Клео Коул - Murder Most Frothy

“It’s private.”

He spied the photos on the coffee table. “And what is all this?”

“I’ll have to call you back,” I told Madame.

“One more thing, Clare. I’ve been asking around about Graydon Faas, just as you requested, and you really shouldn’t worry. The Faas family out here co-owns Taber-Faas pharmaceuticals. They’re multimillionaires, dear.”

“Okay, gotta go,” I said and closed the phone.

Frankly, I didn’t care if the Faases were multi billionaires . The fact that Graydon’s family was rich told me nothing about the character of the boy himself, nor did it explain why he was working in the lowly job of waiter for the summer in an East Hampton eatery. But I didn’t have time to discuss all that with Madame. Not with Cuppa J’s crazy manager breathing down my neck.

By now, Papas was pawing through Jim Rand’s photos. I calmly got to my feet. “Jacques, what I’m doing is none of your business.”

He didn’t seem to care. He continued rudely looking through the pictures. “These photos…they’re from David’s party.”

“They’re my business,” I said, finally grabbing them back.

Jacques’s beady black eyes narrowed on me. “What sort of business?”

“If you must know, I’m conducting a little, uh…investigation.”

“An investigation!” Papas cried. He appeared appalled at first and then upset. “An investigation into…into what exactly? What do you mean?”

“I’m looking into some suspicious things that are happening around David, that’s what I mean. I’m his friend and I don’t intend to see anyone injure him.”

“I don’t understand you,” Papas sputtered. “You’re just a glorified barista. Who do you think you are?”

“Dial it down, Jacques. There’s no need to become insulting. And, if you don’t mind, I’m on break—”

Papas tapped his watch. “Your break was over five minutes ago, Ms. Cosi. And do you know what I think?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“I think you have an attitude problem , just like that Lopez girl. And I intend to inform David Mintzer of that fact. Now get yourself in gear. The dinner shift is arriving, and there’s much to be done!”

Saturday night was always the busiest night of the week at Cuppa J. The under-forty crowd packed the place, pumping up with caffeine to party until the wee hours. Papas had yet to hire a replacement for Prin, and I was stuck waiting tables again as well as managing the coffee bar.

When my next break came around, about eight o’clock, I didn’t dare risk another scene like the one I’d had earlier with Papas. I walked through the kitchen and out the back door, got into my car in the parking lot and locked the doors. Only then did I place my cell phone call.

“O’Rourke here.”

“Hello Detective, it’s Clare Cosi again.”

The unhappy exhale was hard to miss. “Yes, Ms. Cosi? What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, detective, but I have some more information for you. Did you know that Marjorie Bright is a crack shot? She’s a champion skeet shooter.”

“No. I didn’t know. And now I do.”

“You see why I’m telling you, don’t you? She has the skill to fire a rifle and hit a target. I’ve also got photographic evidence that she was not just passing through David’s property. She was loitering there during the party, skulking around for some reason, staying out of sight. Don’t you think those two things make her a likely suspect?”

“Did she have a motive for murdering Treat Mazzelli?”

“No. For attempting to murder David Mintzer.”

“Ma’am, Mr. Mintzer was not the man murdered the night of July Fourth, as you well know since you discovered the body. Now, I thank you for your information, but we have some very strong leads on our investigation and they do not involve Ms. Bright at this time.”

“It’s Jim Rand, isn’t it? Do you have him in custody?”

There was a pause and another weary sigh. “Ms. Cosi, we did question Mr. Rand, but his alibi checks out. The man couldn’t have shot Treat Mazzelli on the night of July Fourth. So he’s not in custody, nor is he a suspect at this time.”

“What alibi did Rand give you?”

“That’s all I can tell you, ma’am.”

“Wait, but—”

“Ms. Cosi, I will take your information about Ms. Bright under advisement, but I have to ask you to stop investigating this crime on your own. And if you break any laws doing so, I’ll see that you’re prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.” I gritted my teeth in frustration. “Goodnight, detective.”

“No hard feelings, now, Ms. Cosi. Goodnight.”

I hung up, suddenly feeling both angry and stupid. Here I was trying to stop a murderer. And I’d just been accused of being an outlaw!

“Joy, can I talk to you a minute?” I asked after returning from the parking lot.

My daughter had been talking with Graydon Faas and Colleen O’Brien by the dessert prep area. I waved her over to the back door.

“I’m off at eleven,” I told her, “but I know you’re here until closing.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So I thought I’d be going straight back to David’s, but I have some business to take care of first.”

“At eleven at night? What sort of business?”

“It’s no big deal, honey. I just want you to stay available by cell phone. Don’t power it down. Let me know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to be. Okay?”

“Graydon and I are just going out for a little while. We’re both going to surf in the morning, so I won’t be in too late. If my plans change, I’ll tell you.”

“You have your birth control?” I whispered.

Joy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. If I need it, I have it! Please don’t worry so much!”

A few hours later, at fifteen minutes to midnight, I was sitting behind the wheel of my Honda in the parking lot of Monroe’s Marina.

The phone call to O’Rourke hadn’t just frustrated me. It had made me angry. And, okay, maybe that anger had impaired my judgment just a little bit. I’m sure Matt would have said as much. But at this very moment, I wasn’t emotional. I was calm, cool, and trying to think as logically as I possibly could.

Detective O’Rourke believed Rand had given a solid alibi the night of Treat’s murder. But I trusted O’Rourke to catch the killer about as much as I trusted Rand, which is to say not at all. Consequently, I couldn’t get Jim Rand’s invitation out of my head.

“Midnight tonight…Come out with me…. After you see with your own eyes that I’m telling you the truth, you can cross me off your suspect list, and I’ll give you any photo you like.”

“Or you’ll push me overboard,” I muttered, remembering my earlier response to his invitation.

I got out of the car and slammed the door. With more than a few nerves fraying, I walked down one of the marina’s many long docks, and right up to Rabbit Run . The yacht was still in its slip, completely dark. There was no sign of Jim Rand anywhere. In fact, there was no sign of anyone on board.

“Damn you, Rand,” I muttered.

It was obvious he had been pulling my leg about the invitation. I am such a fool. He was playing me.

“Excuse me, ma’am, may I help you?”

I turned to find a young man walking towards me along the dock. He had short brown hair, a baby face with a very serious expression, and he wore a navy blue Windbreaker with the words MONROE’S MARINA SECURITY emblazoned on the front. The Windbreaker was unzipped and I noticed a picture ID clipped to the pocket of his shirt. I read the name beneath the picture.