A Killer Cup of Joe Read online

  That was too much like the girls whose crime scene photos were spread out in front of her. Was the only thing keeping her out of a similar position the fact that she hated to work out in front of other people, so sticking with yoga as a group activity probably wasn’t going to happen for her?

  “Then I’d tell them that you hadn’t always been that way, and over the last few years, you’d definitely withdrawn more and more, but that I figured it was because of your job and how much time you spend away from people.” Anne continued talking, unaware of where Ellie’s mind had drifted. “You should get out more,” she added, flipping what Ellie referred to as her Mom Switch. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll make your favorite foods, and after the kids go to bed, we can split a Pepperidge Farm Cake.”

  “Tempting,” Ellie replied with a smile. “The cake, not a meal with your whole brood.”

  When they were young, they’d pooled their resources—the change carefully extracted from between the seat cushions of their cars—and purchased a single chocolate cake from the freezer section of the grocery store. Realizing they didn’t have any plates, they’d managed to get a couple of plastic forks from the deli and then went to a park nearby, opened the box, and began eating at opposite corners of the cake, not stopping until they were down to the crumbs in the middle. It gave them both a sugar rush and a bit of indigestion, but they’d laughed more and talked longer than they ever had. Ever since then, anytime they needed to have a deep discussion, it always included a cake of some sort, split between them. Both were capable of making a dessert that would taste much better than a store bought one, but for some reason, they always went back to what worked and spilled their hearts over frozen cake eaten off plastic forks.

  “You doing okay, Ellie?” Anne asked, getting serious enough that Ellie knew her friend was on to her strange mood.

  “I’m good,” she lied, not wanting to talk about her father’s unusual package and definitely not wanting to share the darkness from her job with her friend. “I just couldn’t help but wonder how I was seen by the people who knew me best.”

  “Well, ten years ago, I would have called you the life of the party, a dog with a bone when you had a mystery in front of you, and the best listener I’d ever met,” Anne said, more fully answering the question.

  “What happened to me?” Ellie asked, wondering how she’d gone from the life of the party to kind and quiet.

  “Only you can answer that,” Anne replied gently. “But between losing your dad, changing your job with the FBI, your mother’s constant harping... I don’t know. You…matured somehow.”

  “Is that what this is?” Ellie wondered, doubting it was true. “I’m different because I’m more mature?”

  “Look, you’re still a grown woman who owns panties with cartoon characters on them and that gets her jollies wearing unseemly lingerie underneath her drab suit to work, so I can’t call you mature with a straight face. But from the girl who promised you during a sleepover back in fifth grade that I’d never lie to you, you aren’t as light-hearted as you used to be,” Anne explained, sounding sorry to be the one to point out what should have been obvious.

  “I’m out of town right now, but when I get back, I’ll give you a call and we can find a time to go through a cake together,” Ellie pledged, suddenly faced with the fact that she not only wanted to see her friend, but needed that connection as well. She’d spent too much time in the basement, and it was time to start trying to come back into the light.

  Chapter Ten

  Ellie blinked several times, trying to force her eyes to focus. She instantly recognized the gritty feeling of having stayed awake far too long, reading with her eyes glued to a laptop screen. Once she’d started digging into the case files, she’d found she couldn’t stop. While she didn’t have access to the victims’ financial details, she was convinced if someone got a warrant for the bank records, there would be payments to the Yoga for Life Retreat Center for personal lifestyle coaching. There was no proof of that yet, but her gut told her it was true.

  She typed up everything she’d gotten from the retreat center’s website, along with her own personal assumptions about what connected the women, and attached it to the D.C. and Northern California files. The lifestyle coaching was certainly worth looking into as the thread that bound these women, especially once Ellie noticed a representative from the yoga center traveled roughly every other weekend to speak at conventions. The posted appearance schedule on the website lined up perfectly with the east and west coast murders. That was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

  Ellie wondered what was so special about Northern California. Phillips had mentioned Joe had recently returned from a coffee distributor there. Maybe he could tell her more about the area.

  After that, she decided she should give Agent Peters the professional courtesy of letting him know she’d updated one of his cases, so she sent a short note.

  Agent Peters, after speaking to you yesterday, I did some more research into the victims and have logged my impressions of a potential further connection into the case notes. Although it isn’t much, I hope it proves to be helpful. ~Ellie

  After finishing, her eyes fell once more on the backpack filled with materials from her father. As much as she wanted to know what they contained, she decided to give them the respect they deserved, and at the moment, she was entirely too exhausted to focus on them. Deciding a fast shower would probably help with that more than anything, she rushed through her morning ritual and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt before going downstairs in search of the bowl of grits that had been promised to her upon check-in.

  When Ellie walked into the dining room, Ms. Sheila was humming a tune that didn’t appear to have a real melody. As if sensing she was being watched, the owner of the bed and breakfast turned around and beamed at her sole guest. “Are you ready for some breakfast, dear?”

  Indicating she was, Ellie watched as Ms. Sheila moved to a side bar and filled a large brimmed bowl with steaming hot grits. Then she motioned for Ellie to come closer and pointed at a series of dishes, each containing food, as though it were a mini salad bar. “You can top them with anything you’d like, and if you need more of something, just ask.”

  Of course, there was butter, which was how Ellie usually ate her grits, but her eyes were drawn to the freshly grated cheddar cheese, which was the more tempting of the two fatty options. Beside that, there were diced tomatoes, green onions, a bowl of red-eye gravy, and some sliced chili peppers.

  “I hardly know where to begin,” Ellie confessed, feeling comfortable in this place for some reason and wondering if her father had left his final gifts for her in this town because he’d felt the same way.

  “I always like to start simple and then work my way up,” Ms. Sheila wasn’t shy in advising.

  That seemed like good counsel, so she threw in a handful of cheese and a small pat of butter before moving to the table to stir it in.

  Setting a steaming mug of coffee in front of Ellie, Ms. Sheila patted her shoulder and encouraged, “Eat it like that for a bit, then go back and pile on some other things to finish it off.”

  As if understanding Ellie wasn’t capable of much conversation, Ms. Sheila left through a swinging door and gave Ellie the privacy of the dining room to enjoy her breakfast alone. It had been a while since she’d felt this adrift. Being isolated wasn’t new—neither was a slight impatience—but as she took her first bite of cheesy grits, she realized this was well beyond restlessness. It was agitation, and she had no clue what to do about it.

  She could go home and talk to Anne. The length of their friendship ensured she wouldn’t be turned away, and she admired the way Anne always listened to her with a focus, as though she didn’t want to miss a word. But she didn’t feel right about talking about death and dying, corruption, and suspicion to a mother of four young children.

  There was a time when she might have considered Agent Peters. She felt confident that if she
dialed his cell phone, he would answer and listen to everything she had to say, but the strange shift in their relationship made her wary of sharing anything with him.

  Ellie’s mind fell to Phillips, and she wondered how he would react if she knocked on his door. Actually, she knew exactly how he’d react... He’d let her in, offer to brew a pot of coffee, and then let her rant and rave all she wanted. If he had a female companion, Ellie suspected he’d escort the woman to the door and then return with his full attention on anything Ellie wanted to share. The problem with that idea was that he was too good at listening. He’d hear every word she spoke, and he’d catch everything she didn’t say, too. Then he’d ask follow-up questions, and he’d know if she lied or tried to evade something. No, as tempting as he might be...that wasn’t an option, either.

  Before she knew it, her bowl was empty, so she stood and carried it to the sink, placing it in the basin of soapy water as the sign indicated. Ms. Sheila came back through the doors as Ellie was leaving and thanked her for helping with the dishes.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Nonsense,” Ms. Sheila seemed intent on disagreeing with her. “Grits are good to eat, but the trick is to only let them stay on the bowl while you’re using them and then get them off the second you’re done. Lots of things are like that, so you have to learn how to tell what needs to be wiped away when it’s no longer useful.”

  With a matronly pat on Ellie’s hand, Ms. Sheila seemed to dismiss her, leaving Ellie wondering if the older woman was trying to convey a message about something more important than breakfast dishes.

  Her mind had traveled in so many circles that Ellie wondered why she wasn’t dizzy. This was getting her nowhere. Staying here wasn’t giving her time to think. It was keeping her from focusing. Having made up her mind to leave the small town, she attempted to figure out where the right place was to go through the things her father had left her. She’d done everything she could for the open case from Agent Peters. Continuing to mull it over in her mind was kind of like letting the grits dry on the bowl. Giving it more attention would keep her from being able to distance herself enough to be objective. She needed a distraction and hoped the stuff from her father would provide that.

  The only remaining question was where she could go to review it in private. As she was repacking her suitcase, she realized she had the perfect answer. Two rings on her cell phone was all it took before her mother answered with a perfectly perky, “Hello?”

  “Mom, it’s Ellie,” she announced, wondering why she felt the need to explain who she was. Surely her mother would have deduced that from her initial greeting.

  “Ellie, what a wonderful surprise,” Janice sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her only child.

  “I was wondering if I could come see you,” Ellie began, pondering if she was making a huge mistake.

  “Of course, darling.” Janice’s eagerness was a bit surprising. “If you can get here in time, I’ll take you to the club for dinner.”

  “No,” Ellie all but yelled into her cell phone. “I mean, I’m coming today, but I just need a place to be for a few days where no one will bother me so I can go over some things in peace. I don’t really want to be sociable while I’m there.”

  “All right...” Janice sounded slightly defeated. “You know you always have a place here. You don’t need to ask. If you came home more often, you might realize that.”

  And there was the side of guilt that was typically served up during most conversations with her mother.

  Three hours later, she was pulling into the long tree lined driveway that led up to her childhood home. With each mile driven, Ellie could feel herself tightening up and wondered if she should have her head examined for volunteering to visit with her mother. Regardless, she knew once she’d keyed in the security code at the gate that she had no choice but to go through with it, at least for a single night, so she tried to put on a face that said she was more confident with this decision than she felt and then forced herself to get out of the car, knowing she still had to endure the traditional greeting from Janice.

  Ellie rang the doorbell and stood on the front porch waiting.

  Her mother finally pulled the large wooden door open and stood back to let Ellie in. Once she’d shut the entrance and engaged the locks, she hugged her daughter and then kept a hand at Ellie’s wrist to step back and say, “Let me get a good look at you.”

  “Mom,” Ellie complained, tolerating the inspection that she knew would produce a fault of some sort.

  “You’re getting too thin,” her mother announced, “and what have you done to your hair?”

  Ellie’s hand went to her head as she wondered if something had happened she was unaware of. “I haven’t done anything to it,” she blurted out as a defense.

  “Exactly,” Janice agreed. “It’s lifeless and just hanging there. I’ll get you an appointment with Jose at my salon. He’s new, but he’s fabulous, and I’m sure he can do something to make it more appealing. Honestly, honey, with just a little effort, you could be quite a looker.”

  Being here was equal parts annoyance and comfort. After all, she’d heard these exact same complaints for years, so it was nice to be surrounded by the familiar. Of course, she also knew that more than twenty-four hours of familiar would be enough to have her looking fondly at sharp objects, so she had to make the most of her time here as an escape. “I didn’t come to get my hair done,” Ellie reminded her mother.

  “I know, but why can’t you do both?” Janice pushed. “There’s a time to read and review things in peace, but then you need to step back and just absorb what you’ve read. There’s no rule against doing a little something to lighten these locks while you’re absorbing. You don’t have to talk to Jose while he gives you some layers and maybe a highlight or two.”

  Ellie refused to begin the usual arguments already, reminding herself she was the one who had voluntarily come here. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, deciding to try being less hostile. “I have some work that I have to get through. If I can finish everything by the morning, then we can talk about going into town together.” It wasn’t permission to get her hair done, but she knew she could use a trim, and it was a small thing to do if it would get her some privacy now.

  Exactly as Ellie had thought, Janice seemed to be thrilled about the concession, and her entire demeanor changed. “I’ve opened the office for you,” she began, moving toward the back of the house, to a room Ellie rarely remembered seeing anyone use after her father moved out. “You can spread out in here, and no one will bother you. Plus, the light is lovely this time of day.”

  As she spoke, Ellie looked around the room and realized the bank of windows making up the back wall really did create a warm space. She hoped the view of the backyard and garden wasn’t too distracting, and seeing there was a large table in the center of the room, plus a big wooden desk that used to be her father’s, she knew she would have everything she needed while she was here.

  “Thanks for this, Mom,” Ellie spoke up after giving the area a quick inspection. “Just forget I’m here, and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

  An expression passed over Janice’s face that Ellie couldn’t identify. She decided not to question it, for fear that it would lead into a long conversation, and she was itching to go through the things from her father.

  “I’ll have Maria bring you some tea and check to be sure you have dinner,” her mother offered before turning to walk out. “I’m going to the club for my meal, but other than that, I’ll be around if you need anything.”

  Having sorted all the details, Janice walked out, pulling the door behind her, but not completely shutting it. Ellie looked around and smiled at the memory of playing in here when she was young, while her father sat at the large wooden desk and read through files. Every time her mother caught her, she would yell at her dad for allowing it and remind Ellie that this was no place for a little girl to be. She smiled at the fact that she was here now,
but this time, it wasn’t to play on the floor.

  An hour later, she’d re-read the note from her father explaining his desire that she would use this information to protect herself and be aware of what he suspected was occurring at the FBI, but that she was not to act on it. She’d spent time going through the envelope of photos, surprised to find them more personal than professional. Most of them were of Ellie with her father, either at a scene, while she was at school, or of the two of them having fun—one was under the tree in the backyard that she could see through the windows. There were also two small wallet-sized pictures of her from when she was younger. They were worn and slightly cupped, making Ellie think he’d carried them in his overstuffed leather wallet for years, permanently altering their shape.

  As much fun as it was to go down memory lane and try to recreate when each of the photos were taken, she realized they probably were not the most important thing he’d left for her. Placing the pictures carefully back in the envelope, she moved on to his journals. Her father had always kept a leather-bound book that he’d make random notes in when working cases. Most people found his handwriting difficult to read, and since he didn’t bother to put headers or details to anchor his comments, they were all but meaningless. However, as she flipped through them now, Ellie began to find threads of his voice running through the pages. There were specific things he wanted to follow up on, cases that would close, new ones that would open, and reminders about appointments and upcoming events. After the first twenty pages, she almost felt like it was a story being written from multiple points of view: an agent, a father, a regular man. She always felt he’d seamlessly integrated all of himself, but it appeared as though he struggled to juggle everything, just like she did. Something in that thought was comforting.

  She flipped to the last few pages in the most recent journal and saw he’d made reminders to stop his mail and cancel his annual physical appointment, and he’d made a note that when he returned, he needed to get Janice an anniversary gift. That last comment seemed completely out of place. While they’d never divorced, they also hadn’t seemed to mix company after he’d moved out, so the fact that he would give her a gift for any reason was strange, even more so if it was to honor the date of their marriage. She decided that nothing about her parents’ arrangement was normal, so she wasn’t going to waste time thinking on it now.