Latte Trouble - By Cleo Coyle Page 0,52

dead for ten to twelve hours.”

“You said she was poisoned.”

Quinn nodded. “Cyanide was used. Forensics examined the dregs of a coffee Ms. Garcia consumed, found traces of poison…” The detective paused, locked eyes with me. “It was a Village Blend take-out cup, Clare. That’s why I asked you about the poisoning that took place here the other night.”

I told Mike about that night. About Detectives Starkey and Hutawa, and Tucker’s arrest. He listened quietly to my theory that Lottie had been the original target, and I told him what Tad had admitted to me earlier today—about Fen and the blackmail threat.

“Benedict never mentioned blackmail to me,” said Quinn, clearly annoyed.

“He’s trying to protect himself,” I concluded. “One way or the other.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the truth gets out about his involvement with something as shady as Rena’s theft of Fen’s designs and Fen’s subsequent blackmail, it could ruin Tad’s investment business. On the other hand, maybe he didn’t tell you about the blackmail because he killed Rena himself—”

“No,” said Quinn quickly. “Benedict’s not a suspect. He has a rock-solid alibi from seven o’clock last evening until almost four this morning.”

“What?”

“First he and his staff were conducting some kind of investment seminar on a boat called the…” Quinn pulled a worn leather-bound rectangular notebook from the breast pocket of his trenchcoat. “Fortune.”

I nodded, recalling Tad’s seminars had been scheduled for both Wednesday and Thursday nights.

“After that,” Quinn continued, glancing at his notes, “he and his staff traveled together to their investment firm’s office and spent most of the night working with Tokyo counterparts on Nikkei stock sales.”

“So when did Rena drink the poison?”

“Between nine and eleven o’clock in the evening. And the body wasn’t moved. She drank that poison in her apartment.”

I thought that over. Could Tad have handed Rena a poisoned cup of coffee before he’d boarded the Fortune? It made no sense on the face of it. Who would carry around a cup of coffee for hours without drinking it?

I tried to make the pieces fit another way. “Could Tad have hired someone to poison her?” I pondered out loud.

Quinn shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“First, my gut. I’ve seen enough trumped-up versions of shock and grief to judge when it’s genuine, and Benedict’s reaction to his fiancee’s death was as real as I’ve seen. Second, my background work today showed that Tad Benedict put down substantial nonrefundable deposits on a Hawaiian wedding and honeymoon package, and a realtor was handling the sale of his one bedroom and the purchase of a two bedroom in the same building. The realtor said Benedict was getting married next month and wanted more space.”

“And you don’t think he could have set all that up to make himself look innocent?” I pressed.

Quinn shook his head. “If Tad Benedict had wanted to kill Rena Garcia for financial gain, he would have married her first before killing her. Then he would have inherited her shares of Lottie Harmon after her death.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then what if he was simply trying to dump Rena because Fen was blackmailing her? What if he wanted to be free of the entanglement?”

“Why not just cut and run? Why not just break off the engagement, go to Lottie and tell her everything, and let Rena take the fall? No…there’s no logical motive for Benedict killing his fiancee. With Rena dead, life gets very complicated. As it happens, Rena has no will. Her shares will be going to her closest living relative, not Tad and not Lottie.”

I sighed, agreeing—for the moment—that Tad didn’t look very good as a suspect in Rena’s murder.

“But it’s good you told me about the blackmail, Clare. This gives me an in.”

“An in? With whom?”

“Starkey and Hut aren’t exactly forthcoming, and I don’t want to horn in on their investigation of the Blend poisoning. But this Rena Garcia murder, it’s a separate case that may be connected so they can’t complain.”

“Demetrios called them bad cop, worse cop,” I said. “Are Starkey and Hut really that terrible?”

“They’re not bad cops. They just have bad attitudes.”

“Well, I think you should go after the designer Fen. Have a talk with him.”

Quinn’s lips twitched and one eyebrow arched. “Thanks for the advice, Detective Cosi. He’s the first on my list.”

I shrugged. “Just making sure you’re dotting your Is and crossing your Ts, Detective.”

We sipped in silence for a moment, then I carefully broached another subject. “I tried to reach you a few days ago…Demetrios told me you were out on