13

Sophie’s Coffeehouse was once an old Victorian house, but had been converted into a business. It was situated downtown, down the street from where the statue of Grey Falls’ founder, Sebastian Grey, stood. The house had been converted years ago when the area was rezoned after a long debate on what to do with the area. While the houses used to once be nice, neglect had turned them into an eyesore; hence the rezoning. The whole street is now filled with old houses, many of them which were once considered mansions, repurposed as businesses.

Sophie’s was one of the smaller houses, scrunched between an oddly shaped tanning salon—which looked like someone took a bunch of square boxes and placed them haphazardly on top of one another—and an optometrist’s office.

I pulled around to the small lot out back and parked. Sophie’s was always busy, and today was no different. The lot was nearly full, and when I entered, I noted many of the tables were taken. Most people kept their voices down, though there was one boisterous man in the corner who shouted at his companions across the table like they were hard of hearing. His laugh was twice as loud.

“Liz,” Duke called, waving his hand to grab my attention. He was sitting in the opposite corner, as far away from the big man as he could get. I had a feeling it was intentional.

“Duke,” I said, joining him. “I’m actually surprised you called.”

“I’m surprised myself,” he said. “If Courtney knew I was here with you, she’d probably explode. She isn’t too happy with you right now.”

“What a shock,” I said, deadpan.

Duke chuckled and waved over the waitress. “Black coffee, please,” he said. “And a water.”

“Same for me,” I said, when she turned to me.

My gaze traveled over Duke’s shoulder, and out the window. I could see the top of Sebastian’s head, as well as his hand, which was raised in salute.

“I remember telling Ben the story about him,” I said, nodding toward the statue.

Duke looked over his shoulder, and then turned back to me. “Sebastian Grey?”

“Yeah. He couldn’t believe the town was named after a man whose greatest feat was falling down.”

“He did land on his feet.”

“True.”

As the story went, Sebastian Grey fell out of his wagon, flipped in the air, and somehow, landed on his feet. There were no waterfalls in town, no cliffs. Just a short fall from a wagon. It was said he decided to settle in what would become Grey Falls because he thought the land was good luck since he hadn’t broken his fool neck in the fall.

I wasn’t sure how much truth there was to the story, but it did make for an interesting tale. Ben had been fascinated by it.

Duke and I fiddled with our napkins and readied our condiments in silence, neither of us quite sure where to go from there. A few minutes later, the waitress returned. She was a perky teenager who looked to be on her first job. She didn’t seem to note our somber expressions.

“Here you go!” she said happily, setting down two mugs, and filling each. “Need me to grab any cream or flavored syrup? We just got some bourbon caramel in, if you’re interested.”

“No thank you,” I said. Sugar was more than enough for me.

“I’m good.” Duke flashed her a smile.

“Okie! Let me know if you need anything.” With a decided spring in her step, she moved on to another table.

“So,” I said, scooping cane sugar into my coffee. There were no prepackaged paper packets at Sophie’s. Instead, small containers of different sugars and sweeteners sat in a circle. Duke opted for the standard white. “What do you want to discuss?”

He stirred his coffee, took a sip. “You tell me,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

He had me there. “It’s mostly about the other day, when Mr. Fuller died.” Okay, it wasn’t just mostly, but it felt strange sitting there, talking to him, when he might have been involved in the murder. I was having trouble forcing myself to get to the point out of fear of how he’d react.

“I figured as much,” he said, eyes never leaving mine.

“When I went to Courtney’s house, after Mr. Fuller kicked us out, I expected you to be there.”

“And Courtney expected Ben.” He held my gaze as he took another drink.

“True. But I know where Ben was. You, on the other hand, I don’t. Courtney wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“No disrespect, but what business is it of yours where I was?” Duke set down his mug, and waited me out while I swirled my coffee.

I felt like I was treading on some pretty thin ice. I liked Duke, despite who he worked for. I didn’t want to accuse him of anything, but if he had something to do with Timothy’s death, I needed to know. For Ben, if nothing else.

“It’s not, really,” I said when I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “But I’m worried. Ben is in a lot of trouble and if I can figure out who was where and when, then maybe I can find a way to help him.”

“That’s the job of the detective in charge of the case, don’t you think?”

“It is,” I admitted. “But I’m his mother. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“Why not?”

It was spoken with such an air of innocence, I almost laughed. It was obvious Duke wasn’t a father. No parent could ever look at another parent in distress and ask that.

“I’m not accusing you of killing Mr. Fuller,” I said. At least not yet. If it turned out he had, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell Detective Cavanaugh. “All I want to know is where you were. If Courtney sent you back after Stewie, then maybe you heard or saw something that could help Ben.”

Duke paled and hurriedly looked down into his mug.

“You did see something, didn’t you?”

“I . . .”

“Can I get you two some sandwiches?” our waitress asked, startling me. I’d been so intent on Duke, I’d forgotten where we were.

“No, we’re good,” Duke said.

I simply shook my head. I refused to take my eyes off Duke, lest he try to sneak away while I was distracted.

“All righty! Let me know if I can get you anything.” The waitress scurried away.

“Out with it,” I said, the moment she was gone.

Duke’s entire body sagged. “Okay, look,” he said. “Courtney did send me back to the house. Since you didn’t follow us right away, she let me out down the road. She told me to make sure that you weren’t going to try to steal the dog from us, and then, if you weren’t, to do it myself. I didn’t want to do it, thinking it was too underhanded, even for her, so I dragged my feet on the way back. I think I was kind of hoping you’d catch me in the act.”

I knew it! Courtney had been stalling. She’d probably calculated how long she expected Duke to take, which was why she was so abrupt in dismissing me. She’d figured he’d already have Stewie and was anxious to pick him up.

“What happened when you got to Timothy’s house?” I asked, keeping my voice level.

“When I got back, I saw Ben right away and thought Courtney was right to be worried. He was next door with a pretty girl in a bikini, and they seemed to be hitting it off. I hung back and watched him, mostly to make sure he didn’t see me, and to make sure he didn’t head over to the Fuller place. It wasn’t long before I realized I was wasting my time.”

“He went inside the house?”

Duke nodded. “He did. I waited for a few more minutes after he went inside, just to make sure he wouldn’t reappear. When he didn’t, I walked up to Fuller’s front door and was about to knock when I heard shouting.”

I leaned forward, heart skipping a beat. “Who was shouting?” I asked.

“Mr. Fuller and that son of his.”

“Junior.”

“Yeah, him. Junior was shouting something about being owed, and his father wasn’t having any of it. He kept saying that Junior didn’t deserve anything of his, and that he wished he’d never showed up. It sounded pretty heated, and I for one, wasn’t about to intrude.”

“You didn’t go in?” I asked, shocked. If it had been me, I’d probably have knocked, just to break up the fight.

Still, if Duke had seen, or at least, heard Timothy’s murder, that made him a witness. He could tell Detective Cavanaugh everything he knew, and the detective would have no choice but to release Ben.

“No, it wasn’t any of my business.”

When he didn’t say anything more, I prodded. “And then what happened?”

“Then, nothing,” Duke said, with a dismissive shrug. “They shouted at one another for a few more minutes, and since I wanted nothing to do with it, I backed away.”

“So, you didn’t see anything?” I asked. It came out sounding like a whine.

“Not really. Though, while I was walking away, the door banged open and Junior and his wife stormed out of there. I could hear Mr. Fuller screaming at them, and his nurse was shouting at him to calm down, but they didn’t come outside. She sounded just as angry as he did.” Duke took a drink, grimaced as if his coffee had turned suddenly bitter. “Junior and his wife sped off, and that was the end of it.”

That didn’t help me—or Ben—one bit. “Did you see an old man across the street?” I asked. I couldn’t remember if Clarence had said whether or not he’d seen Junior leave. If he had, why not say anything about Duke?

“No, sorry. I kept my head down and just walked away. I wasn’t interested in being there, though now, I wish I would have paid more attention.”

“Did you go back for Stewie?” I asked. “Or see Mr. Fuller when he went out back to the barn?”

“No, I didn’t. At that point, I’d lost all interest in the dog,” Duke said. “I want to see it find a good home, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t about to stick my nose in the middle of that mess. And then, after what happened . . .” He shook his head.

“Where did you go?” I asked, still hoping he could tell me something that might help Ben, though those hopes were fading. While the fight between Junior and his dad was interesting, it didn’t prove anything I didn’t already know. The two men didn’t get along. That didn’t mean Junior had murdered his own father, especially since he’d left before the old man had died.

“I went for a walk. I wanted a clear head while I tried to figure out what I was going to tell Courtney. As you know, she doesn’t like it when things don’t go her way.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered.

Duke smiled, but it quickly faded. “When I heard the sirens, and realized where they were headed, I called her, not wanting to be caught hanging around where I didn’t rightly belong. She came and got me, and then proceeded to rip into me for not doing what she asked. She didn’t care why, didn’t care that an ambulance was there. She just wanted the dog.”

“Sounds like Courtney.” I could only imagine how high-pitched her shouts were.

“I like her well enough,” Duke said. “But sometimes, she goes overboard.” He leaned forward, met my eye. “I didn’t know you were supposed to be there that day. I swear to you, that was all on Courtney. If I would have known, I would have tried to talk her out of it. We had no right to be there, not if Mr. Fuller called you first.”

“You could have told her that when Ben and I showed up,” I pointed out.

“I could have,” he said. “But then I would have landed squarely on Courtney’s bad side. We were already there, so it wasn’t like she’d just drop it, even if I asked her to. You only have to see her every once in awhile. I, on the other hand, have to work with her. I opted to stay out of it and let it work itself out. It’s safer that way.”

“True,” I allowed, and then fell silent.

This was far from the outcome I’d been hoping for. I was glad to know I’d been right about Courtney’s underhanded tactics, but something still didn’t sit right with me about the whole business.

“Why did Courtney want Stewie so badly?” I asked Duke, who drained his coffee and was looking around like he was ready to leave.

“Honestly, I can’t say,” he said, producing his wallet and dropping a few bills onto the table. “When she called me, she said it was important we got there early, but never said why. Once you arrived, I figured it was because she was trying to beat you to the punch.”

There was something to his tone that caught my interest. “But now?”

“Now, I’m not so sure.” Duke rose. “I’m sorry if our interference has caused you and Ben trouble. I never intended for any of this to happen, and I’m sure Courtney feels the same way.”

Though she’d never say so.

“Thanks, Duke,” I said, my mind turning over what he’d said. If her early arrival at Mr. Fuller’s wasn’t because of me, then why was she there? Something was going on, and I had a feeling Courtney was the only one who knew what it was.

Duke smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and then walked away. Even though I still had questions, I let him go. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have the answers.

I remained seated for a few minutes more, toying with my cooling coffee. I wasn’t completely satisfied with Duke’s explanation of Courtney’s motives. Why was she so interested in Stewie? What had Duke meant when he said he wasn’t so sure about her interest in the dog? There was something she wasn’t saying, and I had no idea how I’d ever get it out of her.

But Detective Cavanaugh might.

I considered calling him and pointing him Courtney’s way. It would serve her right for trying to snake the Pomeranian out from under me. And then to lie to my face about Duke’s whereabouts . . .

It might serve her right, but it would also make her an enemy for life. I wasn’t convinced she knew anything about the murder, but if she did, I intended to find out.

I paid for my coffee, and then left Sophie’s, debating on how to handle things without stirring the pot. If nothing else, I could call Cavanaugh and let him know what Duke had told me about Junior’s fight with his father. If the detective hadn’t heard about it by now, maybe it would give him a lead that would lead him to someone other than Ben.

I was about to turn the corner to head to my van when I saw someone across the street; someone who, as far as I knew, wasn’t supposed to be there.

Amelia was leaving one of the businesses, talking animatedly as she descended the stairs. There was no sign on the building, at least none I could see from where I stood. It was a small, brick structure, at least, small compared to the much larger mansion-sized buildings surrounding it.

An older man in a ratty tan suit—I’d put his age at around sixty—was walking with her. They both stopped at the foot of the stairs and faced one another. The older man put a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her, leaning toward her intently.

I moved so I could still keep an eye on them, but wouldn’t be immediately evident if they were to look my way. I knew I should just walk away and let Amelia tell me about it in her own time, yet I remained.

It’s not like she’d just up and tell me about anything going on in her life.

Amelia and the man spoke, heads very nearly touching, like they didn’t want anyone else to overhear what they were saying. Every so often, she would nod. His hand moved from her shoulder, down to her wrist. When she started to walk away, his grip tightened, causing her to stop.

“Who are you?” I muttered, thinking back to the name I’d seen written on the card in her room: C. Chudzinski. Could this be Amelia’s new boyfriend?

My gut clenched at the thought. She was still young, just barely in her college years, and this guy was at least three times her age! I had half a mind to stomp over there and demand to know what was going on, but knew if I did, she would never forgive me.

They spoke a few minutes more before the man retreated back into the building. Amelia stood there, alone, a contemplative look on her face, before she nodded once to herself, and then strode meaningfully toward her car.

Snap decision. I could march across the street and demand to know who the man was, and what he wanted with my daughter.

Or, I could get into my car, follow after Amelia, and see what she was doing. By her determined stride, I was positive she wasn’t going to simply drive home and take a nap.

I found myself moving toward my own car without a second thought. Confronting the older man might get me my answers, but it would also infuriate Amelia. If I asked her myself, then perhaps she would tell me on her own. She’d still be mad I followed her, but I had a feeling she’d be far less volatile if the explanation came from her own lips.

I hit my car at a run, fumbled with the door handle, nearly dropping my keys in the process. Amelia was likely in her car by now. If I didn’t move fast, she would get away, and any chance to see where she was headed would be gone.

I jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the key home, and then backed out, nearly clipping the back of a pickup truck parked behind me.

I hit the street just as Amelia pulled away from the curb. I kept well back, just in case she checked her mirrors.

And then, hating myself even as I did it, I settled in behind my daughter to see where she would take me.