Crops and Robbers (16 page)

“Again, I couldn’t confirm anything, so I think it best not to tell,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “Elliot, please, just tell me. Try to understand the position I’m in. I need something, anything, that might point the police in another direction. But not just another direction, a real direction. My mother didn’t kill anyone.”

This time, when he looked at me, his expression didn’t change, so his wrinkles didn’t either. He looked at me a long time, almost to the point that it became uncomfortable.

“I know your sister,” he finally said.

I nodded because I had no idea how else to respond.

“She’s very kind.”

“Yes, she’s the best.”

Elliot nodded and then said, “Ralston was a vendor for the restaurant association that Joan Ashworth put together. He either withdrew from the association or was pushed out right before he became ill. I sensed there were bad feelings, which made me wonder a few things. One, why was he eating at Bistro? Two, was his illness something he faked so he could try to pin something on Joan and Nobel? Three, what’s the deal with this restaurant association?”

“Did you get any answers?” I asked hopefully. I knew that the Staffords had also been a vendor for the association before they were pushed out. The list Ian and I had copied and taken from Bistro had been of restaurant owners, or so I thought. I hadn’t examined it thoroughly yet to see if vendors had also been included.

“The only answer I got didn’t have anything to do with vendors. I couldn’t even get a straight answer from Ralston as to what specifically happened. But what I did learn was that once a restaurant
owner
joined the association, they never left it willingly. Some of them were very clear on that, but no one told me why. No one.”

“Were people scared to leave?”

Elliot shook his head slowly. “I have no idea. No one seemed scared to me. As a vendor, Ralston didn’t know. He would never even tell me why he was eating at Bistro either. He was cagey.”

“Maybe I should go talk to him?” I said.

“He died about a year ago. He was young, about sixty, but had a heart attack. He died at home alone. It’s standard procedure to do an autopsy in such circumstances. I have some connections, so I got the report’s results.”

“And?”

“Nothing suspicious. Nothing at all.”

“But you think there was more to the association?”

Elliot laughed. “Yes, but if I can’t confirm it, I can’t print it. I might be small-town, but I believe in what I do, and if I don’t have integrity, I don’t have anything.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

“Ms. Robins, I hate to be rude, but I do have work to do. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

“I don’t think so.” Elliot probably had the answers to lots of questions, but I didn’t have any others to ask him at the moment. If something else came up, though, I was prepared to visit him again. He’d give it to me straight—well, straight with a dose of his attitude, but I was okay with that. “I’m good. Thank you for your time and for the article.”

Elliot made a copy of the article and gave it to me. The original would probably be refiled the second I left. He saw me out, mentioning that I should say hello to Allison for him. He also said he’d track me down at Bailey’s the next time he was there.

“Ms. Robins, if you come upon anything good, I’d appreciate a heads-up. I’m always in for a good story.”

“You got it,” I said. I doubted I’d find anything newspaper worthy, unless I happened upon the killer, which would be big news long before it could be printed in the
Monson Gazette
.

But he seemed just as pleased as I was to have found a potential new source.

It was only three o’clock. I didn’t have anywhere I needed to
be, but I had plenty of places I could go. I could track down Ian, I could visit my parents, I could find Allison, I could grab a computer and research arsenic and cyanide.

Instead of all of those viable and good ideas, I decided instead to visit my sister’s old boyfriend. The note I found in the desk at Bistro said, “Jake: No; Manny: Yes.” Those comments were the same as the ones marked on the master list, a list that I hadn’t looked at closely enough yet because it didn’t seem to mean much of anything, except that Betsy acted as though Ian and I shouldn’t see it.

I decided I’d just have to ask more questions. I didn’t know Manny Moretti, but I did know Jake Bidford. Would our past friendship make it easier to ask him questions that would give away the fact that I’d acquired something that wasn’t supposed to be in my possession? I didn’t know.

I decided to wing it.

The inside of Jake’s sandwich shop was decorated simply with green walls and posters identifying the different parts of a sandwich. The anatomical take on “The Sandwich and Its Parts” was cute and made the posters fun to read.

There were ten tables, each with four chairs, in the seating area. Customers traveled down the deli counter as Jake or one of his employees sliced meats and cheeses and then dressed the sandwiches with more toppings than I knew existed.

Jake’s sandwiches were delicious and reason enough to visit the restaurant, but he also served some homemade potato and macaroni salads that were yummy in their own rights.

I didn’t expect it to be too busy and I was right. There was only one person in the restaurant when I got there. Viola, Jake’s aunt, was sitting at a table and reading a paperback. She wasn’t wearing her hat, and her hair was pulled back in a neat gray bun. She looked up and smiled as I walked in.

“Becca, how delightful!” Viola said when she saw me. “Are you here for more garden work, or are you hungry again?”

“I can head back out to the garden if you need me to, but I’m not hungry,” I said, still full from all the cookies I’d eaten at Miriam’s. “I came by to see if Jake had a minute. I’d like to talk to him.”

“I’m sure he does. He’s just in the back. I’m his bell—I’m supposed to let him know if customers come in.” She turned in her chair and put her hand next to her mouth. “Jake! Becca’s here. Come on out! Have a seat—oh, unless you don’t want me listening to the conversation. If that’s the case, sit over there.”

“No, you should be in on the conversation. You might have some information I could use.”

“Very good. Did you visit Miriam? Did she tell you about Nobel?”

“I did visit Miriam and she mentioned the potential poisoning. Apparently, it was a false alarm, though. The ‘victim’ was fine.” I didn’t tell Viola about my visit with my new source, Elliot.

“Shoot,” Viola said. “I thought there might be something good there. Keep looking, Becca.”

“I will.”

“Okay, how can I help?” she said.

Jake came out from the back regions of the store just as I sat across from Viola.

“Hi, Becca, what can I get for you?” he asked.

“Some information, Jakey. Becca’s here to get some information. Come sit,” Viola said.

Jake’s expression didn’t make me think he was interested in sharing information.

“I know you’re busy, Jake,” I said. “I promise I won’t take long.”

He hesitated but joined us shortly. “It’s okay, I have a few minutes.” He smiled as he sat next to his aunt and extended his long legs out to the side of the table. I could tell he was just being nice. He didn’t have time, but he’d make it.

“Thanks.”

Viola and Jake looked at me expectantly. It wasn’t easy to begin, so I started with something easy.

“Jake, Viola, would either of you know of anyone who hated Joan enough to want her dead?”

They both seemed momentarily startled by the question, but then they seemed to really think about it.

“I don’t think I do,” Viola said. “We didn’t run in the same circles. I don’t know who her enemies, or friends for that matter, were. I’m sorry, Becca.”

Jake shook his head. “Me either. The association doesn’t have meetings. Everything is communicated by email. I was asked to be on the board, but I have no idea why. I think they just wanted to make me feel welcome when I joined. Joan and Nobel made all the contacts and set everything up. They sent out emails notifying us of events or new vendors. The group has had some social events, but I’ve never attended one of them. That’s not really my thing.”

Knowing Jake, even as little as I did, his comment made sense. He wasn’t a shy teenager anymore, but some of that shyness had remained. He wasn’t a group person.

“Jakey, tell Becca the other part,” Viola said as she nudged his shoulder.

“What other . . . ? Oh, that. Well, that doesn’t have anything to do with anything.” Jake’s face reddened immediately.

“No, it doesn’t, but you should let her know. Why not?”

“I’ve had a couple dates with Betsy Francis, who was Joan’s assistant,” he said almost sheepishly. “Trust me, even though we talk about the restaurant business, Betsy was loyal to Joan. She’s never said one derogatory word about her boss.”

“I think that’s great, Jake. She seems . . .” I didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been all that great to me, but she had apologized.

Jake laughed. “It’s okay, Becca. You don’t need to give your approval.”

“I’m sorry. I should have reacted better. It’s just been stressful.”

“S’okay.”

“Jake, I have something else to ask. It might be strange, but I really need to know about something.”

“I’m intrigued,” he said.

“Joan dropped something at the market that morning. I picked it up and under normal circumstances would have given it back to her. But I was distracted and forgot. I put it in my pocket and forgot about it until this afternoon,” I lied.

“What?” he asked. Viola sat forward, putting her elbows on the table and her chin into her hands.

“A note, a piece of paper. It was simple. It just read, “Jake: No; Manny: Yes.”

Jake’s face reddened again, more deeply this time, but all he said was, “Huh. Interesting.”

“Do you have any idea what that means? Can you think of something you said no to that Manny said yes to?”

“We never voted on anything. Like I said, the board wasn’t like a real board of any group.” His face got redder still.

“So, any other reason you can think of?”

“No, not one,” he lied. He was so bad at lying that I was suddenly impressed with my own skills at the craft. “But Joan was always writing notes. I never paid attention to what they were about.” And that was another lie, ringing so false I wondered why his nose didn’t grow.

“Viola, you?”

“No,” she lied, too.

They didn’t look at each other but instead kept their gazes fixed on me. They knew exactly what the note meant, and either they didn’t like the meaning attached to it or they just didn’t want me to know.

“You sure?” I eyed them both.

“Of course,” Viola said.

“Sure,” Jake said.

I blinked. My relationship with them didn’t give me the flexibility to call them on their lies.

“Good to know,” I said. “Anything else you want to tell me? Anything?”

“I need to get back to work. Paperwork, you know.” Jake stood and excused himself.

“Nothing else about Joan, but I’d love to talk about the garden. How do you think it has gone this year? What should we do next year? I think we should get an elementary school involved, don’t you?” Viola said.

It would have been impolite to tell Viola I wasn’t in the mood to talk about the garden, so we chatted a little longer before I told her I had things on my to-do list I had to attend to. I thought about calling my parents to see if they wanted me to bring them some sandwiches, but I was irritated at Jake and Viola just enough for their lies that I decided not to.

I left Jake’s with more questions, but I did know one thing for certain: that note meant something, something important.

How important?
was now one of my new questions.