Chapter 18
Mozzarella Stick Take Down
Shane fiddled with the mic under his collar again while he waited at the table. Chief Madison's team waited out of sight in the kitchen. All of his focus should be on the lunch date he was about to have with Clarissa Baker, but his mind kept drifting back to the previous night.
He'd woken up in a tangle of Maria's curls on the couch with her sprawled over him, dead asleep. She didn't wake up, even when he threw a blanket over them and held her in the early morning light. He was exhausted from staying up late and fighting his baser urges that he didn't see Clarissa until she reached his table.
She leaned over him for a hug, and he half stood, half crouched in an awkward embrace. "I'm a hugger," she said. "And you looked lost in a daydream. Hope it was fun?"
"Sorry, not much sleep last night," Shane said, stretching his neck to make sure the mic hadn't dislodged in the hug.
"Tell me about it. I can barely keep up with all the projects I'm juggling. I can't imagine how hard you must be working to stay looking that fit and manage your TV empire. Have you ever been here? I just love this place. The chicken piccata is to die for—"
Clarissa rambled on, her bright white teeth flashing with every other word.With matte red lips, she looked every bit the former beauty queen. Her blonde waves and Botox brows barely shifted as she spoke animatedly about everything, and she waved or pointed to almost everyone in the room to mouth hello throughout her unending monologue.
"Oh, I'm ready, are you?" Clarissa said as the waitress reached them. "I'll have the strawberry salad please, but no strawberries and I'd rather have pine nuts instead of pecans. And maybe arugula instead of spinach. What kind of cheese do you have?"
Shane stifled a groan and glanced down at his watch as the poor college kid listed off the various cheeses in the kitchen. Maria would be texting Greg just after 12:30, which, according to Cate, was when he ate lunch in town most days. Shane needed to get this conversation moving before Greg showed up.
"Do you want to be naughty?"
He choked on his water, "Come again?"
Clarissa smirked across the table and did a little shimmy in her seat. "Yes, let's do the mozzarella sticks, too, to start." She winked at him and stage-whispered behind her hand, "They're my favorite."
"So," she said, drumming her coffin-shaped nails on the table as soon as the waitress left. "Tell me what you need from me, Shane. I'm an open book."
"Perfect," Shane said, leaning forward so his best angle was aimed at her. "I'd like us to talk through what my team has discovered so we can determine if there is anything of value you can add to this upcoming episode." He had a feeling that she'd talk more if she thought she needed to prove something. "But, what I really want to discuss is an opportunity for a new TV show. You see, I've always loved my hometown, and I think there is enough interest in Hinnewatcha now to pitch a show to HGTV about new families moving here."
She put her hands flat on the table, "Stop it. I have always thought the same thing. I don't know if you know this, but I'm the top realtor in this area and I know this place like no one else."
"There's one issue I see though," Shane said, leaning back. "There just isn't that much available real estate, you know? It's like people move here and never want to leave."
"Exactly! I've been saying this for years. It's like you and I are on the same wavelength. Just not enough inventory."
"Right. And, I don't know real estate like you do, obviously," Shane said.
Clarissa smirked and swatted his hand on the table. "Stop it. You're going to make me blush."
Not with that much bronzer, Shane thought. "Well, it's true. Anyway, when I drive around I see so much land just outside of town. And I keep wondering, why aren't there any neighborhoods here?"
Clarissa's eyes lit up. "Yes! Like why so many trees? I think the same thing. And I'm glad you mentioned that," she said as she leaned down to her luggage-sized purse. She pulled out a heavy binder and oriented it to Shane on the table. He ran his hands over the slick compilation of stock photos of kids on bikes, families grilling, and a white picket fence community.
Clarissa leaned forward and drummed her lacquered nails over the binder cover. She dropped her voice lower and looked around before continuing, "I'm going to let you in on a secret before anyone else. I'm working on this planned community development that would be perfect for the show and we're just about to break ground."
Shane flipped through the pages, pausing his skim every now and then as if he gave a damn. "Wow, this is—this is something else. It looks amazing. Where is it?"
"You know the trails behind the gas station where Burial Rock is?" She took a bite of a mozzarella stick and continued, "That's about a hundred acres, and will easily accommodate this first phase of development."
"Huh," Shane said, leaning back. "I thought that one old guy owned it? Dan Jones from Dan's Diesel? I didn't know he sold."
She stopped chewing for a moment, "Well, he is selling. There are some minor paperwork things, titles, boring stuff you don't care about, you know, that I'm working through. But it's as good as done."
"So you aren't actually about to break ground then?" Shane asked as nonchalantly as he could, "What's the timing?"
"Shovels are ready, Shane, don't you worry your pretty little head," Clarissa said, smiling wide. She held her fingers in the air to mimic a pinch. "There’s just this one teensy, little, tiny, thing that needs to happen, and then we're full force."
"That sounds great," Shane lied. "And the rezoning? That's all finalized?"
Come on, Maria. Need Greg here.
"Look at you, Mr. I-don't-know-much-about-real-estate," Clarissa said, reaching over to pat his arm. She lingered on his bicep, squeezing once. "Believe me, it's as good as done. The thing about being mayor is that you have access to some extra, let's just say, levers , to pull when you need them."
Shane glanced down at his watch again and tried not to smile as he asked, "Like access to Memorial's morgue after hours?"
***
Maria wiped down the same clean spot again on Mama Cate's counter, thinking through all that could be happening at the restaurant around the corner. She tipped her head to Emily across from her. "OK, walk me through this again? I don't want Greg to have your phone number."
Brandon Bolles spoke just as Emily opened her mouth. "It's an app. We found it on TokTik, it masks your phone number."
"Pops. For the last time, it's called TikTok," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway. The Old Man is right. I can text Greg through the app, and a different number will show up on his end."
"Got it, " Maria said, holding her hand out. "Let me read it one more time before you send it?"
She took the bejeweled iPhone from Emily and walked around the barista counter, away from Cate and the handful of customers. She read aloud, " Looks like your partner in crime is spilling your crimes to the TV detective at The Flowering Wall. Do you want to comment?" She looked up from the phone, " Wait, who is ScrappyRoo?"
"It's my alias," Emily answered as she wiped off the whip cream stash from her hot chocolate.
"I like it. And the photo of Clarissa talking to your dad is perfect, nice touch." Maria handed back the phone. "Let's do it."
Emily cracked her knuckles while Brandon paced behind her, chewing on his nails. He checked his phone less than a minute later. "Cate just texted from the diner, said Greg just picked up his phone."
The diner was at the opposite end of the block, at the furthest end of Main Street. If Greg took the bait, he'd walk right by Mama Cate's. Maria wrung the rag over and over in her hands as they watched the windows.
"This is too much," Brandon said, hopping a little in his space by the counter. "What if he doesn't go?"
"Relax, Pops. You'll give yourself a hernia. Even if Greg doesn't confront Clarissa right now, Dad might get a confession out of her on his own. I don't know why, but Dad has this way about him that makes people want to tell him all their secrets."
"Don't I know it," Maria muttered, her eyes never leaving the window.
Greg Fever didn't walk by.
He ran.
The three of them high-fived each other, and a few minutes later Cate walked in.
She pointed a finger at the trio. "I don't know what all that was about, but I know I don't like being kept out of the loop. Now spill. What are you three up to?"
Maria replied, "I promise, Cate, I'll tell you everything later. It'll be worth the wait."
Her boss harrumphed as she picked up a package that a customer dropped off. "Oh, I meant to tell you. You know Nathan Dass?"
Brandon leaned over the counter. "The trucker that was murdered? What about him?"
"Craziest thing," Cate said, closing up the box with screeching packaging tape. "Nina, our late night shift barista, said he delivered a package here just before he was— you know—" she slashed her hand across her throat, miming the murder with a click of her tongue. "And the foolish girl didn't think to tell me until this morning."
"So?" Emily said, but Maria was a step ahead of her.
"You opened the package, didn't you?" Maria said as she eyed the pile of packages waiting for pickup.
Cate shrugged, "Obviously." She leaned over her package to point at them with the roller of packing tape. "But get this... the box was empty."
"Why would Nathan Dass deliver an empty box?" Brandon asked.
Maria stilled. "Cate, who was the package addressed to?"
Cate shelved the box on the pallet for the FedEx pick up and said over her shoulder. "Ivan Melnyk."
"Who?" Maria, Brandon, and Emily asked simultaneously.
Cate mock gaped at them. "The guy with the face tattoos? He only orders flat whites whenever he comes in? I thought I told you that. His name is Ivan Melnyk. Anyhoo, he hasn't come in here in a few days and the package was pushed off in the corner because of the crowds. I don't have a number either, so we'll just wait and see when he picks up his empty box."
Maria walked over to the shelf where they kept delivered packages, skimming the names. Emily and Brandon peered over her shoulder as she set a medium-sized box that was light as a feather on the counter.
"To Ivan Melnyk, c/o Mama Cate's," Brandon read aloud. Maria pointed to the return address, and he said, "From Ivan Melnyk? But that's an LA address. Why would he send an empty box to himself?"
Emily pulled Maria and Brandon back a few steps, whispering out of Cate's earshot. "Face Tat, Ivan, I mean, must have confronted the truck driver when the box was empty. Maybe the trucker took something? Drugs?"
Brandon shook his head, "Cate said he hasn’t been in to get the package. How would he have known it was empty, if he has yet to get the package?"
"Because he mailed an empty box to himself." Maria rang the rag out in her hands again, twisting it over until it was taut, as she mused aloud, "He mailed it via a special carrier, Freight Folks. He must have known Nathan Dass would deliver it somehow."
"We need to tell Dad," Emily said as she turned to leave. "This means Clarissa and Greg didn't murder Nathan Dass."
Maria stopped her, "No. You stay here. We all promised Shane we would not go in there because Greg is too much of a loose cannon. But the cops are in there now, your dad will be safe. I'll text Levi and we'll tell Shane as soon as we see him."
***
Clarissa spilled the sip of water she was about to take, "Sorry, what did you say?"
Shane looked over Clarissa's shoulder to see someone running this way from the opposite side of the block.
Bingo.
He leaned closer. "Look, I get it. Sometimes people just need a little push in the right direction. I think the stuff Greg Fever did to his brother's body is a little creepy, but brilliant. That had to be you, right?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarissa said, her smile slipping to a thin red line.
Shane scooted over so he sat in the chair next to her, instead of across. He spoke low and leaned in. "The whole rumor? The one that said a cult brought Dave Fever's spirit back and he's haunting the woods outside of town? I just assumed that was you so you could scare the Joneses into selling. Greg Fever is an idiot, he couldn't have thought that up on his own."
"First, I don't associate with Greg Fever's type, if you get my drift. And I definitely didn't give him access to a dead body. And I—"
He interrupted her, "But you were at his farm? My cameraman saw you leaving the other morning." No need to say it was he and Maria that saw her.
Clarissa looked around her before hissing, "Are you following me?"
Shane gave a protracted shrug, the one that Emily always claimed was his tell. "Me? No. But I just assumed that it was you hiding the speakers in the woods. The ones meant to scare the Jones family? That was a great idea."
Clarissa leaned in close, her Miss Vermont smile long gone from her face. "You listen to me. I don't know what you're talking about, but we're done here. You'll be hearing from my attorney."
She jumped as the front door banged open behind her, startling her and everyone else in the restaurant. Greg Fever pointed a finger at Clarissa, "You two-timing bitch! I knew you'd cave."
Clarissa stammered, "I'm s-sorry..have we met?" Her face turned red as she met the eyes of all the curious patrons..
"Don't even try that." Greg loomed over Shane, "What did she tell you?"
"I haven't said any—" Clarissa tried, but Shane interrupted her, again.
"She said enough, but what I want to know is how much she paid you to kill Nathan Dass. Surely, she didn't have the nerve to slit his throat herself?"
Greg's eyes grew wide and he shook his head as Clarissa started to protest in earnest. "Hell no. I didn't kill anyone! Is that what you told him?"
"Greg, stop talking," she said, pulling out her phone.
"Nope. No way. I know how this plays out. You get to keep your hands clean and you put me behind bars, so I can't get my cut." He shook his head in disbelief, clenching and unclenching his hands. "You said I murdered someone?"
"She was going to cut you in after you murdered the trucker, right?" Shane asked, holding his hand up just enough so Madison's team didn't interrupt, yet.
"I didn't murder anyone! She paid me and Dave a little cash to scare the Joneses. Everyone knows that old man thinks ghosts are real. All we did was hide speakers in the woods a few times with these scary noises, so they'd get freaked out enough to sell. That's it!"
"What about steamrolling the commissioners? Was that you or her?"
Clarissa stood, facing Greg, phone to her ear. "Stop talking, he's riling you up. I've got my attorney—"
"Bullshit. If we're getting the record straight I'm gonna make sure everyone knows it wasn't just me." Greg pointed a finger at Clarissa and stood in her way when she made for the front door. "She and Dave were bumping uglies. Said she needed him to follow around the head commissioner, to spook him, you know? She said she'd cut us into the development deal if we got the Jones family off the land and the commissioners to agree to the new zoning. That's what got Dave murdered. I think he knew too much so she had him killed."
An officer was pushing back the small crowd forming outside of the restaurant, but neither Clarissa nor Greg paid them any attention.
"Oh please. That's ridiculous," Clarissa hissed, phone forgotten. "You're the moron that apparently got caught on camera at the morgue messing with Dave's body. You're the only one that stood to make any more money if Dave was out of the picture. Did you kill your own brother for more of a cut?"
"Hell no, he was the only family I had left! I would never kill him." Greg seethed. "And I didn't do any of that to his body in the morgue. It was your idea to set up the backpack in the woods with all the same stuff and push that rumor." Greg turned to Shane, "Dave came to me before he died and said Clarissa was all mad because he wasn't scaring the commissioners enough. Wanted him to rough one up a bit. I told him to stop sleeping with her. I didn't trust her, but Dave said I was being paranoid."
Clarissa huffed, "He's lying and none of this will hold up in court. Now get out of my way!"
Greg put his hand on the door, shutting it as she tried to pry it open. Someone at the table behind her held their phone up, filming. "I have a recording to prove it," Greg said. "I made Dave take one the last time he met with you. I took it out of his pocket the night I found his dead body." He looked at Shane, "Dave was at her house just before he got killed and the tape has the two of them talking about roughing up the commissioner. What do you think of that, Mayor?"
Detective Madison and his deputies came out of the kitchen, guns up, startling Greg back to the wall. "I think we got enough, Shane, don't you?"
Clarissa snarled at Chief Madison, "If you even think of putting me in handcuffs, I'll have you fired." She tossed her perfect highlighted waves over her shoulder. "I'm the goddamn mayor for crying out loud. My attorneys will eat you for lunch."
Cameras were snapping outside as Shirley led Clarissa Baker outside in handcuffs, despite her threats. Greg put his hands together in front of him. "I don't care. Take me. I didn't do anything. Everyone knows the Joneses don't care if you camp near Burial Rock. Everyone does it. Trespassing won't hold up."
"What about your new roommate, the guy with the face tattoos? Did he kill the trucker?" Shane asked as a deputy clicked the handcuffs over Greg's wrists.
"What?" Greg said, stopping in the doorway before the other officer could escort him out. "Wait, you think he killed the trucker? That guy just came into town and said he was looking for a place to live. I got nothing to do with him." Greg held his handcuffed hands up even as he was pushed out toward the waiting cop car. He said over his shoulder, "I don't even know the guy's name. He had a stack of cash. Said he'd pay me double if I didn't ask any questions or mention him to nobody. I didn't give a shit what he did, but I didn't tell him that. I gotta eat, you know? Nothing illegal about that."
Madison stopped at Shane's side as Clarissa and Greg were put into two separate cop cars. Shane crossed his arms and looked at the police chief. "What do you think?"
"Not sure, but I'll take that wire from you and let you know." Madison nodded his head in the direction of the departing police cars. "We have Clarissa on intimidation at least, but that recording device from Greg would help if it's true. He's right about his part, though. Trespassing won't hold up, since the Joneses have always let the public hike those trails." Madison shrugged, "We may get him on an accomplice charge."
"Neither of them confessed to Nathan Dass' murder," Shane acknowledged.
"But we have a name now for Tat Face. Ivan Melnyk. Somehow Maria discovered it and texted me while you were talking to Clarissa. I'll put Shirley back on him after we book those two clowns and we'll see why he's hanging around here." Madison took a deep breath and blew it out, shaking his head. "Even if he didn't murder the trucker, he's hiding something."
Shane unhooked his wire and gave it to the detective. "I'll touch base with you in a little bit." He glanced down at his phone, skimming through the onslaught of text message alerts he’d missed in the last hour. "Shoot. I gotta go, my cameraman is freaking out about something."