Chapter 55
Chelsea Shalanian was seated at a booth in the far back corner of the Koffee Kup in the village.
She scowled when she caught sight of Felice.
“What’s she doing here?”
Felice raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whoa! What did I ever do to you?”
“You mean, like, get me fired?” Chelsea shot back.
“Can we please all sit down?” Livvy asked, noticing the stares of diners at nearby tables.
Felice slid into the booth first and Livvy joined her.
“Girl, I swear, I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Don’t try to put that on me,” Felice said.
Their server was hovering nearby with a coffeepot. Livvy turned to her. “Two more coffees, please, and I’ll have a maple bacon doughnut.”
“Same,” Felice said.
Chelsea sipped her coffee for a moment while she sized up the two women sitting across the table from her.
“Why do you care what happened between me and Garrett?”
“Confidentially? We’re, uh, looking into some sketchy stuff going on at the hotel. And kinda wondering if Garrett’s involved,” Livvy said.
Chelsea picked at the toasted bagel on her plate while she considered the question.
“You mean like switching well liquor for call brands and charging customers for the more expensive booze? And then selling cases of the Saint’s booze out the back door? And arranging for his buddies to get comped meals and rooms at the hotel? That kind of sketchy stuff?”
Livvy tried not to express her excitement at this revelation. “Is that true?”
“Shit, yeah. Garrett’s got a lot of little side hustles. He’s a shifty weasel, for sure.”
“And he admitted to you that he was mixed up in this stuff?” Felice asked.
“Not at first. I had a few customers send their drinks back to the bar, complaining the scotch didn’t taste like Johnnie Walker Blue, or whatever. After we started hanging out, Garrett told me the next time it happened to come to him and he’d take care of it.”
“How did he handle it?” Felice asked.
“He’d tell the customer it was a mistake, apologize, and offer a free round for the table. Same thing with wine, subbing in the cheap stuff. Like, if a table was on their third round of drinks, they were definitely getting the cheap shit, because they were probably too drunk to notice. Him and Wally, the weekend bartender, have some kind of deal worked out.”
“Who else knows about this?” Felice asked.
“Don’t know. Some of the other servers might have figured it out, but I’m not sure they got tipped out accordingly.”
“Did you get tipped out?” Livvy asked.
“In other ways,” Chelsea said, smirking.
Livvy leaned across the table, her hands clasped around her coffee mug. “Did Mr. Burroughs know about Garrett’s side hustles?”
“Hell yeah.”
“No offense, but how do you know that for sure?” Felice asked.
“One night, Garrett was staying over at my place and he got a text, like at two in the morning. He jumped up, got dressed, and then took off like his pants were on fire. Two hours later, he came back, crawled in bed, and acted like nothing happened. But that morning, while he was in the shower, I looked at his phone. And yeah, I swiped his password, I’m a sneaky bitch when I wanna be. And the text was from CB, and it said ‘Meet me at warehouse. Now.’”
“You think CB is Charlie Burroughs?” Livvy asked.
“Who else? There were a lot of other texts from him too. I didn’t get to read ’em because I heard the shower stop running and I didn’t want to get caught snooping.”
“Do you know what other side hustles he had going?” Livvy asked.
Felice shot her an unspoken “calm down” look.
“He was getting clothes from the pro shop and reselling them,” Chelsea said. “He gave me a silk blouse that cost three hundred dollars for my birthday. He kept all kinds of clothes at my place when we were together, all of it still with price tags, and then it would disappear.”
“Did Garrett have anyone else helping him with all his side gigs?” Livvy asked.
“Not at first. But then, that cute rich guy, KJ, I think he valet parks and works at the boutique too? Him and Garrett got pretty tight when they moved into that dorm with y’all.”
She pointed at Livvy. “I kinda thought maybe he was having a fling with you. Or Parrish. But he swore y’all were like sisters and brothers.”
“More like distant cousins,” Felice volunteered.
Chelsea glanced at her phone. She made a face. “Ugh. I gotta get to work.”
“You got a new job?” Felice asked. “Where?”
“Whiskers and Wags. My mom’s doggie day care place.”
“Sorry,” Felice said. “Hey, can I ask? Why did you and Garrett break up?”
Chelsea’s bored expression got suddenly animated. “I shoulda known a guy who steals from his job and cheats at video games would cheat on me too.” She looked over at Livvy.
“I figured out he was screwing around on me. All these texts signed ‘M.’ Gotta be that chick Misty. Works at the Saint’s wellness spa? Calls herself an aesthetician? Gimme a break. She waxes people’s coochies for a living. That’s her actual job. But I fixed his little red wagon.”
Felice grinned. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Yeah, I figured it out, but I didn’t say anything for a day. Then, the last night he was at my place, I fixed him a beer with a little surprise in it. He staggered off to bed and passed out. And while he was sleeping, I did a little waxing myself.
“I took pictures.” She picked up her phone and scrolled through her camera roll. “Wanna see?”
“Noooo,” Felice and Livvy said in unison.
“Yeah, it’s kinda hard to tell what it is. But if you know, you know.” Chelsea winked, then stood abruptly. “Okay, ladies. It’s been real.”
Livvy and Felice stayed on at the diner after Chelsea left for work.
“Note to self,” Livvy said, finishing her coffee. “Never, ever piss off Chelsea.”
Felice nodded absent-mindedly, then looked up.
“She said she put something in Garrett’s beer that knocked him out. Whoever killed Parrish did the same thing.”