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He hesitated as if trying to decide if he should say more to me. I didn't miss his reluctance.
"What are you not saying, Daniel?"
"Steven has been in trouble with the law before," said Daniel. "He served alcohol to two minors. They had fake I.D.s. He later told me he should have known they weren't old enough to drink."
"I'm sure he wasn't the first person to do that, but that doesn't seem to correlate with murder."
"There was more. Steven also got mad at a food critic. He liked to have critics come in on occasion but dreaded those times, too. This critic was all for a competitive restaurant over Steven's. Steven told me he barely tasted the food before he made his assessment."
"What happened?"
"Seems the critic told him his décor was hideous, or something like that. Then he proceeded to tell him his Chef used too much garlic in the garlic potatoes. As if that wasn't bad enough, he told him he had asked for a medium rare steak and he got a well done one. Without warning, Steven turned the table for two over onto the critic. Everything landed in his lap." Daniel chuckled. "It isn't that funny, but it's exactly how I'd picture Steven responding."
"I can't believe he did that," I said. "Didn't he know the newspapers and TV would run with something like that?"
"I don't think he thought ahead. He told the critic that since he didn't like the food anyway, there was no reason for him to continue tasting it. It didn't take long for the critic to press charges for assault. Most of the customers were on Steven's side. They all knew this critic never said anything good about any restaurant. I guess I should say nothing good except the one's that paid him off. Steven ended up paying a hefty fine for that incident."
"That explains why the police may have their doubts about him now," I said.
Daniel nodded. His face was lined with worry. Then he escorted me to my car. "I want you to wait until I get into my car, and I'll follow you home."
I knew any objection on my part would be ignored. When we got home, I invited him in. I gave Thor, my rescued Doberman a good run in the back yard, and then put out some food for him. Then I grabbed some snacks for me and Daniel, as we didn't end up eating much after the incident at the restaurant.
We sat on my couch discussing the events of the night, while Daniel looked online making a list of possible attorneys to call, just in case. Thor joined us when he finished eating and tried to beg a few snacks off me, but I just petted him once in a while as we talked. Excitement over the events of the night raced through my mind. The dead body we saw at the Steakhouse kept Daniel and me talking late into the night. We speculated about who could have killed Steven's dishwasher. We didn't even get close to an answer.
When I yawned, he stood up and said, "It's late and I need to go. I'm on call for the next twenty-four hours and should get a little sleep. You're tired, too, Laila. Let's let this rest until tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow," I said. The clock read one a.m. I hoped my mind would stop racing once I hit the pillow. I followed him to the door. He leaned down and planted a light kiss on me.
"That's my good night kiss. I hope it will help you sleep."
All of his kisses were magic, but I didn't tell him that. I think he already knew it anyway. I locked the door and Thor followed me to the bedroom. He plopped on his bed next to mine. His head rested on the large letters that read "Doberman Luxury Bed." His name was centered under the caption. His soft snore lulled me to sleep.
The next day was Saturday. I didn't have to be at Roasted Love until nine. I pulled out a large cork board after sipping a cup of hot coffee. I hung it on hooks already there. The name Frank Duvall, in block letters on an index card, was the first to be pinned on it in the center. I placed Steven Landers' name in the first column on the left. For now, I had no information or clues to add. That would come later. My mind was already spinning.
I thought about everything that had happened at Steven's Steakhouse. Cassie Johnson's face came to mind. It couldn't be her if I went by the look on her face. I recalled how she stood staring at the iced Santa, unable to move. The whole scenario had definitely made her sick to her stomach. She could have been shocked just realizing what she had done, I thought. Her slender frame and petite height of five feet wasn't one that would have the strength to pull Frank into a freezer. She could have killed him in the freezer, I argued with myself.
I added her name to a card and she was placed to the right of Steven's name. While on my second cup of coffee, I scribbled some questions. The first of which was why did Frank Duvall have his Santa suit on? Did he put it on again and then leave the Steakhouse to play Santa someplace else? If so, why did he come back to the restaurant? I stuck the list over Frank's name and hurried to get ready for work.
When I parked at Roasted Love, I wondered if Steven had been arrested the night before. It hit me that Daniel had never mentioned Steven Landers before he took me to his restaurant for dinner. If they were such good friends, how had that fact not been mentioned to me? I knew other friends of Daniel and he knew all of mine. At least he knew all that lived in West River. I was sure I had mentioned a few who lived in my home state of Tennessee. He had kept Steven Landers' name a secret. Once my workday ended I meant to find out why.
Roasted Love proved busy enough to allow for very few breaks. The Christmas shoppers were out in full force. The expresso machine didn't stop. All of us were on our feet for hours at a time, including my boss, Jacob Weaver. He pitched in, not flaunting his status of owner. Our customers loved him and I was sure it was because he knew how to make his business a personal one with them. Around three in the afternoon, my cell phone buzzed. I had just sat down with Lily, one of the servers, to grab a latte. It was Daniel.
"I'm going to see Steven in a little while. Do you want to come with me?"
"Did they arrest him?"
"No they didn't, but they are watching him and he is nervous. I thought you may have some insight if we talk to him together."
"It will have to be up to you. We're swamped here and I don't see getting out anytime soon."
Disappointment in his voice, Daniel told me he would see me later. In two days, he would leave for Pennsylvania. After that, I wondered who would be there for Steven Landers. The unlocked door to his Steakhouse nagged at me. Either someone came in who knew the code, or it was purposely left unlocked. From what I heard Steven say about his high tech security system, those were the only two answers.
Lily and I hopped up again when more customers came in. Jacob had shed his jacket. Now in short sleeves, beads of perspiration spread across his forehead.
"Jacob, you take a break for a while," I said. "We can handle it." His relief was visible when he took me up on the offer. I made him his favorite straight expresso and handed it to him.
Light snowflakes drifted down lazily from the darkening sky. Street lamps cast a muted glow on the sidewalk. The street reminded me of a Charles Dickens novel. I grabbed a mop and took care of melted snow on the marble square at the entrance. The large mat had shifted to the side and no one bothered to clean their boots on it. Things back in order, I returned to my post at the expresso machine. Eddie carried a tray of finger sandwiches to the front. It was going to be a long evening. We didn't serve a full meal but the sandwiches held patrons over until they could get a real dinner at a restaurant or at home. I wondered why
