin looked with he arrived at Lisa Porter’s house. I wonder what happened. I know I shouldn’t get involved in his personal life. I’ve tried so hard to stay out of it, but this is different. A life is on the line.

  “You have that look, Jo.” Mo squints disapprovingly at me. “Must you act so saintly and make me look like the evil sister all the time. Just once, I want you to stop putting other people’s feelings above your own. I mean, think about it. Wouldn’t it have felt great to slap Quentin?”

  “Totally. But I think too much time has passed for that.”

  “Nah. It’s never too late.” She finishes the rest of her coffee as Cam joins us, carrying a tray with four pieces of strawberry cheesecake.

  “Hey, anyone need a refill?” he asks.

  “I’ll go get them,” Wes says, standing up and patting Cam’s shoulder.

  Mo grabs a piece of cheesecake and digs in. “Best lunch ever,” she says with her mouth full.

  “I think I like it better when Wes is with us. You don’t show me your food while you’re chewing.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  The door to Cup of Jo opens, and Quentin walks in. He looks around and heads toward our table once he spots me.

  “Hey.”

  “Where have you been?” I ask.

  “I had to run home.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. He clearly doesn’t want to say anything more on the topic. “What did you think about Lisa Porter?”

  “I don’t think she killed Simon.”

  “Why?” Mo asks. “Is it because the killer only stabbed him three times?”

  “Only?” Quentin asks.

  “Yeah, if someone cheated on me like that, I’d stab him a lot more than three times, and I’d choose different body parts to stab as well.” She smiles.

  “Then you don’t think we’re looking for a lover here?” he asks.

  “I wouldn’t rule out the mistress,” I say.

  “What reason would she have for wanting him dead, though?” Mo asks.

  “I’m not sure yet. I’d like to talk to her, though.”

  “Same. In the meantime, I’m going back to the station to get the names of the other employees at Merkel Construction and Vitulli Security. I’ll send you the list once I have it.”

  “Oh goodie. Why do I have a feeling I’m about to be brought onto this case as well?” Mo asks.

  Quentin clears his throat. “I should get going.”

  “Need a coffee first?” I ask.

  “No, I’m in a hurry.” He dips his head at us before walking out.

  “What do you think that was about?” Mo asks as Wes returns with our drinks.

  “I see I missed our favorite detective,” Wes says with a smirk.

  “He’s really stressed out right now. I think he got a bad phone call on the way to Lisa Porter’s house. He looked upset when he got there, and he was late to meet us.”