Chapter 18

“But they used to be good friends, right?” I said. “What happened between them?”

He lifted a hand loosely, palm up. “They had a falling out, but my dad won’t tell me or my mom what happened.”

Boy, could I relate to that. The falling out between Grandpop and my uncle demonstrated how secrets wedged themselves between family members. If Honey knew the basis of the argument, she kept mum as well. 

“You’ve never heard anything around town?” Sister Alice asked. 

He shook his head. “Nope. But it’s not like anyone would talk to me about it since I’m his son.” He looked at the counter, then back at us. “What’s this about, anyway? I mean, I know Laskin is dead, but what’s that got to do with my dad?”

I hesitated, pondering whether I should say anything and then figured, what the heck? It wasn’t like we were getting any information as it was. “We’re looking for Ivan’s killer and nailing down suspects so—”

“Wait.” He sat up straight in his chair. Aspen looked at Roman and cocked his head. “Is my dad a suspect?”

“I’m just looking at anyone who could have had motive and opportunity. The police are looking at me and my staff, and we didn’t do it.”

He shook his head vigorously. “Uh-uh. Not my dad. He was home. I know because him and my mom argued in their room all evening.”

“All evening? That must have been some argument.”

“It was. My mom finally stormed out.” He glanced out the window briefly, then scratched Aspen’s head. “They didn’t work it out until the next day.”

“Do you know what it was about?”

“Uh-uh. I put on my headphones and tuned ’em out.”

“But you knew your mom left.”

“When I went to the can, I heard the door slam, and mom’s car backed out of the driveway. Then I put my headphones back on.”

I smiled when he reached down to touch the top of Aspen’s head again. Pet therapy was the best. “So, theoretically, your dad could have left and then gone back home without you knowing about it.”

“I don’t see how. I came out of my room twice during argument intermissions, once for a can of Dr. Pepper and once for a bag of Cheetos and ice cream.” 

Sounds like a substance-induced binge. Even though it had been years ago, I remembered those binges all too well. Or it could have been an emotionally driven binge if his parents were arguing.

“Sorry, Roman, could you repeat that? My mind took a quick trip.”

“The first time I left my room, my dad was in the bathroom, and the second time he was in his pajamas and reading something on his computer.”

“Do you know what time that was, Roman?” Sister Alice asked.

He looked at her. “You can’t possibly think my dad had anything to do with this. He’s a deacon at the church.”

I said, “We’re not saying your dad had anything to do with Ivan’s murder, Roman. We’re trying to rule out whoever we can and leave the last man standing holding the weapon, so to speak.”

“Well, you can rule out my dad,” he said with brave confidence. “Between hearing him and seeing him both times, I know he was home the whole evening.”

“And what time did you say you saw him?” I said. “So that we can rule him out a hundred percent.”

“The first time was about eight and the second at nine or nine-thirty.”

After Roman left the table, I whispered to Sister Alice, “What do you think?”

She took a drink of coffee and stood. “I think we should leave and talk about this outside instead of under Roman’s nose.” She nodded toward the door, and I followed. 

I took my cup with me, unwilling to waste a drop of the pumpkin delight. When the door closed behind us, I said, “Well?”

“With the Molotovs’ home approximately nine miles out of town and given what Roman heard—and saw—I don’t see how Luka could have done it.”

“So unless Luka has the speed and stealth of a ninja,” I said, “he wouldn’t have had time. Unless Roman is covering for him. He said he had on headphones so he wouldn’t have to hear, but somehow, he knew there were argument intermissions. He said that’s when he came out of his room. I think he knows more than he’s letting on.”

Sister Alice cocked her head to the side. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“It sounds like he has some resentment toward his father. Or fear. Maybe Luka bullied Roman into giving him an alibi.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, then said, “Careful when assuming things about people. Especially someone of Luka’s stature.”

“Why? Because he’s more important than anyone else in this town?”

“Andie Rose Kaczmarek,” she said with a sigh. “Don’t twist my words. I’m just saying an accusation like that, even if it’s not true, could damage his reputation and destroy his diaconate career.”

I nodded, twisting my lips in acknowledgment. “You’re right. Maybe we could speak with Luka’s wife.” 

“Except if she left during their argument, she can’t be his alibi for the entire evening, either. I think we’re spending too much time on Luka instead of looking deeper into the other suspects. Remember what I said—you can mold any of them to look guilty by twisting the facts. Whatever you focus on is what you’ll see. We need to find solid proof, not simple speculation.”

“I know you’re right, but that book in the library just got into my head. You know, the unlikely suspect one.” 

“It was a book—in a library. If there had been one sitting in sight about revealing bosoms, would you focus on Jade, for goodness’ sake?”

I narrowed my eyes at her in defiance. “Maybe. But I swear I didn’t have that book in the library. It got there by some other means.”

“Like the ghost.”

I slapped her shoulder lightly with the back of my hand. “Not funny. I thought you believe in ghosts.”

“Oh, I wholeheartedly believe in spirits. But you’re as wishy-washy about the subject as TV weathermen are about the weather report. I just think it’s hysterical that you think a ghost is the one moving books in a library—where books are moved around all the time. By people,” she stressed and chuckled. “Not ghosts.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, endeavoring not to laugh at the absurdity I’d allowed myself to believe. Of course, Sister Alice was right. Someone had to have brought the book with them and liked to read it in the library, keeping it there rather than haul it back and forth.

My bet was now on either Tom or Mike as the murderer. I hadn’t ruled out Ella yet, either. My gut was telling me something fishy was going on where she was concerned.

On our way back to the car, Mike Swanson stumbled out of the pub across the street. He squinted at the brightness of the afternoon. “Remember those days?” I asked Sister Alice.

“Not that, exactly. I wasn’t a bar drinker.”

“Not even with friends?” I tipped my sunglasses down and looked at her.

“I didn’t have many friends back then. Not real ones, anyway. Until I met your grandpop and Honey.”

I smiled at the memory of my grandparents. “My mom is planning a trip out here in the spring.”

“Why wait until spring? She doesn’t want to come back for a good ole’ Minnesota winter? Farmer’s Almanac says it’s supposed to be a cold, wet one.”

I looked up at the blue sky. Winters were beautiful, but they could be brutal, as the weather experts predicted the upcoming one to be. “Maybe she heard that report as well and that’s why she’s waiting until spring.” In Minnesota, we take what the Farmer’s Almanac says about the weather to be gospel. I don’t think I’ve ever known a state where the weather isn’t at least partially the topic of nearly every conversation. 

“Just a wild thought here,” Sister Alice said. “What if Ivan’s murder and the Lakeshore Pharmacy scandal are related?”

I frowned. “How so?” The owner of Lakeshore Pharmacy had retired, handing it over to his son to run. A friend and I had uncovered a scandal last spring where the son was in cahoots with big pharma, polluting the lakes, killing fish, and contaminating groundwater and drinking water. My friend, Melanie Hogan, was nearly killed over the discovery. The son running Lakeshore Pharmacy was incarcerated, and the owner had since taken it back over. 

“Maybe he got caught up in the scandal somehow. Knew too much, and people at the top were cleaning up loose ends.”

I pondered that for a moment. “Hmm. That’s an interesting theory. Maybe we should investigate that a little more.”

Sister Alice looked at me sideways. “Do you have a death wish? You’d be another loose end to clean up. I can’t take care of Aspen permanently, you know.” At the mention of his name, Aspen glanced up expectantly. “That whole pharmaceutical deal was—and might still be for all we know—way bigger than either of us can handle. You said yourself that your friend almost got killed over it.”

I thought about it, then cupped a hand around the back of my neck and worked out a tight muscle. “I’m not looking forward to death, but if any of the people we’re looking at for Ivan’s murder did it, he or she is a killer as well. I can’t see where one killer is more dangerous than another.”

“Unless they have money like in the pharmaceutical business. Money talks.” Sister Alice took a slow, long breath, letting it out just as slowly. “I say mention it to Detective Griffin and let him take it from there.”

When I opened my car door, Aspen quickly jumped in and claimed his spot in the front seat before Sister Alice opened her door. She studied him for a moment, then slid into the back seat. 

“You can’t resist those eyes either, huh?” 

“I am not inclined to argue with a canine in public. Humans always side with the animal.” 

I laughed and started the engine. 

When we returned to the inn, Sister Alice strolled toward her moped, promising to call me if she heard anything. A car pulled up next to her as she put her helmet on. A teen of about sixteen or seventeen exited the vehicle and struck up a conversation with Sister Alice. She snagged my attention since we don’t book minors at the inn without an adult present.

I stayed on the porch until their conversation ended, and the girl started toward me. She was the most striking girl I’d ever seen, with mesmerizing eyes that were brown around the rim and what looked like a green starburst in the center. Her long black hair was pulled back in a thick loose side braid hanging over the front of her shoulder. 

“Are you here to check in?” I asked, trying not to stare into her eyes. 

“I’m Izzy,” she said through pouty, pink lips, earning her a petulant appearance. 

“Come with me,” I said, turning toward the door. “I’ll show you the way to the front desk. Are your parents here?” I scanned the area behind her.

“I’m not here to check in,” she said.

I turned toward her. “What can I help with, then?”

“I’m Izzy Carter. Here about the sous-chef job.”

Taken aback, I studied her, remembering the name on the application. “I think there must be some mistake. This is a full-time job.”

“I know. I read the ad before I applied.”

“It wouldn’t work with your high school schedule, Izzy. Even if you had free hours, it requires more than that.”

“I’m not in school.” 

A dropout wanting a professional job? I’d heard of stranger things, I guess. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” She held my gaze and didn’t waver, her confident air impressive.

“Are you homeschooled? Where’s your mom and dad?”

“They’re divorced.”

Answers too sparse to read between lines, I asked, “Where do you live?”

“With my mom here in Spirit Lake.”

Okay, we were finally getting somewhere. “Izzy, this job requires a high school education and a minimum of some college or significant work history.” My memory flashed back to the experience she’d listed on her resume about the family catering business.

“I know.” When I said nothing, she continued. “I’ve worked in my mom’s catering company since I was eleven and when I graduated high school at fifteen, I’ve been pretty much running it. I’m excellent in the kitchen and can prove I can cook better than your chef.”

“You’re a child genius?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Since she’d begun working in her mom’s business since eleven years old, I got hung up on the child labor law issue for a minute, and I almost missed her comment about showing up the chef. Her confidence impressed me, and I didn’t have the heart to crush it by turning her away. I wanted to give her a chance to exhibit her skills, at the very least, even though I knew it wouldn’t make Tony happy. Secretly, once he’d discovered Sister Eunice’s skill, I think he was hoping to keep her. Not to mention there’d be no threat of her vying for his job as the lead chef. 

“The chef—”

“Tony Valentino.” she said, as if I didn’t know his name.

“Yes. You’d need to come back when he’s here, since you would work for him.”

“Okay,” she said, seemingly indifferent. “He’s an okay chef.”

I smiled. “An okay chef?”

“Yeah. I beat him in a contest.”

“What does your mom think of you applying here?”

“She’s the one who told me about it.”

“Since you’re only sixteen, I’ll need to speak with her.” Probably stupid, since her mother is the one who let her work for a business at eleven years of age.

“I’ve never heard of an employer having to speak with a sixteen-year-old’s parents before hiring them.”

I swallowed a chuckle. “First off, Izzy, this isn’t just an ordinary part-time after-school job. And second, I haven’t hired you yet. After we talk, and if I agree to it, you’d still need to come back and see Tony.”

“Okay.” She squared her jaw. “But once you see my work, I know you’ll hire me.”

I suppressed my laughter at the audacious certainty. “Tell you what. Come back tomorrow at nine. Tony and I can talk with you at the same time.”

“Sure.” She turned to leave. “See you then, Ms. Kaczmarek.”

She got in her car and drove out of the driveway. As soon as I opened the door, Lily said, “Who was that sweet girl?”

Jade said, “That’s Izzy Carter. And she’s not sweet.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Jade,” Lily said. “She’s just a kid.”

Jade put her fist on her hip. “First of all, Lily, I’m not jealous. Second, she’s a kid who thinks she’s better than everyone else. It’s annoying.”

“There’s nothing wrong with confidence,” I said. But I understood Jade’s opinion. 

“What did she want?” Jade asked.

“The sous-chef job. I told her to come back tomorrow when Tony’s here.”

“You’re considering it?” Lily asked incredulously. “Why not keep Sister Eunice until you find someone qualified?”

“Oh, she’s qualified,” Jade exclaimed, hand on her hip again. “That’s the problem. You won’t find a better cook. But she knows it.” Doing a one-eighty, she grinned. “Maybe it’s good for Tony. You know, keep his big head from getting bigger. It’s already so big I don’t know how Sister Eunice fits in the kitchen with him.”

I chuckled and turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be back down in a minute and mingle with the guests.”

As I passed the library, I saw a woman curled up cozily in a wingback chair under the reading lamp, her feet tucked beneath her. The glow of the fireplace made it perfect.

I took a step back. “Reading something good?” 

She held up the book cover. “The Woman in Black. It’s a fabulous book and so much better than the movie.” 

I held back a giggle. Sister Alice had been right. “Were you reading the other book that was with that one?”

She frowned. “What other book?”

I waved a hand. “Someone probably borrowed it. Enjoy your quiet time.” I smiled as she waved and went back to her reading. 

When I reached the door, she said, “Andie Rose?”

I turned toward her. “Yeah?”

“Do you have the fireplace on a timer? It popped on all by itself about ten minutes ago.”

A slow smile spread across my lips, and the warmth of the fireplace reached me. “Is that so.”

She grinned and sank deeper into the chair. “The ghost,” she whispered.

When I unlocked my door, I tossed my keys on the tiny table and went to my room to change shoes. I nabbed my tennies from my closet floor and froze when I turned. On my nightstand lay the book, The Unlikely Suspect.