Falafel Jones - Max Fried 02 - Payback's a Beach (9 page)

“What time did you arrive at Thanx a latte?”

“Around 8:00. I didn’t leave until after ten.”

“See any cops come in?”

“Police? No, why?”

I didn’t answer her question. From her spot in the back, it was possible Kimberly could have been unable to see Officer Colletti. It was even possible that she was there during that two-hour slot Colletti said he was away from the shop. On the other hand, it was still possible she was lying. I couldn’t think of anything else to ask her so I thanked her for her time and we left.

As we walked back to the car, Mariel said, “Well, I guess Barker’s alibi checks out after all.”

I frowned. “Not really. Barker never mentioned Kimberly.”

“Probably because Kimberly told him not to mention they were dating.”

“Possibly.”

“OK, tell me. What’s the problem with his alibi?”

“I made a mistake.”

Mariel started rummaging in her purse. “Oh, wait a minute.”

I stopped walking. “What are you looking for?”

“My pocket calendar. I want to mark down the date you made a mistake.”

“Funny woman. Look. Kimberly said she was at the coffee shop after I already told her that was Barker’s alibi. That makes her less credible. If I suspected she was going to help him, I should have first asked her where she was. I screwed up.”

“Maybe we can still rule him out?”

“How?”

“Well, does he have a boat?”

“Does it matter? Scrawny little Floyd reached the
Amante
on his paddle board. Barker could have done the same or used a small kayak. Heck, a muscular guy like Barker could probably have swum out to the boat.” I pointed east. “His shop is right down the block from the river.”

“So, now what?”

“So, he’s still on my list.” I paused a moment as a new idea came to me. “Hey, wait a minute. Where’s your coffee cup?”

“In the car, why?”

“I tossed mine in the park but if we still have yours, maybe we’ve got Barker’s fingerprints on it?”

Mariel got excited. “And maybe they will match one found on the boat.”

“We won’t know until it’s tested but either way, there’s something off about her story. We also have to consider that maybe Barker told the truth and maybe it’s Kimberly who has a phony alibi.”

“You mean?”

“Yeah, maybe she’s not covering for him. Maybe she’s using him to cover for herself. Let’s visit Scott Barker again on our way to the police station.” When we got back in the car, Mariel used a napkin to place her coffee cup back in the brown paper bag we got at Thanx a latte. As I drove back to the coffee shop, I looked at my odometer and my gas gauge. I drove more today than I did all last week. If this kept up, I might even have to buy gas this month.

Scott looked up as we entered his store.

Scott put a lid on a coffee cup, stood still, and watched me approach. I knew he was thinking, “Oh no, not him again.” It’s not that I can read minds. It’s just that I’ve seen that look enough to recognize it when I see it. A skinny, twitchy guy stood on line in front of us fidgeting while he waited for his coffee. He looked at Scott, abruptly turned toward me and said, “I get 15 minutes twice a day for my break. Sometimes, I think my S.O.B. of a boss spends his whole day following me around with a watch. Anyway, I get a break, I run outta the office and zip down the block to Thanks a latte. After six months on this job, that name still cracks me up.” He took a moment to chuckle at the thought and went on. “So, I get to the shop in three minutes. My man, Scottie, makes my mocha cappuccino, puts a lid on it, takes my money and I’m outta here fully caffeinated.”

The guy looked down at his shoes and shook his head. “But not today.” The guy looked up at me and pointed to Scottie behind the counter. Scott had stopped serving the guy and stood staring at me with his hands flat on the counter. “Look at him. Scottie’s got his hands flat on the counter like he told me they taught him in that anger management class the court made him go to.”

Scott said to me. “You again? Now what?”

The twitchy guy looked at his watch. “I burned half my break time and still haven’t had my first sip yet. Scottie, ring me up man.”

I said, “Hi, Scott, you’ll never guess who we met appliance shopping. Well, she wasn’t shopping, we were. Actually, we were shopping but not for appliances.”

Scott lifted a hand and slammed it down on the counter. “Enough,” he says in a loud voice. “What do you want?”

The twitchy guy shrugged and said, “So much for anger management.”

I said, “I thought you’d like to know that Kimberly confirmed your alibi. She said she was here between nine and ten Friday night.” I pointed to the table directly in front of the counter. “She said she spent an hour at that table with her laptop updating the Best Appliances website.”

Twitchy guy started fishing in his pocket and pulled out some money. He said, “The smallest bill I got is a twenty. I’d leave it but I’m not paying no twenty bucks for a cup of coffee.”

Scott ignored him and said to me, “So? I told you I was here. Now, do want to buy something or are you on your way out?”

Twitchy said, “I’m getting desperate here now. Can I just walk out and pay you next time?”

I said, “We’re on our way.” As I reached for the door I heard Twitchy say, “Man, some people are so damn rude.”

Back in the car, Mariel held up the bag containing her empty coffee cup. “Still want to go to the police station?”

“Yeah, but not yet. Kimberly said she was with Scott eight to ten working on his books in the back. I told Scott she said she was there nine to ten in the front working on her website. He didn’t dispute anything I said.”

“So, you think her story is bogus?”

“I think they’re both lying but I don’t know why. Let’s take another shot at Kimberly.”

We drove back to Best Appliances but when we entered the store this time, Art, the salesman, ignored us. Mariel roamed between the tall refrigerators looking for Kimberly. I wandered around to the back of the store where I entered a hallway and saw an open door leading into an office. I peeked inside and saw Kimberly sitting at a desk facing away from me. I knocked on the doorframe and called out, “Kimberly?”

She turned, saw me, and came out into the hall. She closed the door behind her and said. “You can’t be back here. This area is closed to customers.”

Mariel finished roaming the store in search of Kimberly and joined us. I said, “That’s OK, I’m not a customer. I want to talk about Friday night.”

“What about Friday night?”

“We just visited Scott. You weren’t at his shop Friday night. Where were you?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, especially about where I was.”

I shrugged. “OK. We’re on our way to see Detective Torres about Scott. Torres can always follow up with you himself.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

That sounded to me like her resolve was starting to crumble so I stared at her and waited. Mariel placed a comforting hand on Kimberly’s back.

Kimberly took a deep breath and said, “Oh, all right but you need to keep this quiet.”

I said, “I’ll do what I can but if it’s relevant to Fisher’s death or Brenda’s disappearance…”

Kimberly nodded. “I was in Miami Beach until 6:30 p.m. and it took me four hours to drive home.”

“What were you doing in Miami Beach?”

“I had a job interview. That’s why I couldn’t tell anyone. My parents would be very upset.”

“Because you were leaving the family business? Lots of kids do that.”

“No, because I’d be working for the competition. Big Box Appliances is opening a new branch office in Miami Beach and they need a district manager.”

“That’s a big outfit.”

“And their local store is our toughest competitor, but they can offer advancement opportunities way beyond what I could have if I stayed here. Please don’t tell my parents.”

“They’ll find out eventually.”

“Only if I get the job. If I don’t get it, I’d rather they didn’t know.”

“Isn’t 6:30 kind of late for a job interview?”

“I had a 4:00 appointment. It ran till five and then I had dinner until 6:30. Alone.”

“Any proof?”

“Wait a minute.” Kimberly went back into the office and returned with a charge slip for Fortellini’s, an Italian restaurant on Collin’s Avenue. The time stamp showed 6:34 pm.

I returned her charge slip. “OK, Kimberly. If this is legit, we’ll keep quiet about it. Thanks for helping Brenda.”

Back in the car, Mariel said, “So Kimberly couldn’t be the killer.”

“Why? Because she has a restaurant receipt?”

“Of course. You don’t think she forged it, do you?”

“No, I don’t, but her producing a receipt doesn’t mean she’s the one who ate there. It could be a company card. If so, her mother, her dad, or even Art, the super salesman could have used it. Heck, if it was her card, she could have had a girlfriend use it to establish an alibi.”

“So, how will you confirm it?”

“I can’t. If I ask who interviewed her, Kimberly will shoot me down. Me asking about her would kill her job opportunity. Short of driving to Miami and hoping someone at the restaurant remembers her, there’s nothing I can do. It’s not worth driving there for such a long shot.” I put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot.

We drove up Dixie Freeway to the police station and entered the lobby. Despite my repeated visits, the cop behind the thick glass stared at me waiting for me to announce my name.

I said, “Mariel Fried for Detective Torres.”

Even though the cop had to know that wasn’t my name, he picked up the phone, said something I couldn’t hear, and buzzed us in.

I held the door for Mariel and she asked me, “How come you didn’t say your name?”

Torres was waiting for us in the hallway. He must have heard her question because he answered, “Max wanted to make sure I’d let him in.”

He stepped forward, hugged Mariel and asked, “How you been doing?” They met a while back when I worked my first case with Ed.

Mariel returned his hug, smiled and stepped back but she held onto his forearms. “Great. You look well. How about you?”

Torres smiled for maybe the third time I’ve ever seen him do that. “I’m good.” He turned and said, “C’mon.”

We followed him down a hall and he asked, “Is this to do with Colletti? He just spent 15 minutes looking for your name on You Tube.”

Mariel and I exchanged silent glances behind Torres’s back and I said, “No.”

We turned into the break room and Mariel used a napkin to remove her empty coffee cup from a paper bag. Torres watched her place it on a table and he said, “Oh, we have some guest cups if you’d like but I can’t recommend our coffee.”

I said, “This cup has fingerprints from Scott Barker and of course, Mariel.”

“Who is Scott Barker?”

“He owns the coffee shop, Thanx a latte.
”

“Why him?”

“He’s Brenda McCarthy’s ex-boyfriend. He broke the window in her office when she dumped him and he fudged on his alibi.”

Torres leaned back against the break room counter and crossed his arms. I wondered if he did that just to make his biceps bulge. “So, you think maybe he was on Fisher’s boat?”

“You have a better suspect?”

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

Mariel said, “Would it be too much trouble to see if his prints are on the boat?”

“Since not everybody’s in the system, we lifted a lot of unidentifiable prints. Matching against a known person might help.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Sure, Ms. Fried, we can check it out for you. I’ll let you know.”

Back in the car, Mariel said, “I don’t know why you always say Torres is difficult. I don’t find him that way at all.”

I gripped the wheel tighter and drove.

Mariel asked, “Where are we going?”

“I’d like to ask around at the Co-op, see if anybody there can place Scott or Kimberly at the coffee shop Friday night.”

“They work that late?”

“Sometimes Brenda did. Besides, I have no other ideas. You?”

“No.”

I pulled into the Co-op parking lot and we walked to the front door. When I opened it, Bryan called out, “Wow, twice in one day. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were actually working.”

“I am,” I said. “Do folks here know Scott and Kimberly?”

“You mean Kimberly Best?”

“Yeah, Brenda’s friend.”

“Yeah, sure. They both came here to see Brenda plus Scott runs the closest coffee shop. We practically run on coffee here and no one likes to make it.”

“Why don’t they like to make it?”

Bryan leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “Too touchy. The women think it’s demeaning to make it for the guys. The guys are afraid to drink it if the women make it ‘cause they don’t want to offend them. Separate male and female coffeemakers is sexist. Leaving all the coffee making to the guys is, well, you can imagine how often the maker would get cleaned and how long the coffee would sit on the warmer.” Bryan sighed and shook his head. “Better to just go out and get it.”