Part 9 (1/2)
Just blocks from the shop, I pulled over and parked in front of the Koffee Klatch. I was in desperate need of a chai latte.
The Koffee Klatch's funky decor, large comfy couches, and free Internet, made it a local favorite. It didn't hurt that the owner and employees loved dogs. The line was short for a Sunday morning. Sven, a lanky twenty-something who looked like he stepped off the pages of a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, towered over the customers from behind the gla.s.s counter. Three years ago, he'd left his family's Danish vineyard in Santa Ynez Valley for our laid-back beach town. From all appearances, he seemed to like it here.
Before I could utter a word, Sven asked if I wanted my usual Sunday order of a chai latte and a blueberry m.u.f.fin. Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly a last-minute decision to stop.
I nodded. ”Please. To go.”
”Sure thing,” he said with wink and a nod. While he rang up my order, I stuffed a couple of ones into the tip jar.
”Is it true you were at the race yesterday? And you found the dead guy?” He didn't sound excited, but he was certainly curious. News traveled fast in Laguna. Especially gossipy bad news.
”I did.” I paid for my food and stepped to the side, hoping that would be the end of the questions. I wasn't about to get off that easily.
”What happened?” He dropped a blueberry m.u.f.fin inside a small white bag and handed it to me.
I eyed the other two people waiting to place their order. Neither one was shy about hiding interest in my answer. I groaned silently. Malone liked to keep his information out of the public eye if possible. In the past, I'd followed his lead. There was no reason to stop now.
”Honestly, I'm waiting to hear just like everyone else.”
Sven wiped off the espresso machine's steam wand with a wet cloth. ”Do the police have any leads?”
”I don't know. I haven't talked to anyone since I gave my initial statement.”
Two quick bursts of steam shot from the wand. ”I met the wife. You just missed her.”
”Gia was here?”
He nodded. ”She doesn't appear to be too upset about her husband's murder.”
”Why's that?”
His lips moved, but I couldn't hear a word. The noise of the espresso machine heating the milk drowned out most of his answer. The second the machine stopped, his raised voice shot through the cafe. ”She acted like she didn't have a care in the world. Other than her dog winning today's race.”
I wished I could have heard the first part of what he'd said. Didn't anyone tell Gia that the spouse is the first suspect? The best course of action for her would be to fly under the radar and not draw attention to herself. Was she really that obtuse? Or could it be that she believed she'd get away with killing her husband?
Sven finished preparing my chai, snapped on the lid, then slid it across the counter. ”Are you going out there today?”
”I have a few things to take care of at the shop first. What about you?”
”I'm here all day. Would you do me a favor?”
”Sure.”
He pulled a twenty from his pants pocket. ”Would you make a bet for me? Put this on Pickles.” He shoved the money into my hand.
What the heck was he talking about? ”You're putting money on Pickles?”
He motioned for me to follow him toward the back of the cafe. I grabbed my drink and followed.
”After meeting Gia, I'm rooting for the underdog,” he said.
”Well, you obviously haven't met Lenny, have you?” I said wryly. ”Seriously, I don't know anything about betting.”
Sven shoved his hands in his ap.r.o.n pockets. ”You don't have to pretend with me. I know all about the underground gambling. I heard from a friend that the bagman will be behind the chili tent.”
”Bagman?”
”You know. Rodney. The money runner.”
”Since I'm the one with your money, doesn't that make me the bagman?”
Sven laughed. ”I guess it does. You're much better looking than Rodney, by the way.”
I looked at the twenty in my hand. ”I really don't know about the gambling.”
His blue eyes widened as he ran his hands through his spiky, blond hair. ”Look, I don't want to get into trouble. How about you forget we had this chat? Keep the cash.” He moved to push past me, but I blocked his path.
”Whoa, there. I didn't say anything about trouble.”
The front door opened. We both turned to see who'd walked inside. Well, surprise, surprise. If it wasn't Mr. TV himself. I had a lot to say to him, but not here. There was no sense stirring up more gossip than was already brewing around town.
MacAvoy wore the same grey blazer as he had yesterday, but today he had on black jeans and a black T-s.h.i.+rt. Interesting. He dressed like Malone now? They say imitation is the best form of flattery.
Mr. TV's gaze bounced between Sven and me. By the curious look on his face, I thought he'd join us, but instead, he strode straight to the counter and waited in line. But that didn't stop him from watching us like a neighborhood busybody.
I turned my back to the nosy reporter and spoke quietly. ”Is there betting at every race?”
Sven shrugged. ”Sure. Like I said, it's not a big deal.” He inched away from me, eager to escape my questions and return to his customers.
He didn't strike me as a typical wiener race fan. As far as I knew, he didn't even have a dog. ”How'd you learn about it?”
”Friends. Online.”
Translation: his gambling buddies. ”Who's Rodney? Is he a local?”
”He's from the valley. He's watched too many gangster movies, but he wouldn't harm a fly.”
Against my better judgment, I said, ”I'll find a way to get your bet placed.” I was curious about the gambling, and there was no better way to nose around than by placing a bet.
”I've got customers.” Without another word, he rushed back to his station, apologizing to everyone in line for the long wait.
I s.h.i.+fted my drink and bakery bag to the same hand so I could shove the twenty in my jeans pocket.
Don't you hate it when everyone knows more than you? Granted, Sven wasn't everyone, but he certainly knew about a covert activity I didn't know existed in my own community.
Did it have anything to do with Richard's death? At first blush I wouldn't think so, but there's only a handful of reasons people kill-love, hate, revenge . . . and greed. I was looking forward to meeting Rodney.
I sipped my chai as I walked past MacAvoy. I felt his determined stare fixated on my back. It was farfetched to believe he'd followed me to the Koffee Klatch. But I knew this wasn't the last time today our paths would cross.
In fact, I was counting on it.