I’d expected the worst when I’d opened the Starlight Cafe early the next morning. The streets were quiet and cold, and Fran and Noel were already in the kitchen baking up a storm for the coming day. Now, I just had to hope that the customers would appear.
I yawned, tired because I’d been unable to get enough sleep last night—worrying about Gran, the newspaper article, the cafe, and whether investigating the case was the right thing to do—and switched on the coffee machine.
If anything would serve as a balm for my woes this morning, it was a fresh cup of coffee.
I fixed myself a cup and settled in behind the register to wait for the first customer of the day.
Except there wasn’t one.
Apparently, the people of Star Lake all read The Star Lake Gazette, and they were pretty impressionable. That or they mistrusted easily. Either way, it wound up being the same result.
By 10:00 a.m., I was pretty sure the day was over. I took my coffee cup through to the kitchen where Noel and Fran waited beside one of the steel counters. Noel was in his early thirties, taller than should be allowed, but gentle and kind.
“Everything OK?” he asked. “It’s been kind of quiet.”
Fran, the college-aged chef who had been my first employee, nodded.
“I think we’re going to have to close early,” I said, my stomach heavy at the prospect. “It doesn’t look like we’re getting any customers today.” Somebody might come in, but it would be a waste of both Noel and Fran’s time, as well as money, to keep them here and the cafe open.
“I’m so sorry, Milly.” Fran bowed her head. “I heard about the article.”
“For what it’s worth,” Noel said, “we think it’s a load of garbage. Anyone who believes you’d hurt a fly needs to get their head checked.”
“Thanks.” I managed a smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” I left them to remove their aprons and returned to the front, emotion clogging my throat.
This was so silly. The whole thing.
It wasn’t my fault that I’d found the body, and how could I have possibly anticipated that a murderer would use my knives to commit a crime? That my father’s cafe was suffering made it so much worse.
Fran and Noel filtered past me a little while later, leaving me alone to lock up.
Come on. Keep your head up. This wasn’t the end of the world, and I’d make sure it wasn’t the end of my father’s cafe.
I turned the sign around in the front door and peeked out at the street. A young woman with glossy hair strode down the street, speeding along.
My insides lurched. Willow Young!
It was one of my suspects. And she looked as if she had a bone to pick with someone. That or she needed to be somewhere in a hurry.
I made the snap decision and slipped from the cafe, locking it hastily, then hurried off down the street after Willow.
She didn’t notice my pursuit.
Willow turned the corner, and I dipped around it after her, keeping space between us in case she looked back and spotted me there. It would be easier to pass off that I wasn’t following her if she did.
Where are you going?
What if this was as simple as her going to a nail or hair appointment, and I’d followed her for nothing?
Something had to give.
Willow led me through town, past the quaint glass storefronts, the trees poking from the beds along the sidewalk, their leaves having dropped with the turning of the seasons, and away from Main Street. She took several turns, left and right, into streets I hadn’t been down before, and finally, stopped in front of a store.
No. A butchery.
This wasn’t Jackson’s place.
The Butcher’s Shoppe was printed above the front door, also glass, providing a view of the clinical interior, the tiles, and pale green walls.
Willow entered and talked to the man behind the counter. He gestured for her to follow him and they disappeared into the back, out of sight.
Was that it? She was just picking up a package of meat?
My gut told me there was more to it than that. Or I wanted to believe there was so that I could justify following her across town.
I crossed the street and hovered near the antique store opposite—there seemed to be a lot of them in Star Lake—and pretended to admire the trinkets through the dusty windows.
A half an hour passed, and, finally, Willow emerged, accompanied by a massive man. He was nearly as wide as he was tall, and he had a mean angle to his nose, two beady eyes that held Willow’s attention.
I dipped into the alleyway between the buildings to listen.
“You’ve done well,” he said, in a voice that carried across the quiet street. “But you can do better. If you really want to impress me, bring back more information about the new leader of the group.”
“I’ll try, Mac. It’s difficult. I only have one contact in the group, and Elijah—”
“Do as I say.” He patted a large hand on her shoulder, more threatening of a gesture than comforting, then re-entered the butchery.
Let’s find out what that was about.
Willow lingered in front of the store for a second before moving off, her paced much slower this time as she headed back the way she’d come.
I jogged across the street and up beside her. “Hi,” I said.
Willow started. “What the—? What are you doing here?”
“You remember me? Milly?” I gestured toward myself.
Willow stopped on the sidewalk. “Yeah, you were the one who lied about the new application for the Bakers group.”
“Right,” I said. “And you were the one who lied about being present at a crime scene.” It was time to go full on confrontation mode. I was desperate. “I saw you at Nora’s house on the night of the murder.”
“N-No you didn’t.”
Convincing. “You were in her study, rifling through her papers,” I said. “I can place you at the crime scene, and I can easily tell Detective Freedman about your presence there, and the fact that you lied to him. So how about you tell me the truth about what’s going on here. Who was that man you just met with and what information were you giving him?” I’d start with those questions first.
Willow gulped.
She was young, and I was banking on her being easily scared.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she said. “Who are you working for? The Boaters?”
“For myself. Now, spill it, Willow, before I make you.” Idle threat, but whatever worked.
“I-I, look, you don’t understand. My mother’s been a part of the Bakers group for years, and I just wanted to prove to her that she was wrong. She’s always obsessing over me joining the group, and I—”
“You what?”
“I wanted to see them fall. I don’t want to stay in Star Lake. I don’t want to take over her restaurant. I just want to be free of this place.”
“What’s that got to do with you rifling through Nora’s stuff?” I asked.
Willow dragged her teeth over her bottom lip repeatedly. “I’ve been working with the Butchers group,” she said, gesturing back down the street. “Mac Butcher, that big guy who owns The Butcher Shoppe? He’s the head of the Butchers group, and I approached him about a month ago because I wanted to bring down the Bakers. My mom gave me an ultimatum, you see. Either I could apply to join the Bakers, or she’d disown me.”
My heart panged. Poor girl. But this could all be lies. A ruse to get you to feel sorry for her. “So you, started working with Mac?”
“Yeah,” Willow said. “I prepared an application for the night of the Halloween party, and then I started doing a little research. Contacting other people in the Bakers who were rumored to be unhappy with Nora Jensen.”
“And what did you find out?”
“That Elijah Hanson hated her. That he wanted to get rid of her. Meaning that he wanted to take her place as the new head of the Bakers group that or bring the Bakers group to its knees,” Willow said. “But that can’t happen now because Nora died and left leadership to her protege, Rebecca Gold.”
“So, you’re committing acts of espionage to get rid of the Bakers group,” I said.
That was still a pretty strong motive for murder.
“Yeah,” Willow said, “anything to get rid of them so that I don’t lose my mother. But you can’t tell anyone, please. If she finds out that I’ve been doing this, it will be over for me.”
“Willow, you were at the house on the night of the murder,” I said. “Did you hear anything?”
Willow glanced up and down the street. “No,” she said. “Look, I went through the stuff in Nora’s study because I wanted to find out if she’d done anything illegal. Elijah seemed to think that Nora wasn’t using the membership fees for the group for administrative purposes. He believed that she was stealing members’ money.” Willow took a breath. “But I didn’t find any evidence of that, so I left the house and came back here to talk to Mac about what I’d found. You can ask him if you want. I wasn’t at the mansion. I came back into town, and then I went home and watched TV with my mom.”
If what Willow had just said was true, then she was clear of the crime. She couldn’t possibly have been in the kitchen when the murder had been comitted. I’d have to check the alibi, of course, but that was doable.
“I didn’t touch Nora,” Willow said. “I didn’t hurt her or… whatever. I just wanted to be free of my mom’s expectations. That’s it.” She squared her shoulders. “And you know what? I’m not going to stop until the Bakers group falls. No matter what you do or say.”
“That’s none of my business, Willow. I don’t have any connection to the Bakers group. I’m just here to find out who stabbed Nora in the back.”
Willow paled. “Well, it wasn’t me.”