Snow White and the Seven Murders Page 7

  “The grilled chicken melt was delicious,” Amir said. “I thought it was very funny when Davis suggested we hold a meeting here. He said he loved diner food. He wanted me to try the jalapeño poppers, too. He absolutely raved about them.”

  “So you tried them?” Sara asked.

  “Of course. I love trying new things.”

  “Maybe that’s what makes you such a good business owner,” Sara said. “I’ve found most entrepreneurs are comfortable with taking risks.”

  Inwardly, she wondered if his desire for newness was also the reason there was no ring on his finger. Some men just don’t want to settle down, she thought. Is he one of them?

  “I like to break up my routine once in a while,” Amir said. “I believe that it’s good to do something each day that scares you. It helps you grow.”

  “What did you do today, then, Mr. Malick, to push your limits?” Sara asked. Her eyes were pinned on the menu, but she lifted them now to watch Amir as he considered her question.

  He didn’t miss her flirtatious tone. He met her eye as he responded. “Well, asking you to lunch was a challenge. I’m glad that I stepped out of my comfort zone and did it, even if it is a business meeting with a side of food.”

  His answer pleased her. She held his eyes for a minute and then looked back down to her menu. “I’m sure it wasn’t that much of a challenge. A handsome bachelor like you must have to fight the women off. I’m sure you get hit on every single day.”

  He laughed. “You’d be mistaken. I’m thirty-six, and have been married to my job since I opened my company at age twenty-one. It wasn’t easy to tell my father that I didn’t want to take over his car manufacturing business. I had to prove to him that I could manage on my own and move in a different direction—literally and figuratively.”

  “Was that when you moved to the US?” Sara asked. “Twenty-one?”

  Amir nodded. “I visited the States quite a bit as a child. I always loved it here. It feels like home.”

  “And have you proven that you’re capable, to your father?” Sara asked.

  Amir nodded. “I’d say I’ve far exceeded his expectations. He’s proud of me. But old habits die hard. I haven’t stopped working twelve-hour days since I started.”

  “I know a thing or two about twelve-hour days,” Sara said.

  “Is your work schedule at the paper brutal?” Amir asked.

  Sara nodded. “It’s self-inflicted, partially. I’m just the type of person who wants to do the job right, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Amir said thoughtfully.

  A waiter interrupted. “Hi there! Here are a couple of waters for you two. Do you need some more time with the menu, or are you ready to get started?”

  Amir caught Sara’s eye and gave her a questioning look.

  She knew exactly what he was asking her. “I think I’m ready,” she said.

  Amir nodded. “So am I.”

  The waiter smiled. “Excellent. For the lady?”

  “I’ll have the grilled chicken melt,” Sara said. “I hear it’s wonderful. Hold the cheese please, and add avocado. I’ll take the sweet potato fries. And I’ll try your milkshake, too. A kid’s size, if you don’t mind.”

  “And for you, Sir?” the waiter asked Amir.

  While Amir placed his order, Sara flipped the menu over and glanced at the back. It was an array of dinner options, which wouldn’t be available until five pm. One dish caught her eye, due to the playful name. “The Little Ron” was anything but a small meal. Sara didn’t know how a rack of ribs, a baked potato, and a side of macaroni and cheese could be called a “little” meal. She read the description, just to make sure the title was a joke.

  “The Little Ron is a super-sized meal for the hungry diner! A favorite of our original owner, Ronald Fries, the Lil’ Ron will satisfy swing dancers, rock ‘n’ rollers, and greasers alike. You won’t be singing the blues after this meal!”

  The name “Ronald Fries” tickled her memory.

  I’ve seen that name before, she thought. But where?

  It took a moment of thought, and then her eyes widened.

  It was earlier today, at the guard house! she realized. The list of visitor names on the sign in sheet had included “Ronald Fries”!

  Yes, she was almost positive about it. Excited, she pulled her phone from her bag and opened up her camera roll.

  There it was—the fifth entry on May 28th said “Ronald Fries”.

  “How strange,” she murmured, looking back and forth between the menu and her phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Amir asked.

  Sara set her phone down on the table, along with the menu. “Oh, it’s just... this name, here, on the menu. Ronald Fries. It also showed up at Peak Mine, on the sign-in list for the day Matt died.”

  She pushed the menu over to Amir, who swiveled it around so he could read the section she pointed to.

  “Ronald Fries... original owner” Amir read aloud. He looked from the menu to Sara, puzzled. “You think Ronald Fries, the original owner of the Sunshine Diner, has something to do with all of this?”

  “Nope,” Sara said. “But I do think that if I wanted to enter the Peak Mine property with an alias, I’d probably come up with a name off of the top of my head.”

  Amir still didn’t put the pieces together.

  Sara was so excited that she reached out for his arm, which rested on the counter-top. She gave it a light squeeze before remembering that this wasn’t an old friend across from her—it was a man she’d just met.

  Royalty, no less.

  She let go of his arm and pulled back, but continued talking, her voice raised with excitement. “Amir, I think someone entered the Peak Mine property under a fake name—Ronald Fries—and then went in and found Matt. They held him hostage, maybe, until the nighttime arrived, and then staged the car crash so that it looked like an accidental death, but really they murdered him.”

  Amir was quiet as he thought this over. He reached for his glass of water and took a sip.

  Sara stayed quiet, waiting for his response.

  Finally he spoke. “So when this intruder had to sign in, he or she used the first name that came to mind—a name that was maybe in their mind because they’d eaten here, at this very restaurant perhaps.”

  “Exactly,” Sara said. She craned her head around, examining the crowd. She didn’t see the faces of the three HiTech employees. “Didn’t you say that one of them likes to eat here?”

  “Davis, the son,” Amir said. “He went on and on about how good the food is.”

  “I’d like to talk to him,” Sara said. “Do you think you could arrange it?”

  “The whole family is upset with me,” Amir said. “Because Sand Hills outbid them.”

  “Shoot,” Sara said. “I’ll have to think up some other way to reach him. I really want to meet each of them in person, actually... Byron, Davis, and Lucy.”

  “It is different, isn’t it?”Amir said. “Seeing a photo of someone, or hearing their name, their occupation... what their status is... Compared to really being in their presence. You can learn so much about a person by looking into her eyes.”

  Sara looked up, and found herself once again caught in Amir’s intense gaze. His eyes were a startling shade of blue, given his caramel colored skin and dark hair. For a moment, she was speechless. Thankfully, the food arrived just then, sizzling, steaming, and fragrant.

  Along with the two plates heaped with food, the waiter set down two glasses, filled to brimming with frothy shakes.

  Each glass had a red and white striped straw poking from it. Sara pulled the small glass toward her, and took a sample sip.

  “Mmmm!” she said, delighted as she pulled her lips from the straw.

  “See? I told you it was good.” Amir said happily.

  “Delicious!” Sara said with delight. “I don’t think I’ve had one of these since... well, since I was eight or nine. My dad used to take me out on the weekends to this great lit
tle diner called Over Easy. Then when I entered middle school, I thought I was too cool to go out to lunch dates with my dad. Can you believe it? Now I’d give anything to go to Over Easy with him.”

  “The restaurant is gone?” Amir asked.

  No—but my dad is, thought Sara. Sure, he was still around, technically, but Fiona had driven such a wedge between Sara and her father that at times, Sara felt like she didn’t have a father at all.

  She had a boss—Ed—who was expecting an article by tomorrow at four pm.

  “Over Easy is still there,” she said after a moment. “It’s... it’s complicated. Hey, will you tell me more about Byron, Davis, and Lucy? I want to try to figure out which one of them is behind all of these deaths.”

  Amir gave her a knowing look. He was well aware that she’d just changed the topic. He followed her lead. “Well, let’s see, Byron is the head of the family, and the company. A very commanding guy—used to be in the military I believe, and still looks the part—buzzcut, fit, dresses neat and tidy.”

  He paused to sip his shake, and then continued. “His son, Davis, is just the opposite. You know how it goes in families. The son rebels against the father. I mean, I can’t blame him. I did it myself.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

  After eating some of his sandwich, he went on “Davis seems like your party-type. He’s heavy set, soft, and wears his hair long. I’m sure his dad nags him about getting it cut constantly.”

  Sara imagined Byron and Davis as she sipped her delicious shake. “They’re opposites, you’re saying?” she asked.

  “That was my impression,” Amir said. “I know that there’s an American saying, ‘you can’t judge a book by the cover.’ But I’ve found that people’s outward appearances tell me a lot about what’s going on inside. Like you, for example. You radiate inner beauty.”

  Sara felt herself blush. “And what about Lucy?” she asked quickly, so Amir would not know how deeply his words touched her. “Where does she fit into all of this?”

  “She was late to every meeting,” Amir said. “Usually coming from some shopping trip or spa expedition. I think she was raised with money, and she’s used to having it. She has long blonde hair and seems to be very preoccupied with her appearances. Plastic surgery, if you ask me. Her father seemed to spoil her—he never once spoke sharply to her, as he did to his son, Davis.”

  “And what’s her position in the company?” Sara asked.

  “She’s equal to Davis. Both work as supervisors for Byron. Though they may have equal roles, it was very clear that Byron favored his daughter, and wasn’t afraid to show it.”

  “I see,” Sara said. She wondered what this family dynamic might have to do with the seven murders she may have uncovered. Could one of these three -—Byron, Davis, or Lucy be behind Matt’s death, along with the others?

  “What do you think?” Amir asked, reading her mind. “Are you going to go to the police? The fact that the security footage was hacked might be enough to get them to take another look at Matt’s death.”

  Sara considered this. “Not yet,” she said. “We’re getting closer, but we don’t have enough evidence just yet. I’d like to go see Matt’s car, first. His wife told me where the remains are. I think I’ll go this afternoon, before heading home.”

  “I could accompany you, if you like,” Amir offered.

  Sara felt obligated to turn down his suggestion. “No, that’s okay. I can handle it on my own. I’m sure you have better things to do than traipse around an old junkyard with me. It shouldn’t take long, either. I want to spend most of the afternoon doing some research.”

  He looked unsure about that, which Sara thought was sweet. But after a few bites he said, “I do have about a million contracts to read over before Monday. We’re doing something called a complete company buyout, which means that we’re hiring on about 95% of the employees that used to work at peak mine. The paperwork is a nightmare. You can quote me on that.”

  Sara laughed. “I saw that pile of paperwork,” Sara said. “I couldn’t possibly keep you from your nightmarish task.”

  “And I’d better not keep you from your research, either,” Amir said. “How about dinner, then, tomorrow night? I could pick you up at seven. Do you like Asian Fusion? A new restaurant just opened up near me, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to try it.”

  “I’m your excuse?” Sara asked, jokingly.

  “Does that sound bad?” Amir asked.

  Sara laughed. Though she was investigating a possible murder, Amir’s playful presence made her feel relaxed and happy.

  “Not bad, exactly,” Sara said. “Okay... I’ll be your excuse. My article will be submitted, and hopefully I’ll have spoken with the authorities by then about my suspicions. It will feel good to celebrate with a meal out.”

  “Good,” Amir said. “It’s settled. Tomorrow night’s dinner is officially not about work.”

  “I won’t try to get quotes from you while you’re enjoying your sake.”

  “And I won’t try to impress you with the facts and figures behind Sand Hills’ recent acquisition. We’ll put business behind us, and just have a nice evening for two. Now, tell me, since I know you’re dying to get more juicy intel for your next article—what else do you want to know about Sand Hills?”

  Sara pushed aside her half-eaten chicken melt, pulled a pad and pen from her purse, and set it before her.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” she said, before diving into the questions that she needed to ask for the piece on the sale.

  An hour later, Sara had gathered two pages of notes and statements from Amir. The information would make writing up her business article easy.

  But it didn’t give her any new information about the murders she was investigating.

  She was reluctant to part ways with Amir, but knowing that she’d see him the following evening made it slightly easier to say goodbye.

  As she pulled out of the diner, she was so preoccupied with trying to catch a last glimpse of Amir, as he got into his car, that she almost didn’t notice the two figures walking next to each other across the street. But at the last minute, just before the man and woman disappeared into the hotel, she caught sight of the woman’s long, blonde hair.

  Is that Lucy? she wondered. She steered her Camry out of the diner lot, and slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road. Once she rolled to a stop, she was able to better examine the man and woman just before they disappeared through the hotel’s glass revolving doors.

  The man had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a narrow waist. He was sporting a crew cut. The woman, about twenty years younger, had long blonde hair and was carrying half a dozen shopping bags at her side.

  That’s Byron and Lucy Smith! thought Sara. I’ve got to catch them before they disappear into their rooms!

  She exited the car, waited impatiently for a clearing in traffic, and then sprinted toward the hotel entrance.

  8

  The hotel lobby was fairly quiet since it was still early in the afternoon. Sara quickly spotted Byron and Lucy as they crossed through an area of scattered seating areas, heading for a bank of elevators.

  “Excuse me!” she called out, hurrying to reach them. “Byron Smith? Lucy?”

  The two were still five feet from the elevators when they turned to face her.

  “Hi, I’m Sara White,” Sara said, while working to catch her breath and pull her wallet from her purse at the same time. She found it, and extracted her Dayton City Newspaper ID from a fold.

  She flashed it at the two of them as she said, “I work for the newspaper. I was hoping that I could ask you a few quick questions?”

  Byron gave her a disapproving look. “Now is not the best time. My daughter has a headache. We were just going to go up to our rooms so that she can take some medicine and get some rest.”

  “I need to lie down,” Lucy whined. She lifted the shopping bags. “It’s been a very long and tiring morning.”

  She literally sho
pped ‘til she dropped, thought Sara. Aloud she said, “I’m sorry to hear that you have a headache, Ms. Smith. I promise that my questions won’t take more than five minutes. I’m writing up an article about Peak Mine, and I was hoping to get HiTech’s side of the story. As company owners, I can think of no better source for my information.”

  Byron scowled. “It was unfair,” he said. “That guy from Sand Hills cheated.”

  “He cheated?” Sara asked. “How so?”

  “It wasn’t fair,” Byron insisted. “The deal should have gone to us. We offered five million more than the original buying price. If it wasn’t for Sand Hills, we would have gotten it.”

  Sara did not see how outbidding was equivalent to cheating, but she decided to move on.

  “Which means that you would have had a monopoly on all of the rare earth element mines in the United States. Is that right, Mr. Smith?” she asked.

  This question seemed to make Byron uncomfortable. “Sure. Yeah.”

  “Your company, HiTech Minerals ... I’ve read that you primarily sell to the US military. Is that correct?”

  “We supply the military with materials for their jets and missiles, yes. We also sell to tech manufacturers, environmental companies, and others.”

  “But most of the minerals from your mines go to weaponry, am I right?”

  “Correct,” Byron said.

  Sara didn’t want to waste time looking at her notepad. She relied on her memory to help guide her next question. “I’ve read that you also sell minerals to other military organizations, such as Russia, China, and Iraq. Am I right?”

  “We really have to get going. My daughter is sick,” Byron said, uncomfortably.

  “If you buy up all of the REE mines, will you continue to supply the US military with materials? Will you cut off some armies, while still supplying others? Or will you simply raise your prices and see who can afford what you have to offer? It seems like a very powerful position to be in.”

  Byron narrowed his eyes. “You said that you were writing a piece about the Peak Mine,” he said. “HiTech doesn’t own the Peak Mine... yet.”