Grounds to Kill Read online

  I turned and poured him his small coffee and when I turned back he thanked me for the coffee. I didn’t charge him, because I never had before. He reached in his pocket and held out a tiny four leaf clover pin.

  I stared at it and frowned.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s just a little good luck charm,” he said sheepishly. “I know you’ve had a bad week.”

  That was putting it mildly.

  “Um. Thanks.”

  He leaned forward and pinned it to the bib of my apron.

  “I’m sorry for being an ass,” he whispered as he pinned me. “I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did.”

  I didn’t know what to say mostly because I felt Mitch’s eyes burning holes in my skin.

  The officers all took their coffees and left.

  “Well, that was...weird,” I said to nobody in particular.

  “What’s this all about?” Mitch demanded, flicking the tiny four leaf clover on my apron.

  “I’m not sure. He said it was for luck and that he was sorry.”

  I unclipped the pin from my apron and two-pointed it into the trash can.

  Mitch didn’t say a word, but I saw the flicker of a smile in his eyes.

  Things got busy again around lunch. When Minnie showed up for her shift a half hour early, I decided to leave. Mitch offered a ride, but I explained I wanted to cash my check and then I’d catch the bus.

  There was an ATM around the corner so I hoofed it out the door without looking back. After depositing my check and withdrawing some cash I headed toward Third Avenue to catch my bus. I text-invited Beth and Mallory over to my place later to brainstorm what our next plan of attack would be.

  At the bus stop I assumed the glazed, bored look that all transit riders had in order to avoid having conversations with other riders. It was in this zoned out state that I nearly missed the homeless man about to cut across at Third and Jefferson.

  Dad!

  I bolted across the street nearly being clipped by the Number Forty-One bus in my haste. The second I crossed the corner I spied Dad quickening his pace and heading up Jefferson to Fourth.

  I called out to him, “Dad! Wait!”

  He glanced over his shoulder and took off at a dead run with me in hot pursuit. He easily outran me and I had to stop and catch my breath after a couple of blocks.

  For nearly an hour, I covered the alleys, lots and cross streets in the area to no avail. Giving up, I returned to my bus stop just in time to wait another ten minutes for the Number Thirty-Six. It’s only a half hour ride, but I dozed off and missed the stop in front of my building. Luckily I woke up only a block past. Still, by the time I walked inside my apartment, Mojo was itching to walk and my feet were screaming to rest. I let her out on the patio to do her business and then I played Attack Duck. It took over twenty turns of my throwing her stuffed duck and shouting “attack” before she got tired of it.

  Beth called to say she and Mallory were on their way over. I told them about my near miss with Dad regarding the bus.

  “He’s a grown man who doesn’t want to be found,” Beth said. “Even though you’re trying to help him, he obviously doesn’t see it that way.”

  As much as I didn’t want to agree, I had no choice. He’d run away from me like I was the bad guy.

  When Mallory and Beth arrived they brought comfort food—boxed chocolates and wine coolers. Around a mouthful of chocolate I told them my Dad must think I’m the enemy.

  “Obviously he thinks I’ve brought this all on him. He probably thinks I’m the reason why the police are hunting him down like a criminal.”

  Beth took a long sip from her cooler and said evenly, “You can’t control what he thinks, Jen.”

  “I know, but he’s never been violent and I hate to see him railroaded just because he’s too messed up to defend himself.”

  “Right.” Mallory looked through the box of chocolate for a favorite. Today’s public service announcement T-shirt was black with a red dripping font that said Flesh is for Zombies, Go Vegetarian.

  At that point Beth casually unzipped the hoodie she was wearing to reveal her own T-shirt that stated Meat is Murder. Tasty, Tasty Murder.

  “That is just so wrong,” Mallory said indignantly.

  I laughed until wine cooler came out of my nose.

  Then my phone rang and it was Fred. No more laughing.

  “Hate to tell you this, Jen, but you were right about that homeless woman going by the name of Alice. I’m guessing it was the same one you were talking to last night.”

  “So she still hasn’t turned up?” I asked feeling concerned for both Alice and myself.

  “No. But my contact at SPD said they found her shopping cart behind a Dumpster down the alley from Merlot’s.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah and, unfortunately, that means you can expect another call from the cops.”

  “Just because her shopping cart was down by Merlot’s? That’s a pretty busy alley.”

  “Inside that cart they found your laptop in a grocery sack.”

  “My laptop?” I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. How would Alice get my laptop?”

  “It gets worse. Inside the bag with your laptop they also found the bloody knife that police believe was used to murder Misty Nichols.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After I was done vomiting wine cooler and chocolate, Mallory and Beth did their best to coax me out of the bathroom.

  “You can’t stay in there forever,” Beth called out through the locked door.

  “Why not? My life’s in the toilet anyway.”

  “It’s been nearly an hour already,” Mallory reasoned. “We can’t help you unless you let us help you.”

  But they couldn’t help me anyway. I was beyond help. I was so far beyond that I could see flames and pitchforks in my future and I had a distinct visual of Detective Kellum hammering nails into my coffin.

  A couple of seconds later I heard rattling at the doorknob and the bathroom door swung open.

  “It’s a bathroom door.” Beth shrugged and held up a long toothpick. “And I’ve got to work tomorrow, so I can’t spend any more time talking to you through a closed door.”

  “I want to try something,” Mallory said. She stepped past Beth to help lift me to my feet. “I got an email from Zelma today and I think we need to at least try some of her suggestions.”

  “Why?” I sulked.

  “Because you have nothing else to lose.”

  She had a point.

  We reconvened in the living room, where Mallory proceeded to read the email off the small screen on her Blackberry.

  “‘I think what you’re doing wrong is just failing to focus and concentrate. Most of the time when you take a message from what you call HOD, you just give in to relieve the itch’.” Mallory looked up. “Is she right?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is stupid,” Beth grumbled. She opened another wine cooler to wash down the few chocolate pieces remaining in the box.

  “Negative energy doesn’t help,” Mallory barked sharply.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “All I’m saying is that if she follows a few of Zelma’s suggestions on how to focus, maybe she’ll finally be able to communicate more effectively,” Mallory said.

  “I guess it’s worth a shot,” I said. “She was right about the finding a key, although the jury is still out on whether or not it’s the answer to everything.”

  “Well, a couple of her suggestions are to make the room completely dark except for a small candle and then sit and focus on the candle. Then you are to empty your mind of everything except for whatever question you want the answer to and all the while you just keep your pen in your left hand poised
on paper and ready.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” I admitted. “Five minutes tops, right?”

  “Oh no.” Mallory shook her head violently. “She recommends you spend at least an hour. You don’t want to rush the process.”

  “Right. Heaven forbid.”

  “Okay, then I’ll be on my way and leave you to it.” Beth got to her feet. “You need an hour to stare at a candle in a dark room and I need to be up at the crack of dawn to meet with my boss about a client’s audit.” She looked at Mallory. “Are you coming or are you walking?”

  “I might as well get a ride,” Mallory said hurriedly. “Jen needs to be alone with her guide.”

  She walked over and hugged me hard.

  “You’ll get through this and we’re going to be by your side no matter what,” she said. “If Detective Kellum calls you up and wants you to come in, I think it’s time you thought seriously about asking a lawyer to come with you.

  “What she said,” Beth agreed. “I put the last couple of wine coolers in the fridge.”

  They both walked over and snuggled Mojo a quick goodbye. I locked up securely and set the alarm. And then I was alone. Although I was serious about trying to focus and get in touch with HOD to solve all my problems, I also felt a little fidgety and nervous.

  First, I turned on the TV so there’d be sound and then I searched through cupboards and drawers until I found a votive candle and matches. Next, I got changed, because how could I focus while wearing the same clothes I’d been in all day? I slipped into sweats and an over-sized T-shirt. Lastly, I made sure Mojo went out to use her grass patch on the balcony, because I didn’t want her interrupting me in mid-focus. Now I was ready.

  I lit the candle, turned off all the other lights in the apartment and the television. Sitting down on the sofa with a stack of loose leaf paper on my left and a pen in my left hand, I attempted to clear my mind. This turned into a monumental task. It’s a shock how much garbage enters your brain when you just want to try and stay focused on one particular item. For example, I kept telling myself I needed to focus on how to help my dad, but for some reason my mind kept drifting to Mitch.

  Then I had an epiphany—realizing that my focus shouldn’t be how to help Dad. My focus should be on who killed Misty, because once I knew the answer to that question, all my other troubles would be solved. I hoped.

  I cleared my throat, straightened my shoulders and stared at the candle so hard I burned the shape of it into my retina. I put the question “Who killed Misty?” into my brain on repeat and only allowed that one thought to circulate.

  I even got off the sofa and sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch with the candle at eye level. Now I truly was focused. My body and mind were riveted to the task at hand and I was excited, because it really did feel like I was so very close to getting the answer I needed.

  When I woke up it was because my alarm clock in the bedroom had gone off and it was five-thirty in the morning. Apparently I’d slumped over into an uncomfortable position on the floor and fallen asleep there. The candle had evaporated to nothingness and Mojo was eying me curiously from her princess bed.

  The loose leaf pages and pen had been scattered to the floor and I eagerly searched the pages to see if I’d scrawled anything at all on them during my focused state. Unfortunately, they were blank.

  I got to my feet and my entire body snapped, crackled and popped. My joints were stiff and sore and I was saddened beyond belief that absolutely nothing had come of my intentions. Before showering, I took Mojo for a quick walk around the block. The sky was clear except for a few cotton ball clouds. The temperature was already nearly seventy. It would be a beautiful day to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head, but a girl has to work.

  After I showered and dressed I used Mallory’s loaner laptop to check the bus schedule. If I caught the bus in fifteen minutes I’d just make it on time for my shift. Today I only put in a four hour day so I’d still have the majority of my day left for sulking and laundry. I’d already set those as priorities.

  Mojo was giving me puppy guilt because she didn’t want me to leave. I added a long walk, possibly to a nearby park, on my list before sulking and laundry and I played Attack Duck with her for the remaining five minutes at home.

  At six in the morning, transit buses are only about half-filled. Those who have to take the bus at this ungodly hour just to pay the rent don’t want to talk about it and they don’t want to look at others in the same boat. We bounced around in sullen silence with the majority of people who got on in Capital Hill getting off in the same general area as I did. Misery loves company.

  On the bus ride in I’d texted Mallory and Beth and told them my time of focusing was a bust. Mallory responded with a sad face. Beth didn’t reply at all.

  Mitch didn’t show up for his shift. He called Minnie to work for him.

  “Is he sick?” I asked her.

  She shrugged bony shoulders up toward her large ears.

  “He just said he needed a personal day.”

  A personal day? In the two years he’d worked at Merlot’s I’d never seen Mitch take a day off, personal or otherwise. It made me feel slightly nauseated. Maybe I’d blown it with him. I wasn’t in the right head space to start a new romance based on an old friendship. I knew that. Mitch knew that. Still, there was an ache in my chest at the thought he might’ve given up on me already. It wasn’t hard to imagine. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for sexy and desirable these days. Maybe he was put off by Arthur’s visit the day before.

  Then, as if thinking of him willed him to appear, Arthur sauntered into Merlot’s. He offered me a friendly wave as he approached the counter and ordered a coffee. He was smiling like all was well with the world. I didn’t smile back. Just prepared his coffee, mild and black the boring way he always drank it.

  He glanced left and right over his shoulder in case anyone was listening and then leaned in to say, “FYI, I heard the laptop stolen from your place in the break-in turned up in some homeless woman’s shopping cart.”

  “I know.”

  I held out my hand for payment of his coffee. He dug around in his pocket and came up with exact change. No tip for the woman who’d had sex with him for the last six months.

  “You do?” He flashed me a grin. “Well, good. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about the laptop so that you weren’t surprised when Kellum brings you in to talk about it.”

  “Right. Thanks.” A line was beginning to form behind Arthur, but I couldn’t help adding, “You know, if you really want to help me out, there is something you could do.”

  “Yeah? Anything. I want us to be on good terms, even if you won’t take me back right now. I feel awful about what happened and maybe eventually we can start over, right? What can I do?”

  “You could defend my character and that of my dad,” I said. “You could tell your buddies and especially Detective Kellum that you know me well enough to know that I’d never be involved in Misty’s murder and neither would my dad.”

  “Yeah...” He rubbed the back of his neck and his smile turned sheepish. “Except I don’t really know that, now do I? I don’t know your dad at all and you hated Misty. Not even just a little. A lot.”

  It’s shocking what an idiot will say to you even when you’re armed with a scalding beverage.

  “Hold on, just a second ago you wanted us back together, but now you’re saying you can’t defend me because you believe I might be guilty?” I stared in disbelief.

  “It’s not that I think you did it, Jen. It’s just hard for me to defend you.”

  “Well, try.”

  “And it would be different if there wasn’t all this evidence against you. You understand, right?”

  “Sure.” I made to hand him his coffee, then accidentally-on-purpose dumped it on his crotch.


  “Oops,” I said in a monotone.

  Arthur jumped around like a fool. Glancing over his shoulder, I said, “I can help the next Merlot customer over here.”

  After the line had died down and Arthur had left in a huff, the back bell rang and I asked Minnie to handle the daily delivery from Charlie. She came out front a few minutes later with a tray of mixed pastries to restock our pastry case. I couldn’t help but immediately notice that the most popular item was missing from the tray.

  “Where are the lemon scones?”

  “I asked him the same question,” Minnie said. “He said he’d moved on from lemon and that we we’re getting mixed berry.”

  “Mixed berry instead of lemon? Everyone and their dog sells mixed berry scones. We were supposed to be the only ones offering lemon and now...” I threw up my hands in exasperation. I mean if you couldn’t trust a baker to keep his word, who could you trust?

  “He makes great lemon scones,” Minnie agreed. “But the guy’s a sleazeball.”

  “Exactly!”

  “And he’s always trying to grab my ass or boobs,” she continued.

  “Mine too!”

  “Really?” She looked doubtful that thirty-year-old flesh was worthy of being grabbed, but I ignored the slight. “I’ve had it with this guy. I’m going to write Mervin Lo an email and tell him it’s time to change suppliers.”

  “Good plan,” Minnie agreed.

  We shared a look of surprise that we’d actually agreed on something, and then went back to work.

  I put my email to Mervin Lo on my to do list right after clearing my own name, clearing my dad’s name and fixing my love life, but I put it before getting caught up on laundry and cleaning my apartment.

  The part-timer finally showed to relieve me at two o’clock. I made my way to my bus stop, unable to keep my gaze from alleys, bus benches and alcoves. No sign of Dad. My hopes sunk a little lower.

  The bus ride was uneventful, but it was low eighties outside the bus and mid-nineties inside so I was hot and sweaty by the time I got home. My apartment was also overly warm so I cranked the air conditioning for the first time since last summer. I had my heart set on being in a vegetative state. Mojo wanted me to play Attack Duck. We negotiated with me agreeing to a couple of tosses after some ramen noodles and a diet Coke. I took up a seat in my recliner with my noodles and turned on the television, carefully avoiding news channels.