Саманта Сильвер - Busy As A Beaver

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have been working four days ago, would you?”

“Thursday? Sure, I was here from open until two.”

Great. That fell right into the time period Michael Carlton should have been here.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen this guy, would you?” Sophie asked. She pulled out her phone and showed it to the woman, who nodded sadly.

“Yeah, I saw that guy on the news this morning. He’s the one who was killed in that home invasion yesterday, right?”

“That’s the one,” I confirmed. “He would have been here Thursday just before noon.”

“I do remember him,” the woman said. “As soon as I saw his picture in the news this morning, I recognized him. He had coffee with Chuck. He’s a regular now, just moved to the area a couple months ago. I hadn’t seen that man before, though.”

“Do you know where Chuck works?” Sophie asked.

The woman shook her head no. “He usually comes in not too much later than this, though. Why are you asking about Chuck?”

“We think we know someone in Willow Bay who might know Michael, but we’re trying to figure out how. We were hoping to speak to someone who knows Michael, someone who could maybe give us a hint in the right direction.”

“Oh, ok. So you’re not reporters or anything?”

“Definitely not. Angela here is the vet in Willow Bay, and I’m her technician,” Sophie replied with a charming smile. I had to hand it to her, Sophie was really good at getting people to let their guards down.

“Alright. Well, I’ll let you know if he comes in.”

“Thanks,” I told her as Sophie and I made our way towards a small table in the far corner against the window, where we could both enjoy the sun’s rays and have a private conversation far away from eavesdropping ears.

About three minutes later, the waitress came by once more, this time bearing a tray laden with our coffee and treats. Sophie and I dug in, obviously only because we had nothing to do until Chuck showed up. I had to admit, while Betty’s would always hold a special place in my heart, the red velvet cupcake I had settled on was absolutely delicious. It might not have been quite as good as what Betty cooked up—after all, people drove in from all over the state just to get some of her pastries—but this was easily the best café I had ever been to in Portland.

“Is your pie as good as my cupcake?” I asked Sophie, who quickly took the plate and covered it with her hand, baring her teeth at me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Seriously, though, have a piece,” Sophie offered, removing her hand and motioning to the pie with her fork.

“I’m a little bit afraid to,” I laughed, reaching over and taking a small bite. I motioned for Sophie to do the same with my cupcake as I moved the fork to my mouth, and I had to admit this was a pretty darn good pie as well. I made a mental note to ask Betty to add bourbon pecan to her menu.

“We need to tell Charlotte this place is here,” Sophie said. “After all, she spends so much time in Portland that she needs a good place for pastries when she can’t get Betty’s.”

I nodded in agreement and looked up as the waitress made her way back over towards us. “The man that just came in, he’s the one you’re looking for. That’s Chuck,” she told us in a quiet voice.

“Thank you so much,” Sophie said, beaming at her. As soon as she left I got a better look at the man. He looked to be in his late fifties, maybe early sixties. His hair was completely gray and beginning to thin at the top of his head. His clothes were worn, but obviously good quality. They were a little bit old-fashioned as well; I imagined this man must’ve bought them maybe fifteen years ago and didn’t feel the need to replace them with new ones until they were truly worn out.

As soon as the man paid, he made his way towards Sophie and me and grabbed a chair from a nearby table before sitting down at ours. “I hear you ladies want to speak to me about Michael Carlton,” he said.

“Yes, please,” I said, getting a closer look at the man. He might have been a bit older than I initially suspected, but his glistening blue eyes and kind face told me that despite his years, this man was still very active mentally, if not physically. He had, after all, a little bit of a limp as he made his way towards us.

“What can I answer for you two young ladies today?”

“How well did you know Michael?” Sophie asked. “We’re trying to find a link between him and a lady named Gloria Romano, who lives in Willow Bay.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t know him all that well,” Chuck replied. “I only moved to Portland recently, a couple of months ago.”

“Oh,” I said, my shoulders slumping slightly. I had really hoped Chuck would have been a childhood friend or something, someone who would have known all of Michael’s deepest secrets.

“I know he worked as an accountant here in town,” Chuck continued. “He was retired, though.”

“That’s right,” Sophie nodded. “How did the two of you meet?”

“We were both playing a round of golf at Rose City. Ran into each other in the clubhouse after, sparked up a conversation and went from there. We met a couple of times after that for golf and had a coffee here the other day. Just to chat.”

“Did Michael mention anyone who had something against him, by any chance?” I asked. “Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?”

Chuck thought about it for a minute, then shook his head. “No, I can’t say he did. He mentioned that he has a brother who lives in California, but that was it.”

“What about the name Gloria Romano?” Sophie asked, and Chuck’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“No, that doesn’t ring a bell either.”

Great. We were getting precisely nowhere with this.

“Alright,” I said. “Thanks for your time.”

“Not a problem, ladies,” Chuck replied. “Always nice to have a bit of a chat. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

Sophie and I left the café and made our way into the cold air, which reflected my mood perfectly.

“So where do we go from here?” Sophie asked.

Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

Chapter 11

It turned out the answer was: back home. Sophie and I walked back to the car, but about ten blocks away from where we were parked, Sophie suddenly grabbed me by the arm.

“Hold on,” she hissed, pulling me into a doorway. “Isn’t that Jason?”

I turned to look in the direction Sophie had indicated. Sure enough, my boyfriend was rushing past on the other side of the street, his face buried in his phone.

That was certainly strange; he had planned on staying home that day to work on his article and get something in for the deadline.

“We should follow him,” Sophie said, but I put a hand on her arm.

“We absolutely are not doing that,” I said.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary with what he’s doing,” I replied, turning my head as he passed right across the street from where we were.

“If you’re so sure that there was a good reason for him being here, why were you hiding?” Sophie asked, her hands on her hips.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll text him.”

Hey, where are you?

I pressed send and gave Sophie a smug look as my phone made the sound indicating the text had gone off.

When thirty seconds later I hadn’t received a reply, however, Sophie’s eyebrows rose and my smug expression turned into a bit of a frown. He had his face right in his phone; why didn’t he answer my text straightaway?

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I mumbled, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread building in my stomach. Jason had never been the type to hide anything from me.