Chapter 15

15

T he subtle scent of Elsie’s tea was enough to turn her stomach. No way she could eat anything, but she’d hoped getting something in her system would settle her nerves. The hustle and bustle of Lulu’s Diner mirrored the craziness buzzing in her brain.

But it wouldn’t matter where she waited to speak with Deputy Owen Wells. Nothing would calm her right now. She was like a bull ready to attack, only needing the signal to charge forward to finally get answers.

Dean took a bite of eggs. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? I know you’re not hungry, but something light might help.”

She shook her head and held her mug tight. The tea might not be appealing, but at least the warmth seeping from the porcelain might chase away some of the chill clinging to her bones. “I’m fine. I just want Owen to hurry up and get here so we can get this conversation over with.”

After Calvin had called the sheriff’s department about the dead body, Owen had hurried to the scene with a few other deputies and the coroner. Once the death was ruled a homicide, it was more important for Owen to start his investigation than take statements from her, Dean, and Calvin. The three had agreed to meet him at Lulu’s once he was done at Malcom’s house.

Calvin sipped his coffee then leaned his forearms on the table. “He should be here soon. I gave him my initial statement, but he wants to go over a few more details. Hopefully by waiting this long, he’ll have more information to share. Information that could help us figure out where to go next.”

A bell above the door chimed. Elsie leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of Owen striding through the breakfast crowd. “He’s here.”

Dean and Calvin both turned to watch Owen approach.

Fatigue made the five o’clock shadow on Owen’s jaw appear more haggard than usual. He slumped into the empty chair at the four-person table and signaled for the server with his index finger. “Can I get some coffee, please?” he asked when the middle-aged woman appeared. “To go.”

“Sure can.” She scribbled on her order pad. “Anything else for the rest of y’all?”

“No, thank you,” Elsie said, finally taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea. The bitter taste coated her mouth, and she struggled not to cringe.

Owen waited for the server to walk away before letting out a big sigh.

“Did you find who killed Malcom?” Elsie asked, unable to wait another second.

“Not yet. We’ve searched the property and are following all leads. I need you to tell me what all you touched inside that house. We dusted for fingerprints, and it’d be beneficial to know where to expect to find any of your prints.”

Dean scoffed. “Do you really think we’re dumb enough to contaminate a crime scene?”

Owen pinned him with narrowed eyes. “I think you entered a house without cause and didn’t know you were walking into a crime scene.”

“Fair point.” Dean stabbed the remaining bits of egg with his fork before shoveling them into his mouth.

“Besides the front door handle, I didn’t touch anything,” Calvin said. “Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “Opened the closest doors in the bathroom and bedroom. Doors to the rooms themselves. That’s it.”

“What about you Elsie?” Owen’s voice was gentler when addressing her.

“Nothing, at least I don’t think so. I stayed close to Dean. And when we found the body, I froze. I don’t remember after that if I touched anything or not.”

The server appeared and set Owen’s cup in front of him before hurrying to another table.

“Calvin mentioned you identified the scrubs he found in the trash as Mila’s. Is that true?” Owen asked.

She nodded, her stomach tying itself into knots. Her optimism regarding Mila’s fate faded with each passing second, but knowing she’d been in that house—that pieces of her clothing were dirty and discarded—was almost enough to put the final nail in her coffin. “I saw her the night she went missing. I am one hundred percent positive those were hers.”

All three men frowned, their worry and fears hovering over the table like a storm cloud.

She had to press on. Had to get as much information from Owen as possible if even the slightest chance of finding Mila remained. “Was there anything else in the house that leads to Mila?”

“No. I’m sorry. I wish I had better news. At this point, the department is all-hands-on-deck with the investigation. I hope that uncovering who killed Malcom will lead us to Mila. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I’ll keep you posted if we gather any more information you should be aware of.” Standing, Owen grabbed his coffee, dipped his chin, and headed toward the door.

Elsie dropped her head to the table. “What was the point of that? He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. Such a waste of time.”

A gentle touch on her arm lifted her head. Dean was closer than he’d dared to get to her all morning, and it melted something inside of her. She wanted him near her. Wanted him to touch her, calm her, reassure her.

“It may feel like that, but each new development brings us closer to the truth.”

“We need to get closer, and fast. We need to head to Town Tavern.” Conviction hummed in her veins. She was tired of waiting. If she wanted answers, she’d find them herself. “It should be open by now. Malcom was never there in the morning, and the staff might have information we could use. Owen said all hands on deck. That includes us, whether he likes it or not.”

Dean blinked to adjust to the lack of natural light inside Town Tavern. The place was business as usual. A few patrons already lined the bar, most opting for a quick meal before heading into work. The smell of coffee and bacon mixed with the hint of cigarette smoke that had permeated the walls years before.

Elsie stepped further into the room but kept space between them. He hated that they hadn’t had a chance to clear the air, but he hadn’t had an opportunity to explain his conversation with Gina. Now it was just the two of them, Calvin opting to work another angle from home, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

Especially when Malcom’s murder and its connection to Mila was at the forefront of their minds.

“We should talk to Ashley again,” Elsie said. “She was willing to spill information before.”

Dean scanned the restaurant until he spotted Ashley scurrying from the kitchen with her hands full and scowling. “Good plan. She’s here. Let’s sit in her section. Try to make things easy on her.”

He led the way to a table close to where Ashley stood, taking another order. He pulled out a chair for Elsie then took the seat across from her. “Hungry at all? You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

She shook her head then dropped her gaze to the scarred table. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

He opened his mouth to at least clear the air regarding his ex-wife, but Ashley rushed to the table before any words came out.

“Hey guys. What can I get you two?” Bags hung heavy under Ashley’s brown eyes. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Dark spots stained her wrinkled white shirt.

Elsie frowned. “Are you all right?”

Ashley blew out a sharp breath. “Just tired. Tired of working in a place where the boss is nowhere to be found. Tired of being the only responsible one around here, forced to clean up messes I didn’t make. And now I’m getting woken up in the middle of the night because apparently people were trying to get into the bar last night and there was no one else to call.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional and uncalled for. I shouldn’t have unleashed all that on you. I’m just overwhelmed.”

A twinge of intuition heightened Dean’s awareness. “No apology necessary. That sucks you were getting calls in the middle of the night. What in the world was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Who knows. I guess a few guys were lingering by the front door and a friend of mine happened to be out and was concerned they were attempting to break in. Don’t know why they didn’t call the police. That’s what I did, and when they got here, no one was around. I called Malcom to fill him in but haven’t heard from the world’s best boss since yesterday.” Sarcasm dripped from her mouth like honey.

Dean tucked that bit of information into the back of his mind. “Ashley, have you heard any news about Malcom?”

“No,” she said. “Did something happen?”

Dean glanced across the table and found Elsie’s grimace before staring up at Ashley. The long-time server of Town Tavern would learn the truth soon enough. Might as well fill her in and hopefully her shock would loosen her lips. “He was killed last night.”

Ashley’s eyes flew wide. “Seriously? Was he in an accident? I can’t believe this. I swear this place is cursed.”

“Not an accident.” Dean didn’t elaborate. At this point in the investigation, the sheriff’s department wouldn’t want him spreading the details of Malcom’s murder. But there was no reason to pretend his death was anything other than what it was.

“Oh my God,” Ashley said, swaying slightly.

Elsie shot to her feet and wrapped an arm around Ashley’s waist, guiding her to an empty seat. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in, especially after everything that’s happened around here lately.”

Sinking into the chair, Ashley’s skin drained of color. “I didn’t really know him that well, but he was pleasant enough. What should I do? Should we close? Keep working like nothing happened? Dammit, I need this job.” Tears glimmered in her eyes and she sniffled.

Dean pulled a napkin from the silver dispenser on the table and pressed it into her hand. “Stay open until you’re told otherwise. No one will fault you for wanting to make a paycheck. And if you want to help uncover what happened to Malcom, you can tell us anything you think we should know.”

Frowning, her brows dipped low. “Like what? I told you everything I know. I swear. He kept to himself. Didn’t work shifts or make friends with anyone here. Hell, he didn’t even spend much time in his apartment upstairs.”

“Could we poke around a bit?” Elsie asked.

Ashley shifted in her chair. “I don’t think it’s my place to authorize that. I’m sure his apartment is locked. Won’t the police be by to look at all his things?”

“They will, yes,” Dean said. “But right now, they are busy elsewhere and time is limited.”

Ashley bounced her gaze between them. “I don’t understand. How can time be limited? I get wanting to find a criminal if someone killed Malcom, but he’s already dead. Moving quickly won’t change that.”

Elsie slid her hand across the table and rested it on top of Ashley’s, gaining her attention. “My roommate has been missing for days and we think whoever hurt Malcom might be connected to her disappearance. Each minute that passes lessens our chances of finding her alive, and she has a little boy waiting at home for his mom. Dean and I are doing everything we can to help law enforcement.”

“Well, maybe you can look at his office. The staff use it more than he does, but he’d go in there from time to time.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said. “Can you show us where it is?”

Standing, Ashley nodded and wiped her eyes. “Sure. Come with me.”

Dean followed the two women to a small room down a short hallway. A dim light shone from the single overhead globe. A desk sat in the middle of the space, with a metal filing cabinet to one side. “It’s pretty tidy in here.”

A small smile tugged at a corner of Ashley’s mouth. “Thanks. I try to get things as organized as possible.”

“Do you handle the books?” Elsie asked.

“Mostly.” Ashley rounded the end of the desk and typed on the keyboard of the desktop computer. “Here’s everything I have access to for the business. Not sure how it can help, but feel free to look. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, but I need to get back to work.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said. “You can’t know how much this means. How much it might help.”

Ashley let out a shaky breath. “Do I tell the rest of the staff about Malcom?”

“That’s up to you,” Dean said. “They’ll find out soon. If it’s too much, you don’t need to take on the responsibly of giving that news.”

She flashed a tight smile then disappeared down the hall.

Elsie hurried to the look at the computer screen. “Looks like they use the same accounting software I use at the store. A quick glance makes everything seem like the books are clean, but if Malcom was using the bar to launder money, he wouldn’t keep it on the computer the rest of the staff can access.”

“Agreed,” Dean said. He opened the drawers of the filing cabinet, but nothing stood out. “Looks like mostly product receipts and payroll information.”

Elsie clicked out of the program and scanned the digital files. “Not much on here.” She plopped on the brown leather desk chair then opened the top drawer. Reaching inside, she shifted around the clutter of paperclips and post-it notes. Excitement flashed on her face, and she pulled out a key. “Wonder what this is for. There’s a tiny piece of paper taped to it. Says A2. Sounds like an apartment number or something.”

Dean came up beside her and took the key. “Might be the key to the apartment above the bar. There’s only one way to know for sure.”