Football is Murder (Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries) (6 page)

“Can you tell us about the past few months with Johnny? Did he have any enemies? Or conflict in his life that you were aware of?”

Coach Williams seemed to think about it. He licked his lips. “Not that I can think of. Johnny was a standup guy. He wasn’t the sort of guy who made enemies.”

Jessie balked. The question on her lips was why would he fight with his best friend of many years? Something held her back from asking Coach Williams, though.

Chapter 7

They had just opened the Bakehouse for the morning when the bell rang over the door. Jessie glanced up.

“Morning, Chief,” she smiled.

She liked this quiet time before the morning rush began. It was late enough that they’d finished their preparation for the day, but early enough that it wasn’t yet busy.

She’d arrived extra early this morning. Melanie was in bed by the time she got back home, so she had set her alarm in anticipation of an early morning catch up with her cousin. When she’d shuffled into the kitchen in her bathrobe, though, Melanie was nowhere to be seen.

The poor thing is exhausted
, Jessie had thought.

Chief Daly smiled. “Morning Jessie. Have you had any great insights into the case since I dropped you off?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Maybe we’ll unearth something when we speak to his siblings.”

Jessie was beginning to doubt her value in this case. Maybe she was better suited to helping the chief when the case concerned residents of Springdale.

Chief Daly whistled through his teeth.

“You’ve got nothing either?”

Jessie felt comfortable talking about the ongoing investigation because they were completely alone in the café. Tania hadn’t arrived yet and none of the other early morning customers had come in.

“No,” he said. “And as far as I can tell, the Rockfield PD guys are no better off. This one’s got us stumped. No matter who we ask, everybody says the same thing. Everyone loved Johnny. Nobody can think of anyone who’d want to hurt him.”

Jessie switched on the coffee grinder and watched as it pulverized the roasted beans into powder. She waited until the batch was done before answering.

“Wait, Chief. That’s what people said. But…” she shook her head trying to get her thoughts in order. “Why did nobody mention the argument with Chad? If they were best friends, wouldn’t somebody have mentioned that?”

Chief Daly shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. They may not have thought it worth mentioning. It does seem a little strange, though. In my experience, people don’t let plausibility stand in the way of a good story.”

Jessie nodded as she took two cups from the top of the coffee machine.

“It’s downright odd. At first, I thought this would be an open and shut case. The guy is wealthy beyond belief.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. “So you think it’s the wife? I thought she reacted strangely, but I didn’t want to judge the poor woman. Different people react to grief in different ways after all.”

He shook his head. “I thought so at first, yes. But I heard from the forensic accountants Rockfield brought in. There’s no reason on earth why she would have murdered him. His life insurance policies are set up in such a way that she’ll get very little extra money on his death. He had several injury policies but those only pay out in the event of a career-ending injury.”

“His estate must be worth a lot?”

“She had access to every penny as it stands.”

Jessie sucked in a breath. “Wow. So she wouldn’t have benefitted from his death?”

The chief shrugged and pulled his coffee cup across the counter. “Let’s go sit while there’s nobody else here, huh?”

Jessie nodded and picked up her own cup. Could the cultured young woman they met the previous day really be a stone cold killer? She found it hard to picture that, but the same was true for any of the murderers who had hit Springdale in recent months. They had seemed like perfectly normal people too.

“What about the coach?” Jessie asked, sitting opposite the chief so she could see if any customers were approaching the café.

Toby wasn’t out the front today—she had left him at home with a note for Melanie telling her where his food and treats were. It surprised her to realize that she missed being able to look out and see his peaceful little face.

Chief Daly cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to make of the guy. But he didn’t exactly tell us much.”

“He also didn’t tell us about the argument between Johnny and Chad. Surely their coach would have known about that?”

The chief shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “I guess. I’ll ask one of the guys; see if the fans heard any rumor of a rift. Though I’ll tell you one thing—Coach Williams comes across as the kind of man who has total control of the guys on his team.”

Jessie nodded. “Maybe their argument was causing a rift within the team,” she speculated. “Right? It could have been distracting the other players, or putting Johnny or Chad off his game.”

Chief Daly nodded. “And you’re suggesting he killed Johnny because of that?”

She shrugged. “These guys take their sports seriously, right?”

He shook his head. “The guy has an alibi. At least one. Rockfield PD spoke to his wife. They’re still trying to get in touch with his daughter.” He threw his hands up. “Everybody Johnny knew has an alibi and they all say they can’t imagine why anyone would hurt him.”

“Except for his wife. And Chad. We haven’t spoken to him yet. I saw him leave his home in the middle of the night the night Johnny was murdered. Plus they were fighting.”

Chief Daly shook his head. “The Rockfield guys already paid him a visit. Got nothing out of him. He said his and Johnny’s relationship was tempestuous. They’re both highly competitive apparently.”

Jessie shook her head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I understood football. There has to be something here we’re not seeing. Okay, his wife has no financial motive. But his teammates? His coach? Maybe something happened that’s not clear to us but might be clear to somebody who knows the game better and—” she stopped.

“Jessie, what is it?”

Jessie grinned back at him. “I know exactly who we can speak to.”

* * *

Jessie opened the door of the Springdale Chronicle office and walked inside slowly, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Ken,” she called.

The place was as messy as usual, with every surface covered in sheets of paper and recent editions of the Chronicle. And not so recent. She had no idea how Ken could work in this environment. But he could—there was no doubt about that.

Not only was Ken the editor of the paper, he also served as its photographer, advertising manager, and writer. The only other staff member was Jenny, the paper’s part-time admin assistant. Ken managed to get two papers out a week all on his own. That was no small achievement.

“Ken,” she called again.

There was a shuffling sound from one of the open doors on the other side of the outer office. Jessie walked toward it.

“Ken, are you there?” she asked. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a family of mice nesting in the reams and reams of paper.

“Jessie,” Ken said, suddenly emerging from a different doorway. Jessie eyed the open door warily. If Ken hadn’t been in there, then what was that shuffling sound? She listened but couldn’t hear anything now she was no longer alone.

“What can I do for you?” he said, coming closer and holding out a hand for her to shake.

Jessie smiled. “I’m not sure. It’s kind of a longshot.”

“Take a seat,” Ken said, gesturing to the chair in front of a desk that was as untidy as the rest of the office. “Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re sure you’re not too busy?”

He shook his head. “I’m always busy with one thing or another.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting down. “What do you know about football? As a reporter, you must have to cover it, right?”

Jessie had to admit, she had always glanced right over the sports pages in the newspaper. It was such a habit now that she couldn’t say for sure whether the Springdale Chronicle even had a sports section.

Her heart plummeted when Ken shook his head with a regretful little laugh. “Sorry, Jessie. To be honest, I’m surprised you came to me. I’m not exactly the king of the jocks.”

She smiled. “I’m not sure I’d like you if you were,” she said, thinking of her encounter with her new neighbor. “It’s okay. I thought you were my best shot.”

“What’s caused this sudden interest?”

Jessie paused. How much should she share with Ken? He was a journalist after all. And she was helping on the case. “I…” she shook her head. She didn’t need to go into specifics, did she? “Have you heard about the murder over in Rockfield?”

He threw his head back. “
That’s
why you’re asking? Of course I have, Jessie. I’d say most everyone around here has heard about it by now. And I
do
run the local paper.”

She nodded. “It’s… I guess it’s more about the football than it is about the case.”

“Go on,” he said, looking puzzled.

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I’m interested to know whether there’s some dynamic there that isn’t immediately obvious. Some kind of rivalry or hostility that might be obvious to a football fan.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. My readers look elsewhere for their sports coverage. That’s the benefit of not having a daily paper. Everybody’s already read about the weekend games days ago.”

“Thanks anyway,” she said, getting up.

He looked affronted. “You’re leaving already? Why not stay for a drink. Have you tried my latest batch? It’s a rye whiskey.”

Jessie laughed. “Ken, it’s not even midday!”

He shrugged. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“You’ve been here all night?”

“Most of it, yeah,” he said with a shrug.

“Don’t you get exhausted?” Jessie thought back to the days where she was burning the candle at both ends with the Bakehouse and the organic food fair she co-organized a couple months back. It was only an overlap of a few weeks and she’d been exhausted by the time the fair ended.

“No,” he said, eyes shining. “I love what I do. That helps. Okay, if you won’t have a drink, how about a coffee?”

“Okay, then,” Jessie nodded.

“You know,” Ken called over from the messy kitchenette. “If you want to know more about the game, you could speak to Marvin Scott over at the Rockfield Reporter. He’s like an encyclopedia when it comes to ball games.”

Jessie felt heartened by that—maybe this wasn’t a dead end after all. “Thanks, Ken. I might just do that. Should I tell him you sent me?”

He came back with their coffee cups and a pack of shortbread. “Sure. He’s a friendly guy, he’ll speak to you. Especially if you’re working with the police.”

“I never said—”

Ken smiled. “You didn’t need to. Come on, Jessie. I’m a journalist. And it’s not the greatest mystery.”

She lifted her cup to her lips.

“Sorry if it’s not as nice as your coffee,” he said, wincing.

Jessie shook her head. “Don’t be crazy. This is great.”

He smiled.

Jessie’s eyes landed on the last edition of the Chronicle and she remembered that she wasn’t there on a social call. “Look, Ken. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t write about my involvement.” After all, the last thing she wanted was for her involvement to reflect badly on the chief. It didn’t matter if she had helped solve previous crimes—there would always be a section of society who’d view her as a civilian who shouldn’t be involved.

Ken waved his hand. “Of course not. You’re not committing a crime by being involved. Besides, you’ve helped me in the past.”

Jessie balked. “By accusing you of murder?”

He laughed. “Not by a long stretch. Not by calling me a power-hungry clown either.”

Jessie felt her face flush. “I was angry about what you’d written about Maddie.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m not sore about that. I find it amusing now.”

She took another sip of her coffee and thought of something. Something that had been nagging her for days, which she hadn’t been able to get an answer on anywhere else.

“I know you said you don’t know anything about football, but have you heard anything about Johnny Cooper or Chad Denver?”

She could see the moment where her words grabbed his attention.

“No.”

Jessie sighed with disappointment. What was that look about? She’d been sure he was about to give her the break in the case she so desperately needed. “No? You looked like you’d thought of something.”

He shook his head. “No. I know as little about the players as I do about the game. But. Now it could be nothing.” He leaned across the desk, eyes shimmering with intensity. “Would it surprise you to know you’re not the first person to ask me if I knew of anything going on between those two?”

“Who?” Jessie gasped, trying not to get too excited. For all she knew, Rockfield PD may have decided to investigate the rift between the two men. After all, Chief Daly would have noted it in his report.

Ken clicked his tongue. “I can’t tell you that, Jessie. Just like you wouldn’t appreciate me telling anybody else the details of our conversations. I’m actually a discreet man, if you can believe that of a newspaper owner.”

She could well believe it, but she wished it weren’t true. At least not at this moment.

His eyes twinkled. “The question is, do you need to know who asked? Isn’t the fact that they did interesting in itself?”

Chapter 8

“Where are you going?”

Jessie looked up and smiled at the sight of her slightly-bedraggled cousin. “Wow. It lives.”

Melanie grinned. “These last couple months have been intense. I didn’t realize how tired I was,” she said, scratching her head and making her wild curls even messier in the process.

“Sleep as long as you like,” Jessie said. “I’m not gonna judge. It’s kind of the reason I insisted you stay here. That and the fact that I wanted to be right there to hear all of your gossip and stories.”

Melanie’s smile faltered a little. “There is no juicy gossip,” she said flatly.