Decaffeinated Corpse (15 page)
Read Decaffeinated Corpse Online
Authors: Cleo Coyle
Tags: #Mystery And Suspense Fiction, #General, #Fiction, #Detective, #Mystery, #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Fashion, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction - Mystery, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Coffeehouses, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Cosi; Clare (Fictitious character), #Mystery fiction, #Restaurants - Employees
I raised an eyebrow. “How deep a crush?”
She waved her hand. “He asked me out a few times over the summer. Not directly, just dropping hints that I might like to go here or there with him—an outdoor movie in Bryant Park, a Sunday drive with him to Cape May.”
“Doesn’t he know you’re married?”
“He knows. He also knows about Ric, unfortunately. You’ve seen how quiet he can be. He snuck up on us a few times out in the Garden. I thought we were well hidden, but he saw us . . . all we were doing was embracing, but . . .”
“But what exactly?”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “It’s hard to explain, but when I’m with Ric . . . I’m a different person. He does something to me, Clare . . . he changes me . . .”
Oh, boy, did that sound familiar.
“He’s a drug?”
“He’s a drug?”
“Yes. He is.”
“And you’re addicted?”
“Yes. I am.”
The years seemed to melt off Ellie when she talked about Ric. Her expression was animated, her complexion more vibrant, her hazel-green eyes bright.
My gaze fell to the gold wedding band on her finger, and I wondered how far things had gone with her old beau. She said they’d just embraced, but was that really all? Was it just a mutual admiration society? Or was it a full blown affair?
“You know, Ellie,” I said, blatantly fishing, “I was always sorry that I missed your wedding. You had it here, didn’t you?”
Ellie looked away—toward two reflecting pools standing in front of a beautiful glass structure that resembled London’s famous Crystal Palace.
“Jerry and I took our vows on Daffodil Hill, in early April—the optimum time to see the blooms. The Garden staff was there, and Jerry’s entire lab came. We had our reception in the Palm House, and, of course, there was a
Times
listing. It was a perfect wedding.”
Times
listing. It was a perfect wedding.”
The words painted a lovely memory, but Ellie’s voice was a monotone. Her buoyant expression had gone blank.
“And how’s the marriage?” I asked carefully. “Every-thing still perfect?”
“You’re asking because of Ric?”
“You loved him so much years ago. You were devastated when he left without proposing. I remember how badly you cried.”
“I cried so much because . . .” Ellie glanced down. She looked pained. “I was pregnant, Clare.”
For a few seconds, I didn’t move, and I questioned whether I’d heard her correctly. “You were pregnant?”
Ellie nodded.
“But you never said anything . . . not to me, and we were close back then. Or at least I thought we were.”
“We were. I didn’t tell
anyone
, not even Ric.”
anyone
, not even Ric.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want Ric to stay in America and marry me just because of a baby. I wanted him to stay for me. I didn’t want to quit college and end up like—”
Her run of words abruptly halted. She met my eyes, her expression somewhere between disdain and pity.
“End up like me?” I finished for her.
“I’m sorry, Clare. You have to understand . . . I was young at the time, and I had very little resources. I wanted to finish my degree, and I just couldn’t do it alone with a baby. My family was in no position to help me financially. They barely had enough to cover their own debts, and they hated my coming to New York—”
She was talking very fast now, awkwardly trying to make up for her insult. I patted her shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said, but she kept going.
“My family would have demanded I move back to West Virginia to have the baby, you see? And I’m sure I would have had to start working at some menial job to support my child—”
“Yes, I understand.”
Like managing a coffeehouse?
Like managing a coffeehouse?
“And I just couldn’t see myself doing that.”
“No, no, of course not.”
“The only future I could see was if Ric had decided to stay and marry me because he loved me . . . or asked me to go back to Costa Gravas with him. But he did neither.”
“So you aborted your child?”
Ellie nodded. Now her eyes were wet. “It broke my heart, but I didn’t see any other way.”
“And did you ever tell Ric?”
Ellie nodded. “He was upset. He said I should have leveled with him back then. That he would have married me.”
“Do you believe him?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. I was afraid he’d end up resenting the child and me, or he’d end up cheating just like—”
Once again, she cut herself off. So I finished for her. “Just like Matt did to me.”
Ellie closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to imply . . .” Her voice trailed off, and once more I said, “It’s okay. The truth is, I felt the same way you did. I just felt it after I married Matt. I found evidence of his cheating one morning, and I considered walking out, but I was afraid of raising Joy on my own . . . so I stayed.”
“You’re happy now though?”
“Yes. Maybe one day I’ll finish my fine arts degree. Maybe not. My life’s good. I love my work, and I love my daughter. I don’t regret for one second what I gave up to have her. If you recall, Matt
asked
me to marry him. He didn’t run off to another country like Ric . . . and because he asked, and I loved him, I gave the marriage a try.”
asked
me to marry him. He didn’t run off to another country like Ric . . . and because he asked, and I loved him, I gave the marriage a try.”
“And now you’ve obviously forgiven Matt. You’ve gone into business with him.”
“Yes, I have. And now
you’re
Ric’s champion.”
you’re
Ric’s champion.”
Ellie looked away again. “I hadn’t thought of it as the same thing.”
“But it is. Time passes, and we forgive . . . don’t we?”
Ellie smiled but very weakly. “Sure.”
There was something about her smile that unsettled me. She was holding back again, and I wondered for a moment if Ellie was being totally honest . . . or playing me.
I hadn’t seen her in so many years, and she’d changed so much it was hard talking with her. But in the last two minutes what hit me the hardest was finally realizing why we were no longer friends.
I understood what Ellie had done, and why she’d done it. And I wasn’t about to judge her. But Ellie had judged me. That was clear to me now. She had no respect for me or my choices. Oh, she’d never stated it outright. Not ever. But somewhere along the line in those years past, she must have sent out the signals because I’d stopped caring whether we saw each other any more.
You’d think by now I would be a whiz at stumbling upon disturbing realities—like a pistol-whipped body in my back alley, for instance, or a homeless man’s frozen corpse. But chancing upon the truth about an old friendship was no less disturbing. I did my best to cover my reaction, but it shook me up.
I began to wonder what kind of person Ellie Shaw had become and what she was capable of. Was it possible she hadn’t forgiven Ric at all? Was she playing him now for some kind of latent revenge?
“Did you know that Ric was mugged behind the Village Blend?” I found myself asking, suddenly needing to see her reaction.
“What?” Ellie’s weak smile disappeared.
“Last night. Someone pistol-whipped him from behind.”
“Oh my goodness, Clare, why didn’t you say something earlier? Does he know who did it?”
I shook my head. “He says it’s no big deal. And he didn’t see the man’s face . . . of course it could have been a woman.”
“What do you mean it could have been a woman? Women don’t mug people on the street.”
“Whoever this was used a prerecorded message of commands. The detective I consulted thinks it means Ric would have recognized the mugger’s voice.”
“You consulted a detective already?” Ellie asked. She seemed upset by this.
I nodded. “What do you think?”
“What do I think of what?”
“Do you know anyone who might want to harm Ric or steal his cutting?”
“What cutting? What are you talking about, Clare?”
“He smuggled a cutting into the country to show to the press and the trade this Friday at the Beekman. He mailed it to Matt initially for safekeeping, but he said he had to borrow it to show to you.”
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He never showed me any cutting. He wouldn’t have to. I’m well acquainted with his hybrid. I’ve been flying down to Brazil off and on for over a year now.”
“You’re sure you didn’t need to see a cutting in the last few weeks?”
“I’m certain, Clare. I don’t know why Ric would tell you—”
A series of electronic tones interrupted her. Taken together, I realized they were cell phone ringtones playing a familiar melody—the Sting song “Roxanne.”
Ellie reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell. “Excuse me,” she said and opened her phone. “Hello?”
She listened for a moment. “Yes,” she told the caller. “Yes . . . oh, okay. Right now then. Hold a minute.”
“I’m sorry, Clare, but I have to take this call, and then I have to get right back to work. It was good seeing you.” She held out her hand, and we shook. “I’m sure we’ll talk again at the end of the week.”
Before I could even bid her goodbye, she was turning to leave. I watched as she swiftly strode away toward the greenhouse that held her exhibit.
With a sigh, I rose from the patio table. Ellie had left her tray behind, a Cornish hen carcass on a half-eaten pile of brown rice. I bussed it to the garbage receptacle; then I bussed my own. I’d had more questions for her, but I let them go, mainly because my most pressing questions were for Ric.
“If Ellie didn’t need to see the cutting, then why did he ‘borrow’ it from Matt?” I mumbled to myself as I left the Terrace Café. “And why in heaven’s name did he lie about it to me?”
THIRTEEN
I didn’t have to search long to regroup with Matt’s mother. She was standing near the administration building between the two lotus-filled reflecting pools, gazing up at the Palm House where Ellie had held the reception for her perfect wedding.
“Ready to go, Madame?”
“You know, this little Crystal Palace would be an exquisite setting for the Theater League’s next fundraiser.”
“Think so?”
“It’s wheelchair accessible, the restrooms are clean and convenient, and the people at the Visitor’s Center told me the local caterers are quite good.”
“Really . . .”
“You know, thanks to our donors, five thousand inner-city schoolchildren were able to experience live theater for the first time last year. And this year, we hope to double that amount.”
“That’s nice . . .”
She took a closer look at me. “Are you all right, Clare? Did you have a pleasant visit with your old friend?”
“No.”
Madame’s eyebrows arched. “Why not?”
“Because, from what I just learned, I think Matt may have put us in a precarious position.”
“My goodness!” Madame’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Does your friend know that Breanne Summour person?”
Oh, for pity’s sake.
“No, Madame. Matt’s love life is not what’s putting us in a precarious position. His business deal is.”
“No, Madame. Matt’s love life is not what’s putting us in a precarious position. His business deal is.”
“Which business deal? You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The Gostwick Estate Decaf deal. There are a lot of issues that Matt’s been keeping from me, and I think from you, too.”
“Is that so? Then you’d better enlighten me. That boy’s kept me in the dark so much, I swear chanterelles are growing out of my ears.”
“Now that’s a surreal image.”
“Tell me the truth, Clare. Are you
investigating
something again? Because if you are—”
investigating
something again? Because if you are—”
“I know. I know.”
“I want in.”
“That’s what I figured.”
I was about to spill everything, starting with the bizarre mugging with the prerecorded message, when I noticed an elderly couple strolling in our direction. “Come on,” I grabbed Madame’s elbow. “Let’s go to the car. I don’t think we should have this discussion in public . . .”
“Look,” I said, pointing. “There’s Ellie now.”
Madame and I were sitting in my Honda. The doors were closed, the windows half open to keep the interior from getting too warm in the sun.
“What is she doing out here?” Madame asked. “Didn’t you just say she had to go back to work?”
“Yes . . .”
We both fell silent as we watched her unlock a green paneled van and disappear inside.
“Perhaps she’s retrieving something from that van,” Madame speculated. “Or maybe she’s going to drive somewhere for a meeting?”
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