Death by Tea (18 page)

“I was thinking of having a morning swim before breakfast, but I suppose I could take some time to talk to you.”

“Great.”

“But not here.” Dan turned his head so his neck cracked. “I feel too confined here, too stuffy. It's the atmosphere, I think. Would you mind if we talked somewhere else?”

“No, that would be okay,” I said, probably a little too quickly. If we left, Dan would have to put on some clothes and would stop flexing his shoulders and pecs every time he moved. I could just make out the motion out of the corner of my eye, and it only served to make me blush that much harder.

“How about you give me an hour?” he asked. “I can get cleaned up and we can have a late breakfast together. Have you eaten?”

“No,” I said. “And that would be great.”

“Good, good.” Dan smiled and leaned back on his heel. “So, I'll see you in an hour. I've heard there is a place in town that is supposed to be really good. Do you mind if we meet there? I think it is called the Banyon Tree.”

“J&E's Banyon Tree?” I asked, dreading it even as it came out of my mouth.

“That's the one.”

I considered saying no, but somehow I knew this might be my only real chance of talking to Dan alone. Albert could come strolling down the stairs at any moment, and I was positive he would want to talk, or at least eavesdrop on our conversation. I wasn't welcome in the Banyon Tree, and just because Judith and Eddie Banyon had been seen in the vicinity of Death by Coffee recently didn't mean they'd suddenly decided to like me.

But I couldn't let this opportunity pass.

“I'll see you there,” I said, plastering on a fake smile.

Dan winked at me and pulled me into a one-armed hug. His finger slipped under a spaghetti strap and lifted it as if he might pull it from my shoulder before letting it fall back into place. He stepped back with a grin.

“I'll go make myself presentable,” he said, before turning.

I couldn't help it; my eyes traveled down his backside as he strode away. I mean, the guy was practically naked, and well built to boot. You can't blame me for sneaking a peek.

The little blue Speedo suit left little to the imagination, and I felt my temperature rise. Dan paused at the bottom of the stairs and both of his cheeks tensed, springing up and then down. My eyes jerked up to see him grinning at me.

“In an hour,” he said, before vanishing up the stairs.

My face felt hot to the touch, and I promptly decided I wasn't going to stand around and wait for someone to come ask me why I looked as if I'd been tanning next to Sara without sunscreen. I gathered whatever dignity I had left, pulled my hat down low over my eyes, and walked briskly to my car, hoping no one noticed my embarrassment.

18

I sat in the parking lot of J&E's Banyon Tree, wondering if I should just turn around and leave. The usual smells of diner food wafted into my partially lowered windows, causing my stomach to rumble. I had nothing against the food here. In fact, it was actually quite good. It was the owner I had a problem with.

Judith Banyon had hated me from the moment Vicki and I opened Death by Coffee. She claimed we were trying to steal her customers, which in a way I guess we were. Before we opened, the Banyon Tree was the only place you could go for a good cup of coffee. Or at least that's what Rita had told me. I'd never actually tasted it myself.

The parking lot was pretty full, and a vague part of me hoped that there would be no seating left. I could then talk to Dan in the parking lot, or perhaps convince him to go somewhere where I wouldn't get chased from the premises the moment I was noticed. I wasn't looking forward to Judith shouting into my ear.

I shut off the engine with a sigh. There was no sense sitting out in the heat when I could be inside in the cooler air. I got out of my car, eyes scanning the front of the diner, almost positive I was going to be assaulted the moment I came anywhere near J&E's.

Judith didn't come roaring out of the diner. Instead, an elderly couple walked slowly out, the man's hand on the woman's arm as if to steady her. They waved to me before easing into a battered Buick.

I hoisted my purse onto my shoulder and adjusted my sunglasses and hat. Maybe if Judith did see me, she'd fail to recognize me. I doubted I was the first person to wear sunglasses indoors at this time of day. If she thought I had a hangover, maybe she wouldn't bother coming over, even if she did recognize me.

Fat chance of that,
I thought as I opened the doors and stepped inside. The rockabilly music that normally played over the speakers had been replaced by old country music turned down low so it wouldn't disrupt the morning customers. I cringed just a little inside—I abhor country music of any sort—and scanned the restaurant. Two waitresses were bussing tables and a college-aged girl stood at the counter, taking money from yet another elderly couple. There was no sign of Judith or Eddie Banyon, and I hoped it stayed that way.

A sign by the door told me to seat myself, so that's what I did. There was an open table back by the bathrooms, and I made for it. It put me out of the way, and around the corner from the counter, meaning it would be harder for Judith to spot me if she were indeed here and on the prowl.

I sat down, putting my back to the bathroom. It allowed me a view of the rest of the diner.

A harried-looking waitress hurried over to where I sat. She raised her voice to be heard over the voices and music permeating the air around us.

“What can I get ya?”

“Coffee, please,” I said, figuring I might as well see what all of the fuss was about. “And some French toast.”

The waitress scribbled the order on a pad before hurrying off without another word.

The Banyon Tree wasn't so bad, I decided, leaning back. Sure, Judith hated me, but the atmosphere and food more than made up for it. As long as I didn't do anything to draw attention, I could see myself eating here more. It sure beat cooking for myself, that was for sure.

I considered taking off my hat, but I left it on just in case Judith happened to make an appearance. The diner was bright enough that my sunglasses didn't feel too much out of place. Sure, no one else was wearing their shades, and most of the men had taken off their hats, but it didn't seem as my refusal to remove mine bothered anyone.

The waitress returned a moment later and quickly set down a coffee mug. Black coffee slopped out over the sides and onto the table as she spun and all but ran back to the counter. At least she'd left the sweetener and creamer.

I reached for the artificial milk and sugar. I poured enough in to choke a small animal, stirred, and then took a sip. It was okay, but nothing like coffee adorned with a chocolate chip cookie. Nothing could compare to that.

I drank slowly, watching the doors all the while. After about five minutes of that, I checked my watch to find that a good hour and fifteen minutes had passed since I'd left Dan at Ted and Bettfast. If he stood me up, I was so not going to be happy.

My French toast arrived a minute later. The bread was drowning in maple syrup and coated in a white layer of powdered sugar that pretty much turned it into candy. My mouth immediately started watering so that when I attempted to thank the waitress, all that came out was a line of drool. She didn't see it, of course; she was already halfway back to the front counter.

I dug in, figuring if Dan wasn't here by the time I finished, he wasn't worth another minute. I wasn't going to wait for him here. He'd eventually show at Death by Coffee for the book club meeting. I could talk to him then.

The door opened and, as if thinking about him had summoned him, Dan Jacobson walked in. He'd ditched the Speedo, thank God, and was wearing loose-fitting running shorts and a black T-shirt instead. His eyes landed on me almost immediately. A wide smile lit up his face as he crossed the room to take the seat across from me.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said. “I needed to get in my morning jog lest I turn into a pile of jelly.”

I was nearly done with my breakfast already. My teeth hated me, but my stomach was in so much love, I could almost see the little floaty hearts. There's something about sweets that can make even the worst situation worth it, and let me tell you, J&E's French toast qualified. I might be in seventh heaven now, but I'd be regretting it later in the day.

“Okay, then.” Dan leaned back just as the waitress returned. “Can I get a water and egg whites?” he asked her, smiling.

She nodded and scurried off.

I looked down at the gooey mess on my plate, and for a moment I was embarrassed. Apparently, Dan was a health nut. I could only imagine what he thought of me with my high sugar and caffeine intake.

Then again, who cared? It wasn't like I was dating the guy. I swallowed a large lump of goo and decided I was happy being me. Besides, as far as I knew, Dan was a no-good murderer. No amount of egg white and water would save him from that.

“So,” he said, eyes finally returning to look at me. He'd watched the waitress walk away as if his eyes were glued to her backside. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, exactly?”

“David Smith,” I said. “What can you tell me about him?”

Dan shrugged. “What is there to say that I already haven't? He was new to town, came in acting like he was some big shot, and then promptly cozied up to the richest girl in all of Cherry Valley.”

Richest girl? “Do you mean Sara?” I asked.

“The one and the same.” He sighed. “She's the daughter of Joey Huffington.” He said it like I was supposed to know who that was. I gave him a blank look. “CEO of Huffington Mulch?”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “A mulching company has a CEO?”

Dan chuckled. “If it is big business, it does. Big Joe has always had a nose for business, and when he realized we didn't have a quality mulch company in these parts, he decided to start up one of his own.”

Quality mulch? I was beginning to wonder if Dan was putting me on. I mean, wasn't mulch just shredded trees or something? I couldn't imagine someone making a lot of money doing that, but I guess anything was possible.

I decided to move past Big Joe, mostly because I was more interested in Sara. I might have to come back to him, especially since his name sounded like something out of a gangster movie. If he'd earned his fortune that way and it had trickled down to his daughter, that put a whole new spin on who might have killed David.

“How much is Sara worth?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Dan lifted his hands, palms open and upward, and moved them as if they were weighing scales. “I'd say a million or two.”

I just about choked on my coffee. “A million?” Or two? I was so in the wrong business.

“It's mostly inherited,” Dan said. “But she also crafts jewelry and sells it online. Makes a pretty penny on that. Did you know that if you can manage to establish yourself, you can just about sell anything online and make some real money?” He shook his head. “I'm not creative enough to pull something like that off.”

Neither was I, sadly. I'd tried my hand at writing recently, but I had rambled on with no clear direction and no clear end in mind. I promptly gave up without showing anybody. Rita was none too happy about that. She thought I was going to be the next James Hancock, but apparently his writing talent hadn't been passed down to me. I still went to her group for some reason I couldn't quite explain. Maybe eventually I'd try my hand at writing again, though I doubted the results would be any different.

“Okay,” I said, composing myself. I still couldn't believe someone worth so much would hang around with people like Albert or Rita. You'd think she'd make rich friends and have wine-tasting parties instead of going to a book club. “So Sara is loaded. Do you think David was interested in the money more than the girl, then?”

“Hard to say.” Dan paused as the waitress returned with both his water and egg whites. He shoved a forkful into his mouth before continuing. “But I wouldn't put it past him. It was the only thing that made sense, considering he knew jack about books.”

Interesting. If David had moved in on Sara as a way to get close to her money, that brought up even more scenarios to consider. Sure, jealousy could still be involved. Dan was acting all nonchalant now, but what if he'd been upset about how David was not just moving in on his territory, but perhaps even the woman he had his own eye on? I had no proof he had interest in Sara, but it wasn't too far-fetched.

Dan's eyes roamed around the diner. They landed on each and every moderately attractive girl, and lingered on those who had the most to show. One woman bent over to pick up her toddler at a table close to the window. Before Dan turned back to me, he paid special attention to the way the top of her blouse opened up as she leaned forward.

Yeah, I could see it. Sara wasn't bad looking. Add in the money and she had to look that much more attractive to most men. Dan could have had eyes for her and then David swooped in and swept her out from under him. He'd have to be jealous and angry. And then to top it all off, David takes his spot on the book club team at Sara's request. That would have tweaked his anger even more.

But angry enough to kill?

I wasn't so sure. If you add the fact that David was found in Death by Coffee, behind a locked door, it didn't work out. How had they gotten in? Could Mike have accidently left the door unlocked when he closed that night? The killer could have come in, killed David, and then locked up when they left. I suppose it was possible, but didn't like the idea that one of my employees could have made such a fatal mistake.

“I'm tired of talking about David,” Dan said. “He's dead, and I'm sure the police will figure out who did it soon enough. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if he slipped and fell after breaking in to rob the place. The man might have acted suave, but I'd seen him bumbling about when he didn't think anyone was looking. I'm sure his cool demeanor was all an act.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why do you say that?” A lot of people acted differently when people weren't around to see them. I mean, who wanted anyone to know they picked at their toenails or danced in their underwear, singing oldies, while at home alone? It seemed natural, really.

“There was just something about him is all.” Dan sighed. “He had those eyes that were always darting around him, like he was looking for something to steal, if you know what I mean. I saw him trip over his own two feet while walking down the street. The David everyone else knew would never do something like that.” He shook his head. “I do wish people would just leave it be.”

I was finding it hard to believe a little clumsiness was enough to rouse Dan's suspicions. Everyone misstepped every now and again. I shoved the last of my French toast into my mouth and contemplated Dan. If he was in love with Sara—something I was speculating with zero evidence—then he might have killed the one man who had gotten in his way, inventing reasons out of the blue. The worse he made David look, the more people would view his death as nothing to be concerned about.

Dan set his fork aside and leaned forward. He reached out and took one of my hands in his own. “What do you say we get out of here, huh?”

“Uh, what?” I asked, too surprised at the sudden gesture to jerk away.

“I know you are worried about what happened at your store, but that's not why you asked to see me.”

“It's not?”

“Of course not.” He smiled, teeth and eyes gleaming in the overhead lights. “It's obvious. I saw it the first time we met.”

I wasn't quite sure I followed, but I went along with it. “Is it, now?”

Dan nodded. He picked up my other hand and leaned in even closer. “We should probably go to your place,” he said at a near whisper. “We can be as loud and rambunctious as we please.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

My brain must have been on vacation, because it took me a good five seconds to realize what he was saying. The moment it hit me, I jerked out of his grip and stood, knocking over my chair in the process.

“What do you take me for?” I asked, angry. I mean, really?

Dan rose slowly, looking around as if worried everyone in the room was watching us. Hint: They were.

“I just thought . . .” he started, and then frowned. “Don't you want to have sex?”

I sputtered. “What? With you? I . . . No!”