Coffee and Crime (Cup of Jo 0) Page 2

  “Are you carrying a nail file, Mrs. Blount?” Officer Moncavage asks.

  Victoria looks at me. “I didn’t kill him.”

  I don’t need to see the contents of her purse to know she has a metal nail file on her. Between that and the black coffee she ordered, she looks guilty. Add on the rumor that her husband was having an affair, and she had motive and means to kill him.

  “Mrs. Blount, you can empty your purse here, or I can take you down to the station to do it.” Officer Moncavage is all business, and it’s clear he thinks she’s the guilty party.

  She hands him her purse and bursts into tears.

  He opens it and rifles through the contents before pulling out a metal nail file. “I’ll need you to come with me, Mrs. Blount.”

  She turns and latches on to my arms. “Please, I didn’t do this. You have to tell him I didn’t do this. I hated Craig for cheating on me, but I would never kill him. Please, help me.”

  Officer Moncavage pulls her away from me, and she continues to cry out for my help.

  Chapter Three

  Maybe it’s because Victoria looked so distraught, or maybe it’s because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you thought loved you, but I wake up the next morning with the overwhelming need to help her. I’m just not really sure how.

  I gave Officer Moncavage four suspects to look into. While Victoria does make the most sense for the crime, it doesn’t mean she’s the guilty party. I have three other people to look into, so I start with the only one I sort of know. The guy who works at the Pretzel Palace. The mall is only partially open today. The police are keeping everyone away from the wing where the bathrooms are located. Luckily for Aunt Cindy, her coffee stand is in the middle of the mall, so she’s able to open for business. Since it’s my day off, I make sure Aunt Cindy doesn’t spot me when I pass by Coffee Break. I don’t want her to try to stop me from looking into this.

  Pretzel Palace has a line, so I get on it and wait my turn. The guy I’m looking for isn’t on the register, which means I have to ask for him without knowing his name when I get to the front of the line.

  “How can I help you today?” the young girl asks me.

  “I’m looking for one of your employees. He has dirty-blond hair and a goatee. Is he here somewhere?”

  “That’s Leonard. He’s in back. Hold on a second, and I’ll get him for you.” She disappears through a door behind her.

  I turn to the people in line behind me. “Sorry for the holdup.”

  A woman with her young son, who is stomping his feet and tugging on her arm, gives me a disapproving look. As if it’s my fault she can’t control her child. I highly doubt a pretzel is going to stop his meltdown anyway.

  The girl returns. “He’ll be right out. You can step aside if you’re not ordering anything.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her before moving toward the opposite end of the counter.

  About a minute later, Leonard walks out to meet me. “Are you the one asking for me?”

  “Yes, I am. Thank you for coming to talk to me.”

  “Hey, you’re the coffee lady, right? I bought coffee from you yesterday.”

  “Yes, that’s me. You can call me Jo.”

  “What can I do for you, Jo?” Leonard asks.

  I didn’t consider what I’d ask him. It’s not like I can say, “Did you happen to murder anyone in the men’s bathroom yesterday?” “Um, did you come directly here after getting coffee from Coffee Break yesterday morning?”

  He nods. “Why? Did I win a prize for being the millionth customer or something? Free coffee for a year would be awesome.” His face lights up.

  “Sorry, no. It’s nothing like that.” Aunt Cindy wouldn’t be happy in the least if I gave Leonard free coffee for a year.

  His face falls. “Oh. Well, what’s this about then?”

  “Actually, the police are looking into everyone who bought black coffee from me before the murder yesterday. If you came directly here and your coworkers can vouch for you, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m a suspect?” His eyebrows raise so much they practically meet his hairline.

  “Quite possibly, yes. You didn’t stop in the restroom with your coffee, did you?”

  His face turns pale. “I did. I spilled my coffee because I was in a hurry, so I went into the bathroom to get cleaned up before my shift. I was only in there for a minute or two, though.”

  He’s lucky Officer Moncavage isn’t questioning him. I bet he’d think Leonard tried to lie about going directly to work when he actually stopped in the bathroom. That also gives him the means to murder Mr. Blount. But did he have a sharp object on him to stab Mr. Blount with?

  “Leonard, do you carry any sharp objects on you? A pocketknife or anything?”

  “I had a wooden coffee stirrer in my pocket.”

  “Why did you need a coffee stirrer for black coffee?” I ask.

  “I have a bad habit of chewing on them.” He bobs one shoulder.

  “Do you still have it on you?” The police could easily test it for Mr. Blount’s DNA. There would be traces of blood on it if it was the murder weapon.

  “No. I threw it away.”

  “I have a feeling the police will want to know where you threw it out.”

  “I’m really a suspect?”

  “I’m not sure. Like I said, the police just asked me who ordered black coffee.”

  “Why? I know they found a coffee cup, but the dead guy was probably just drinking it himself.”

  I shake my head. “I never served him.”

  “Maybe someone bought it for him,” he says.

  That is an angle to consider. What if Victoria bought the coffee for her husband? She could have given it to him before he went inside the bathroom. But wouldn’t she have mentioned that? She seems eager to clear her name, so I’d think she’d tell the police everything she knows. Unless she thinks admitting she gave the coffee to her husband would make her look guiltier than she already does in Officer Moncavage’s eyes.

  “Did you see anyone else in the bathroom, Leonard?” I ask.

  “There was someone in one of the stalls, but I didn’t see who it was.”

  That could mean the killer was in the stall waiting for Mr. Blount to come into the bathroom.

  “Should I be worried?” Leonard asks me.

  “Not if you didn’t kill anyone,” I say.

  He holds up both hands. “I didn’t. I swear.”

  “Then if the police question you, just tell them the truth.”

  He nods and walks back through the employee entrance to Pretzel Palace.

  I don’t think Leonard had anything to do with Mr. Blount’s murder. The guy is only guilty of being clumsy and almost late for work. Since I don’t know if Victoria gave her husband the coffee she ordered from me, I can only follow the leads I have, which are the people who bought black coffee. Eduardo said the man with the briefcase was Jackson Derting, and he works in the law office across the street from the mall.

  That’s my next step. I need to talk to Mr. Derting and find out if he used the men’s restroom and then possibly sped out of the mall. It seems to me a lawyer would make a good killer since he’d know his way around the law. But did he even know Mr. Blount? I doubt he’d kill someone he’d never met before. So what’s the connection between them?

  I slip past Coffee Break, ducking into a group of college-age students heading to the movie theater so Aunt Cindy doesn’t see me. Then I leave the mall through the department store and walk around the parking lot to where my Accord is. The parking lot is still a mess since the exit near the bathrooms is blocked off, and there’s debris from the car crash at the intersection, so it takes me a while to pull out and get across the street to the law offices of Rosario and Derting. I find a parking spot near the door and walk inside.

  The woman at the receptionist desk looks up at me without any emotion on her face. “Can I help you?” Her voice is stern.

  “Yes, I’m here to see Jackson Derting.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t. Is that a problem?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Joanna Coffee.”

  She raises one eyebrow at my name, which is the most emotion I’ve seen from her since I stepped into the office.

  “Take a seat. I’ll tell Mr. Derting you’re here.” She motions to a row of four chairs lining the wall.

  I sit down and look around the office. The walls are a sickly green color circa the nineteen seventies, and it doesn’t look like anything’s been updated since. Even the pleather on my chair is a mustard yellow to match the style of that particular decade.

  The receptionist hangs up her phone and motions for me to follow her. I get up and let her lead me down a hallway to a door with Mr. Derting’s name on it. She knocks twice before opening the door. “Ms. Coffee, sir.” She turns on her heel and walks away without another word.

  “She’s pleasant,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  Mr. Derting gives me a small smile. “Giselle is an acquired taste. Please come in.”

  “Thank you.” I step inside, leaving the door open behind me, which catches Mr. Derting’s attention. I suppose most people who seek legal counsel want to speak only behind closed doors. “I’m here because I served you coffee Tuesday morning in the mall.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Oh, yes. I remember you.” He laces his hands on top of the desk. “What legal matter could possibly have to do with you serving coffee? Did someone threaten to sue you because they burned themselves on their drink?”

  “No, no one is suing me, but someone did get burned by my coffee. Were you still at the mall yesterday when the police arrived?”
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  “For the accident outside?” he asks. “Was it your coffee that caused it? I could see how someone might burn themselves, get distracted by that, and cause an accident.”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m talking about the murder.”

  That gets his attention. His head jerks back. “A murder? In the mall?”

  “Yes. In the men’s restroom.”

  “I see. Did you know the victim?”

  “No, but I’m wondering if you did.”

  “Me? What makes you think that?” He leans forward in his seat.

  “The man who was murdered was Craig Blount. His wife’s name is Victoria. Does either of those names ring a bell?”

  “Yes. I knew Craig Blount.”

  “You did?” I finally sink into the seat across from Jackson’s desk.

  “Yes, Craig was a client of mine.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why he hired you,” I say.

  Jackson frowns. “I’m afraid not. That’s private information.”

  Since he won’t tell me, maybe I can figure it out another way. Perhaps by guessing the correct answer and getting a reaction from him. “I know he was having an affair. Victoria told me as much.”

  “You know Victoria?” he asks.

  “Not well.”

  He nods, not giving me anything to work with. Why would Craig Blount need a lawyer if he was the one having an affair? That part doesn’t make sense, unless… “He was going to serve his wife with divorce papers, wasn’t he?”

  One side of Jackson’s mouth twitches. “Ms. Coffee, is it?”

  I nod.

  “I can’t tell you why Mr. Blount hired me, but I will tell you that he came to me yesterday to say he no longer needed my services.”

  Did he change his mind about divorcing his wife? Was he going to end the affair? It didn’t seem like Victoria had any idea. It’s possible she suspected he was going to divorce her and killed him to stop him from doing so. Maybe I’m trying to clear her name when she’s the real killer. But it only makes sense that the person who caused the accident in front of the mall was the person who fled after killing Craig Blount, and Victoria was still at the mall when the body was found.

  “Ms. Coffee?” Jackson says in a loud voice, and I realize he must have been trying to get my attention for a while.

  “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “Yes, well, I have an appointment with a client, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

  I hold up a finger. “One more question. Did you happen to use the men’s restroom before you left the mall?”

  He scoffs. “Absolutely not. I abhor public restrooms, and I have a private bathroom here, so there’s no reason for me to step foot inside the restroom in the mall.”

  I stand up. “Thank you. I appreciate you talking to me.” I see myself out.

  My initial impression of Jackson Derting is that he has a guarded personality. I guess I can’t blame him when I showed up out of the blue and started asking him questions about a murder I thought he could have committed. He knew Craig Blount, though. He also never indicated if he liked him or not. And the fact that Craig decided not to follow through with the divorce could have angered Jackson. Money or loss of potential money could definitely be a motive for murder.

  Chapter Four

  I’d love to talk to Victoria Blount to see if she knew her husband was contemplating divorce, but if I go to the station, Officer Moncavage will tell me to stay out of the investigation, and I don’t need him following me around like I did something wrong. Since I don’t know where to go next, I decide to return to the mall. I haven’t gotten near the crime scene. Maybe there’s a clue there that the police missed.

  I park near the bathrooms even though the area is roped off with police tape. I’m sure the doors are locked as well, but it’s most likely that the killer exited through these doors after leaving the bathroom. It’s the most direct route. And if they did speed out of the parking lot, there could be tire marks somewhere. Not that I have any idea how that would be helpful. Clearly, the killer left through the intersection. That doesn’t tell me who he is or where he went.

  I wish I knew what to look for, but I’m way out of my league here. I figured after dating a police detective for years, I might be good at solving mysteries, but this is harder than I thought it would be. Still, I’m more determined than ever to figure out who killed Mr. Blount. I move toward the doors, as close as I can get with the police tape blocking the way.

  “Stop right there, Ms. Coffee,” Officer Moncavage says from behind me.

  I turn to face him. “You’re back,” I say.

  “So are you. Why is that?”

  “I have to go back to work,” I lie. “I just finished my lunch break.” It would help if I had any clue what time it is.

  “I see. Well, these doors are locked and off-limits until further notice.”

  “I can tell. I didn’t even think about that when I parked. Force of habit I suppose.” I start toward the nearest entrance.

  “I’ll walk with you,” he says.

  “Is it dangerous for me to go inside? Should I be worried?”

  “We have several officers stationed inside the mall, but we do not believe anyone is in danger at this time.”

  “You think the murder was a crime of passion, don’t you? Committed by someone who knew Craig Blount personally?” I ask.

  Officer Moncavage smirks. “Are you a law school dropout or something?”

  “No. I happen to watch a lot of crime shows.” I leave it at that since it’s true, and I don’t feel like talking about my ex.

  “Of course. Everyone thinks they could be a cop these days.”

  “Am I right?” I ask, pausing right inside the doorway.

  “I can’t share any details of the case with you, Ms. Coffee.” He opens the door to the mall for me, and we both step inside.

  “Not even after I provided you with a list of suspects?”

  “Nope. Afraid not.”

  “Are you even looking into anyone else, or are you satisfied thinking Victoria murdered her husband?”

  “Once again, I’m not at liberty to discuss the case with you.”

  “Okay, well, how about I share what I know with you?”

  “I was under the impression you already had.”

  “I did at the time, yes.” I look down, not wanting to meet his gaze since I’m sure he won’t be happy that I’ve been investigating on my own.

  “How is it you’ve come across new information pertaining to this case?”

  “I spoke with Leonard from Pretzel Palace,” I say, not wanting to lie or withhold information.

  “You spoke with Leonard George about the murder?” he asks me.

  “You know his name. That means you talked to him, too. Then you know he was in the bathroom but didn’t see Craig Blount in there.”

  Officer Moncavage rakes a hand through his short hair. “What else?”

  “I talked to the lawyer, Jackson Derting. He was supposed to represent Craig Blount in his divorce, but Craig decided not to serve his wife the divorce papers after all.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Did you ask Victoria if she knew her husband was speaking with a divorce lawyer?”

  He just stares at me instead of answering.

  “Right. You can’t tell me. Okay, well, I haven’t been able to track down the last customer I served black coffee to because I have no idea who she is.”

  “Neither do I.”

  I’m surprised he admitted that to me so easily. “That’s why you’re back here, isn’t it? You’re trying to locate her, and this is the only place you know she’s been.”

  “Don’t you need to get to work, Ms. Coffee?”

  I tap my open palm against the side of my head. “So silly of me. I totally forgot it’s my day off. I must have lost track of the days. It’s Wednesday, right?”

  “You are a terrible actress, so clearly you aren’t working at a coffee stand to pay your way through acting classes.”

  Admittedly, I am a horrible actress. In my class play in third grade, my teacher made me be a tree because I couldn’t successfully pull off a single line. Truth be told, I was an awful tree, too. I sat down halfway through the play and fell asleep leaning against a cardboard prop. I almost knocked over half the set.