Free Daisies for Innocence by Bailey Cattrell

window was gray with dust. He’d added a new guest chair, and the computer monitor had been upgraded. Somehow, he’d managed to almost kill the lonely philodendron that hung in the corner. It smelled like dust and . . . I caught a smell that was familiar, but I couldn’t quite . . .
    No, wait. It was the cheap aftershave I’d smelled on Josie when I’d discovered her body. Well, that made sense, I guessed. After all, she and Harris were close. I was just glad he hadn’t started using that stuff when we’d been together. It would have driven me away faster than Wanda Simmons had.
    “Who do you think you are, coming in here and embarrassing me in front of my staff and my customers?” Harris asked as he closed the door. Those pretty lips curled in a grimace as he waited for me to answer.
    Beside me, Astrid rose to her full height. “Listen, you can’t bully—”
    “I asked Ellie!” He glowered down at me.
    “Stop it, Harris,” I said, keeping my tone firm. I had to stand up to him sometime. “You did a bang-up job of humiliating me last year. The whole town knew what you did, but apparently now you’re the one who needs to let go of the past. I’m over our failed marriage, and I’m over you.”
    He let out a long, wounded sigh. “Oh, Ellie. So that’s it? You’re trying to get back at me?”
    “Not at all. I’m telling you to stop spreading lies about me. I know you don’t seriously think I killed Josie.”
    He shrugged.
    “But you know what? Out of pure pettiness, you’vecomplicated the murder investigation,” I said, my voice rising. “You said Josie was the love of your life. What if the police waste time investigating me, and, as a result, don’t find the real killer before he gets away?”
    Harris blinked.
    Astrid put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed her encouragement.
    A sudden crash in the kitchen drew all our attention. Swearing under his breath, Harris jerked the door open and ran out to see what the commotion was. I went to stand in the doorway.
    The redhead who had been grinding the herbs stood next to an overturned pan of steaming macaroni and cheese. Gooey sauce flowed slowly from beneath it like yellow lava. He cringed as Harris approached, pointing his finger and streaming curses. I felt sorry for the poor guy; I’d done much the same thing with a vat of gravy once, and had heard about it for a week. And back then I’d supposedly worked with Harris, not for him.
    “Come on,” Astrid said from behind me.
    “What?” I craned my neck to look up at her.
    “You’ve said your piece. You think more will help?”
    “Probably not.” I wasn’t convinced anything I’d said would make a difference. For all I knew, I’d only made Harris angry enough to spread more lies and get me into even more trouble.
    Skirting the edge of the kitchen, we made our way to the dining room door and slipped out. I didn’t think Harris even noticed, involved in his vitriolic tirade at his employee, but the redheaded cook caught my eye as we left.
    He looked utterly miserable, and I felt like a heel for taking off and leaving him there. Part of the reason my ex was reacting so badly to his simple mistake was because of me. Then the cook’s eyes flashed, and he turned back to Harris, who was still hurling insults like a monkey hurling food in its cage. Something in the set of the man’s shoulders set my mind at ease. He was a tough cookie. He’d be fine.
    Ritter and Cynthia were gone, their half-finished drinks holding down a couple of ten-dollar bills. The remaining customers, along with a table of newcomers, watched Astrid and me as we made our way back through the dining room. A few murmured comments in our wake, but I couldn’t make out the words.
    “What on earth happened back there?” Maggie asked.
    “Just an everyday kitchen mishap,” I said. “Though you might run out of mac and cheese a bit early tonight.”
    She frowned, then her face cleared, and she shook her head.