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Caffeinated Murder

By Lynne Waite Chapman

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I don’t imagine Officer Farlow expected the call that came into the Evelynton Police Department, that morning. The frantic report of a dead body found in a dumpster.
Small Midwest towns, like Evelynton, Indiana get lulled into a false sense of security. Going years without serious crime, they grow proud of their relative peace and tranquility. Our mayor had even boasted this was the perfect place to raise a family. Residents felt free to take long walks after dark. Few would lock their doors, on the off chance a neighbor might want to drop off a pie, or borrow a plunger.
In the interest of full disclosure, the last few years in this little town hadn’t been quite so serene. In the first three years after I’d moved back to my hometown, there had been three suspicious deaths. One each year. The last had occurred almost exactly a year ago, so this gruesome discovery seemed to be right on schedule.
I’m afraid our police force had begun to believe the job consisted of little more than traffic tickets and noise complaints, until early Wednesday morning, when Officers Jimmy Farlow and Amos Smith were summoned to the alley next to my favorite coffee shop. The poor girl who’d made the mistake of lifting the lid of the bin was being cared for inside.
~
I snagged a prime parking spot in front of Ava’s Java, leapt out of the Chrysler, and jogged to the front door, arriving late to the early morning meeting of the Mentor Group. We were sort of a volunteer town council meeting regularly to discuss civic concerns, and to occasionally offer advice on affairs of the heart to anyone in need.
Ava, a founding member, reserved our table as long as we promised to get the meeting underway before the morning coffee rush. The other members of the Mentor Group would have been on time and taken their places at the only round table large enough to seat ten.
With my need for caffeine, and my eyes on the coffee counter, I barely glanced at my friends, but gave a shout. “The coffee smells great. Sorry I’m late. Pretty sure it was the cat again. Did I miss anything?”
The room was eerily silent. There were no cute comments, such as, “Nice of you to join us” and not even a loud dramatic sigh. I tore my gaze away from the carafe, and glanced in the direction of the group. There were eight women’s faces around the table, and not one of them wore the smile I’d expected. A few gazed in my direction without expression. Most sat with eyes lowered, studying the table.
I put on the brakes, causing my sneakers to squeak on Ava’s shiny tile floor. “What’s going on?”
No response. I studied the group. Ava’s waitress sat nestled among the other women, tears streaming. And there was a police officer, in the starched tan uniform, standing at attention nearby. I must have missed his squad car in my hurry.
“Hello, Officer Farlow.” I tried to express the greeting without betraying dread. The officer and I had never communicated well. We’d lived on different wave lengths since the first month I’d moved home.
Farlow’s piercing gaze lingered on me for only a moment before he snapped at Ava’s husband. “Get over to the door and don’t let anyone else in.” I was tempted to jump to Konrad’s defense. Was Farlow aware the man kindly took time off from his regular job, every Wednesday morning, to cover the coffee counter? This, just so we could have our meeting without interruption?
Before I could make a move, Farlow’s stare returned and had me nailed in place.
At this time, several of my friends attempted to fill me in on the happenings of the morning. At least it seemed to be their intent. With all of them speaking at once, the words mashed together in a sort of alphabet soup.
Farlow put a stop to it with a thunderous, “Quiet!” The group fell silent.
“Lauren Halloren, are you a member of this, what’s it called? Mentor group?”
I stood up straighter. “Yes, sir. I am.”
“So, why are you just getting here? Where have you been?”
“Me? Home. I was home.” Suddenly I was out of breath. “Overslept. My cat, Mason, must have stepped on the alarm and turned it off.” I pulled away from Farlow’s stare to search the worried faces of my friends. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll talk to you later, Halloren.” Farlow ordered me to sit, so I scampered to the table and slid into a seat between Anita and Clair, my two best friends. They looked at me with wide eyes and pursed lips.
As soon as Farlow turned his attention to his notebook, Anita leaned close enough to whisper the news.
“You’re kidding!” The words flew out before I had a chance to think about it. I clapped my hand over my mouth, as Farlow snapped a frown at me.
Stacy Lutz sat across the table. She planted her elbows on either side of a coffee cup and whispered, loudly. “You should have been here. You’re the detective, after all. The body’s still in the dumpster. Go out and take a look. I bet you can find some clues.”
I slumped into my chair and whispered back at her. “I’m not a detective! I’m a writer and beauty shop receptionist. Just because I happened to find a killer or two—”
“Three.” Stacy corrected.
I waved an index finger. “To be clear, I didn’t know who killed the insurance man, until she broke into my house. And the mummy. I happened on to that by accident. Besides, it wasn’t even a murder.”
I looked to Clair for support but found her entranced by her cell phone. “What are you doing?”
Clair glanced at me. “I’m posting to my social media pages. Have to get this out there before anyone else.” She returned to tapping her phone.
Anita shot her a look. “You’re not posting about the body.”
“I sure am. This will be great for my Internet presence. That’s how I promote my business. People will read this and click through to my real estate site. I’m always on the lookout for interesting topics. I bet I’ll get a thousand clicks today.”
With one last tap on her phone, Clair smiled. “If I want to build a following, I have to be active with intriguing news. Isn’t that right, Gloria?”
The local librarian nodded her agreement. “Absolutely. We’ve been working on the library website. Gotta keep up with the times.”
I blew out a breath and turned to Stacey. “Anyway, Clair had just as much to do with discovering dead bodies and murderers as I had.”
“Whatever.” Stacy performed an exaggerated eye roll. She did that often. I wondered if the young hairdresser had any control over her eyeballs. “You have to admit you have more experience than any of us.” She tipped her head and shifted her gaze to the kitchen door. Again with the eyeballs. “Go out there and take a look.”
“I’m not….” I twisted toward Rarity Peabody, owner of the Rare Curl. Surely she would support me.
My boss simply shrugged. “It might help. You are good at that sort of thing.”
Officer Farlow’s face blotched deep red. “Nobody gets up from this table until I’m finished with the interrogation. And nobody goes near that alley.”
Ava harrumphed. “Jimmy, you don’t have to yell. We’re all here to help. Aren’t we, ladies?” Heads bobbed around the table.
Farlow flipped a page in his notebook. “I’m going to interview each one of you, so wait your turn to speak.”
He focused his gaze on Melanie D’agostino, the waitress at Ava’s Java. I’d first met Melanie a couple years earlier when she’d visited the Rare Curl, thinking she wanted to become a hairdresser. “I take it you found the body.”
Melanie sank back into her chair and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Full name?”
Rarity put an arm around Melanie. Never one to keep silent. “For goodness sakes Jimmy, you know who she is. Can’t you see the girl is upset?”
Farlow raised his pen and glared. Rarity clamped her lips together.
He refocused his laser gaze on Melanie. “Full name?”
She sniffed. “My name is Melanie Maria D’agostino.”
“Tell me about how you happened to find the body. Why were you in the alley so early this morning? Doesn’t seem like a place a nice young girl would go.”
Melanie grabbed a tissue and pressed it to her eyes.
Ava put a protective arm around the teenager. “Poor thing. She came in—”
Farlow scowled at the coffee shop owner. “Isn’t Miss D’agostino able to speak for herself?”
Ava harrumphed. “Of course.”
Farlow squared his shoulders and refocused on Melanie. “From the beginning.”
The girl’s eyes grew larger and more frightened. A blush crept from her neck to her pale cheeks.
Farlow maintained his steady gaze. “Speak up.”
Melanie lifted a trembling hand and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. She stuttered, “I came in through the back door this morning so I could grab the trash from last night and take it out.” Her thin shoulders shuddered. “When I lifted the lid of the garbage bin, I made the mistake of looking inside.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t usually, because it’s smelly and full of gross stuff. But I looked, and….” She sucked in a deep breath and lifted a hand to her mouth. “A body. There was a body in there.”
Rarity Peabody had been silent as long as any hairdresser could, under the circumstances. “I can tell you she was shocked. She let out a shriek that pierced the air all the way in here. Scared us all half to death. Even Konrad.” She lifted her hand to point to Ava’s husband. “Do you know Konrad Kraus? Anyway, he dropped a whole tray of cups. What a crash. Shattered mugs and spilled coffee all over the floor.” Rarity scanned the floor around the counter. “See for yourself. I think there’s still some broken glass under that table.”
Konrad interrupted. “Your story’s getting away from you, Rarity. The officer doesn’t care about broken cups.” He directed his gaze to Farlow. “Anyway, there was the scream, and nobody knew what the commotion was about.”
Konrad turned toward the kitchen door as if he were visualizing the action. “Then Melanie came in, sort of staggered in, really.” He demonstrated a stagger. “She just looked at us. I suppose it took her a minute to get her wits about her. Then she told us what she’d found.” He twisted toward Farlow and shrugged. “Well I figured I had to go out to look. Clair and Anita went with me. And I think Irma.”
The women nodded.
Irma chimed in. “Well, Jimmy, as a city employee, as soon as I saw it I called emergency services.”
The policeman sputtered. “It’s Officer Farlow. This is a crime scene.”
This time, Irma rolled her eyes.
“Um, Officer Farlow?” Patricia Martin, local dress shop owner, attracted his attention. “When all this began, I didn’t believe it. You know girls. So dramatic at this age. I thought for sure it was one of the old manikins from my shop. You know, a prank. When we threw them out, I half expected them to show up in the city park.” She stifled a giggle. “But Clair went to look and said it was an actual corpse. And she’s seen dead bodies before, so I took her word for it.”
All of us, around the table, glanced at Clair and nodded our agreement. After all, she’d been the one to find a murdered man in the ravine a couple of years earlier. And the year after that she happened on a mummy in a house she was showing.
Rarity’s red curls bobbed. “I appreciate you getting here as quickly as you did, Jimmy. This is so upsetting. I think I speak for all of us when I say we won’t have a good night’s sleep until you find out what happened to that poor man.”
The policeman tapped his notebook. “Rest assured, I will get to the bottom of this.” Farlow paused a moment before muttering, “And it’s Officer Farlow.”

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