Malpractice Makes Perfect

Chapter 22

          The next day was lovely, considering the confrontation about to go down. The weather outside was a perfect combo of sunny and breezy. The customers were as polite as I've ever seen them. Hell, even my employees were acting right. Jackson had strutted in with a big smile that morning, still riding the wave of jubilation that comes when your life is going according to plan.

          "Once I get my CDL," he had said while icing fresh cinnamon rolls. "I can start hauling. Uncle Bobby's company will start me out at twenty an hour."

         I was happy for him. I really was, despite losing the best baker Taste Teas has ever had. I dreaded the arduous process of hiring a new chef, but he had to do what was best for him at the end of the day.

          Pasha similarly had walked in this morning with a huge smile on her face. "I've met someone." She'd laughed. "He's an art major, environmental activist, and a vegetarian."

          Sounds like everything I'd hate in a man. Besides the vegetarianism, I guess. "Where'd you meet?"

          "At a student debt protest."

           I didn't even know they had those. "You don't have debt, do you?"

          "No but I might someday." She shook her mass of brown hair and smiled a dreamy smile. "Anyway, the student debt crisis is a modern injustice."

          "Okay." Better to not fan the flames of her passion so early in the morning.

          Even Devonte and Lana had refrained from flirting when their shifts overlapped. They were as professional and focused on the job as two teenagers with a crush on each other could be. So basically, there was a lot of moon eyes and dreamy sighing but nothing that held up productivity so I couldn't complain.

          Yet in spite of having a rare blessed day of outward peace, inside my thoughts had raged like a tempest. I must have caught my eyes roving to the novelty mug shaped wall clock hanging over the bookcase 'bout ten thousand times.

          Twelve hours, it had said that morning.

          And then eight hours.

          And then five hours.

          And now only one.

          I'd scheduled my appointment with Robert at six sharp. That was after closing but before sunset. Perfect time to confess to a murder. The general plan was to get him talking and coerce a confession out of him. Easier said than done, I know, but at this point I was out of options.

          "Almost ready." Manny had showed up just ahead of closing and parked in the back lot near Prick Pros. His contribution had been to install three hidden cameras. They weren't government issue of course (he has to sign off on that), but for reasons I'm afraid to ask about he has three super discreet mini cameras in his personal arsenal. About an hour and a half before the meeting he'd stood on the ladder affixing the last one on the trim above the front door. The other two were hidden on the bookshelf wedged between Jane Austen and whatever had topped Oprah's last book club list, and the other was on the counter near the automatic coffee machine. All three were pointed near the front counter where I'd left two stools after mopping the floor.

          Manny had brought his power tools and busied himself drilling in an anchor to hold the camera in place. "Are you sure he's coming alone?"

          "No."

          The man wasn't a kingpin, so I doubted he'd bring any enforcer type people along and anyway, from his perspective the fewer who knew about the deal the better. Though I understood Manny's concern.