Murder and Misfortune Page 10

  “I wasn’t expecting a place like this.” Nicole admired the view of the ocean while they waited in the reception area. “I had no inkling Watts was so successful.”

  Claire’s research on the company revealed that Watts Industries had holdings in strip malls, city buildings, and industrial parks.

  “Why would Watts want anything to do with fashion boutiques?” Claire wondered aloud. “It doesn’t seem to fit in with his business objectives.”

  “We’re about to find out.” Nicole nodded to the man entering the reception area from the hall.

  A tall, trim man in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair and brown eyes walked towards the young women with a warm, friendly smile. He wore a slim-cut, navy blue suit, white shirt, and yellow tie. Watts had high cheekbones, perfect white teeth, wide-set eyes, and symmetrical features. Handsome and fit, he looked like he stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine.

  “Hello,” he extended his hand. “I’m Mel Watts.”

  Claire shook and introduced herself being careful to try and sense something from the handshake. Nicole shook hands and they followed Watts to his office which was a smaller version of the waiting room.

  Watts stood with the young women at the window and pointed out different landmarks and took time to share some interesting historical facts about the area. He expressed how thrilled he was to get the office space when it became available and asked questions about Nicole and Claire’s backgrounds. The man was likeable and charming.

  Claire recalled how Liz at Rose in Bloom had described Watts – he starts off all pleasant and charming and then turns mean.

  When they were seated in leather chairs in front of a fireplace, Claire said, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We met Rose not too long ago. As I said on the phone, she mentioned that she was interested in selling her boutiques. Nicole owns a chocolate shop in the North End and I have some experience in business. After meeting Rose, we discussed the idea of buying the business from her.” Claire told the fib to cover the real reason they wanted to talk about Rose. “We’ve been trying to reach her without success.”

  “Rose and I worked together for about a year. I was only working with her a few hours a week. I was interested in learning the ins and outs of a fashion boutique.” Watts gave Claire and Nicole a warm smile. “I’m thinking of expanding in order to have different income streams. At present, I’m fully invested in real estate and commercial properties.”

  “Were you thinking of buying Rose’s business or did you work with her as a learning experience?” Nicole asked.

  “It started as a way to learn the business, but I became interested in making the purchase when Rose expressed interest in selling.”

  “It didn’t go through?” Claire questioned.

  “Things fell apart.” Watts looked across the room for a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts. “Our association worked well in the beginning, but over the months, things started to sour.” It was clear that the man was choosing his words carefully. “Rose seemed amenable to my offer. She told me she had two other offers that she was considering. I didn’t realize I was in competition with other buyers. It took me aback.”

  Watts looked at Claire and Nicole and leaned forward as if he was about to share a secret with them. “Rose’s business was struggling financially. She’d made some unfortunate business decisions and needed an infusion of cash. I provided the money to keep the boutiques operating in exchange for a share of profits and a chance to work closely with Rose to learn the fashion business.”

  “Rose didn’t accept your offer to purchase the boutiques?” Claire asked.

  “I withdrew my offer.”

  Nicole held the man’s eyes. “How did Rose react to that?”

  “She wasn’t pleased.” Watts sat back and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.

  “When did this happen?”

  “About a month ago. I withdrew the offer to buy the boutiques and also ended our working relationship. There was a clause in the contract that either one of us could end our partnership at any time.”

  “Did that upset Rose?”

  “Yes, it did, and I was sorry to do it, but it wasn’t profitable and there was no point in continuing the association in light of our disagreements.” Watts folded his hands in his lap.

  “Were you and Rose involved on a personal level?” Nicole questioned.

  Watts blinked and his eyebrows raised. “Why, no, we weren’t. It’s my thinking that mixing the business and personal sides of life is often a mistake.” After a few seconds, he asked, “Why do you ask?”

  Claire watched the man’s face for his reaction. “Someone suggested to us that you and Rose were more than business partners.”

  A muscle in Watts’s cheek twitched and a tiny flash of anger registered on his face. “I’m afraid that someone is incorrect.” He shifted in his chair. Some of his friendliness seemed to have evaporated.

  “We’ve been concerned that we haven’t been able to get in touch with Rose,” Claire told the man.

  “I haven’t spoken to her since we finished up our business transactions.” Watts adjusted the cuff of his shirt.

  “We’re worried about Rose on a personal level,” Nicole said. “It seems she’s told her employees that she won’t be working due to an emergency of some kind. The staff seems to be unsure how to handle the stores in her absence. It seems quite sudden.”

  Watts’s forehead scrunched together in thought.

  Claire made eye contact with Watts. “How did Rose seem when you were with her most recently?”

  “She seemed, ah … well, we weren’t exactly pleased with one another.”

  “Did she seem unusually worried or uneasy? Maybe distracted from the dealings she had with you?”

  “Hmm. I really couldn’t say.”

  “We understand your relationship was strained at the end of your partnership.” Nicole straightened in her seat. “Outside of that, did Rose seem overly sensitive? Did her mind seem elsewhere? Was she concerned for her safety?”

  “Her safety? Why would she be worried about her safety?” Although, Watts’s voice was louder and had taken on a tone of authority, he appeared hesitant to make eye contact with either young woman sitting across from him.

  “There is reason to believe that Rose might be in danger.” Claire raised her own voice.

  Watts scoffed. “Why on earth would Rose be in danger?”

  “Have the police come here to speak with you?” Nicole asked.

  “The police?” Watts had to keep himself from jumping out of his seat. “Why would the police come here?”

  “Out of concern for Rose.” Claire leveled her eyes at the man. “Do you know where Rose might be?”

  “How would I know where she is?” A sheen of moisture showed on Watts’s forehead. “The last time I saw her was a few weeks ago. We haven’t been in touch since then.”

  “Do you have any idea why she might have left town?” Nicole questioned. “Was there any small thing she might have said to you to indicate she needed to leave?”

  “No.” A stern look came over Watts’s face.

  Seeing the man’s discomfort, Claire decided it was time to ask the next question. “Did you see the news about the woman who was found shot and killed behind the State House not long ago?”

  Watts blinked fast several times. “No, I didn’t.”

  Claire didn’t have to touch the man to know he was lying. “Her name was Ashley Smith. She looked very much like Rose. They were close in age. They even lived in the same building.”

  “I don’t know anything about her. Why are you bringing her up?”

  Claire didn’t reply. “How did you meet Rose?”

  Watts’s tension seemed to lessen as he recalled where he and Rose had met. “I met Rose through social events in the city. I believe the first time we met was at a fundraising event for one of the hospitals in the area.” He nodded. “Yes, it was a private food event held at the ballpark, b
y invitation only.”

  “A food event?” Nicole asked.

  “To raise money. Rose’s husband is a well-known chef, Ricky Harris. He owns several restaurants. He runs a lot of high-end events.”

  “Do you know her husband well?” Claire asked.

  “I know him. Not well, but we’re friendly when we meet at events.”

  “Ricky and Rose are separated?” Nicole asked.

  “They are.” He shook his head sadly. “They’ve been on again, off again for a few years. Who knows when they’ll decide to make it final.”

  “Do they still get along? Is it a friendly split?”

  Watts seemed to tense slightly. “It seems to be.”

  “Did Rose talk about Ricky to you?”

  “Not often.”

  “When she did speak about him was her tone angry? Friendly? Was she still fond of him?”

  Watts ran his hand over his jaw and then looked at his watch. “I really didn’t pay attention. Why all these questions about Rose’s relationships?”

  Claire told him, “Like we said, we’re very concerned about Rose’s safety. We’d like to find her.”

  “I can’t help you with that. I’m sorry.”

  Claire got the impression that he wasn’t sorry at all.

  “I’m afraid I have another meeting.” Watts stood and shook hands with the two young women.

  Claire and Nicole thanked him for his time and left the office.

  After touching the man’s hand, Claire was sure that Melvin Watts knew more than he was telling them.

  18

  Claire, Nicole, and Robby had worked late into the night baking and assembling the custards and the Florentine cookies for the food festival. Nicole pulled the rented van up to the building that had signs on it indicating where the food contest participants should unload.

  Assistants waited for the deliveries by the doors with long pushcarts to transport the goods to refrigerators and countertops and contestants’ names were printed on placards to show where each person or team could finish their preparations.

  The room was abuzz with people hurrying to and fro as they stored their desserts until they were called to the contest area. Nicole had planned to have a food tent selling her desserts, but contestants weren’t allowed to compete and sell their wares, so she had to scrap the plan.

  “This is like one of those television food shows.” Claire took in the sight of the huge room separated with counters, stoves, and refrigerators setup for each contest participant.

  “The excitement is crackling over the air,” Robby said eagerly as he watched the hustle and bustle.

  The attendant in charge of Nicole’s sweets maneuvered his pushcart through the hall to the kitchen set-up assigned to her and he parked the cart near the refrigerator for easy unloading. “Good luck,” he said as he walked back to the entrance to help another contestant.

  Nicole looked slightly pale and her eyes were huge. “I’m afraid,” she whispered to her partners.

  “It’s okay,” Claire smiled, surprised at her friend’s reaction. “Your desserts are wonderful. Everyone will love them.”

  “What if I’m way out of my league? What if I make a fool of myself?” Nicole’s hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she fiddled nervously with the ends.

  Robby chuckled. “You are definitely not out of your league. Your nerves are firing overtime. There’s so much going on in here that you’re letting yourself get overwhelmed. Stop looking around and think about what we have to do.”

  A man with a microphone stood on a small, circular stage in the middle of the space. He welcomed the contestants and reviewed the schedule for the day. For each category, thirty volunteers from the crowd of festival goers would be asked to act as citizen judges and would join the three, well-known Boston personalities who were the celebrity judges for the day.

  The thirty-three people would sample the offerings and would then cast their votes for the best in each specialty. The judging would be blind, meaning there would be no indication who or from which shop the items were from.

  The voting for the desserts would be at 1pm in the afternoon.

  “That gives us plenty of time to assemble the entries.” Claire took her friend’s arm. “It also gives us plenty of time to walk around the festival for a while. We don’t need to be back here for two hours.”

  “Good.” Robby led the way out of the building. “Let’s go enjoy ourselves and get away from the nervous energy in here.”

  The festival was in a full swing with crowds of people moving through the displays. Large white-tents were set up around the area. A band played on the stage, brick walkways were lined with food vendors, chefs gave cooking demonstrations at small stations, and other booths sold cookware and accessories.

  The smell of delicious food floated on the air. The day was picture-perfect with a bright blue sky, warm, but comfortable temperatures, and little to no humidity.

  The threesome made their way to an artisan pizza truck where they placed their lunch orders and then carried the food to a table set under a tree.

  A long string of cheese reached from Nicole’s mouth to the slice of pizza in her hand. She chewed and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “This is the best pizza I’ve ever had. I thank my lucky stars I’m not entered in the pizza category. If this is one of the entries, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Robby and Claire agreed that it was one of the best they’d eaten and Robby got up to order two more slices.

  “I haven’t seen Ricky Harris around.” Claire turned her head to check the crowd. “I hope he shows himself before we have to go inside to ready the desserts.”

  “I’ve been watching for him, too.” Nicole finished her slice and thought about getting another, but decided against it since her stomach felt nervous and she didn’t want to get sick right before her category was called.

  They were discussing the questions they wanted to ask the man about Rose, when Robby sat down with his pizza plate and said, “There’s Mr. Festival-Organizer over there.” He nodded to the booth across from where they were sitting.

  “Ricky Harris?” Nicole looked from side to side until she spotted the man regaling a vendor with a story. Harris was about six feet, six inches tall with a head of longer auburn hair that touched his collar. He had strong features and a hearty laugh.

  “How should we do this?” Claire asked, watching the man.

  “I’ll sit here. You two go over to the vendor and order something. Then strike up a conversation with Harris.” Robby took a huge bite of his pizza slice.

  “Why aren’t you coming over with us?” Nicole asked.

  “I’m busy,” Robby mumbled as he chewed. “Besides, two attractive women will be all that’s necessary. Go ahead, get a move on.” He waved his hand at them to go over to where Harris was standing. “I’ll supervise from here.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes at her sandy-haired employee and then she and Claire made their move. Harris gave them a wide smile when they came up next to him.

  “Enjoying the festival?” Harris asked.

  “We are.” Claire checked her watch. “We’re contestants in the dessert category. We still have an hour before we need to get ready.” She introduced herself and Nicole.

  “You’re Ricky Harris, right?” Nicole knew full-well that was who stood before her. “You’re one of the organizers of the event.”

  Harris beamed, pleased at being recognized. He asked about their dessert. “I’m not judging today so you can tell me about your entry.” When the young women described the dessert, Harris put his hand on his stomach and moaned. “I’m drooling just thinking about it.”

  After a few more minutes of conversation related to food and recipes, Nicole asked, “You’re married to the Boston boutique owner, Rose Smith, aren’t you?”

  Harris’s eyes went wide and he seemed slightly uncomfortable for a second, but then recovered his bravado. “Yes, I am, but we’re separated, have been for a couple of y
ears.” It seemed Harris wanted to make sure that Claire and Nicole knew he was single. “Sometimes, it’s best for both parties to move on.”

  Claire and Nicole used the same story they’d told Melvin Watts – that they met Rose and were interested in making an offer for the boutiques.

  “We haven’t been able to get in touch with Rose.” Nicole’s face took on an expression of concern.

  “We liked Rose,” Claire added. “We hoped to get together, on a personal level. She doesn’t answer our messages, never picks up when we call, doesn’t reply to emails. We’re worried about her.”

  Harris’s brows knitted together. “That’s odd.”

  “Do you know where Rose might be?” Nicole asked.

  “Me? No, I’m afraid not. I can’t help you.”

  “Do you and Rose keep in touch?” Claire questioned.

  “Sometimes, not often.” Harris ran his hand over his reddish hair and glanced around at the people walking by. He gave off a sense of nervousness when talking about Rose.

  “We heard that Rose had multiple offers for her business.”

  “Did she?” Harris took a small step back.

  “Nothing came of them though.” Claire kept her eyes on Harris’s face. “We also heard that Rose left town suddenly due to an emergency. Do you have any knowledge about that?”

  “An emergency? No. Like I said, we aren’t in touch much anymore.”

  Claire asked, “When you and Rose were married, did you work together on your two businesses?”

  “We didn’t.” Harris shook his head. “We kept things separate.” The man’s eyes were like lasers on the young women. He bent slightly forward. “When did Rose leave town?”

  “We aren’t sure,” Nicole said. “Recently, though.”

  “Who told you she’d left?”

  “One of her employees.”

  “Did the person give any details? Where she went? What the emergency was about?”

  “She didn’t,” Claire said sadly. “We hoped you might be able to help us get in touch with Rose.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know anything.”

  Nicole said, “We met with Rose’s former business partner the other day.”