by Sarah Fox
“I come bearing gifts,” I said, holding up the paper bag when Tommy opened the front door.
He grinned as he leaned on his crutches. “Music to my ears. And my stomach.”
He offered me one of the sticky rolls, but I declined, having already indulged in one earlier in the day. I grabbed him a plate from the kitchen, and he dug in while we sat in the living room and got caught up. Once again, all his roommates were off at work, so the place was quiet.
“How’s the sleuthing going?” he asked after we’d talked about The Flip Side and our co-workers.
“I wish it were going better,” I said. “For both cases.”
“Both? Marley, you don’t have to look into what happened to me if that’s what you mean.”
“You really expect me to stay out of it?”
He grinned. “Okay, maybe that’s like asking the sun not to rise.”
“Pretty much.”
His face sobered. “But I don’t want you putting yourself in any danger, especially on my account.”
“You can leave the lecturing to Ray and Ivan,” I said with a smile. Then I also got more serious. “Don’t worry. I intend to be careful. Last night the potential danger became all too clear.”
“Last night? I must have missed out on something.”
I told him what had happened to Dolly Maxwell.
Tommy set his plate aside, one sticky roll demolished. “What kind of scumbag would attack an old lady in her home?”
“One who’s desperate to find something.”
“What kind of something?”
I brought him up to speed on everything I knew about the missing letters.
“Dolly’s granddaughter found them in Dolly’s attic,” I said to wrap up. “I really doubt it’s a coincidence that the burglar focused his or her attention there.”
Tommy thought that over. “How many people knew the letters came from Dolly’s attic?”
“That’s exactly what I spent half the night thinking about,” I said.
I really had, which was why I’d had to stifle several yawns throughout the day. Winnifred, Krista, and I knew where the letters had come from. Jane might have known that the letters were stored in Dolly’s attic, but with her gone, there was no way of knowing if she’d mentioned that to anyone else. It didn’t seem likely that she would have told many people, but there was always a possibility that she’d mentioned it in passing to somebody.
Krista and I had talked about the letters at The Flip Side. There was a chance someone could have overheard us. Dean and Frankie had both been within possible earshot during that conversation. I’d struck Frankie from my suspect list for the hit-and-run, but now I had to consider him as a murder suspect, despite my original decision not to do so. Why he would have wanted to kill Jane, or why he would care about the letters, I really didn’t know, but in my mind, I placed his name at the bottom of the list, just in case.
Aside from Dean and Frankie, Evangeline had also been sitting near Krista and me that day. I knew Evangeline had a connection to Jane, and Jane had made a veiled threat toward her, but I didn’t know why Evangeline would care about letters relating to Winnifred and Dolly’s family. Still, I couldn’t discount the fact that she’d been within earshot. As for Diana, who was sitting with Evangeline at the time, I didn’t think she warranted a spot on my suspect list. Not unless more information about her came to light, anyway.
I shared all those thoughts with Tommy
“I really don’t think Frankie is your guy,” he said.
“Probably not.” Nevertheless, I wasn’t ready to disregard him entirely.
“As for Dean,” Tommy continued, “I’ve asked a few people about him.”
I tensed. “That might not have been the greatest idea.”
He waved off my concern. “Don’t worry. I was discreet. I know it wouldn’t be good if he found out we suspected him of anything.”
He hadn’t banished all my concerns, but I allowed myself to relax.
“Did you find out anything interesting?” I asked.
“He’s done some time in jail, for assault, I think it was. And he was arrested for theft a few years ago, but the charges got dropped.”
“Ray mentioned that Dean has a criminal record and a history of violence.”
“And that’s why I need you to promise me something before I tell you my next bit of intel,” Tommy said.
“Promise you what?” I asked.
“That you won’t intentionally go near Dean or his house without someone with you. Preferably someone bigger than Dean, like Ivan or Brett.”
“I have no problem promising you that,” I said. “Dean creeps me out, but he also scares me, if I’m honest.”
“I think that’s a healthy fear in this case,” Tommy said.
“So what’s the intel?” I asked.
“I found out where Dean lives. I don’t know if that will be helpful at all, and I don’t know the house number, but apparently it’s a white house that’s seen better days. On Sandpiper Road, near the river. It backs onto the woods and has a big stump in the middle of the front yard.”
I made sure to memorize that description. “That information could come in handy. Did you find out anything else?”
“That’s it,” he said. “I’m a novice at this sleuthing thing. Not like you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said. “You did great. Thank you.”
“How will you figure out if Dean’s the killer or not?” Tommy asked.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “All I know is I won’t go near his house without Brett.”
We chatted a bit longer about life in general before I decided I should be getting on my way soon.
“Did you have a good visit with Sienna the other day?” I asked as I headed for the door, Tommy accompanying me on his crutches.
He grinned. “I beat her at Mario Kart three times in a row.”
I rested my hand on the doorknob. “And how many times did she beat you?”
“Four. But not in a row.” His grin faded. “Has Sienna talked to you recently about…stuff?”
“You mean about going away to college and all that?”
Tommy shrugged, not meeting my eyes. I knew then that I’d guessed wrong.
“There’s something else on her mind?” Worry tried to take root in my chest.
“Maybe…” Tommy shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling uneasy. “Should I be concerned?”
“No, definitely not,” Tommy rushed to assure me. “Forget I said anything.”
I didn’t press the matter, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget that he’d brought it up. Once my curiosity was piqued, there was no shutting it off.
Chapter Twenty-One
As much as I wanted to know what Tommy thought Sienna might want to talk to me about, I wasn’t going to find out that afternoon, so I tried my best to focus on other things. After hearing Tommy’s information about Dean, I was eager to take a closer look at him as a suspect.
I didn’t know what good it would do to check out Dean’s house, but I wanted to walk by it anyway. As I’d promised Tommy, though, I wouldn’t do that alone. Brett wouldn’t be off work for a while, so I couldn’t rope him into tagging along with me quite yet. I had something else I needed to do first, anyway.
I had Winnifred’s phone number, and I knew where she lived, but I was close to the museum, so I decided to stop and see if she was there. If she wasn’t, I’d give her a call and ask how Dolly was doing.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to bother with a phone call. When I knocked on the front door of the museum, Winnifred opened it within seconds.
She greeted me with a warm smile. “Marley, what a nice surprise. Come on in.”
I stepped into the foyer, and she
shut the door behind me. “I came by to ask how Dolly is doing.”
“She’s on the mend,” Winnifred said, much to my relief. “She’s still in the hospital and might be for another day or two because of the hit she took to her head. At her age, the doctors want to be extra careful.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “But I’m so glad to hear that she’s on the road to recovery.”
“I visited her this morning, and she wanted me to thank you and your husband for checking on her last night. If you hadn’t noticed the open door, who knows how long she could have been lying there before somebody found her.” Winnifred shook her head with a frown. “I can’t even bear to think about it.”
“Brett and I are glad we were able to help.”
Winnifred smiled. “It’s much appreciated. Would you like to join me on the back porch for a cup of tea? I was about to pour one for myself.”
“That sounds great,” I said.
I followed her to the kitchen at the back of the museum. Soon we each had a cup of tea in hand. We carried our drinks out to the back porch and sat at the wrought-iron table.
“Do you know if the burglar took anything from Dolly’s house?” I asked once we were settled.
“It’s so difficult to tell,” Winnifred replied. “Krista went up there with one of the deputies last night, but she didn’t know if anything was missing. The place was in complete disarray—boxes emptied on the floor—and there were so many odds and ends up there that I’m not sure we’ll ever know for certain if anything was taken.”
I thought back over the events of the previous night. “I didn’t see the burglar carrying anything when he or she fled. It’s still possible they had papers or something small tucked away out of sight, though.”
“I can’t make sense of it,” Winnifred said before taking a sip of her tea. “Even if someone wanted more letters, the why of it eludes me.”
“I can’t make heads or tails of it either,” I admitted.
We lapsed into a comfortable silence as we enjoyed our tea. My mind, however, never quieted.
“You mentioned that the attic is a mess,” I said after a minute. “I’d be happy to lend a hand cleaning it up.”
Winnifred had a twinkle in her blue eyes when she looked at me. “And to help figure out if the intruder took something?”
I gave her a sheepish smile. “Guilty as charged, but I really am happy to simply help out.”
Winnifred patted my arm. “I know you are, dear. I’m just teasing. And I appreciate the offer on both counts. With my creaky old bones and joints, I certainly won’t be of much help. I’m sure Krista wouldn’t say no to an extra pair of hands.”
“I’ll get in touch with her then,” I said.
After another brief silence, I steered the conversation in a slightly different direction.
“Do you find it surprising that no one in your family knew there were letters from the Jack of Diamonds in Dolly’s attic for all those years? Or do you think Flora stashed them up there decades ago, and no one ever looked at them until recently?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Winnifred said. “It’s possible that Flora was the only one ever to see them and that she hid them up there in the attic a long time ago. It’s also possible that someone else found them and read them at some point and decided to keep them hidden.”
“But it’s such an intriguing story.” If I found out about such an interesting connection in my family, I never would have been able to keep quiet about it.
“I agree, but my family enjoyed a position of prestige here on the peninsula back in the day. The Woodcombe and Penrose names still carry weight, whether deservedly or not. To think that one of our family members had a relationship of a romantic nature with a criminal—and had possibly even given birth to his child rather than her husband’s—would have seemed scandalous back then. It’s not difficult at all for me to imagine anyone from my mother’s or grandmother’s generations keeping the letters hidden. In fact, I’m a bit surprised that no one destroyed them, though I’m very glad they didn’t.”
“I think the reason your name still carries weight in this town is because of all the wonderful things you’ve done for Wildwood Cove, not just because of your family’s history.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Winnifred said with an appreciative smile.
“I get what you’re saying about the rest of it, though. Things would have been viewed differently a hundred years ago, or even fifty years ago. There’s something else that I don’t quite get. If Jack O’Malley was such a skilled thief, couldn’t he have committed much more lucrative burglaries somewhere else, such as in Seattle? I imagine the peninsula didn’t have a large population during his day.”
“I’ve considered that too. And I’ve heard that very question raised in the past, before I ever knew of his connection to Flora.”
“Do you think that’s it?” I asked. “Did he stick around this area because he was in love with a local girl?”
“That’s exactly what I figure. He did start his career, if you can call it that, in Seattle, but for the last year or so of his life, all of the crimes attributed to him took place on the peninsula. I suspect he took a trip over here for some reason or other and met Flora and wanted to stay close to her. Another possibility is that they met in Seattle—my family did make trips there now and then—and he followed her back here.”
“This is where he died?”
“Fairly close.” Winnifred added more tea to our cups. “I believe it happened in Port Angeles.”
“It must have been terrible for Flora, to have him torn away from her like that, especially if your father really was his child.”
“Yes,” Winnifred said, her voice somber. “I wish I’d learned all of this when she was still alive. I could have talked to her about it. I always knew she was a strong woman, but I didn’t understand just how strong. Imagine having to keep your grief a secret from everyone.”
I didn’t want to imagine it. The mere thought made my heart ache for Flora. I realized how fortunate I was that there’d been nothing to keep Brett and me apart, to prevent us from living our lives together.
While Winnifred and I finished our tea, we spoke about the future rather than the past. She filled me in on the status of preparations for Wild West Days, and I told her how well the building façades had turned out. By the time I left the museum, it was the end of Brett’s workday. We exchanged a few text messages, and he agreed to meet me in town so we could drive by Dean’s house.
When Brett picked me up in his work van, I took pity on him and agreed that we could make a stop at Johnny’s Juice Hut on Main Street before doing any sleuthing. After hours of working out in the sun, he needed a cold drink.
Once we both had slushy, cold bubble teas—mango for me and coconut for Brett—we continued on our way, following the directions Tommy had given me. I worried that we might have trouble finding the right house without an actual address, but it wasn’t difficult at all. The giant stump in the front yard was as good as a signpost.
Brett didn’t stop in front of the house, but he did slow down enough that I could get a good look. As Tommy had said, the white paint on the house had seen better days. It appeared more gray than white and had peeled away in places. Dean might get paid for refinishing floors, but he clearly didn’t spend much time sprucing up his own home.
Even though the front grass was in need of cutting, I didn’t bother suggesting that Brett knock on Dean’s door and offer him a business card. I didn’t want to risk Dean connecting Brett to me, and I doubted we’d learn anything with that strategy.
A mud-splattered, black pickup truck sat in the driveway, but I couldn’t see any signs of movement in the front yard or through the windows. Just as the house was about to disappear, I spotted a plume of smoke rising up into the sky from behind it.
“Do
es it look like he’s there?” Brett asked as he took a left at the next corner so we could circle around the block.
“I saw smoke coming from the backyard,” I said. “Maybe he’s burning yard waste.”
“In which case, he’s most likely home. Should we call it a day?”
“Not yet.” I wasn’t ready to give up. “Is there a way we can get a look into his backyard without approaching from the front?”
Brett pulled his van over to the curb and parked. We were one street north of Dean’s house now.
“There’s a trail that runs through the woods behind his place,” Brett said. “The undergrowth might be thick off the path, but it’s possible we could get a glimpse into his yard.” He lifted his bubble tea out of the cupholder. “What exactly are you hoping to find?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We probably won’t find anything, but I want to know more about him. He’s my strongest suspect at the moment.”
Brett took a drink of his bubble tea. “Let’s leave the van here. It’ll only take a minute to reach the trailhead on foot.”
I took a quick sip of my drink, drawing a couple of tapioca pearls up through my straw, and then returned it to the cupholder. We climbed out of the vehicle and followed the sidewalk down the road. Brett had estimated correctly; we reached the start of the trail within a couple of minutes.
Moments after we entered the woods, the road disappeared from sight, and the forest swallowed us up. It was like we’d entered a different world. Leafy green deciduous trees grew here and there between the evergreens, and birds sang in the trees above us. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy, but the trail we were following was shaded for the most part. Still, the air was warm and scented with the sweet smells of spring.
