Smoked (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (6 page)

“Yes he is,” I said with a contented sigh. I had a feeling our family had just grown by one furry little ball of fluff.

After my mother left, with a promise from me to watch out for Meme, I got back to work. Of course I didn’t tell her I would help ensure Sloth repaid my grandmother by paying him handsomely for his services. Now all I had to do was figure out what kind of fish I wanted on my ankle.

A little after one I decided to go out for a sandwich. Sam and Marla were gone for a meeting with our accountant and Millie and her boyfriend, Rueben, the undertaker, were sitting in the kitchen playing a game of Scrabble while eating their lunch. The two had been dating for some time but so far no wedding plans were in the works. Nor were plans to move in together as far as I could tell. Millie still lived at home with her mother and grandmother and Rueben had recently bought a small house not far from where my former house was. I still owned my old place but had rented it out once John and I were married.

Millie, her mother, Judith, and her grandmother were a very close unit. When Millie’s dad died she and her mother had moved in with her grandmother and there they had stayed all these years. It was a safe, happy home and I had a feeling it would be very difficult to break it up.

I told Millie I had a few appointments and might not make it back by the end of the day. I first stopped by Krueger’s Market and got a ham and cheese on crusty bread sandwich, which I ate in a little area they had set up off to the side of the deli section. I pulled out my iPad, connected to their Wi-Fi and logged on to Maria Kravec’s Web site. I wondered what would happen to the site now. An assistant and a partner were on the list of people Ellery had given to me. Maybe one of them could take it over.

I clicked on the page named Farmaceuticals. I hadn’t even noticed it last night. It was blank except for a statement saying that vegan products would be coming soon. I thought the name quite clever and from the sound of it, I had a feeling some locally grown products, mainly food, might be included in their inventory. So what would happen to Farmaceuticals now? I then moved over to the blog page. The last blog had been posted on Saturday. Maria had died on Monday night. There was no mention on the site about Maria’s death.

I scrolled through the blogs she had been posted in October. There were several scathing ones about the meat industry in general. I started to read them but as I was sitting here eating a meat-laden sandwich, I didn’t think this was a good time to discover how my ham came to be ham. There were also a couple blogs about a number of local vegan restaurants that were not living up to the vegan principal. Maria didn’t actually list their names but she gave almost GPS-accurate descriptions of their locations. Anyone with an actual GPS or a willingness to walk around the town could figure out who they were. One was located here in Indian Cove and another in the next town over. The truth was I had no idea there were so many vegan restaurants. Maybe there was something to this whole movement and I might just have to check it out. Of course this thought went through my head while the ham sandwich went into my mouth so how diligent would I really be? Who was I kidding? I did try to live a healthy life style and I usually prepared one meat meal a week with the others being salads, pasta with veggies, or rice. But if tortured I would have to admit life just wasn’t worth living without bacon tossed in once in a while and then there was my love affair with butter. And M&M’s. Maybe they were vegan. Chocolate came from a plant, right? Of course there was that Red Dye #40.

I got back to my iPad and jotted down the general location of the restaurants. One of them wasn’t too far from Krueger’s and I could stop off as soon as I finished my sandwich. I took another bite and logged on to my Facebook page. I was just reaching for my pickle when a new post caught my eye. My mother had put up a picture of Riley. I looked to see if there were accompanying words announcing to the world he was free to a good home, but nothing. Just a picture of the dog sitting in my parents’ kitchen. Who did she think she was kidding? Riley was here to stay.

I closed the iPad, tossed my trash in the waste container, and left the store. The restaurant was only a couple of blocks away and as it was a lovely day, I decided to walk. The downtown section of Indian Cove was pretty much the same as when I was a kid, with a few additions. Where some stores had closed shop years ago, several trendy cafes had sprung up. In warmer months tables with bright umbrellas lined the sidewalk giving the whole town a tourist feel. Of course with the beaches and our new boardwalk connecting them, I guess Indian Cove could be considered a tourist destination of sorts.

I turned right at the end of the main street and walked another couple of blocks. According to the directions the restaurant should be coming up shortly. I looked at my watch. It was just about two and I figured this would be a good time to catch the manager or owner. The lunch rush would most certainly be over by now. As I approached I noticed the restaurant had a smart looking exterior. The shingles were painted in sea blue with a bright red door. There were several large pots with bushes on either side of the door and a deep yellow low wood fence bordering an area where outdoor tables were now stacked. Very inviting, was my first thought. The sign on the window said
The Natural World
. I walked over to the door. There was a sheet of paper stuck to it and I took a closer look. A phone number was listed and then in bigger, bolded letters someone had typed
Closed until further notice
.

I took a step back and moved over to the window. I cupped my hands up to my eyes and looked through the window. No lights. No people. I went back to the door and jotted down the number and then walked back to my car.

Now what? Why was the restaurant closed? Did the blog have anything to do with it? I started to punch in the number on my cell phone but then stopped? What was I going to say? I thought about this for a few minutes and then punched in the number again, this time letting it go through. It rang twice and was answered by a woman.

“Hello. My name is Alex Harris and I just stopped by your restaurant and noticed—.” Before I could get the next words out the woman on the other end started talking quickly.

“Oh, wonderful, yes, you can come by right now. Where are you? Do you have a pen? Get a pen. I can give you directions.”

I did as I was told, jotted down the woman’s address and told her I would be there shortly. I sat in my car looking at the phone. Well, this was easier than I thought. I preferred face-to-face interrogations. Listen to me. Did I really think of myself as a private investigator? No, of course not, but that was no reason to let the woman who had been on the other side of this call think I wasn’t.

I started the car and drove to the turnpike. Three exits later, I left the turnpike and wound my way through a modest subdivision of older homes. I found the one I wanted and parked in front wondering what this woman I was about to meet thought I was here for? Surely she couldn’t know I was a neighbor of a woman who had written a blog about her restaurant and did she even
know
about the blog? Not everyone spent their day scouring the Internet for the latest postings.

The front door opened and a woman who looked to be in her forties stood there waving at me. I locked my car and walked up a brick path to her home.

“Hi, hi, come on in. Alex, right? I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee. Can I get you a cup?”

“Would you happen to have tea?” I asked. The front door opened directly onto a living room. It was nice and neat but along with the neighborhood, the inside was also modest.

“Sure. Of course. You just sit down and I’ll be right back. I’m Carol, by the way. Carol Corliss.”

She hurried down a hall and I sat down in a straight-back chair next to a fireplace. On a small table next to me was an assortment of family photos. One was of Carol, a man I presumed was Mr. Corliss, and two boys who looked to be in their late teens.

“Here you go,” Carol said five minutes later, placing a cup of tea on a coaster on the table. “So you’re looking to go into the restaurant business or do you already have a place?” She took a seat opposite me on the floral sofa. “It’s really a great location for a restaurant and business has been booming. That’s part of the problem. I don’t have a moment for myself anymore and with two kids and my husband’s new job, it just became too much for me to handle on my own. All the equipment is installed and we can negotiate a price for that as well if you don’t already have your own. The restaurant dining room is fully furnished with all new tables and chairs, custom-made drapery and high-end carpeting. Really, we spared no expense at all when we opened. If you’re not going to throw your whole heart and soul into it then why bother.” She finally took a breath. I studied her for a moment and despite her talkative, friendly demeanor, Carol Corliss looked sad. Almost heartbroken.

I took a sip from the cup I had been holding and then placed it back on the coaster. “Mrs. Corliss, I think there’s a bit of a misunderstanding.” Of course there was. I never had a chance to tell the woman why I wanted to speak with her. But now that I thought of it, the sign on which her phone number had been written had also said
For More Information
. She clearly thought I was here to buy her restaurant.

“Do you think I’m here to buy your restaurant?”

“Why, yes, of course. Isn’t that why you called?”

“No. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Let me explain. My neighbor died the other night, in fact, it looks like murder, and her daughter hired me to help prove her father didn’t do it.”

“What does this have to do with me and my restaurant?” she asked looking totally bewildered.

“My neighbor, Mrs. Kravec, had a blog and in one of her posts she made references to local vegan restaurants that—”

Carol Corliss put both hands out in front of her indicating for me to stop. “Wait just a minute. Are you saying your neighbor is Maria Kravec?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And you’re telling me that she’s dead? Murdered? Maria Kravec who writes the Vegan View is dead. You’re absolutely positive?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. As a matter of fact, I was the one who called the ambulance.”

Carol Corliss jumped up from the sofa, her shoulder-length red hair falling out of the clip she had used to hold it on top of her head. She stood in the middle of the room, punched her fist in the air and yelled out, “Hallelujah”!

“Carol? Mrs. Corliss. Calm down.”

Mrs. Corliss continued to dance around the living room. The woman was positively overcome with joy. I’ve never seen someone so happy at another’s demise.

“Oh my God! Wait until my husband hears this. Where’s the phone?” Carol looked around the room, still pumped up by this joyous news. “Oh, right. In the kitchen. Excuse me for a moment.”

Carol flew out of the room leaving me to ponder this latest development. One could certainly come to the conclusion, based on her display of jubilation, that Carol was more than a bit happy about Maria Kravec’s untimely death. A death, I might add, that seemed to be the result of a methodical murder. So, was I alone in this house with a killer? No, I didn’t think so. Carol Corliss seemed much too surprised to hear the news. And happy. Would a killer dare show such joy over a crime they committed? Of course she could be faking it, but would she then jump up to call her husband if she had indeed padded the pile of leaves with poison ivy?

I could hear her talking in the kitchen but her voice was much more subdued than I would have expected based on her recent over-the-top reaction. I heard her put the phone down and I picked up my tea, taking a sip as she came back into the room.

“He already knew.” Carol shook her head. “He should have called me. Lord knows we both need some good news these days.”

“About that,” I began as I turned slightly and put my cup back on the table. “Why exactly are you so happy that Maria Kravec is dead?”

“How long have you got?” Carol asked with a snarl. “Wait a minute. Who are you? Are you the police?”

“Not exactly. Mrs. Kravec’s daughter hired me to look into her mother’s murder.” Okay, so I wasn’t exactly taking any money, but Carol Corliss didn’t need to know that.

“And the police think the husband did it? Why? Was she writing a blog about him too?”

I didn’t say anything but my look must have given me away.

“You’ve got to be kidding! She was blogging about her husband? Does he own a restaurant too?”

I shook my head. “No, he’s a butcher.”

“She was high and mighty with that Web site of hers and she was married to a
butcher
? Was she even vegan to begin with?”

“I don’t know for sure. I think she was just getting into it.”

“That blog of hers. She ruined our business.”

“So things aren’t booming like you claimed a couple of minutes ago?” I asked.

She had the good manners to look chastised. “No. Things are not booming. More like bombing. I thought you were a potential buyer. Do you know anything about the restaurant business, Alex?”

“Ah, no, not really.”

“It takes a lot of money and a lot of time to build up a reputation. Frank and I, that’s my husband, we’re both vegetarians. Raised our kids that way too. We always wanted to open up a vegetarian restaurant, grow our own vegetables and make a real go of it. How many people get to realize their dream?”

“Well, I started up my own business, with my sister. So I think I can understand your desire to have something of your own that you started,” I said.

“Exactly. And how is your business going?”

“Fine. Good, actually.” I wasn’t about to tell Carol Corliss about my sleepless nights over We’re Just Your Type. After all, it looked like the woman was currently out of a job and she just might need to sign up at a local agency to find work. And I wanted that agency to be mine.