Grounds for Murder Read online

  ‘I’ll take the red,’ I said. One glass and no more, I promised myself. I had to drive home, after all.

  Amy declined, as did Levitt next to her. I wondered if there was such a thing as organic wine. Antonio had a glass of the Merlot, while Sarah asked for the white. I figured it was because it looked more like vodka than the red.

  ‘You don’t drink wine,’ I said to her.

  ‘You don’t know everything about me.’ She took a sip of the wine and involuntarily grimaced before plastering a smile on her face. The smile had to be for the engineer. She sure didn’t care what the rest of us thought.

  ‘I’m breastfeeding,’ Janalee was volunteering to the waiter, putting her hand over her glass to prevent him from pouring.

  ‘Still?’ Sarah said, neatly diverting the subject from herself. ‘Doesn’t that kid have teeth?’

  If Sarah’s choppers ran in the family, I could understand her horror. Still, I’d breastfed Eric for a while and started to come to Janalee’s defense. Then I thought better of it. There was something about having a smoky Italian at the table that made one not want to talk about breastfeeding. Or hot flashes. Period.

  Antonio didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘I think it’s charming that women breastfeed. Very nurturing,’ he was saying.

  I wasn’t paying much attention, though, because I had just seen a familiar face enter the room.

  ‘Pavlik?’ I said, under my breath.

  ‘What about Pavlik?’ Sarah asked, gingerly taking another sip of wine. ‘And when are you going to call the guy by his first name?’ She hesitated. ‘What is it again?’

  ‘It’s Jake,’ I hissed, ‘and he’s here.’

  ‘Here?’ Sarah looked around. ‘So he is. Think he’s going to arrest someone?’

  ‘Hope so,’ I said, trying to feign unconcern. ‘Then we can cancel this damn banquet.’ I took a healthy gulp of wine, as I watched Pavlik thread his way through the tables.

  Sarah pulled out her puffer and took a hit. ‘Especially awkward if it’s you,’ she said.

  Which was exactly what I was thinking, of course. Pavlik had seen the tape from the hall outside the competition room. And he had seen me on that tape. He was coming to get me.

  I stood up and started toward him, figuring I’d save myself the humiliation of being handcuffed at the head table. The sheriff just waved me back and kept coming. He was wearing a dark suit. Not his usual arresting attire.

  ‘Sorry to be late,’ he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Maggy,’ Sarah said archly from beside me. ‘Where are your manners? Introduce Sheriff Pavlik to everyone.’

  ‘I think the sheriff knows everyone,’ I said. ‘You know, from the, um . . .’

  ‘Not everyone,’ Pavlik said. He stuck out his hand to Antonio. ‘I’m Jake Pavlik.’

  Antonio stood up. ‘A pleasure, Sheriff. I am Antonio Silva.’

  ‘You’re The Milkman,’ Pavlik said pleasantly. ‘Maggy has mentioned you.’

  In fact, I hadn’t. Ever. I prefer to keep my fantasy lovers compartmentalized. Pavlik in the ‘a real possibility’ box, Antonio in the ‘fun to think about’ box.

  So what was Pavlik up to?

  He was smiling at Janalee. ‘Good to see you out, Mrs LaRoche.’

  Had to hand it to him. Pavlik’s statement didn’t have a whiff of ‘Why are you partying the night after your husband was killed, you unfeeling bitch.’

  Still it won him an explanation.

  ‘I told her she needed to be with her friends,’ Amy piped up.

  Janalee smiled. ‘And you were right, Amy.’ She turned to Pavlik. ‘The coffee community is a very small one, and we depend on each other to a much bigger degree than even we realize.’

  ‘Really?’ By now Pavlik was seated on my right, next to Levitt. He waved over the guy with the wine.

  ‘It’s true,’ Levitt said, nodding. The wine guy, thinking he was nodding to him, filled his glass. ‘Oh, no, I meant . . .’

  He picked up the filled glass, trying to get the man’s attention. Failing that, he set it back on the table and pushed it away from him before he continued.

  ‘What I meant was that Janalee is right. Store owners –’ he nodded at Janalee and me – ‘and suppliers like Antonio do well when specialty coffee does well.’

  Pavlik glanced over at me. His eyes were dark, nearly black, with the look he gets when he’s extremely focused. At first I thought it was directed toward me, then he turned to Levitt.

  ‘Surely, that can’t be true of you,’ he said. ‘EarthBean is a watchdog group. Though I suppose a case could be made that you wouldn’t have a job without people like LaRoche.’

  ‘My job, quite honestly, would be much easier without people like . . .’ He broke off and raised his hand apologetically to Janalee.

  Janalee shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Levitt. I know that Marvin double-crossed you.’

  She turned to Pavlik. ‘You see, Marvin had promised his support toward a program providing a living wage to coffee-growers in Central America.’

  ‘What happened?’ Pavlik asked.

  ‘He withdrew his support.’ Levitt was running his thumb and forefinger up and down the stem of the wine glass. Amy, apparently fearing he was going to spill it, made a stab at moving it away from the edge, but Levitt ignored her. ‘It was bad enough that LaRoche didn’t come through, himself, but he also incited other people to do the same.’

  ‘In his opening speech?’ Pavlik asked.

  Levitt took a swig of his wine. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘So was that what you were arguing with him about on Friday night?’

  Levitt looked up sharply. ‘Where did you hear that?’

  I’d been so busy worrying about the camera I was afraid I’d been caught on, that I’d forgotten about the one that Levitt certainly was on. Jerome’s.

  ‘Oh, look,’ I said brightly, ‘they’re bringing dinner!’

  ‘Chicken,’ Sarah murmured in my ear. I didn’t think she was talking about the entrée.

  ‘I didn’t just hear it,’ Pavlik was telling Levitt, ‘I saw it. On tape.’

  Since I’d left him at my house, Pavlik couldn’t have tracked Jerome down for the tape, watched it, and still had time to change clothes and get here to crash the party. The sheriff was on a fishing expedition. And I had provided the bait.

  Under Pavlik’s scrutiny, Levitt was getting serious about his wine. ‘I told him that people were starving. That they were living in poverty.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Pavlik asked.

  ‘He said, “If everyone took care of their own, we wouldn’t need groups like EarthBean to hand out charity.”’

  ‘Didn’t Ebenezer Scrooge say something like that?’ Sarah said in my ear.

  I rubbed at the ear. ‘Eat your chicken,’ I whispered back, as my keynote speaker downed the rest of his wine and signaled the waiter for another.

  Amy jumped in. ‘That’s ridiculous. EarthBean doesn’t hand out charity, we―’

  Levitt waved her down. ‘It makes no matter what the truth is, Amy. If the perception of the industry—’

  ‘And LaRoche speaks for the industry?’ Pavlik asked.

  ‘No. LaRoche spoke for LaRoche.’ Levitt was getting loud and no longer sounding much like a southern gentleman. Or a gentleman of any kind. ‘The bastard had a big mouth, and he was goddamn power hungry. People like that make themselves heard. They lead the people who are too weak or too stupid to find the way themselves.’

  Levitt had said the last bit seemingly at the top of his lungs and the people at the tables surrounding us were turning. I glanced around for Kate. She and Jerome were just three tables away and she was whispering in his ear and pointing. Probably instructing him to go paparazzi on us. When Kate saw me looking, she gave a little wave and a smile.

  Meanwhile, Levitt had drained his second glass and was working on Pavlik’s wine. I couldn’t put this guy on the podium.

  I turned to Sarah bese
echingly. She nodded and stood up. ‘I’ll take care of this.’

  Sarah stepped to the lectern. Hesitating for a second, she glanced off into the far corner of the room and nodded. Mike the engineer must have been letting her know the Lavaliere microphones were working.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, not bothering with the fixed mic on the lectern. ‘I know we’re all anxious to get on with the evening, so I thought we’d start as you finish eating.’

  Jerome had hustled up to the front of the room and fixed his camera on her.

  Sarah smiled into it. ‘I’m Sarah Kingston, and I’ve been asked to say a few words about the chairman of this year’s Java Ho: Marvin LaRoche.’

  She cleared her throat and waited for the little buzz that had started at the mention of LaRoche’s name to settle down. ‘Some people loved Marvin LaRoche –’ she nodded to Janalee – ‘and some people hated him.’ The buzz grew.

  Sarah waved it down. ‘But the fact is, people, he’s dead. Get over it.’

  Aww geez, could this get any worse?

  ‘And now, here’s our keynote speaker, Levitt Fredericks.’

  What was Sarah doing? She was supposed to be getting me out of this fix. If Levitt got to the lectern in his condition, it would be a nightmare. A really long, rambling nightmare.

  I tried to lean across Pavlik to tell Levitt to stay where he was, but the gray-haired man was already getting up.

  Then a higher power – in this case, duct tape – intervened. As Levitt scooted his chair back, the legs caught on the duct tape that pieced the carpet together. The chair toppled backwards, Levitt in it.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, before I could stop myself. Even Sarah looked shocked. I was going to hell.

  Or maybe we were already in hell, because right then Levitt – his Lavaliere mic now live – let loose with a string of curse words, the likes of which I’d never heard. And I had a teenage son.

  On the bright side, under the overturned chair was a yellow sticker. Guess who was taking home the centerpiece.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘What in the world were you two thinking?’ I said, setting down my glass of wine.

  ‘Who two?’ Pavlik asked.

  We were in my living room on the couch. It wasn’t nearly as cozy as it sounds.

  ‘You and Sarah,’ I said. ‘You questioning Levitt in a public place, surrounded by the people involved – including the victim’s wife, for God’s sake. Isn’t that against the rules or something?’

  ‘What rules?’ Pavlik asked mildly.

  ‘I don’t know what rules,’ I said, tucking my feet up under me. ‘Interrogation Techniques 101?’

  ‘I thought it was pretty effective.’

  I punched him. ‘And who invited you anyway? Walking in there, acting like you were my date,’ I muttered.

  ‘I wouldn’t have had to act if you’d invited me.’ His eyes were bright blue and dancing. I would have taken advantage of those eyes under any other circumstances. Not to mention the curly black hair and the pecs under the dress shirt.

  ‘You used me.’

  ‘You’re pouting,’ he said, touching my bottom lip. ‘You could hang a bucket on that lip.’

  I shoved his hand away. ‘And then Sarah betrays me. I thought she was going to bail me out and, instead, after you get Levitt drunk and belligerent, Sarah calls him up to the stage.’

  ‘He was your keynote speaker after all.’

  ‘You know what I don’t understand?’ I continued. ‘I don’t understand how he got drunk so fast. First he’s not drinking, then he downs three glasses of wine in five minutes flat.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ I said, now on a roll. ‘George was dead-on right about something going on between Amy and Levitt. Did you see how she was fussing over him? I think she took him home.’

  ‘Well, he certainly was in no condition to drive,’ Pavlik said soberly. ‘Who’s George?’

  ‘The bartender. He told me he heard Levitt and LaRoche arguing on Thursday afternoon.’

  ‘Thursday afternoon?’ As if by magic, Pavlik had a notepad out.

  Remind me not to say something probative during sex – if we ever got around to having it. I’d end up with paper cuts.

  ‘And they were arguing about Amy?’ Pavlik asked.

  ‘George said it sounded like LaRoche was warning Levitt to stay away from Amy. Levitt, in turn, was saying he couldn’t live without her.’

  Pavlik paused in his writing. ‘Pretty theatrical stuff. You sure George the bartender didn’t make it up?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, picking up my wineglass and swishing it. ‘He was making a screwdriver when he said it.’

  Pavlik tipped his head down to look at me and a lock of hair fell down over his forehead. ‘And the screwdriver means what?’

  ‘That he was working and distracted,’ I said. ‘He wasn’t sitting around making up stories, he was just telling me what he remembered.’

  ‘Right. One doesn’t mess with orange juice and vodka.’ Pavlik made another note. ‘So why would LaRoche care if anything was going on between Levitt and Amy?’

  ‘Well, Amy’s quite a bit younger than either Levitt or LaRoche,’ I said. ‘Maybe her boss was simply being protective.’

  Pavlik and I looked at each other.

  ‘Nah,’ we said simultaneously. Caron had heard there was ‘friction’ between LaRoche and Amy. Little did she know how right she might be.

  ‘Wonder if his wife knew,’ Pavlik followed up.

  ‘And decided to kill him?’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. After talking to Janalee tonight, I don’t think she cared passionately enough about LaRoche to kill him, even if she did find out he was fooling around.

  ‘Torture him a little,’ I added, almost to myself. ‘But not kill him.’

  ‘Personal experience?’ Pavlik probed lightly.

  ‘Mine?’ I asked, startled.

  ‘Yes.’ Pavlik moved a little closer. ‘You’ve never told me much about your divorce.’

  The last thing I wanted to do was go on a side-excursion through Ted-Ville, the part of my brain where I’d stuffed my ex. Five or six brain cells were all I was willing to spend on him at this point and – to my surprise – it was getting fewer every day.

  ‘The divorce was very amicable,’ I said, drawing myself up taller. ‘And yours?’ What’s sauce for the goose, and all that rot.

  ‘Completely amicable,’ Pavlik said with a grin.

  ‘I’m glad.’ I was lying through my teeth and hoping he was doing likewise.

  ‘OK, I’ll add possible love triangle to the list,’ Pavlik said, snapping his notebook shut. ‘God knows there seem to be enough people who wanted to kill LaRoche.’

  ‘Yet he seemed oblivious to it,’ I mused. ‘I don’t think he had any idea people didn’t like him.’

  ‘Might have made him an easy target then. He probably never suspected anyone would want to harm him.’

  I thought of LaRoche, his ego and his idol, Sun Tzu. ‘Or dare to. And even if he did, I think he would assume he would prevail because he was smarter, braver and tougher than everyone else.’

  ‘Except one cheap trophy.’

  I ignored the insult to ‘Slut in a cup’. He was right, in more ways than one.

  Pavlik stood up. ‘By the way,’ he said, tucking his pen away, ‘I got a look at that tape from the back hallway.’

  A chill went up my back. I was familiar enough with Pavlik to know this wasn’t an afterthought.

  ‘Is this our Columbo moment?’ I asked.

  ‘Please?’

  ‘You know, where the deceptively bumbling detective stops at the door and asks the “oh, by the way” question, thereby cutting, laser-like, to the heart of the matter?’

  But Pavlik hadn’t gotten past the first part of my compound question. ‘Bumbling?’ He leaned down to kiss me. It was a very thorough kiss.

  ‘I said, “deceptively bumbling”,’ I murmured after he’d finished.


  ‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked, getting serious. His eyes were dark again and he was towering over me, since I was still sitting on the couch. Quintessential Pavlik. I needed to regain equal footing. Retake the hill. Level the playing field. Whatever.

  I patted the couch next to me and he sat back down. Victory.

  ‘I didn’t volunteer the information at first,’ I told him, ‘because I honestly had forgotten.’

  ‘You forgot that you visited the scene of the crime right around the time it was committed?’ He sounded skeptical and who could blame him?

  ‘I’d had drinks with Kate and Jerome, the camera operator,’ I said lamely.

  ‘I’d say you had one drink too many,’ Pavlik observed.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, getting hot. And not in the good way. ‘But I just stopped in the competition room on my way out to check the trophies.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Just after midnight. The smaller trophies were on the table, bunched in the center around the . . .’

  ‘Murder weapon,’ Pavlik supplied.

  ‘Yeah, that.’

  ‘Was the table where you found it the next morning? Or don’t you remember?’

  I ignored the jibe. ‘Yes, but one corner of the tablecloth was up. I smoothed it down.’

  Pavlik frowned. ‘That was careless.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to destroy evidence,’ I said, nervously picking up my wine glass and setting it back down again.

  ‘No.’ Pavlik had the ubiquitous notebook out again. ‘It was careless of the murderer to leave the corner up.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I said, grateful for the reprieve. ‘The killer had to move the table to cover the body. That’s why the trophies were in the middle. So they wouldn’t fall off the table when he moved it.’ I looked at Pavlik. ‘So why would he go to all that trouble and leave without making sure the cloth was down?’

  ‘Maybe he – or she – didn’t leave.’

  I put my hand to my mouth as I realized what he was driving at. ‘The killer was still there when I walked in?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Pavlik shrugged. ‘Would you have noticed if he was?’

  I gave him a dirty look. ‘Nice. But I like to think I would have felt some sort of . . . presence.’