On the Chopping Block (A Callie's Kitchen Mystery Book 1) Page 4

  “Don’t worry, I can handle it,” Max said from across the room where he was avidly eavesdropping on the entire conversation.

  “Max, you know how important this is. I promise this is the last time I run out on you!” Callie kept her tone genial but inside she was terrified. She wanted to call Samantha for advice.

  Before she could decide what to do, the door jingled again, announcing another customer. Only it wasn’t a customer. Callie’s dark eyes widened in sheer horror: her father was walking purposefully towards her.

  Four

  “Yassou, Dad.” Callie smiled at her father. Her facial muscles felt frozen in place and her heart was pounding – the last thing she needed was a discussion about going to the police station to report on the murder of a boyfriend her father didn’t even know she had. Hoping that George was in a hurry, Callie tried to act normal. Maybe he’d leave before he figured out what Sands was doing there.

  “What brings you here today?” she asked George, while shooting Sands a furtive look.

  Her father wrapped Callie in one of his signature bear hugs. It seemed that he held her even more tightly than usual. “Dad,” she said. “I can’t breathe.”

  George loosened his grip. “Okay, breathe, breathe. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d check on your business, see if it’s picked up any,” George said, sitting down at the table closest to the cashier station. Leave it to her father to start right in with concerns for her business. If only he’d seen the crowds just a half an hour before, but that wouldn’t have been good, come to think of it, not with all of the talk about Drew.

  Callie gulped and racked her brain on how to get rid of her father without offending him. He looked so innocent sitting there, his curly grey-brown hair neatly styled, his white shirt crisp and his dark trousers well-pressed. But she knew better and his next words confirmed her fears.

  “So,” George began, leaning his elbows on the table and clasping his large hands. “What are you doing to bring in customers now that you’ve lost the contest?”

  “Who told you that?” Callie said.

  “I read the papers! And besides, I’ve heard that the young fella who won is now dead. Murdered, that’s what I hear! You know this man? Yes?”

  Callie looked at Sands and gulped. Please don’t ask any questions, she silently begged him. Not in front of George. Don’t let him find out this way.

  “I knew him, Dad, yes, from the Chamber of Commerce as well as the contest.”

  Sands started to speak and Callie couldn’t help herself. She put up a hand as if to silence him and with the other hand grabbed a tray of loukoumades, holding it up like a prize. “Look what I have today, Dad,” she sang out cheerily. “Your favorite.”

  George looked at the delightful little balls of dough that Callie had artfully arranged on a plate and smiled at his daughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Loukoumades? Yes? Bring me a few with a cup of coffee, hrisi mou.” My dear. George still retained a strong Greek accent and lapsed into Greek often, despite his many years in Wisconsin. He glanced at Sands quizzically, before settling back in his chair and busying himself with the paper napkin dispenser.

  Sands started to speak again and Callie shot him a desperate look. “I’ll be right with you sir,” she said brightly. Sands narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t say anything.

  “Uh…” Callie faltered, glancing from Sands to George and back again. “Are you on your way to The Olympia?” Callie drizzled the loukoumades with warm honey and a dusting of cinnamon before handing them to her father.

  “Yes, but I’m in no hurry,” George answered. Drat. She poured a cup of coffee in a thick white mug and brought it to her father, kissing him on the cheek before ducking back behind the counter. Sands raised his eyebrows at Callie and motioned to her to come along with him, but she shook her head quickly before George could see her.

  “One minute,” she mouthed and Sands looked stern, but then looked back at George digging into his Greek doughnuts and sighed again. He looked at Callie again and shook his head at her. “Now,” he mouthed, tapping his wrist watch.

  “Dad, I’ve got to run out for a minute,” Callie said, defeated. She removed her blue and white apron and hung it on a hook. “Max will be here, though, if you need anything. OK?”

  “You should be here,” George said. “Remember what I’ve always told you? The owner has to be there – or else – no good.” He gave Max a dubious look and took a sip of coffee. “Aah. Hits the spot.” He nodded at his plate of Greek doughnuts. “These are almost as good as my yiayia used to make.”

  Callie smiled at the backhanded compliment and thanked her father. To have her cooking even be mentioned in the same sentence with his grandmother, aka yiayia was massive praise in George’s book.

  Callie saw that Sands had walked outside and was watching her through the window while he paced back and forth. Steam appeared to be about to come from his ears. George was digging into his sweet treat and didn’t appear to notice the little drama playing out in front of him. This was her chance.

  “Dad, I agree. The owner should be on site as much as possible but this won’t take long. I’ll see you later!” Callie grabbed her purse and tried to dash out but George was out of his chair, coffee and loukoumades forgotten. Great. He’d noticed Sands waiting for her outside.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded. “Who is that man?” George started to follow her out the door and Callie stopped short, George nearly tumbling into her.

  “Dad, honestly! It’s nothing. I’ve got to run an errand. I’ll tell you all about it later.” She kissed his cheek, pushed past him as gently as she could and joined Sands who placed his hand on her elbow and steered her firmly down the sidewalk.

  “What was that all about?” Sands asked Callie as he led her to, thank goodness, a black unmarked police car. All she needed was for George to see her getting into a black and white cop car – loukoumades would be flying through the air!

  “My father doesn’t know I was seeing Drew,” she said, feeling like a complete idiot. “He’s a bit overprotective since my divorce and it’s just easier sometimes not to tell him everything.”

  “I see,” Sands said, opening the passenger door of the car for her. As she got in the car, she realized that her confession made it look like she had something to hide. Wonderful. While Sands walked around to the driver’s side, she quickly texted Sam, asking her friend to meet her at the police station. Just in case, Callie told herself. Hopefully she wouldn’t need Sam at all.

  Callie inhaled deeply to calm herself and immediately wished she hadn’t. The police car looked clean but it smelled like a combination of cigarette smoke, ammonia and air freshener. Sands looked at her green face and rolled the windows down an inch or two. “Not my usual vehicle,” he said by way of explanation. “It’s just a short ride.”

  “About not telling my dad,” Callie felt like she had to explain. “He’s a wonderful father but he can be old-fashioned. He would only worry, so unless things get really serious, I just prefer to keep my private life private from him.”

  Sands raised his eyebrows at her and didn’t say anything for a minute. “My dad was strict as they come, too,” he finally commented. “Still, don’t you think he’s going to find out now?”

  “Yes,” Callie agreed. “I can’t believe he doesn’t know, to be honest. The diner he owns, The Olympia, serves up gossip with their eggs and toast.” Sands glanced at her and shook his head, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Then he was stern again. Callie shifted in her seat, uncomfortable waves of anxiety flowing through her as she wondered what else the detective needed to discuss with her.

  Before she knew it, Sands was pulling the car into a parking space next to the one-story brick structure that was the Crystal Bay Police Station. The detective led her into what she assumed was his office. There were framed degrees on the walls including one from University of Wisconsin and a rather untidy stack of papers on the corner
of his desk.

  A poster of what looked like the English countryside and a small picture of a British soccer team hung on the green painted wall. Callie squinted to get a look at the name: Leeds United. A University of Wisconsin Bucky Badger pencil cup completed the décor. No Pottery Barn evident in this place. And, Callie noted, no pictures of a wife. There was a picture of an adorable little girl with blonde pigtails and big hazel eyes like Sands. Callie opened her mouth to ask him about her when he cut her off.

  “So,” Sands began. “Here’s the thing. We spoke to a Mrs. DeWitt yesterday evening. She had some interesting insights on the small business contest with the big cash prize. Did you know, for example, that you were next in line? In other words, if for some reason Mr. Drew couldn’t claim the cash prize it would go directly to Callie’s Kitchen?”

  “What?” Callie was aghast. “No, I didn’t know that. I had no idea!”

  “Mrs. DeWitt gave me the contest rules, the fine print, you see.” Sands sat back in his chair and looked through some files on his desk. “Here it is. The contest rules: ‘If for any reason the primary winner cannot claim the cash prize, the secondary winner will be awarded the entirety of the prize money. Et cetera, so on.”

  “So,” Callie struggled to come up with a coherent response. “You think I’d kill someone for prize money? Are you serious?”

  “People kill for all sorts of strange reasons, Ms. Costas,” Sands replied. “Unfortunately, money is a strong motive for murder.”

  Callie was silent while she mulled over her situation. “I truly can’t believe this. I had nothing to do with Drew’s death. Nothing! I would never do something like that!”

  Sands ignored her statement and changed the subject. “I understand that your business is in need of funds, Ms. Costas. In fact, nearly all of the businesses on Garden Street have been struggling. Where does your business stand? When I arrived today, it seemed fairly empty.”

  “You should have seen it thirty minutes before you arrived. It was packed with a line outside the door!” Little did he know the real reason for the throng on her doorstep – it was the same reason that motorists slowed down to look at a car crash.

  “But you could always use the money, couldn’t you? As a small business owner and single mother raising a daughter,” Sands prompted. So they’d been digging into her private life. Callie had had enough.

  “Listen,” she said, feeling her color rise along with her anger. “Leave my daughter out of this. I’ve done nothing wrong and I don’t like what you’re trying to imply. I would like to speak to my attorney if you have any other questions for me.” Where was Samantha? Hopefully not in court that morning, but she needn’t have worried. At that moment Sam sailed through the door looking like a million bucks in a clingy plum suit with a cinched-in waist. A colorful scarf completed the outfit.

  “Samantha Madine. You might remember me from last night when I accompanied Callie for her statement.” Sands gave Samantha a grudging nod. “May I speak to my client a few moments in the hallway?” Sands sighed extravagantly and finally, gestured to the door. Samantha hustled Callie out.

  “You were lucky today, friend. I almost missed you. Now Callie, listen up. We’re going back in but I don’t want you to say anything until I tell you to. Nothing. Don’t even breathe unless I say you can. Are you with me?”

  Callie nodded. “Yes, I’ve got it.” Samantha grabbed her by the arm and led her back inside Sand’s office.

  “Detective Sands,” Samantha began once they were all seated. “I’m not certain as to your line of questioning. I was here with Ms. Costas last night – she has already made her official statement.”

  “True.” He pushed a piece of paper toward them – it appeared to be a typed document detailing the basics of her discovery of Drew’s body. He sat back and exhaled impatiently. “In addition, we have some new developments that I find interesting.” He smiled pleasantly enough but his words chilled Callie to the bone.

  “Such as?” Samantha raised a beautifully arched eyebrow.

  “Such as the fact that Ms. Costas was next in line for the prize money to help her business. A substantial prize of $10,000 donated by Mrs. DeWitt of Crystal Bay and some Crystal Bay College alumni. We spoke to Ms. DeWitt this morning.”

  “I know about the contest. And that’s it?” Samantha appeared to take this news in stride.

  “She was first on the scene,” Sands said. “She broke a window.” He glanced at her sharply with his sad hazel eyes.

  “Do you have physical evidence or any proof that Ms. Costas had anything to do with Drew’s death?” Samantha asked.

  All were silent for a minute. Then Detective Sands leaned forward in his chair. “You must understand how this looks. You’re first on the scene, you break a window and then it turns out you may have monetary gain from Mr. Staven’s death. A person is innocent until proven guilty, of course. But there are a few odd things here that I don’t like. Not at all.”

  Callie eyed Samantha, who slightly shook her head. “Ms. Costas has nothing more to say at this time. If that’s all,” Samantha said, standing up and motioning for Callie to stand up with her. “If you are not prepared to bring formal charges, then I’m going to have to demand that you release her.” Sands looked at them both for a minute before speaking.

  “Ms. Costas, as part of the investigation, we are going to have to fingerprint you. I would also like you to turn over your cell phone to us. I can get a warrant if you refuse to do so, but it would be easier for you all around if you relinquished it voluntarily. I’ll leave that to the discretion of your attorney. And, should you have new information, please let us know immediately. You have my number and remember. We may need to speak to you again.”

  Feeling numb, Callie nodded and followed Samantha out the door.

  Five

  Callie was led out to the main office where a young officer placed each one of her fingers in a sticky black substance and then onto a sheet. This wasn’t like visiting the local police station with the Girl Scouts as she’d done with her daughter in recent years. This was pure humiliation. The young officer who took her prints apologized for the mess, saying that they were still hoping funds would come through for a digital fingerprinting system.

  Callie’s hands shook as she cleaned them with a pack of wet wipes that Samantha offered to her. She really needed to get to a drugstore to restock, she thought. As if that were her most pressing problem right now. She threw the wipes in a trash can.

  Sam took her firmly by the arm, steered out the door and finally spoke once they were outside the Crystal Bay police station. “I’m so, so sorry that you’re going through this,” Samantha said, drawing her friend into a warm, Chanel-scented embrace. “And this isn’t helping things, I know.”

  The adrenaline rush that had been sustaining Callie for the last few hours was leaving her. She felt her shoulders slump. And she’d naively thought she’d already experienced her worst moment when she’d found Drew dead. It appeared that things were going downhill from there.

  “As far as the cell phone, I didn’t think it would look well for you to refuse to hand it over,” Sam said, holding Callie by the shoulders. She faced her friend, her expression as serious as she’d ever seen it. “This was the right thing to do. You have nothing to hide. And you called Drew and the police on that phone? At least that’s what you told me last night?” Callie nodded.

  “OK, then. This is all going to work out.” Sam shook Callie a little bit for emphasis. “I’m going to help you. Now, what is this about you being a runner up?”

  “I didn’t even know about that. I guess I didn’t read ‘the fine print’ of the contest when I filled out my registration. I was too excited about the prospect of winning the cash prize.” Callie closed her eyes as a wave of fatigue washed over her.

  “Right,” said Samantha. “The winner would either have to reject the prize — and why would they? Or they would have to die. Sorry,” she said when she saw the look on Ca
llie’s face. “I’ll see if I can find out whom, if anyone else, they’re questioning. In the meantime, stay out of trouble. Manage your shop, take care of Olivia and talk to George about this if you absolutely must, but no one else.”

  “Thanks for everything, Samantha. I never thought I would need your services.”

  Her friend smiled at her and gave her a quick hug. “Wait until you see my bill. I’ve got to run but I’ll call you later and we’ll catch up with everything. Are you sure you’re all right? What are you doing out and about anyway? You’ve got to be in shock – home is the best place for you.”

  Callie bristled a bit even though she knew Sam meant well. Staying home would have been heavenly but it wasn’t going to help anything. And she had to work – didn’t she? Callie’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. She wasn’t irritated with her friend who was being incredibly helpful. It was the entire situation that had her frightened and on edge. “I know,” she finally managed. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to stay home today – I needed to be at work and feel like I’m in control of something.”

  Sam gave her a look full of sympathy and understanding. “I know. Well, in the meantime, I don’t want you wandering around without a phone. You’ve just been way too close to a murderer.” Samantha handed Callie her own cell phone. “I’ll pick it up later. Just keep it for now.” Sam patted her on the shoulder and headed for the parking lot. Callie waved at her as she drove off before remembering that she had been driven to the station by Sands, nearly two miles from Garden Street and her shop.

  Even though Samantha had said not to do anything on her own behalf, how could she listen to that advice? She felt like a wooden target at hunting season. It seemed that at any minute, Sands would arrive with some form of “evidence” to arrest her and then what about Olivia? Her family? Her business? No, she had to figure out who the true culprit was. All signs pointed to the killer being someone Drew knew —no sign of a struggle, no robbery, except for the computer, which was a negligible cost, and no forced entry into his home. Besides, if Drew knew his killer, maybe she knew him – or her – as well.