Grounds to Kill Read online

  “By the way, there’s something else I need to tell you,” I said and I turned my back to count the boxes of chai tea in the cabinet.

  “Something besides the fact that your stolen car was recovered with a body inside?”

  “Our baker might be a murderer and I’m going to plant a tracking device in his vehicle,” I said quickly with my back still turned.

  “Excuse me?” Mitch grabbed me by the shoulder and whirled me around. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I wish I were.”

  I told him everything I knew about Charlie and the possible connections and then blurted out how we’d used a tracking device to catch Beth’s wormy ex and had decided that tracking Charlie might be a good way to go.

  “Seriously? You think this guy could be a murderer, but you want to sneak into his delivery van and hide a tracking device? Do you have a death wish?”

  “It’s either Charlie or my dad,” I said softly. “I’ve gotta take a chance that Charlie’s up to no good. And I need your help.”

  I could see him waver as I asked him to distract Charlie when he came to make the delivery, but when I told him I’d do it with or without his help, he agreed. We spent a minute discussing how the plan might work and then we opened Merlot’s for business.

  True to form, within the first half hour we’d served a number of chai teas and a few chai tea lattes. And then for one of our heavier-set regulars who really wanted to be healthy, but didn’t want to make that leap too suddenly, one chai crème frappe double-blended with strawberry syrup, extra whip and chocolate sprinkles.

  Twice I accidentally short-changed customers and once I dropped an entire beverage behind the counter. Mitch glanced at me and frowned. I was anxious. I had the GPS in the front pocket of my jeans under my apron and my nerves were pinging. Charlie was late. What if he didn’t show?

  By the time a ring finally sounded at the back door, it had quieted out front. Things were going according to plan. I nodded to Mitch and we sauntered casually into the back room and toward the door. On the way, he whispered in my ear, “You don’t have to do this. I’ll put the GPS in his van instead.”

  “No. Let’s stick with the plan.”

  I stopped and retrieved a large garbage bag from the corner.

  I opened the door and greeted Charlie nonchalantly.

  “Hey, I’m just going to toss this in the Dumpster. Mitch can help you with the delivery.”

  “Actually, Charlie, can you come around front? I want to ask you a couple of questions about our pastry lineup.”

  “Sure,” Charlie replied.

  As soon as Charlie was out of the back area of Merlot’s, I tossed the garbage in the bin and dashed toward the rear of his delivery van. The door was open and I looked around frantically for a place to stash the GPS. I’d planned on stuffing it in the wheel well, but there were so many boxes, I had to shove some aside. I glanced nervously over my shoulder and knew I had only a minute at most.

  The sickening stench of sugar threatened to overwhelm me as I shoved a dozen boxes to the left a few inches so that I could jam the GPS under the floor covering and into the wheel well. The tracking device made a slight bulge, but I decided to chance it and was moving boxes back to cover the hump when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Can I help you?” Charlie asked, dryly.

  I let out an “Eep!” of surprise and whirled around to see Charlie standing outside his van and Mitch running up behind him.

  I sputtered, “Ah hah!” And pointed inside his van at a box of lemon scones. “Just as I suspected.”

  “Ah geez, Jen, can’t you just leave well enough alone?” His eyes were hard marbles as he nudged me aside and slammed the door shut to the van.

  Mitch looked like he was going to pass out with relief.

  “Those pastries were only to be sold to Merlot’s,” I said.

  “Just drop it, Jen,” Mitch said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Yeah, nobody cares about the damn lemon scones except you, okay? So stop making such a big deal of it,” Charlie said.

  “You’re an amazing baker, Charlie.”

  He looked taken aback by this sudden compliment.

  “Thanks.”

  “You started Fresh! Fresh! Fresh! in your own kitchen and walked up and down the streets of Seattle with samples hoping that cafe owners would order your baked goods so you could stop working the night shift at the gas station up the road. Do you remember that?”

  “Of course I remember that. I was there.” He laughed, but he couldn’t look me in the eye. He looked at his shoes instead, and it made him look guilty as sin.

  Mitch slipped his hand in mine and tried to tug me back inside Merlot’s.

  “I was the first. I tasted those damned lemon scones and I said ‘whoa, I’ve got to send these to the owner,’ right? And he cut a deal with you to bake them just for Merlot’s.”

  He turned and faced me then and the rage in his face was terrifying. His fists opened and closed at his sides angrily. Sure he was skinny as a skeleton, but I was willing to bet he was quick like lightening. I expected him to hit me or worse, but instead he jabbed a finger roughly into my shoulder.

  “They’re pastries for God’s sake, Jen,” he hissed. “Let it go or you’ll be sorry!”

  Mitch stepped between us and backhanded Charlie’s hand away.

  “Time for you to go,” he growled.

  Charlie nodded abruptly then turned and climbed behind the wheel of his van. When he took off, I had to double check that I hadn’t peed myself out of fear. My pants were dry, but I had sweat stains under my arms.

  “Let’s get back to work before I drop dead of a heart attack,” Mitch grumbled.

  As we walked back inside, I texted Beth that the deed was done. She texted me a thumbs up in return.

  The phone rang in my hand and I answered before glancing at the call display.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like the flowers?”

  Arthur. Damn.

  “Hi, Arthur,” I said. “That was quite a surprise...” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and say that his impromptu show of affection made me want to vomit. “I’m at work right now so...”

  “Oh. Sure. I just wanted to see if you got them and to also see if we could go out together later.”

  “Well, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Seriously? Even after the flowers?”

  Now I was getting pissed.

  “Yeah. It takes more than flowers to wipe away the memory of you sleeping with my half sister. You want to do something for me? You really want to do something for me?”

  “Sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound very sure.

  “Look into Charlie Rudnicki.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A baker who delivers to Merlot’s. He runs a business named Fresh! Fresh! Fresh! His grandmother lives across the hall from me and he’s a creep and it seems he might be connected with what’s happened. He had access to the building, so he could’ve known Misty. He came around Merlot’s almost every day, so he could’ve known my dad would be an easy target to hang her murder on. See what you can find out about his connection to Misty. Also, let me know if he has a storage unit.”

  “Jen, I’m a traffic cop on desk duty, not a psychic,” he said heatedly. “If you think this Charlie guy killed Misty, why don’t you tell Kellum that?”

  “I did, but—”

  But Arthur hung up in my ear.

  By the time my shift ended, my near-peed-my-pants experience felt like a lifetime ago. When Beth called to ask if I wanted to come over and track Charlie, I was chomping at the bit.

  “But Mojo’s been alone all day, could you come to my place and we’ll do it there?”

  “I guess you’re still us
ing that crappy laptop Mallory loaned you?”

  “Yeah, because it’s better than nothing and, well, even if they give me the old one back, I’m not sure I want to use it.”

  “You’ve got a point,” she agreed.

  There was a pause while we both thought about a bloody knife and the impact it could have on the desirability of a four-year-old laptop.

  “I’ve been following Charlie most of the day and he hasn’t done much but make deliveries and hang at the bakery. I’ll continue tracking him on my iPad while I’m out. I’ve got to meet an, um, friend for a drink before I come to your place.”

  “A friend? Is this like a date friend?”

  “It’s possible, but it’s too early to say for sure.”

  “This would be the first time since the scum-sucking-toilet-worm! This is huge!”

  “Not that huge. I’ve yet to determine whether or not it’s officially a date.”

  “Okay, but if you’re having fun and not wanting it to stop at drinks, don’t worry about little old me.”

  “It’ll end at drinks,” she said evenly. “I’m not a slut.”

  “Oh hey I know that.” I was grinning ear to ear, because Beth dating was the best news I’d heard in a while.

  “Stop smiling,” she said. “You’re putting way too much pressure on this already.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, still grinning. “I’ll see you later...whenever you get there...no rush.”

  I disconnected the call and hung up my apron, still smiling.

  “That looks great,” Mitch said, hanging up his own apron.

  “What?” I looked around.

  “Your smile. It’s been a while since I saw it.”

  “I haven’t had a lot to smile about these days.”

  “True. Need a ride home?”

  “Yes,” I said emphatically. As much as I wanted to be strong, independent and tell him “no, I’m fine without your help,” the truth was I hated riding the bus and I was a little squeamish about being alone in my apartment.

  Once I was comfortable in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Mitch asked, “So I take it there’s no news on the Charlie front?”

  “None. Beth said he’s basically worked all day, but she’s coming over in a little while and we’ll continue to keep tabs on him.”

  “And how has your...thing with your hand been going?”

  I considered his question.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No.”

  He was quiet as he maneuvered in and out of traffic.

  “Why don’t I want to know?”

  “Because you, my friend, aren’t exactly good with stuff like this.”

  “Stuff like what?”

  I sighed. He was going to make me say it.

  “Stuff like my spirit guide. That kind of stuff.”

  “You make me sound like I’m a snob or wimp or something.” He sounded hurt.

  “You’re not a snob, or a wimp. You just want things neat and tidy and explainable and I’m, well, I’m anything but those things. Especially now.” I closed my eyes for a second. “Don’t get me wrong, I wish I could be drama free and happy-go-lucky and peachy keen and all that. I really wish I, too, could spend my evenings reading the paper instead of tracking down trannies named Kiki...”

  “Who’s Kiki?”

  “Never mind that. What I’m trying to say that things aren’t neat and tidy in my life right now.” I thought a moment. “And I don’t think my life has ever been that way, so I just might be a little too...” I searched for the word. “Messy for you.”

  He had no reply to that. I wanted him to argue and say I was just what he wanted. Instead, I got silence.

  When he dropped me off in the front of my building, he leaned in and kissed me neatly on the cheek.

  “Do you want me to come up and keep you company until Beth arrives?”

  My head screamed “Yes!” , but what left my lips was, “I’ll be fine. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow then.”

  As I climbed out of the car and walked toward my building, I felt intensely sad. I’d expected more than a kiss on the cheek from Mitch. Maybe not a roll in the hay, but I’d hoped he’d at least fight for our relationship to have a chance to start.

  I checked my mail before riding up the elevator. Nothing but bills. When I reached my apartment door there was a sticky note on it that said, “I need to see you right away!”

  The note was signed by Mrs. Rudnicki.

  I had my keys in my hands and it would’ve been so very easy to just open my door and walk through, but I knew the old lady was probably spying through her peephole at me right now. With a sigh of reluctance I turned around and walked up to her door. I knocked soundly and it swung open.

  “Mrs. Rudnicki?” I called out.

  “In here!” Mrs. Rudnicki called from down the hall in her bedroom.

  “I saw your note,” I said, walking toward the sound of her voice. “So what’s up?”

  I entered the bedroom and immediately knew something bad was up. Mrs. Rudnicki was lying on her bed with her hands and feet bound. She had a look of complete horror on her face.

  My eyes barely had a chance to take that in when pain exploded in the back of my head and the carpet was rising up to meet me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I regained consciousness, my eyes were trying to focus on the ceiling. My first semi-conscious thought was This isn’t my bedroom ceiling. There’s a beer stain over my bed that was created when Arthur and I were playing Cowboy and Indian and he jumped on my bed with a can of Bud.

  “Are you okay?”

  My second semi-conscious thought was Why is Mrs. Rudnicki talking to me while I’m trying to sleep here on the floor?

  I tried to get up, but my hands and feet were tightly bound. I wriggled to my knees before the room began to spin and my head hurt worse than after Jell-O-shot nights in college. I could hear Mrs. Rudnicki squirming around on her squeaky bed trying to get up herself. Next thing I knew she’d wriggled right off the bed and landed on me.

  “Ow,” I moaned.

  She didn’t move for a few seconds. “Are you dead?”

  “No!”

  I rolled out from under her and got groggily to my feet.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice filled with emotion. “I—I came back from a walk and there was this man in the hallway knocking on your door and next thing I knew he had a gun in my face and was tying me up with these plastic ties.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “Would this man happen to be Charlie?”

  “No!” She flopped around on the floor like a seal trying to get to a sitting position.

  “Don’t hurt yourself. Let’s try and dial 9-1-1 on your cordless phone.”

  In theory, it was a great idea. In practical fact, we wrestled with the phone to knock it off the cradle and then we hopped around, flopped around and were a sweaty mess by the time we maneuvered it into a position we could attempt to use on the floor. I tried punching in the numbers with the cordless phone on the floor behind my back and Mrs. Rudnicki instructing me, but I couldn’t even come close to the right numbers. Finally it was Mrs. Rudnicki who dialed using her pointy, old-lady nose.

  We told 9-1-1 that we’d been assaulted and were tied up. Then we got ourselves to a sitting position using her bed as a back rest while we waited for the police to arrive.

  “What was with the note on my door?” I demanded.

  “He made me write that,” she said.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I thought he was going to rape me,” she insisted.

 
That was a visual I really didn’t need.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears as she described how scared she’d been.

  It wasn’t long before the place was hopping with uniformed and non-uniformed cops. It was a huge relief to get the ties cut from my ankles and wrists. Missing in action was Detective Kellum. Maybe it was his day off.

  Because I never saw my attacker, I listened intently as Mrs. Rudnicki’s description: tall, average build, middle aged white guy with a day’s growth on his chin. Gee, that narrowed it down to a few million in the greater Seattle area.

  “Sound like anyone you know?” an officer asked me.

  “Seriously? Sounds like half the guys that come in for coffee in the morning.” I turned to Mrs. Rudnicki. “Are you sure he wasn’t six feet something and super thin?”

  “No,” Mrs. Rudnicki assured. “Why?”

  “I thought maybe he’d answer to the name of Charlie, that’s why.”

  Mrs. Rudnicki looked appalled.

  “My grandson would never do such a thing!”

  “Yeah, right, he’s a real prince. I forgot.”

  The officer asked about Charlie and Mrs. Rudnicki explained that I didn’t get along with her grandson, but he would never tie her up in her apartment and leave her like that.

  Beth showed up in the middle of the gong show expecting to track Charlie. She had her iPad in a bag slung over her shoulder. I told her what had happened and then I leaned in and whispered, “I can’t wait to see where he’s been driving around this evening.”

  We waited patiently while Mrs. Rudnicki gave her statement a number of times and then I followed it up with a brief one of my own.

  Once the police had gone, and Mrs. Rudnicki stubbornly refused to be checked at the hospital, I invited her back to my place.

  “I think you need a drink.” I took her by the hand.

  I dragged her out of her apartment and across the hall into mine. I pressed Mrs. Rudnicki into a chair. Mojo jumped up and down, thrilled to see me. I scooped her up, gave her some loving then handed the excited ball of fur to Mrs. Rudnicki.

  “She’ll make you feel better,” I said.