Bright New Murder (11 page)

“Frozen yogurt is a weak commodity in the winter anyway, but we’re also new to town, not as much fun as the fro-yo with the candy toppings bar, and now with the ‘Fro-Yo Murder’ label.” Jake shuddered. “Have you heard the new one? ‘Local Frozen Yogurt Fundraiser Sends Children’s Advocate to Yo-
Heaven
.’”

“That’s atrocious.” Jane pushed her salad away. “No one really said that.”

Jake picked up Jane’s phone and pulled up the local news.

Jane read the headline. “That’s, that’s…”

“Exactly. There are no words.” Jake swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I don’t know that I can keep the business alive.”

“Don’t say that.” Jane rested her hand on Jake’s elbow.

“This Roly Burger—the second-to-last Roly Burger, since I converted my Portland location to a Yo-Heaven over the summer—does great business on the weekends. If the blue laws take effect…” He shook his head.

“It can’t take effect before Christmas, anyway.”

Jake shrugged.

“So let’s get a Christmas tree in here. We’ll do events every weekend. Coloring contests, gifts. Freebies. Charity giveaways.”

Jake took a deep breath. “That’s a lot of work.”

“And let’s get the murder solved. Get the ‘Fro-Yo Murder’ out of the headlines and business will perk back up.”

Jake’s face was stony. “I don’t want to see my managers have to make layoffs.”

“Then tell them not to.”

“I will, for now. We can float everyone for a little while.” Jake leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I don’t think I’m doing a very good job as president of the Crawford family restaurant outfit.”

Jane chewed on her lip. Running her little housecleaning business was not the same as running the restaurant empire. “Do you have a good mentor?”

“I’ve got Aunt Marge and Jeff.”

“Who’s Jeff?”

“He’s my cousin. And the man that should be running the business. He’s like forty and worked for my dad forever.”

Jane squeezed his arm. Young heir. Experienced cousin. Cousin who would have been the heir if only Jake’s uncle had been the oldest Crawford son. “Just keep begging him for help. He doesn’t want to see you fail.”

“Good old Jane.” Jake picked her hand up and kissed it. “Until I can bend Jeff’s ear again, I need to be proactive. So let’s solve the murder.”

Jane laid out everything she had learned from both Rose of Sharon and Valeria.

“So who was the man in the black sweater?” Jake asked.

“It may have been Del, the security guy. Except Valeria saw him arrive, so it must have been the Miter guy who owed Michelle so much money.”

“Why would Myra Richardson of KMLC want to help someone kill a perfectly innocent preschool teacher?” Jake stole a piece of crispy chicken from Jane’s salad and munched it.

“Maybe her maiden name is Miter.” Jane lifted an eyebrow. This one theory seemed to tie everything else together.

“Nope. I used to date her kid sister Josie. They’re the Kerseys from Government Camp.”

“So no relation to the Miters at all?” Jane’s heart sunk. She wasn’t sure which was worse: that Jake had dated the younger sister of the beautiful reporter, or that the reporter wasn’t really Myra Miter.

“I can’t be sure that there’s no relation, but there’s definitely no close relation. She’s not the sister of or daughter of.”

“But…” Jane felt the first real glimpse of hope shining through the disappointment. Jake had dated Myra’s sister Josie. He knew Myra personally. “You’ve got an in with Myra. You could call her and find out who the man in the black sweater was!”

“Uh…” Jake pulled up a new video on Jane’s phone. It was a news clip from the night in question. Myra was talking.

“Notorious playboy Jake Crawford is trying to rehabilitate the increasingly shaky reputation of his family restaurant business by holding a fundraiser for a start-up nonprofit.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “So much for impartial reporting. What did you do to her?”

“I dumped her sister.” Jake gave an apologetic half-smile.

“For who, her bestie?”

“For you.”

“Ahh, jeeze. So neither of us can use your connection then.”

“Nope.”

“Wait. You had already dumped her by the night of the fundraiser? I only broke it off with Isaac the night before.”

“I dumped her last year, when you moved in with me.” He winked.

Jane laughed. “You have got to stop saying that or everyone will get the wrong idea.” She had known he was interested back then, but…she hadn’t known he meant it. She felt heat rising to her cheeks.

“I’ll call her anyway.” Jake resumed his serious expression. “If I suggest what we found out looks bad, and she remembers all the nasty things she said about me on TV, I might be able to get something good out of her.”

“It’s worth a shot, anyway.”

Jake tapped the screen of his phone. He grinned. “Jake Crawford, notorious playboy, how can I help you?”

Jane lowered her eyes and hid her laugh behind her hand. But she listened in to his side of the call.

“Oh, no hard feelings, of course. It’s only had forty-two thousand hits on YouTube. That’s not at all grounds for a defamation case.” Jake laughed. “No, no. I think we can work something out.” There was a long pause. Jake rolled his eyes. “Off the record? What’s that even mean? I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t need to know something.” Another pause. This time Jake ate more of Jane’s lunch. “I see. Well, I could do that. But I would feel more inclined if you helped me out, on the record.” His eyes lit up. “You always were a good girl. So, here’s the thing. One of the protesters heard you chatting with someone that we need to meet. We just don’t know his name.” Jake inhaled sharply. “Nothing like that. I think you said, ‘The cameraman is in the bathroom, go do it now.’ Or something similar. You were talking to a man in a black sweater.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “Well…I guess that would be easy enough to check. Are you sure though? We don’t want a guess here. We want his real name.” Jake frowned and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll look into it and see if he was telling the truth.” Jake made a face like something stunk. “Call my assistant and she’ll see if she can fit you in.” He ended the call.

Jane sat on the edge of her chair. Her heart was racing. “Well?”

“She said she met him that night. He asked for a moment of her time when he noticed the camera was gone. She said he wanted to make a big donation, but wanted to do it anonymously. He wanted to be absolutely certain that he wasn’t on camera.”

Jane slumped back in her chair. “And she didn’t get his name?”

“No, she did. His name was Jason Miter.”

15

Jane and Jake went straight back upstairs to go over the donation receipts. If Miter had wanted to be completely anonymous, they might be in trouble, but if he had written a check, they could prove he had been telling the truth. If there wasn’t a check, then they had to consider any particularly large cash donation as potential evidence.

Jane’s Aunt May had been manning the donations for the night and kept meticulous notes of everything that came to her. Jane thanked God they hadn’t just let Gemma handle that. If there weren’t any particularly large cash donations, or checks from the Miter family, then there was a chance he had been lying and wanted to know he could sidle up to Michelle Smith without being seen. Jane shuddered. It was a particularly repulsive killer who could viciously murder someone in a crowded room.

Of course, she had to admit that he might have left a big donation and still have killed Michelle Smith.

The list of donations was in a small, hardbound accounts book. Jane leaned over Jake’s shoulder to read it with him.

He spun in his desk chair and pulled Jane to his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nibbled her neck.

“This isn’t helping.” Her heart thumped, and she was suddenly too hot in her sweater.

“Yes, it is.”

His lips on her neck were like nothing else. Like chocolate, and coffee, and everything. She took a deep breath. “No, really. It’s not helping.” She stood up.

Jake grinned. “You. That’s all. Just, you.” He took a deep breath. “What were we doing?”

“You…receipts. Me…sitting far, far away from you.” She took a chair across the room, but couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

His lips were curled in the smallest hint of a smile, just enough to make a dimple in his cheek. He caught her eye and winked. She wanted to concentrate on important things. Whatever those were.

She pulled up Beth from security’s phone number and called.

“Beth! Hey, this is Jane, the detective.”

Jake winked at her.

“I was just wondering if you had any news on Del.”

“Oh, I do! I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” Beth’s voice sounded relaxed and happy. Jane was thrilled for her, but wanted her to get to the point.

“Good news then?”

“Great news. He didn’t have a girl in the room at all.”

“That is good.” Jane tapped her heel. “What was the problem?”

Beth dropped her voice. “He’s pretty sure he disposed of the murder weapon.”

Jane almost dropped her phone. “What?”

“He slipped out to use the bathroom, which is totally against the rules if you are in the box alone. Some guy saw him come out of the security room and followed him into the bathroom. He kind of, like, threatened him, you know? Like, said he’d tell the boss and get Del fired if he didn’t take this huge Hefty bag of garbage and put it on the curb at his house.”

Red flags flew up all over the story. Jane grabbed a pencil and started writing. “How did the man know Del wasn’t supposed to go to the bathroom?”

“He asked a bunch of questions first. Del wasn’t supposed to be alone, but there was, like, an hour or something when he was. It happens sometimes. The guy kind of chatted him up, discovered what he needed to know, and then made him take the bag.”

“Did Del do it?”

“Sort of. He stuck it in a bathroom stall and was going to take it home. He thought it must have had some kind of drugs stuff in it, like used needles or something. But when he got back from the bathroom, obviously there was chaos at the party and he was pretty sure he knew what had happened. He got Lafayette on the walkie and confessed all, but when they went to the bathroom, the bag was gone. She had to put him on admin leave.”

Jane scratched her head and frowned. “He gave the description of the guy to the cops, right?”

“Of course.”

“But why did he show up to work again and lie to you about the admin leave?”

Beth laughed softly. “He was really embarrassed. I shouldn’t say anything, but he has a juvie record that I didn’t know about until now. This just hit too close to home, and he panicked.”

“I see.” Juvenile criminal record, eh? Maybe the man with the bag was a lie to cover the murder?

“My bus just got here. I’ve got to go. I hope that helped.”

“Wait—do you think I can talk to Del? I’d love to hear his description of the guy who gave him the bag.”

“That’s not a good idea. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. Have a great day, okay?” Beth hung up.

Through the whole conversation, Beth had been fairly relaxed. She had a twinge of emotion when she mentioned Del’s record, but overall, she had come across as entirely honest. So at the very least she was reporting exactly what Del had said. Unfortunately, Jane had failed, yet again, to get Del’s last name.

“I found the donation.” Jake sounded disappointed. “Twenty thousand dollars from Miter Farms to Helping Hands E. C.”

“Who invited Jason Miter to the fundraiser?” Jane sat on the edge of Jake’s desk, across from him.

“That’s anyone’s guess. He’s not on my list or Gemma’s. Until now, I’d never heard of him.”

“Do you think Sasha might have invited him to force him to interact with Michelle?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you call her and ask?”

Jane had Sasha’s number up on her phone almost immediately, but she had to leave a message. She filled in the gaps of her conversation with Beth. “What do you think, Jake? Do we trust Del’s account?”

“I think we need to confirm it with the security boss.”

“Did you see anyone taking trash out in the middle of our party?”

“No, remember, almost as soon as Michelle was stabbed, we had the room organized and ready for the cops. Nobody came or went. I bet he got the trash bag from one of the other events that night. Jason wore black and might have fit in with the service crews at the events. Del would have had his security uniform on and would also have looked like he was supposed to be there. If the killer had to ditch the knife, all he had to do was sneak into a different party and steal a trash bag. The idea of getting someone else to ditch it on their curb strikes me as particularly genius.”

“Evil genius, anyway. I wonder what the police know?”

“You’re going to have to develop a network of official connections in the future, Janey. We can’t do every case in the dark like this.”

“You’re right…but at the moment, I have no idea how to do that.”

The office phone rang. Jake answered it and started talking restaurant business stuff. Jane waved and left.

She didn’t want to go home and face Gemma just yet, so she went to the convention center to try and find Lafayette.

***

At the convention center, Jane went straight to the information booth. The assistant manning the station walkied Lafayette for Jane.

When Lafayette arrived, she led Jane to a small office like you might see at a car dealership, just a little room with a desk and some chairs. “What can I do for you?” Lafayette was petite, but she had an intimidating presence. Lines around her mouth seemed to indicate a permanent frown.

“Thanks for making time for me.” Jane took a seat, but maintained her posture. “Jake Crawford hired me to look into the murder of Michelle Smith. I’ve been in touch with one of your security guards, Beth, and she told me an interesting story.”

Lafayette took a seat. Her face relaxed. “Did she?”

“Apparently Beth’s boyfriend, Del, got himself administrative leave because of his actions the night of the murder.” Jane raised one eyebrow and smiled. “But he tried to hide that from his girlfriend.”

Lafayette chuckled. “And you met him here not long after, pretending like he hadn’t gotten into trouble.”

“That’s right.” Jane began to drum her pencil on her notepad, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to appear either nervous or impatient.

“And you want to know what he did to get himself in trouble.”

“Beth told me a version of the story.”

“But you wonder if Del can be trusted?” Lafayette looked at her watch. “He’s a good guy. He has a past, but he’s a good guy. Why he snuck off with so much going on in the center that night is only as mysterious as why the other guy was late. It was poor planning. Del’s not the brightest bulb, but he’s not bad.” She nodded in a way that appeared conclusive.

“So what became of the bag of trash?”

“Ahh.” Lafayette folded her hands. “The police questioned janitorial. They didn’t see the bag in the bathroom stall. The current theory is that the killer noticed where Del put it and went back for it.”

“That makes sense, however, that bag of trash is the proof that what Del said was true.”

Lafayette sighed. She leaned forward. “Crawford hired you to look into the murder, which is…odd. Nonetheless, you are here. The police have been here already and asked all of these questions. I have a feeling you will ‘solve’ this murder when you read whodunit on Twitter.”

Jane frowned. “You feel I am asking the wrong questions.”

“And the wrong person.”

Jane rubbed her lips together. It seemed to her that Lafayette knew something, and instead of being the wrong questions to the wrong person, Jane was onto it, and that made the head of security nervous. Jane crossed her legs and settled back into her chair. “Why were there only two men scheduled to be in the security office that night?”

Lafayette lifted her eyebrow. “One called in sick and one was late. I called around, but two was the best we could do.”

“Who called in sick?” Jane toyed with her pencil, hoping it made her look nonchalant.

“One of our new guards.”

“Is he in today?”

“No.” Lafayette looked from her watch to the door and then to her watch again. She eventually settled her eyes on Jane and stood up. “Good luck with your investigation.”

“Just one more question.” Jane scrambled for a question that would make Lafayette sit down and keep talking. Lafayette didn’t like the direction her questions had gone…the bag of trash was a problem, or proving what Del claimed was a problem. Which was it? “What other evidence do you have to prove what Del claimed is true? Oh, and what’s Del’s last name?”

Lafayette inhaled sharply. “Del’s last name? It’s Willis. Surveillance video clearly shows him entering the bathroom, followed by a man with a hat who kept his face pointedly away from the cameras. The man was carrying a big, black trash bag.”

Lafayette walked out.

Del Willis.

Since the office was empty, Jane made herself comfortable. She preferred her laptop for lengthy trawls through Google, but she had her phone, and a notebook, so she could learn something before she had to go again. But before she got any further than laying everything out on the table, she remembered something Beth had said. Meryl Lafayette had a son in the police. What if the police had come down, chatted up staff, learned that Del was a Willis, and then Meryl Lafayette had had a conversation with her son that tied Del Willis to Rose of Sharon Willis, the nice, kindly, nonviolent protester who happened to have a son—with a criminal record?