March Street Mayhem (March Street Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by Estelle Richards

Author:Estelle Richards [Richards, Estelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

It was hard to go into work at the café after my visit to the bank with Maxwell, but Antoine, the new owner, was counting on me. When he bought the café, he’d confided that he’d always wanted to run a café but didn’t have any experience. I promised to do everything I could to help him, and while he’d been learning fast he still relied on me.

During the dinner rush, every table seemed to be gossiping about either the bingo hall murder or the rain of cash on the highway.

“This meal came directly from heaven,” one diner told me when I collected his bill.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“No, not like that.”

I raised an eyebrow at the implied insult to the chef. “What do you mean?”

“This right here,” he snapped the ten dollar bill taught between his fingers. “I got this on the highway. Money just floating on the breeze. Our lucky day.”

A thought occurred to me, and I made sure to hold on to that ten, substituting other bills for it when I went to the cash register.

It was nearly the end of the night, just a few minutes until we could lock the door. Everyone felt tired, ready to clean up and go home. The front door opened, sending a cool autumn breeze into the café. I winced, dreading the last minute customers who would inevitably want to linger over their meal.

I pasted a professional smile on my face and turned to greet the late diners. To my relief, it was Maxwell standing there.

“Come in, come in, would you like some coffee?” I said, rushing over to him.

“Love some.”

He turned a chair around to perch on it backwards. I got him the coffee.

“Good news,” he said. “Your sketch came up with a match from NCIC.”

I grabbed some napkins and a bin of silverware and sat at the table across from him. If I could do some side work while we talked, I wouldn’t feel like I was shirking.

“A thief out of Chicago. Name of Kevin O’Leary. He got out of prison a few months ago.”

“You think he’s our killer?”

“Maybe. He’s got a history of theft by fraud, but nothing violent.”

“Do non-violent thieves often switch to murder?”

Maxwell frowned. “Sometimes. Not often. But who do you like better for it, one of your grandmother’s friends?”

“Hmm. What else do we know about this O’Leary?” I rolled a set of silverware extra tight and had to remind myself to stay calm.

“NCIC says he always works with a partner. Guy called Jared Michaels.”

“Maybe our victim? They had a falling out over the money?”

“It’s a good theory, but Michaels is doing three years in Illinois.”

“Oh.” I rolled some more silverware and thought about that. “Anything new about the prize money?”

“Everything Richmond told us checks out.”

“You have the serial numbers?”

Maxwell nodded.

I took the crisp ten dollar bill out of my apron pocket and put it on the table.

“What’s this for?”

“I just wondered, is this from the sequence of bills from the bank?”

Maxwell took out a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it on the table, carefully smoothing out the creases.

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