“Girl, I’m glad you’re finally here. I was getting mighty peckish.” Makayla placed two plates containing bagels spread with cream cheese on the table along with two coffee cups. “A latte and a whole grain bagel with spinach and artichoke cream cheese. It’s our newest flavor. Hope that’s okay.”
“It’s wonderful. Thanks.” The cream cheese, which was streaked with dark green spinach and had little chunks of artichoke throughout, smelled heavenly. “What do I owe you?”
“Lunch is on me today. I needed an official cream cheese tester, and you’re it.” She took a bite and chewed. “Hm. Not bad.”
I picked up my bagel and crunched into it. It was delicious. The salty artichoke blended with the piquant spinach bits just enough to compliment the creaminess of the cheese. “Oh, this is good. Tastes like that dip everyone serves at parties in a pumpernickel loaf.” I took another bite. “I’m surprised you’re not busier right now.”
“We’re not really a lunch place. Bagels are all we have to offer. Most people go to Catcher in the Rye for sandwiches. Me and Ed, we have a good arrangement. I give people their morning jolt, he stokes their fires at noon, and then I’m here for an afternoon pick-me-up.” She waved her hand at the journal. “Is that Marlette’s? I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”
“Yes. It’s like a folio of art and stream of consciousness writing. I’ve only read the first entry, but I flipped through enough pages to realize that it’s no ordinary diary.” I opened the journal, inhaling the scents of the forest. “Can you smell that?”
“I can. It’s like being in the woods.” Makayla pulled the journal closer and inspected the drawings. “Wow, he was a gifted artist. People would have paid good money for these drawings.”
“I know.” I turned the page. “Read the first entry. If we can figure out who this Sue Ann is, we might be able to uncover the mystery of Marlette. Do you think she’s a wife or girlfriend? A daughter, maybe? Do you know if he had any family?”
Makayla shook her head. “I don’t know a thing about him. Just that he flitted about town like a leaf and smelled like a box of overripe fruit. And that I saw him climbing the stairs up to Novel Idea practically every day.” She bent her head down to examine the first page.
I sat quietly while she read. This café was perfectly situated for Makayla to take notice of the people visiting or working at the agency. Maybe she had insights on my suspects. “What about Jude? Or Zach? Do you know anything about them?”
Makayla’s jungle green eyes went wide. “You think they could’ve had something to do with Marlette’s death?”
I shrugged. “I’m not discounting any possibility at this point.”
“All I know is that Zach gets jacked up on double espresso every morning, and Jude could charm the habit off a nun.”
Between bites of our bagels and sips of coffee, we skimmed through the pages of Marlette’s book, being careful not to drop crumbs on it. There were more pencil drawings of woodland creatures and sketches of flowers, including a very detailed one of the milkweed he’d given me on Friday. But most of the pages were filled with writing: Marlette’s unfiltered thoughts penned in his scratchy penmanship and ink spots blotting the paper randomly.
“This is so hard to read,” Makayla said, turning to a particularly dense and blotchy page. “His writing is so small, and the sentences run on and on. Whoa, check this!” She pivoted the book to face me.
A sketch of a girl stared out from the paper; she was a pretty young teenager, her braided hair hung over her shoulders and her rosebud mouth puckered. At first glance she was the embodiment of youthful na?veté, but a subtle shrewdness glimmered in her eyes. Marlette had captured an expression of arrogance underlying her innocence, and the longer I looked at her, the more uncomfortable I became. Underneath the face he’d written two lines:
Sue Ann Sue Ann Sue Ann Sue Ann Sue Ann.
I should never have let you in never never never.
“Oh my gosh, it’s her. It’s Sue Ann.” I stared at the sketch. What did Marlette mean about letting her in? I felt a flutter of memory stir. Something about the face looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite—
The café door was thrust open, severing my train of thought. Three men wearing suits entered, their boisterous laughter charging the atmosphere.
“I’ll be right back,” Makayla said as she went to take their orders.
I closed the notebook and put it back in my bag. While gathering together the debris from our lunch, I pondered Marlette’s ramblings. Would they help us find his murderer? Was Sue Ann a key to the mystery? I tossed the trash into the bin and put the dishes on the corner of the counter. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to Makayla, so I stared out the window and waited for her to finish with her customers.
A woman with a twin stroller jogged past, and then a robust young man on a bicycle pulled up outside the pharmacy. A man hustled down the sidewalk, glancing furtively back at our building. As his head turned, I realized he was Franklin.