LITMIR.BIZ

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I’d talk to would be his students and their parents. Steven might have been okay with his teaching methods but maybe others weren’t.

      The timer chimed, and I turned off the gas. I’d better focus on my food or I’d have a bunch of unhappy cat customers.

      * * * *

      Since Elliott had rehearsal, I stayed late at the kitchen to finish the day’s production. Zoey left around three to pick up her son, and the late afternoon gang good-naturedly gave me a hard time for using some of their space. I texted my dad that I’d bring home Pico’s food and he sent back a thumbs up emoji.

      Yollie called me when I was on my way home, the tangy scent of the chicken burritos filling the car. “You have to help Steven.”

      “What’s wrong?” I asked.

      “Your friend the cop just questioned him about his relationship with Benson.” She sounded angry. At me.

      Holy cow. “I’m sure it’s just standard procedure,” I said. “She’s probably talking to all of Benson’s students.”

      “That’s what I thought,” she said. “But I called some and you know what? None of them have been questioned.”

      Shoot. “I’m sure she’ll talk to them soon enough.”

      “It’s your fault he’s at the front of the line,” she said. “You have to get him cleared.”

      I relented. “I’ll see what Norma has to say tomorrow.”

      “You better,” she said. “You owe him.”

      Oh man. Was I really going to get involved in another murder?

      * * * *

      By Tuesday, the news that business tycoon and philanthropist Quincy Powell was under suspicion of murder was all over the place. The YouTube video of him hitting Benson was playing on all major news stations and reporters were staked out by his house again. He texted that he was working from home, and he added, Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.

      I called Norma. “Want a coffee?”

      “Sure,” Norma said, her voice a little too friendly.

      That couldn’t be good. Norma usually tried to avoid me during a murder investigation when I knew anyone involved.

      Both of us knew that “coffee” meant Philz Coffee, the best in Sunnyside. By the time Norma arrived, shaking out her umbrella and shedding her raincoat, I had already ordered and paid for our large cups of my new favorite, Tantalizing Turkish, with its hint of cardamom and the addition of a fresh mint leaf, and had grabbed a corner table. It had been raining on and off for a couple of hours and clouds hung heavy in the sky.

      Norma crossed the store with long strides, all business in her beige jacket thrown over her jeans. She sat down and stretched out her legs in front of her. Her eyes were tired. “Thanks,” she said, reaching for the coffee.

      “Good morning,” I said, waiting for her to take a sip before asking her any questions.

      She spoke first, getting right down to business. “Your friend has a problem.”

      “Which friend?” I asked, not wanting to implicate anyone.

      “Quincy,” she said as if it was obvious.

      “Oh,” I said cautiously. Norma never did this. It must be serious. “Can you tell me why?”

      “Besides that fact that he has plenty of motive?” She leaned toward me and spoke quietly. “The district attorney hates Quincy and is gunning for him.”

      “Why?” I was stunned. Everyone loved Quincy.

      “It seems Quincy had some kind of huge fundraiser for his opponent in the last election.” She kept her eyes on me while she took another sip.

      “Wow. Well, it looks like he won anyway,” I said. “What’s his problem?”

      “He’s the kind to hold a grudge,” Norma said in a tone that showed she did not approve.

      “You know Quincy, Norma,” I said. “It’s totally impossible for him to kill someone, especially in this way. And then trying to cover it up with arson? It’s so cold-blooded. No way could he do that.”

      She sat back and I could almost see her brain churning. “How well do you know Yollie?”

      “Really?” I may have overdone the sarcasm. “You can’t possibly think she could do it. Or her son either!” I said, just as she was about to ask another question. “Creating an explosion like that takes a lot of knowledge a soccer mom just doesn’t have.”

      She subsided.

      “Aren’t there, like, traffic cams or something to show you who was in the area then?” I asked.

      She frowned, not liking me telling her how to do her job, but answered, “We checked the nearest traffic cam footage and saw nothing out of the ordinary.”

      “So you didn’t see Quincy,” I reinforced.

      “No,” she said. “But the DA pointed out that there are paths to the victim’s house that avoid traffic cameras.”

      I sighed. “Is this guy an idiot, or does he really believe that after fighting with Benson, Quincy figured out how to sneak his way to Benson’s house, avoiding all cameras, kill Benson, arrange an explosion to hide the evidence, and then sneak away—all in like twelve hours? Just because Benson said nasty things about his granddaughter?”

      Norma moved as if to stand up. “We do have to ‘exhaust every investigative avenue,’ as he says.” She used finger quotes so I knew she felt the same way I did.

      “He must be a great legal mind,” I said with heavy sarcasm. “I guess that’s why Quincy gave money to his opponent.”

      A smile flitted across Norma’s face.

      “I thought of something last night,” I said, not wanting her to leave yet. “Yollie and I must have just missed seeing the killer. Did we drive by him?”

      “The garage has a door that leads to the backyard,” she said. “That’s most likely how he, or she, escaped without being seen.”

      “But the backyard has that huge hedge,” I said.

      “There’s a way through it,” she said. “It looks solid from the street, but it has a cutout to let people through to a gate.”

      “Quincy can’t be the only one you’re looking at, right? The guy was such a jerk that he had to have other people who didn’t like him.”

      “Don’t worry, we’re on it,” she said.

      “Wait, one more thing,” I said, realizing how unlikely it was that Norma would share information. “Why did you tell me about the DA? Do you want me to see where this goes?”

      “No, not at all,” she said, her voice firm.

      “Because you’re always telling me that amateurs shouldn’t be anywhere close to murder investigations.” That had never stopped her from using what I uncovered on my own though.

      “And I stand by that,” she said. “Of course I don’t want you to get involved.” She looked around to make sure no one could hear. “As long as all of the police resources are tied up with the DA’s little grudge match, I won’t be able to go after the real killer.”

      “And Quincy will be under suspicion,” I said.

      “Do you have anything else for me?” she asked, taking another sip. “If not, I have a search of another one of Quincy’s companies to oversee.”

      “You know, those searches are very disruptive,” I said. “Isn’t that harassment or something?”

      She stood up with a grim expression. “Better that than being arrested

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