“I honestly don’t care,” I confessed. “Fall would work too. Like you said, I’m happy to plan it around when we can book the venue. Do we have a venue?”

  “I’m going out this afternoon to tour that converted barn everyone’s been raving about. The Harvest Moon.”

  “A barn?” I mean, I knew I wanted low key and casual, but a barn? Stinking of animal poo and wearing mud boots at the reception wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

  “Converted barn,” Seb corrected me. “As in, converted to be an entertainment venue for hire. With flushing toilets and everything. Trust me, if I don’t think you’ll love it, I’ll keep searching until I find you the perfect place.”

  “Thanks, Seb. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again—I’d be lost without you.”

  “Darl.” He fluttered his eyelashes and ramped up his campiness one thousand percent. “It’s my honest to God pleasure.”

  My phone beeped, and an incoming message from Kade telling me to meet him at the café flashed across my screen.

  “Gotta go, Seb. I think Kade’s got a lead.”

  “Mystery and intrigue are afoot! Farewell.” After an exaggerated bow, Seb hung up, and I cleaned up Joyce’s kitchen before heading to the Sunset Café.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I spied Dennis, Sylvia, and Kade sitting at a table out on the terrace. They looked up when I approached, so naturally, I tripped over nothing, staggering the rest of the way.

  “Did you tell him?” I asked Sylvia.

  “Tell me what?” Kade asked curiously.

  Sylvia shook her head. “Nope, that’s your bit of news to share. I did tell them the photo Joyce took of Paul was a bust.”

  I sat down next to Kade and grabbed his hand. “I found a dress!” I could barely contain my relief. “It’s perfect.”

  “A dress? As in… a wedding dress?” He sounded, dare I say, hopeful?

  I nodded, my face breaking into a smile that hurt my cheeks.

  “Babe, that’s fantastic! But… how? You found a dress at the camera store?”

  I laughed. “No, silly. While we were waiting for the film to be developed, your mom and I visited a little bridal boutique a couple of doors down, and there it was.”

  Kade leaned down and kissed me, long and hard. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

  I leaned back, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had a dress. I was excited about the dress. Life was good. Now to get down to the business of solving Joyce’s murder.

  “Have you managed to get a look at the CCTV?” I jerked my head toward the cameras discreetly and strategically placed around the café.

  Dennis folded his arms across his chest, a scowl on his face. “They used words like search warrant,” he grumbled.

  I looked from Kade to his father expectantly. Surely, they’d found their way around the search warrant issue? Only it seemed they hadn’t, for both men sat there silently—or in Dennis’s case, not so silently—stewing on it.

  I sighed and shook my head. “Leave it with me.”

  “What are you going to do?” Dennis looked at me sharply.

  “Audrey,” Kade cautioned. “Remember, we’re police officers.”

  “You two might be. I’m not.” And sometimes, not being a cop held a lot more sway than having a shiny badge.

  “Audrey.” Kade pinned me with a look that I shrugged off.

  “What?” I said defensively. “You two have been on this since yesterday, and you still haven’t gotten your hands on the footage. Time to let me try.”

  “Can she do that?” Dennis blinked.

  “She’s not bound by the same rules we are.”

  “Darn straight I’m not. Watch and learn boys, watch and learn.” I made my way to the counter with a certain swagger, concentrating fiercely on not tripping. Leaning one elbow on the counter, I caught the eye of the server, the same man who’d been on duty yesterday morning.

  “Hi, there. What can I get you?” His smile was bright, reminding me a little of Seb and his impossibly white teeth. I dropped my eyes to his name badge.

  “Hi, Liam, my name’s Audrey, and I’m looking into something that happened here yesterday. I’d love to chat with you if you have a few minutes.”

  He cocked his head. “Didn’t I see you in here yesterday? You with those cops?” His gaze landed on the Galloways’ table out on the terrace.

  “I’m not a cop if that’s what’s got you worried.” I smiled, keeping my tone friendly. “But my fiancé is. And his dad. Well, his dad is retired, but you know…” I trailed off.

  “Once a cop, always a cop,” Liam said, wiping down the counter. “Look, you’re going to have to order something. If the boss sees me chit chatting, he’s going to dock my pay.”

  “Oh! Right, sure.” I straightened from my slouch against the counter and perused the menu. “Give me an iced cappuccino with a shot of espresso.”

  “Coming right up.”

  While Liam busied himself making my order, he said, “I take it you want to know about Joyce? I don’t know what else to tell you, man. She comes in regularly with Sally and Hazel. They had breakfast together yesterday morning, then went out for a round of golf.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip by now, right? I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.”

  He paused and eyeballed me. “That she was murdered?” He snorted. “Sure.” His tone told me he didn’t believe Joyce was murdered, not for a second.

  “I’m just trying to find out what happened here. Do you think you could help me out?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Would it be too much trouble to ask if I could take a peek at the CCTV footage?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you need a warrant for that?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a cop. So, no, this is just between us. You’re not going to get in trouble.” I hesitated, then winked. “Unless you slipped a little something into Joyce’s drink, then you might be.”

  His jaw dropped. “You think Joyce was poisoned?”

  I shrugged. “Like I said, just trying to get to the bottom of it.”

  Liam considered his options for all of two nano seconds before caving. “Okay, fine. But don’t tell my boss.”

  “Or he’ll dock your pay.” I crossed my heart. “Promise I won’t tell him.”

  Liam leaned down and pulled a tablet from beneath the counter, his fingers swiping across the screen, punching in a pin number or password or something before he held it out to me. “Here. Here’s the footage from yesterday.”

  “Thank you.”

  There were three cameras in the café—one directed at the counter, one that covered the main café and the door leading into the interior of the Torres Place building, and another outside focused on the terrace.

  I chose the one trained on the tables inside and hit play, watching on the screen as Liam set up in the morning, preparing to open. “What happens to the footage?” I asked, speeding up the replay and sending Liam into double time on the screen. “Does it get deleted? Saved in the cloud?”

  “Dunno.” Liam slid my drink toward me. “That’ll be five dollars.”

  “Thanks.” I paid, adding a generous tip, and took a sip while watching the footage, slowing it down when I got to the part where Joyce arrived with Hazel and Sally. It was surreal watching them on the screen. I switched cameras, following the women outside to the terrace.

  “Joyce had orange juice and scrambled eggs.”

  “That’s right. Her usual order. That woman loved her eggs,” Liam said. I’d forgotten he was there, so when he spoke, I jumped, spilling my drink.

  “Oh shoot, sorry,” I muttered, blindly feeling around for a napkin, unable to drag my eyes off the screen. Something had to have happened in the café. I didn’t want to miss it.

  “Get your fingers out of it,” Liam admonished, shoving my hand away. “I’ll clean it up.”

  On the screen, two paramedics arrived. Both male. Both waved at the women sitting at Joyce’s table, then headed to the counter to place their order. They kept their backs to the camera, so I couldn’t get a good look at their faces, but they didn’t look like the guys who’d arrived to collect Joyce’s body. I was eighty percent certain they were different builds, although it was hard to tell from the back and with them wearing uniforms.

  “Liam, who are these guys?” I showed him the tablet.

  “Uh, they’re paramedics, Audrey.” He made me sound like I was an idiot for not knowing that.

  “No, I mean, do you know who they are personally? They waved at Joyce, Hazel, and Sally.”

  “Oh, yeah, I think they know them?” Liam squinted and pointed at the screen. “That one ordered them a round of drinks.”

  “Wow. That was nice of him.”

  “Guess they’re just nice guys.” Liam shrugged, not thinking much of it. “Those guys are always getting called out here. Half the time, it’s a false alarm. Like they have to do those assessment things when someone has a fall?”

  “So, I’m guessing they probably know a lot of the residents.”

  “For sure.” Liam looked over my shoulder. “They probably know every single person in here. Bar you.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered under my breath, switching cameras, searching for the same footage from a different angle. Eventually I found it, fast forwarding the camera that covered the counter until I got to the two paramedics. Still not an incredibly clear shot, the camera was focused on the staff behind the counter, not the customers. Both paramedics were side on, neither of them moving to face the camera directly.

  As surreptitiously as possible, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo, then continued watching the footage from the main café camera. The paramedics collected their order. One of them snatched up a napkin, wiped the counter where his cup had been, then tossed it in the trash on the way out.

  “Anything?” Liam asked.

  I shook my head. “Do you suffer from allergies?”

  He appeared surprised by the question. “No. Why?”

  “So, you don’t use a nasal spray or eye drops?”

  “No, and even if I had allergies, I’d just pop an antihistamine.”

  “Good point.” I handed back the tablet. “Thanks, Liam, I appreciate you helping out.”

  “So?” He took the tablet and placed it back under the counter. “Did you see who killed her?”

  I sighed, shoulders slumping, and finished my drink. “I did not. No one approached their table other than the wait staff, delivering their meals.”

  “You think one of us did it?”

  “Did you?”

  “I already told you I didn’t.” He frowned. “Do you think it was Chef?”

  “You mean your chef? The one who prepares the meals at the café?”

  “No. Well, yes, but we legit call him Chef. It’s his nickname. But he’s also the cook, yes.”

  “Right… so did Chef have a beef with the ladies? With Joyce? He’d know their orders right, seeing as they’re regulars?”

  “Chef doesn’t have a beef with anyone. He’s one of those perpetually friendly people, always cheerful. Even if a customer is chewing him out, he’ll smile and apologize and get on with his day with no hard feelings.”

  “He’s no Gordon Ramsey then?”

  “Polar opposite.”

  “Would I be pushing the friendship if I asked to look around the kitchen?” I lowered my head and looked up at him through my lashes. I was aiming for cute and adorable but probably came across as manic and slightly unhinged, given the bruised state of my face.

  “No can do. Staff only. There’s no way I can get you in there.” But he was giving me this look. One I couldn’t decipher. For while his words were saying no, his eyes were saying yes.

  I cast my mind around frantically, trying to decipher what Liam wasn’t saying. “That’s too bad, Liam,” I said with exaggerated calmness. “I would have liked to see your setup back there.”

  “Chef goes on break from two till four. That’s a really bad time to visit.”

  “Two till four, huh? What happens then… to the menu, I mean?”

  “No hot food. We have pre-prepared sandwiches and croissants. I can heat a quiche in the microwave. But it’s quiche. In the microwave.”

  “I hear ya. Well, thanks, Liam. That was the best coffee I’ve had all day.” Giving him a salute, I ambled back out to the terrace. If he meant what I thought he’d meant, I should get my butt back here sometime between two and four for a sneaky poke around in the kitchen.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “It’s a long shot,” Dennis said. He’d been a little put out when I’d returned to the table victorious, having succeeded where he’d failed.

  “One hundred percent.” It was definitely a long shot. I’d been hoping to get footage of Paul Wilson in the café that morning, but he hadn’t arrived until after Joyce’s body had been found. If he was the killer, and I was definitely thinking he was, then he’d poisoned her somewhere else. I just needed to find out where. I doubted I’d find anything incriminating in the kitchen, but no stone left unturned and all that.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the scrunched up flyer to the Cinderella play I’d found in Paul’s trash can.

  “What’s that you’ve got there, Audrey?” Sylvia asked.

  I handed her the flyer. “I found this in Paul’s office.”

  “You broke into his office?” Kade’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. Trouble with dating a cop is they want you to follow the rules, those pesky little rules otherwise known as the law.

  “It wasn’t locked, so technically I didn’t break in anywhere.”

  Kade sighed and shook his head, plucking the flyer from his mom’s fingers and studying it. “What’s the significance?”

  “No idea. But the way the eyes have been scratched out had me intrigued.”

  “You think Paul scratched them out?”

  “I think it’s a possibility. He seems to be a very angry man.”

  Dennis took the flyer from Kade and held it at arms’ length while he studied the woman. “She looks familiar.” He held the flyer toward Sylvia. “Do we know her?”

  Sylvia cocked her head. “It’s hard to see past the eyes, to focus on her face without seeing the vandalism.”

  “I know!” Dennis thumped the table, making the silverware jump and rattle. “She looks like the woman from yesterday, the one who came out with Paul when we found Joyce’s body.”

  “Hayden?” I grabbed the flyer from him. Sylvia was right, it was hard to focus on anything other than the scratched out eyes, but Dennis was also right, the woman on the flyer bore a resemblance to Hayden Lee, only Hayden was a redhead and the woman on the flyer was blonde.

  Seeing I wasn’t convinced, Sylvia said, “Take away the ballgown and the wig and look at the bone structure, the shape of her jaw, the length of her neck.”

  “You think this is Hayden, playing the role of Cinderella?” I still couldn’t see it. Kade leaned in close, his body pressed against mine as he studied the flyer again.

  “You could be right,” he eventually said.

  “What does it even matter?” I sighed. “It’s hardly relevant.”

  “Ah!” Dennis jabbed a finger at me from across the table, eyes dancing with enthusiasm. He was really enjoying the thrill of the chase. “That’s where the answer often lies. In the unexpected. In the little clues that you toss away as irrelevant.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a detective?” I teased.

  “I was happy on my beat.” He may have been happy as a beat cop, but I didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride when I mentioned his detective skills. Like his son, Dennis Galloway would have made a brilliant detective.

  “Joyce said she thought Paul and Hayden were having an affair,” I said to the table in general. “I visited Hayden today, and she confirmed it was true, but then Paul caught us talking and summoned Hayden to his office where he chewed her out for talking to me. Something about a secret that, if it gets out, will end them. I’m paraphrasing here.”

  “So, they’re sleeping together?” Sylvia’s hand went to her throat, and I wasn’t sure if she was surprised or horrified. Yeah, I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to sleep with Paul Wilson either.

  “Were. She said it only lasted a few weeks.”

  “What else did Joyce say?” Kade asked.

  “That she’d often come across them acting weird around the facility, like tucked away in a little hidey hole, sometimes acting like lovebirds, other times arguing, even singing.”

  “Singing?” Sylvia muttered, then grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “I’ve got it!”

  “Is it catching?” Dennis teased, but Sylvia ignored him, her gaze intense.

  “Put it all together,” she urged me. “Paul Wilson wearing a dress, a flyer for Cinderella, Paul and Hayden acting oddly. Singing.” She paused, then pushed the flyer toward me, pointing. Under the word Cinderella, in smaller print, were the words pantomime.

  “Oh my God.” I tipped my head back and looked up at the trellis covering the roof of the terrace, laughing. “Of course. Even the entry in his diary makes sense now. It wasn’t reverse. It was rehearse. Paul Wilson is an actor in a pantomime—Cinderella to be exact—and I’m guessing Hayden is playing the leading role, something that Paul isn’t too thrilled about.”

  “I don’t get it,” Dennis confessed. “You’re saying Paul and Hayden are actors?”

  I nodded. “Performers in a pantomime. Maybe Paul coveted the lead role, hence him trying on Ethel’s gown. It would also explain the scratched out eyes. He’s jealous.”

  “Yes, but what does it have to do with Joyce’s death?” Sylvia asked, tapping her lip.

  I deflated like a balloon. “Maybe it doesn’t?” I’d been so sure Paul was behind Joyce’s murder, but our new theory, the one where he was an actor playing a part in a play, made perfect sense. I just needed to confirm it was true. “Who fancies going to the theater tonight?”

  “Dinner and a show sounds wonderful!” Sylvia clapped her hands together in delight. “We have reservations at Etoile, anyway. Let me check the times when Cinderella is showing, and I’ll get us tickets.”

 

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