Latte Trouble

“Not me, Matt. It’s what you’re going to do.”

“Oh, please, Clare, don’t involve me again—”

“I just want you to set up a meeting with Tad downstairs. Invite Rena over for coffee, too.” I checked my watch. “Speaking of which, I have to get my butt down there and open.”

As I grabbed the thick set of keys from the top of the dresser, Matt crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why? Because we’re in the business of serving coffee and it’s time to open.”

Matt smirked at me. “Clare, why do you want me to set up a meeting with Tad Benedict and Rena Garcia?”

“Because,” I replied with a smirk of my own, “that Detective Starkey isn’t the only broad around here who can weasel a confession out of a suspect.”

Eighteen

As it turned out, Tad was too busy with his second Fortune seminar to meet with Matt any sooner than Friday morning. Consequently, Thursday came and went in a blur. From dawn till dusk I served customers, then spent most of the evening in my office juggling schedules, balancing books, finalizing the payroll—and, frankly, hiding from Matt.

After helping Gardner close, I quickly slipped upstairs to the master bedroom, firmly shut the door, and prayed my ex-husband wouldn’t come barging in. He didn’t. In fact, I didn’t see my ex again until Friday morning.

I was behind the coffee bar, tidying up after the morning rush, when Matt’s strong hands came down on my shoulders and began a slow massage. I jumped under Matt’s touch, not accustomed to—and not wanting—this new round of physical intimacy.

“I looked in on you late last night,” he rasped against my ear, “but you were already sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you, even though I was tempted…and, honey, was I tempted.”

I closed my eyes and silently cursed. I had no one to blame for this but myself, and it was now up to me to delicately redraw the lines that I never should have allowed to be erased in the first place. I didn’t want to hurt him, or our working partnership, but it was time I gathered my courage and opened my mouth, which I was about to do when Matt added—

“Tad’s here.”

I looked up, spied the paunchy, balding, elfin-faced man at the front door, and knew the subject of my relationship with my ex would have to be put on hold.

“Take him up to the second-floor lounge,” I told Matt. “I’ll be up in a minute with coffee.”

Matt greeted Tad and they shook hands, then my ex led our guest upstairs. I looked for Rena, too, but there was no sign of her. I put a service for four on the tray anyway, added a few muffins, a carafe of freshly brewed Breakfast Blend.

“Back in a little while,” I told Esther.

Her jaw dropped. “It’s just Moira and I as it is,” she complained.

“I’m doing this for Tucker,” I whispered over my shoulder as I hefted the tray and climbed the stairs.

I found the two men seated in the circle of overstuffed chairs situated next to the now-cold fireplace. Matt was grinning and chatting amicably. If there were any hard feelings about the overboard incident on the Fortune Wednesday night, I couldn’t see them. When I arrived, Tad rose to greet me while Matt took the tray and set it on the table. I poured and served.

“I brought Matt some good news,” said Tad, offering a self-satisfied smile. “Someone read his prospectus and expressed his wishes to invest in the kiosk idea. Apparently this individual is a real fan of the Village Blend.”

“I really appreciate this, Tad,” said Matt.

“And my way of apologizing for the…incident with Eduardo Lebreaux,” Tad replied.

“Forget it,” said Matt with a wave of his hand.

“No, really. I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of idiot,” Tad insisted. “Lebreaux’s prospectus came in two months ago and I figured one’s tea and the other is coffee so why not include them both…”.

Tad shrugged sheepishly. “Then without my knowledge, Lebreaux withdrew his old prospectus and submitted an ‘updated’ one last week to my people.”

“Oh, really?” said Matt.

“The first deal involved importing exclusive teas from an eastern producer. The second prospectus was quite similar to yours, except the retail ideas were for marketing tea instead of coffee….”

Matt shot me his didn’t I tell you look. Tad noticed the exchange. “Anyway,” he continued. “It’s obvious that you and Lebreaux have a history.”

“I’ll say,” muttered Matt.

“I should have caught the bait and switch, but between the TB Investments seminar and Fashion Week, Rena and I have been running around like crazy.”

I spied an opening and jumped in. “How is Rena?” I asked, reluctant to confront Tad without Rena present. I was hoping she might still show.

Tad glanced at his watch—a Rolex, I noted—and a shadow of concern crossed his round face. “Actually, Rena should have been here by now. I called her early this morning from my office—several times—and left messages on her answering machine and cell. She should have picked up or called back by now, but some last minute crisis with Lottie probably has her hopping. I told her to meet us here if she possibly could.”

There was a pause. Tad added cream to his coffee, tasted his cup, and gushed about the quality of the brew. He tried to appear normal, but I could tell there was an undercurrent of concern—no doubt he was wondering why we asked him here. I pressed for time, but ten more minutes passed without a sign of Rena. Tad shifted impatiently and glanced at his watch once again. I decided to pounce before he bolted.

“Matt tells me you were selling stock in a number of fashion lines,” I began.

Tad nodded. “There was an offering for a very promising start-up. Designer Wylbur Watley left Martyrdom to start his own label, Sentinel Hill. I think we got some nibbles for him.”

“I heard you were selling Lottie Harmon shares as well…a lot of shares, in fact.”

An uncomfortable silence descended. Tad looked at Matt, who shifted in his chair, suddenly fascinated by tiny dust motes floating in the late morning sunlight pouring through the windows.

Tad set his cup aside, met my gaze. “What are you trying to say, Ms. Cosi?”

I dropped all pretense. “I know for a fact that you and Rena are closer than you let on—”

“My relationship with Rena Garcia is none of your concern—”

“Except when you and she form some kind of clandestine partnership to sell Lottie Harmon’s business out from under her.”

Tad’s face flushed red, and I thought he was going to jump down my throat. Instead he slammed his fist on the table. I winced, and Matt sat up straight.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tad cried. “Lottie Harmon made Rena and me both very wealthy—and she treats Rena like the daughter she never had. We would never do anything to hurt Lottie.”

“Then why sell the stock?”

“I’m doing it to protect Lottie, Ms. Cosi,” Tad replied. He stood up to go, but I stood right in front of him. I wasn’t letting him get away without some answers.

“I have it on good authority that you and Rena are in desperate straits. That you need money in a hurry, and have to sell your shares in Lottie Harmon to raise it. Tell me. Are you bankrupt, or is it blackmail?”

I expected more anger and outrage. Instead Tad’s shoulders sagged. He slowly sat back down.

“Why do you want to know, Ms. Cosi? Why do you care?”

“Because my employee…my friend…is sitting in jail right now, because someone tried to murder Lottie Harmon and used my coffeehouse to do it.”

Tad’s eyes were suddenly haunted. “You mean the poisoning?”