Chocolate Dipped Death (25 page)

“So we’re looking for someone who had motive and opportunity and who also has no alibi for the middle of the night.” I shrugged and put my feet up again. “Piece of cake, Jawarski. I don’t know why you’re still sitting here. What are you going to do? Run through the phone book starting with A?”

“Pretty much.”

“I could make it easier on you. I could put together that memorial service, and we could use that to see if we can draw the killer out.”

The smile slipped from his face. “Hold on a second, Abby. Let’s get one thing straight. There is no
we
. Not when we’re talking about the investigation. I appreciate you bringing me the evidence. I appreciate the fact that you figured out the poison was in that box of chocolates, and I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to help, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you get any more involved than that.”

“
Let
me?” This time, my eyebrow arched.

“This isn’t a man-woman thing,” he snarled. “This is a police-civilian thing.”

I shrugged to show that he had me on that one, but I wasn’t ready to cave in completely. “Let me put it this way, Jawarski. I’m
going
to hold a memorial service. When I do, I’m going to make sure Miles Horne is there.” I dropped my feet to the floor and leaned closer. “When he is, he might just be able to identify the woman Savannah told him about. If he does, wouldn’t you like to be there?”

“You think your mystery woman is the killer?”

“I have no idea, but it’s a possibility, isn’t it? Even if she’s not, I’ll bet the killer
will
be there. At the very least, the poisoner will almost certainly be there. Unless, of course, the poisoning was a random act of violence that just
happened
to occur on the same day as the hit-and-run accident that killed a universally disliked woman who just returned to her hometown after a protracted absence.” I pretended to consider for a moment, then nodded. “Could happen.”

“Yeah.” Jawarski actually smiled. “In Abby-world.” He sobered again and locked eyes with me. “Put together your memorial service, and I’ll be there—unless I already have the murderer in custody. But you do
one thing
to put yourself in jeopardy or hinder this investigation, and I’ll—” He broke off as if he’d just confused himself and stood so he could tower over me. I guess it made him feel better. “Just don’t do anything to interfere with my investigation, Abby, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Believe it or not, I really don’t have any desire to become involved. But finding that candy . . . well, that made it personal somehow. Somebody used
me
—my store, at least, to kill another human being. I hate that.”

“It had nothing to do with you or with the store. The candy was handy—”

“You don’t know that. In fact, the candy
wasn’t
handy. Someone had to get up to the second floor where Evie left that box of chocolates—and who would have known it was even there? It’s not something that somebody just stumbled across between one night and the next morning.”

“Maybe somebody else noticed that Evie left it behind.”

“That’s possible, of course, but they couldn’t have gotten into the store—unless my security is a whole lot worse than I think it is.”

Jawarski put a hand over mine. “We’ll figure it out, Abby. Try not to worry. Something will occur to you, or we’ll find a clue that will lead us in the right direction.”

I tried to look reassured, but no matter how hard I thought or what angle I looked at the problem from, I was pretty sure I already had the answer. Only one person could have gotten to that candy.

My cousin. The one on antidepressant medication.

I called Elizabeth from my cell phone as I left
the police station and asked if she’d mind watching the store for another hour. She agreed, so I drove down Twelve Peaks to Marshall’s restaurant. He’d been at Divinity with me the night of the contest. Maybe he’d seen something or someone I hadn’t.

Gigi is a chic place, streamlined, modern, all wood and metal and straight lines. I parked—not an easy task with the lunch crowd already gathering—and followed a laughing group of sunburned skiers toward the door. Already, the line of customers waiting to be seated filled the foyer and spilled out onto the sidewalk.

It was probably the worst time in the world to talk with Marshall, but I didn’t turn away. This was too important, and if I was wrong and he
did
have something to do with Savannah’s death, catching him now might make it harder for him to script his answers.

I jostled my way through the crowd, ignoring the grumbles of protest in my wake, and gave my name to the young woman at the front desk before leaning into a corner to wait.

Delta’s dry coffee cake and the Danish had long since worn off, and the scents of beef and garlic, the sight of tray after tray laden with meals being delivered to nearby tables made my stomach cramp with hunger. I’d have given almost anything for time enough to enjoy a leisurely lunch, but I’d already been away from Divinity all morning. No matter how willing Elizabeth was to help, I didn’t feel right leaving her there much longer.

Just when I was starting to think that I was wasting my time, Marshall swooped into the waiting area. He wore an obviously expensive black suit and white shirt, the top two buttons of which had been carelessly (or care
fully
) left open. His pale hair and glasses gave him a slightly boyish look, and I wondered again why I hadn’t noticed him in high school. Maybe he was just a late bloomer.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said. “We’re shorthanded in the kitchen, so today’s rush has been even more hectic than usual.”

“I completely understand. Actually, I probably shouldn’t even bother you. I’ll just take two minutes if you can spare them.”

With a grin, Marshall nodded toward the dining area. “I can give you five, but you’ll have to walk with me.”

“Deal.”

“So what brings you out in the middle of the day?” he asked over his shoulder as we walked. “Is there some kind of trouble?”

“Not really. I came by to ask a favor.”

He paused at a table and spent a few seconds chatting with the customers sitting there, then resumed his journey. “Favor huh? Such as . . .?”

Now that I was there, it suddenly seemed crass to talk about Savannah’s death in front of all those people. But I’d chosen the time and place, and I was too worried about Karen to wait for the crowd to leave. “I want to have a short memorial service before we start the contest again. It won’t be anything fancy, but I do think we should acknowledge what’s happened.”

Without breaking stride, Marshall picked a drooping petal from the rose centerpiece on an empty table and dropped it into his pocket. “That’s probably a good idea. What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too complicated. Some quiet music and a few nice words about Savannah ought to do it.”

Marshall stopped walking abruptly. “Don’t tell me. That’s why you’re here? To ask me to do it?”

I nodded. “Delta refuses to, Miles is too upset, and there’s no one else.”

Marshall nodded slowly. “Sad, isn’t it, to think that somebody could live their entire life in such a way that nobody would want to speak for them at the end?”

“Sad doesn’t even come close to touching on it,” I said. “Does that mean you won’t do it?”

Marshall sidestepped a waiter and tugged me out of the way with him. “I don’t think I’m the right person for the job, Abby. I mean, it’s not as if Savannah and I were close. I hardly knew her.”

“Really? But I understood you actually saw quite a bit of one another when you were younger.”

He smiled, but it was a token gesture. “Who told you that?”

“Delta mentioned that your mothers were friends.” I wondered how much more to say, but curiosity has always been a powerful motivator where I’m concerned—far more powerful than discretion. “She also said that you were pretty much head-over-heels for Savannah back then.”

Marshall looked away and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Delta’s exaggerating,” he said when he looked back at me. There was a challenge in his expression—as if he dared me not to believe him. “I probably had a little crush on her for a while, but it wasn’t anything serious.”

“She told me about the senior prom.”

The smile on his face grew cold. “I think maybe we ought to finish this conversation in my office. Do you mind?”

I followed him through the kitchen, down a brightly lit and freshly scrubbed corridor, and into a small, window-less office at the back of the restaurant. “I can just imagine what Delta told you,” he said when we’d both settled into chairs, “but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she makes it sound.”

“She said that you asked Savannah to the prom, and that Savannah stood you up.”

He nodded slowly. “That part’s true enough, but I’m hardly the only kid in the world who’s ever been left holding a corsage.”

Or the only girl left waiting for one. “She also said that Savannah was pretty mean to you about it afterward.”

He gave another slow, wary nod. “She was, but that was Savannah. You must know that.”

Well, yeah.
“So you didn’t hate her?”

“Lord no!” He leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “I’m not going to tell you we were best friends or anything, but she didn’t destroy me—at least not for long.”

Frankly, I was glad to hear it.

“When you think about it,” he went on, “I shouldn’t have been surprised that she stood me up. She was way out of my league, and I was dreaming to think she could ever reciprocate my feelings. I’m just too damn thickskulled. At least, that’s what my mother used to always tell me.”

“She knew how you felt about Savannah?”

He nodded. “And discouraged me from feeling it. She always said that Savannah would be way more trouble to some poor man than she’d be worth. Maybe she was right. I don’t know. It was a long time ago, and I didn’t like listening to her.”

“Were you upset when you found out she was back in town?”

He lowered his hands slowly. “Not a bit, but why all the questions? Don’t tell me you think
I’m
the one who ran her down.”

I laughed uncomfortably. “Of course not. I’m still just trying to find someone who’d be willing to say something positive about her at the memorial.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and I had the distinct impression he was trying to decide whether to believe me or not. That was only fair. I wasn’t sure I believed myself. “I guess I could help you out,” he said at last. “If you don’t think that having one of the judges memorialize a dead contestant would taint the contest or add fuel to Evie’s fire.”

“I’m sure Evie will try to make something of it,” I admitted, “but I think we should all put our differences aside and just be adult about this.”

Marshall laughed. “I think you’re talking to the wrong crowd. But if that’s what you want, I’ll come up with something.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He made to stand, so I asked my next question quickly. “The night of the contest, when you stayed late to help me clean up, did you notice anyone else around? Anyone coming downstairs after I did, maybe?”

He sank back into his seat and shook his head. “No, why? Something wrong?”

“Maybe. I just came from the police department. The autopsy report on Savannah is back, and it appears she was poisoned before she was hit by the car. The poison was in a box of chocolates from Divinity.”

Marshall’s eyes flew wide behind his horn-rims. “No kidding? So she was poisoned?”

“Yeah, but it was the car that killed her.”

“Can you trace the box of chocolates?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve made up only one box like that. It’s the box Evie Rice won for second place that night.”

“Well, then, there you go!”

“I wish it were that simple. Evie left the candy behind. It was still upstairs when I shut off the lights and came to the kitchen. That’s when I ran into you. You didn’t see anyone else in the building? No one who ran down the front stairs a minute before I came down?”

“No. But couldn’t somebody have gotten it later?”

“Not much later. She had to have ingested the poison between the time I saw the box upstairs, and when she went jogging at five thirty the next morning, and she probably ate some of the candy about half an hour before she died.”

Marshall looked surprised. “She was eating chocolate at five o’clock in the morning?”

“Some people do that, you know.”

He laughed and tugged off his glasses to clean them. His face seemed weak without them, and I suddenly remembered the nerd he used to be. “Yeah, I guess they do. I really wish I could help you, Abby. I just can’t. I didn’t see anything.”

I was surprised to discover that I liked Marshall, and I didn’t want to find that he was hiding anything. But, of course, he must be. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to ask my next question. “What about the letter?”