by Cate Conte
It seemed to be a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. But I definitely believed in the human/animal bond, which I thought would lead you back to your furry soul mate if you were separated.
Becky glanced at her phone as it started to ding. “Crap, I have to go. Call me later.” She grabbed her bag and her cup and rushed out the door, leaving me alone with my empty coffee cup and a decision to make.
Chapter 18
I sat at my little table way too long after Becky left. JJ was comfy in my lap, and the few patrons who came in and out were happy to come over and fawn over him. He took it all in stride, barely waking up to accept the attention. But it was clear he was the star of the cafe.
“Is your new merchandise in yet?” A woman I recognized as a semi-regular leaned over my shoulder to scratch JJ’s head. “I really want to get one of your T-shirts for my nephew.”
“I’m expecting my shipment this week,” I said. “I hope the storm doesn’t delay it.” After the success of the line of souvenirs featuring JJ’s picture and the cafe name—JJ’s House of Purrs—I’d expanded the line to include kids’ clothing, as well as cats’. And dogs’, for those who were fans. “I’ll save you one,” I told her.
She thanked me and left. I debated another cup of coffee but decided I was adrenalized enough for today. I understood why Becky thought I needed to tell the cops about the woman possibly knowing the writer, especially if I felt like there was a weird vibe between them. If she knew him, maybe she knew something about him, like why he was here or who to get in touch with to tell that he was dead.
I knew I saw something pass between them. In the aftermath of everything, I’d questioned whether I’d imagined it because I was freaked out by her and projected that onto him. That he’d been sizing her up for causing a commotion. She had gotten very defensive about everything. She could’ve been including him in that “me against the world” posture she’d assumed once she’d put her stake in the ground over JJ.
But in my gut, I knew that wasn’t it. She knew him, and he knew her.
I reached back in my brain, trying to remember anything about that moment. Like, was she afraid of him? It didn’t seem so. And if she was, why did he leave and not her? Was he afraid of her? Given my experience with her, that seemed more likely. But why? Was she a crazy stalker? A fan run amuck? Or was she after him for something? My imagination was running wild now. Was she somehow connected to his almost ex-wife? A PI or something?
Maybe he’d simply seen her somewhere else on the island, before my place. Maybe she’d caused a scene there, too, and he’d been trying to distance himself from any drama. I wished I could just ask him. I wished he weren’t dead.
Ugh. I was so undecided. If I volunteered information about the woman maybe knowing the writer, the cops would probably find some way to ask me about Leopard Man. Or Carl, as I was now starting to think of him. Trying the name on for size. Thinking about all the things a guy named Carl might do. Maybe his boring name was deceiving. Maybe Carl had a past.
In any event, they all knew he visited my cafe a lot. His love for cats—of all sizes—was pretty clear. And I knew cop tactics. Just like I’d warned Val, they’d try to get each of us alone and verify that Leopard Man hadn’t been around last night.
If I came forward and said something about Crazy Woman recognizing Holt and it turned out she’d had something to do with his death, that would make it worse for Leopard Man if it came out that they had been together near the spot where Holt had been killed. Or at least dumped. Grandpa hadn’t said where he’d been killed, exactly. I was assuming it was on the road leading down to the water.
But had they really been together together? Maybe she’d been asking for directions and he’d happened to be walking by. He hadn’t been wearing his tail that night, so other than what some referred to as his pimp coat—the giant furry leopard coat—she might not have had any reason to be leery of approaching him. I tried to think back on that interaction, to whether the conversation had been friendly and light or deeper and … familiar.
It was silly. I’d gone past them in a moving vehicle in the dark. I’d recognized them both because of their clothing. I’d had zero chance of seeing their facial expressions or reading their lips in the few seconds Lucas’s headlights had illuminated them. Anything I took away from that situation would be a guess at best. At worst, a guess colored by my recent experience with her.
I had no way of knowing anything. For the first time, I understood what Grandpa had always said about witnesses being unreliable, even when they had the best intentions. Everyone approached things, even things that seemingly had nothing to do with them, by bringing their own biases, beliefs, fears, and other emotions to the table. And those emotions could do more harm than good, depending on where that person was coming from.
With a sigh, I pitched my coffee cup into the trash as my cell rang. I glanced at it. Val.
“Hey,” I said when I picked up.
“Hey. Want to get lunch? I’m starving.”
Her timing was perfect, given that I wanted to pick her brain about the whole Jason Holt visiting the marina thing. “What, Ava-Rose won’t feed you some yacht club dinner for your time?” I teased, pulling my coat on.
“Yuck,” Val said. “Have you seen their menu? It’s all fancy old-people food.”
I laughed. “What does that mean, exactly? I don’t frequent the yacht club enough to guess what ‘old-people food’ really means.”
“All you need to know is, it’s gross,” Val said. “And way overpriced.”
“Fair enough. I’m in. Where do you want to meet?”
“I want a lobster roll,” Val said.
“We can go to Moe’s if you want to sit and eat, or Damian’s if you want to just grab something.” Moe’s Fish Place downtown was still open for limited hours during the winter, in case anyone had a craving for a lobster roll. Hey, it happened. Especially with those of us who craved the feeling of a warm summer day, even if we had to get that feeling through a sandwich.
“I want a drink.”
“Well. Okay then. The linen choosing isn’t going well?” I was curious now. Not only wasn’t my sister a drink-with-lunch type of gal, but we also weren’t the sisters who met for random lunches. I was more likely to get that call from my mom than Val. We had gotten a lot closer since she’d left Cole and moved in with me and Grandpa, but still.
“It’s not that. I’ll explain when I get there. When can you go?”
“Heading over now. Val, is everything okay?”
“Sure. It’s fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound completely convinced.
“I’ll see you soon. If I get there first, I’ll order you some wine,” I said.
Chapter 19
I made it to the restaurant before Val. I had a moment’s hesitation that I should’ve brought JJ home, but by the time I did that I would be super late. He was sleeping anyway, so I left him in the car with his blanket tucked around him, double-checked the locks, and hurried inside.
When Val came in, she wasn’t alone. My eyes widened when I realized Ava-Rose Buxton was marching purposefully behind her, almost bumping into Val when she stopped to scan the restaurant for me. I lifted my hand in a wave. She said something to the hostess, then headed in my direction and slid into the booth across from me, yanking her fluffy pink scarf from around her neck. Ava-Rose sat down next to her.
I looked at Val and raised my eyebrows. She gave an imperceptible shrug, then said brightly, “Maddie, you remember Ava-Rose, right?”
“Of course I do,” I said, smiling at her. “It’s been a long time. So good to see you again.”
Ava-Rose nodded briskly at me. “It has. The prodigal daughter returns.”
I tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that one. It was a weird thing, living in a place like this. The majority of the people either left as soon as they could and never returned or never left at all. There was very rarely an
in-between. Except for me, which made me an enigma. The ones who never left at all tended to pass judgment on the ones who did, even if they complained about living here themselves. Most people, at least in my experience with this community, didn’t leave for a long time and return. Partly because, I suspected, it was hard to reacclimatize to island life after living somewhere else, presumably on the mainland, for an extended period of time. Unless you completely loved this lifestyle, in which case, you usually didn’t leave in the first place.
What that meant about me I had no idea. I still didn’t know if this was where I’d stay. I didn’t think I needed to make that decision anytime soon, though. I wanted to leave a footprint here, and if I had a thriving cat cafe and a juice shop, perhaps I’d consider my work here done. Then again, there was the whole family thing. I didn’t think I could leave Grandpa again, no matter what kind of disagreements or rough spots we encountered. He’d improved a thousandfold since I’d come back to town and moved in with him, according to my mother. And since I expected him to live a really long time, I guess that put me here for the same.
“You don’t look like you changed much out there with all those weirdos,” she remarked.
I kept my smile pasted on. “I tried not to.” Up close and personal, I could see her age sneaking up around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, despite the drastic measures she’d taken to keep it at bay. If you weren’t looking for it, you probably wouldn’t see it. Her neck didn’t look like an almost-eighty-year-old’s, for one thing. I wondered what it took to get it that smooth. “Lovely that you decided to join us for lunch,” I added.
Ava-Rose arched an eyebrow that looked drawn on. “I asked Val to set it up.”
“You did?” I looked at my sister.
She shrugged. “Didn’t I mention that?”
“No,” I said dryly. “By the way, I ordered you wine and some of those crispy chickpeas you like.” I pushed a glass of sparkling water across the table. “Ava-Rose, would you like something to drink?”
“A martini would be delightful,” she said.
I looked around for the waitress. “So what’s going on, ladies? How’s the party planning?”
“Valerie is working hard on it,” Ava-Rose said, with a sideways glance at my sister.
“It’s going well,” Val said.
“Well. We can’t really say that until we have a final product,” Ava-Rose said.
The waiter, a cute guy with a man bun that ruined the whole look, arrived with Val’s wine—I’d stuck with water—and some bread and butter and smiled at us. “Would you like to hear today’s specials?” I knew him as one of the part-time bartenders at Jade Moon, a cool new bar on the island that Lucas and I frequented. I’d actually had my first impromptu singing gig with Lucas’s band there back over the summer.
“Sure,” I said.
He rattled off a few dishes, none of which sounded appealing. I ordered a shrimp Caesar salad. Val ordered her usual lobster roll with fries. Ava-Rose ordered a garden salad with dressing on the side to go with her martini.
He walked away, whistling a Nirvana song under his breath. I looked at Val. “So.”
“So,” she repeated.
I was getting tired. And bored. If they wanted to have lunch with me, why didn’t Val just ask? I was definitely getting the feeling there was more to this visit and wished they’d get it over with.
It was Ava-Rose who finally started talking. “I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to meet,” she said to me.
I nodded. “Kind of.”
“Well. I heard you were somewhat of a detective.”
“Me?” I asked, a little appalled. I had done my share of figuring some things out, but it wasn’t like I’d hung a shingle or anything looking for a new career.
“Yes, you,” she said impatiently.
I glanced at my sister again, who had been strangely quiet. She was focused on her drink. Now I wished I’d ordered a cocktail. “You know I’m not really a detective,” I said to Ava-Rose.
The look she gave me could have withered flowers. “I’m not senile,” she said. “I need help, but I can’t have a real detective on the case. So I need your help. Val thought you would be up for it,” she added.
“She did, did she?” I said, amused. “That was nice of you, Val.”
“Well, it’s the slow season and all,” Val said defensively. “I know you like this stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
The waiter showed up with her drink. Ava-Rose eagerly took a gulp from her martini as soon as he set it down, then swirled the olive around before leaning forward, her small, sharp eyes boring into mine. “There’s something strange going on at the yacht club.”
“Strange?” I repeated. “Strange how?”
“Things are disappearing. Important things relating to the club’s history and mission.”
“Wooden ship replicas,” Val translated for me.
I frowned. “Ship replicas?”
Ava-Rose nodded. “We have many, some of which my third husband, Charles, personally hand-carved as a contribution to the club.” She paused to cross herself and blow a kiss in the direction of the ceiling. “In fact, a couple of those are missing. Which is why I started really paying attention.”
“So you think someone is stealing them?” I asked.
“I have no idea, but that seems the most logical explanation.”
“But why?” I asked.
Val sent me a look that suggested I really needed to catch up. Ava-Rose, with barely concealed impatience, said, “Because these replicas are quite valuable. There could be an enemy working for another yacht club, stealing them and collecting a fee on the other side.”
“An enemy,” I repeated, trying to follow this thought. “So they would steal it, sell it to another, uh, organization, who wanted to add to their collection?”
“Yes. I thought you said she was smart?” Ava-Rose said to Val, who almost choked on her wine at the comment.
Good grief. With everything else going on, why on earth was I sitting here having this ridiculous conversation about wooden ships, and getting insulted to boot? I decided to let her comment go and focus on getting myself out of there. JJ was in the car and I had things to do.
“Look. Ava-Rose,” I said, as pleasantly as possible. “I’m really sorry to hear that you’re having these … troubles. I don’t know how I could possibly help, though. I have no ins into the ship replica black market.” I managed to say that while keeping a straight face. “If your property was stolen, I do think you should call the police.”
Ava-Rose sniffed. “The police don’t care.”
I highly doubted that, unless things had changed drastically in the few years since Grandpa had been chief. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“They have bigger fish to fry. Plus, they think I’m too old to be listened to. Which I’m not,” she added, eyes flashing at the thought.
“Of course they don’t think that,” Val said, patting her arm and sending me a look.
“Well, anyway. Since I heard that the writer getting killed was murder, I’m sure they’re too busy to care about our treasured items.”
How on earth did she know that? I hadn’t seen anything on the Chronicle site yet—I’d checked a couple times since I left Becky—so I didn’t think the news had broken yet.
“Murder?” I asked. “How do you know that?”
“I heard it around,” she said evasively.
I was annoyed that word was out, even though I had known it was only a matter of time. After all, if Grandpa knew, the cops had to be getting ready to release the information. But if it got out and the killer got tipped off, they’d probably try to run. Although it wasn’t that easy to vanish off this island. You needed a ferry ticket or a private plane. And either way, the cops could station themselves at the airport or the ferry dock and take you down before you could actually run.
“What’s around?” I asked, my gaze traveling to Val. She avoided min
e.
Ava-Rose waved a dismissive hand at me. “I barely need to hear it, after what I saw.”
I was starting to get a bad feeling in my gut. “What you saw?” I repeated. “What did you see?”
The waiter showed up with the food, making a big flourish presenting the crunchy chickpeas. I gritted my teeth and waited while he laid out plates for us and presented a spoon with which to scoop them. I resisted snatching it out of his hand. He served the other dishes, then saluted us and sauntered off. When he was gone I turned back to Ava-Rose. “Well?”
She regarded me with a steely gaze. “You don’t want to help with my ships.”
I wanted to scream in frustration. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s—oh, never mind. Sure. I will help with your ships. But you have to tell me what you saw.”
Val spooned some chickpeas onto her plate. I could see the grin on her face despite her attempts to hide it. Ava-Rose smiled triumphantly. “I knew you’d see it my way.” She selected a chickpea and studied it before popping into her mouth. I squirmed impatiently in my seat.
Finally, she placed it tentatively in her mouth, as if afraid it might bite her back, and chewed. “I was at the yacht club last night,” she said finally. “I wanted to see what goes on after hours.”
“After hours?” I shook my head. “I’m not following. Isn’t the place locked up for the winter? Random people can’t just get in, right? Or do you rent it out?”
“Technically, no one can get in,” she answered. “And no, we don’t rent it out in the winter. Well, except in special cases like mine.”
“Then how could that be? Who has access?”
“The board and the waitstaff. Which is basically a skeleton crew now. They come in as needed. And the cleaners.”
“So who are you worried about?” I asked.
She glanced around the restaurant, which didn’t have any other patrons than us, and dropped her voice. “A couple of the new board members. So I went there last night and parked down the side road and waited to see if anything happened.”
