CHAPTER 22

WITH her blessing, I left Astrid on my sofa with Charlie and Dash on either side to keep her company. She was drowsily watching the television when I slipped out the door.

The church bus had loaded up and trundled away, leaving me with a till full of sales, and a store in disarray. I didn’t care about the mess.

“You guys are so awesome,” I said. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Pshaw,” Gessie said. “You’d do the same for me. Heck, I think you might have found me a full-time employee, if I can get her to stay.”

“Larken?” Thea asked.

Gessie nodded. “The girl doesn’t know everything, but she’s smart as a whip and willing to learn.”

“I like her,” Thea said. “Colby chose well.”

“I think so, too,” I said. “But she’s not out of danger yet. Not until Blake Sontag’s real killer is found.”

“You let us know if there’s anything we can do, okay?” Thea said.

“Well . . .”

“Spit it out,” Gessie said.

“I hate to ask, but I think Harris might know something about this whole business.”

Maria let out a low whistle. “You’re kidding.”

“I don’t know for sure. But I’d like to go talk to him.”

“And you need us to keep watching the store.”

“You’ve already done so much,” I said. “And all those sales! It’ll be okay if I close—”

“Nonsense,” Maria said. “We don’t have any programs going on at the library until this evening. My assistant can take care of things.”

Gessie nodded. “I can stay for another hour or so, but then I have a lesson.”

“I have a delivery to make, but I can come back in an hour,” Thea said.

My eyes grew hot again. I coughed. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ll be gone too long.”

“You’re going to the Roux?” Thea asked. When I nodded, she said, “Get yourself a burger. You don’t eat enough.”

“I am kind of hungry. Can I bring anyone back anything?”

They all turned me down. As I went to leave, Thea followed me. “I’ll walk you out.”

On the boardwalk, she stopped me. “You and Ritter okay? When I talked to him he sounded pretty down.”

I smiled. “We talked this morning. Now that they have phone and Internet, I think we’re going to be fine.”

“Glad to hear it. You two are good together.”

“I think so, too,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

•   •   •

OLDER Jeeps are not known for providing a smooth ride, and the Wrangler was no exception. For all I knew, the shocks had never been changed. I sure hadn’t had it done, and now I regretted that fact with every bump in the road, every pothole and manhole cover, and every raised crosswalk on the six-block drive to the Roux Grill.

It was too late for the lunch crowd, and too early for the happy hour crowd, but there were customers all the same. A few were scattered in the outdoor seating with cool drinks and appetizers. An Australian shepherd lazed at the feet of one couple, supplied with a water bowl from the restaurant.

Rhonda was taking their order and saw me. She waved with the tips of her fingers and gave me a look as if we had a secret. In a way we did. Not everyone knew what it felt like to discover a murder victim.

The cinnamon chocolate scent of mole sauce overrode everything except the garlic that had likely become part of the actual structure of the Roux Grill. I inhaled deeply, my mouth watering. It took days for Raleigh to make a big batch of his famous mole. He did it only a few times a year, and when it was gone, it was gone.

Forget the burger. Chicken mole was in my very near future.

I sidled up to the bar and waited for Maggie to finish mixing a bloody Mary. She handed it to the customer and came down to where I stood.

“Pull up a stool, hon. Too early for a martini?”

After my day, I almost said no. “How about a ginger ale?”

“Done.” She eyed me as she poured the fizzy liquid into a tall glass filled with ice. “How bad are you hurt?”

“Not as bad as Astrid.” I filled her in on the details. “And I want to thank you for calling Maria. I got back to the shop this afternoon and found a bus full of people checking out the Enchanted Garden and buying things up left and right. That wouldn’t have happened if not for you.”

“Hey, it’s in my interest for you to make money. You can afford to hire me for more hours, then.” She winked.

I laughed and took a swig of ginger ale. The sticky sweet iciness of it slid down my throat like a balm. “Is Harris around?”

Her lips pressed together. “In his office.”

Turning toward the back of the restaurant, I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Ellie, he’s not alone.”

I paused.

“Detective Lang is back there, too.”

Great.

It was one thing to brace Harris about Panama Hat, but I’d never get anything out of him with Max there.

“Hmm. Changed my mind,” I said. “I think I’ll order some of Raleigh’s mole and wait a few minutes.”

“Good plan,” she said with a grin. “I’ll put in the order.”

When it arrived, I took the plate over to a table in the corner and eased myself into the seat. I soon lost myself in the complex flavors of the Roux’s head chef’s version of the dish—creamy and spicy, laced with garlic and pineapple, peppers, and plantain. I was wiping up the last of the sauce with a soft corn tortilla when a shadow fell across my plate.

I looked up to see Max Lang standing over me.

Sitting back, I finished my bite and swallowed. “Detective Lang.”

“Miz Allbright.”

“Have you tried the mole?”

“I’m not here for the food.”

“That’s a shame. It’s some of the best in town.”

“Is that why you’re here? Or are you on another one of your illegal investigations?”

“Illegal?”

“You’re not licensed.”

There was a time when he would have intimidated me. Not now. “I’m not getting paid, and I don’t need a license to ask a few questions.” I stood. Even so, I came up only to his chest. I didn’t care. “But you are getting paid, and you should be asking questions. There are a lot of possible suspects in Blake Sontag’s murder. Suspects other than a girl who’d never even met the victim before.”

His response was a stony look.

“You know I’m right.”

The tiniest, teensiest nod. “You might be.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Until, that is, he leaned down and got in my face. “But don’t you ever accuse me of not doing my job again, Allbright.”

It was my turn to nod. “Fair enough.”

He turned and walked away without another word. I stared after him until the door shut behind him, then looked over at Maggie. Her eyes were wide.

Grabbing my plate, I bused it back through the door to the kitchen. Raleigh was by himself, rubbing dry spices into a huge brisket.

“Ellie!”

“Raleigh, you’ve done it again. Love the mole.”

“Already running low,” he said. “Glad you got some before it’s gone.”

I rinsed my dish and asked over my shoulder, “Is Harris in his office?”

Raleigh nodded toward the door. It was shut, but I was pretty sure my ex could hear me. I went over and knocked.

“Yeah, come in.”

I twisted the knob, walked in, and closed the door behind me.

My former office seemed more coated with dust every time I went into it. The Venetian blinds were gray by now, and the poor plant in the corner had gone to philodendron heaven. The room smelled of coffee dregs and hair gel.

Harris looked up from his desk. His dark hair curled down over his forehead, and his sneering lips gave him the slightest resemblance to Elvis Presley.

“What do you want, Ellie?”

I would have been offended if that wasn’t his usual greeting. Now I just took it in stride. Taking a seat in the chair opposite him, I said, “Tell me about buying Joyous Sontag’s land.”

Surprise flitted across his face before he could tame it. “Not really any of your business, is it?”

“You know better than that.”

“Any investments I make are my own. We don’t share finances any longer.” His lip curled. “You made sure of that.”

Stunningly, Harris still blamed me for our divorce.

“It’s my business if someone interested in that property had to kill Blake Sontag to make sure it stays on the market.”

The blood drained from his face, then returned with a vengeance. “You’re accusing me of murder?”

I shrugged. I didn’t think Harris had it in him, but he didn’t have to know that. “Someone did it, and it wasn’t the suspect Max Lang jumped at before gathering all the evidence.” I leaned forward. “You have some of that evidence, though. Don’t you?”

Spots of outraged indignation mottled his cheeks. “Of course not.”

“You know, it’s also my business, though only morally, if you are putting this restaurant—and my friends’ jobs—in jeopardy in order to afford that parcel of land.” I was watching him carefully. Then I shook my head. “No, you love this place too much. You haven’t mortgaged it.”

“No.”

Ah, but there was something in his eyes.

“Joyous already told me you looked at the property. So how were you thinking you’d swing it financially?”

He looked away. “It’s just a possibility. God, Ellie. I’m open to opportunity, is all. Just like my partners.”

“Uh-huh. Vaughn Newton?”

He threw up his hands. “Yes! Okay, yes. That’s the guy. Real estate investor from Houston. Wants to develop the place.”

“And the water rights? What about those?”

Harris shrugged, but he had a nasty grin on his face. “There are a lot of untapped natural resources around here.”

Idiot.

“Wait, you said partners.” Joyous mentioned that Harris and Vaughn were interested in buying. “Who else?”

“A silent partner.” That grin again.

“Who is it?”

“Ellie, do you know what ‘silent partner’ means? In the business world it means someone who invests in a business endeavor but isn’t part of the day-to-day running of it. It’s someone who is, as you might expect, silent. And in this case, secret.”

I found myself growing angrier with every word that came out of his mouth. “Listen, Harris. I have had a really weird day. Make that days. A man has been killed, your overbearing cop friend wants to arrest my little brother’s girlfriend for murder, and my best friend is lying on my sofa in a lot of pain with her shoulder in a sling. The last thing I need from you is a mansplanation of what a silent partner is.” I stood and leaned across the desk on my hands so that my face was nearly in his.

He pulled back.

“Now tell me: Who is your silent partner?” I demanded.

His eyes narrowed as we stared each other down. Then he smirked. “Fine. But it’s on you when she finds out I told you.”

I felt myself start to frown, but forced a poker face. “She who?”

“Cynthia Beck.”

Well, that took the wind right out of my sails.

On the other hand, it narrowed the field of suspects. The mysterious Vaughn Newton was looking better and better.

•   •   •

OUTSIDE, the clouds scudded across the sky and the temperature had dropped. I looked upward, trying to judge if it was going to rain. The Wrangler had been doused plenty of times, and I had a dash cover to protect the fussy electronic bits, but I didn’t relish getting soaked. I might have time to get the soft top on if I hurried home.

My phone rang as I stepped on the running board. It was Lupe. “Someone reported a black SUV careening down a street in Agate Park.”

My stomach did a flip-flop around Raleigh’s lovely mole sauce.

Agate Park.

“Joyous?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

I really didn’t want my new relative to end up being a murderer, but it was still a possibility. Starting the engine, I said, “I’ll meet you there.”

“No! Ellie, wait—”

I hung up and tromped on the accelerator.