Crêpe Expectations

by Sarah Fox

  Hope didn’t look pleased, but she kept quiet.

  “And I’m not positive,” Lonny continued, “but it could have been that night that I realized it was gone. I know I was really confused at the time because my pocket was pretty deep. I never expected the ring to fall out.”

  We all went quiet for a moment, taking time to absorb everything Lonny had said.

  I was the first to break the silence. “You need to tell all of this to Sheriff Georgeson.”

  Lonny shook his head. “No way.”

  Hope came to his defense. “He’ll think Lonny’s the killer.”

  “It’ll look worse if you don’t tell him and he figures it out on his own,” I said.

  “She’s right,” Brett said.

  “He won’t figure it out.” There wasn’t much confidence behind Lonny’s words.

  “Can you be sure about that?” I asked.

  Lonny glanced at Hope. Her face showed the same fear as his.

  She gripped her husband’s hand. “But if he arrests Lonny…”

  “He won’t do that without evidence,” Brett said.

  “Isn’t the ring enough evidence?”

  “If you tell him what you told us… I don’t think so.”

  Hope shook her head. “We can’t risk it.”

  Lonny rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe they’re right.”

  “What?” Hope stared at him, aghast. “You could get thrown in jail!”

  “Even if that happens, it’ll only be until they find the real killer.”

  “They won’t be looking for the real killer if they’ve got you locked up for the crime.”

  “But Brett and Marley are right. It’ll look worse for me if I don’t come clean.”

  Hope was on the verge of tears. “Please, Lonny. I won’t be able to handle it if you’re arrested.”

  Lonny took both her hands in his. Some of the fear had left his expression, resigned determination having moved in to replace it. “Trust me, okay? Everything will be all right.”

  A tear rolled down Hope’s cheek, but she didn’t protest any further.

  “I’ll tell the sheriff,” Lonny said to me and Brett. “Tomorrow morning.”

  Brett took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I returned the pressure, agreeing with his unspoken sentiment that it was time to leave the couple alone.

  We said our goodbyes, and Brett and I didn’t speak again until we were sitting in his truck, our seat belts on.

  “Do you think Lonny will be arrested?” I asked.

  “I hope not.” He caught the worried glance I shot his way. “I doubt it, but I won’t be surprised if Ray asks him a lot of questions.”

  I leaned back in my seat. “I hope we didn’t give him bad advice.”

  “We didn’t.” Brett started up the truck. “It really will be far worse for him if he keeps quiet and Ray manages to connect him to the ring. And he will connect the dots, because we can’t keep this information from him.”

  I knew all of that was true, but I still felt uneasy.

  I stayed quiet as Brett pulled the truck out into the street. I watched out the passenger window as we passed by darkened storefronts in the center of town. We were about to turn onto Wildwood Road when I caught sight of two men on the corner of Main Street, standing beneath a streetlamp.

  Tyrone was one of the men and the other…

  I sat up straighter when I recognized him. “Look! It’s him!”

  Brett stopped at the corner and ducked to look around me out the side window. “Tyrone?”

  “The other guy.” I hurried to unbuckle my seat belt. “The one who looks like my dad.”

  “Marley!”

  I heard Brett say my name, but I was already clambering out of the truck.

  By the time I jumped up on the curb, Tyrone was striding off down Wildwood Road and the other man was heading up Main Street. I ran after him.

  “Excuse me!”

  He stopped and turned around, wariness registering on his face, visible even in the semidarkness.

  I stopped in front of him. “Sorry to bother you. We met at the pancake house.”

  “I remember. What can I do for you?” His words were etched with the same wariness as his face.

  “My name’s Marley McKinney. I know this might sound crazy, but you look so much like my late father that I was wondering if we could possibly be related?”

  A single second passed with him just staring at me, but then he started to turn away. “We’re not.”

  “How can you be sure?” By the time I got the question out, he was already several feet away.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “I know my family tree. We aren’t related. Sorry, but I don’t have time to talk now.”

  I watched him hurry off along the street with long strides, as if he couldn’t put distance between us fast enough. Footsteps sounded on the sidewalk behind me, and Brett jogged up to my side.

  “What happened?” he asked as we watched the man disappear around a corner. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Sort of. He clearly wasn’t interested in talking to me, but he said we aren’t related.”

  Brett put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry. That was the most likely outcome, though.”

  “It was.” I allowed Brett to guide me back down the street toward Wildwood Road, where he’d hastily parked the truck.

  He glanced my way. “What is it? I can see the gears working in your head.”

  “There’s something going on with that man.”

  We slowed to a stop as we reached the truck.

  “But what kind of something?”

  “That’s the question,” I said. “But he arrived in town recently, he’s cagey, and now he’s been talking to Tyrone.” I glanced over my shoulder at the now-deserted street. “And that makes me wonder if he has some kind of connection to Demetra’s murder.”

  Chapter 21

  When I woke up the next morning, I had a plan to find out more about Joe. But as eager as I was to put my plan into action, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until after work. And I didn’t have to leave for work for nearly an hour, so I made the most of my time by snuggling up to Brett’s side.

  His eyes opened slowly, and he smiled sleepily when he saw me looking at him. “Morning.”

  I returned his smile. “Morning.”

  Spring might have arrived, but at this early hour, before the sun had risen, the bedroom was a tad chilly. I didn’t mind, since it gave me an excuse to snuggle even closer to Brett, not that I needed an excuse.

  “Let me guess,” he said, running a hand over my messy curls. “You’re thinking about your mystery man.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I raised myself up on one elbow. “But I’ve got a plan.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I chose to ignore the amusement behind his words. “Tyrone was talking to him, so I’ll ask Tyrone what he knows about the man.”

  The sleepiness disappeared from Brett’s eyes. “Tyrone, the guy known for his temper? I don’t like that idea, Marley.”

  “I won’t go alone. If you’re not free at the time, I’ll ask Ivan to go with me.”

  “He’ll be judging the amateur chef competition this afternoon.”

  I slapped a hand to my forehead. “I forgot all about that.” I thought for a second. “Okay, so either I’ll talk to Tyrone after you’re done working or I’ll have to leave it for another day.” I wasn’t too keen on the latter idea, but I shared Brett’s concerns about Tyrone’s temper. If I had to wait so I could have someone with me when I talked to him, that’s what I’d do.

  Flapjack jumped up onto the foot of the bed and padded his way up the covers to sit on Brett’s chest.

  “Morning, Jack,” I greeted the tabby, running a hand over his fu
r.

  He responded with a loud meow. Bentley heard the sound and jumped up from his spot across the room, trotting over to the side of the bed. He put his front paws on the mattress and nudged his nose against Brett’s arm, whining.

  “I think our alarm clocks are trying to tell us something,” Brett said as he gave Bentley a pat on the head.

  Reluctantly, I threw back the covers and wiggled my way to the edge of the bed. “Do you think Lonny will really talk to Ray about the ring?” I asked, wincing as my bare feet touched the cool floorboards.

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll have to.” Brett dislodged Flapjack from his chest so he could sit up. “I can’t keep that information from Ray, but I’d really rather it come from Lonny. I’m working at Mrs. Rideout’s property this morning, but I’ll be up at the inn this afternoon.”

  “And you’ll ask Lonny if he’s talked to Ray?”

  “I will.”

  With that assurance, I headed for the shower and got my day under way.

  * * * *

  While working at the pancake house, I kept an eye out for Tyrone and Joe, in case either man happened to make an appearance at the restaurant. Neither of them did, however, so I had to stick to my original plan of talking to Tyrone some other time. Since Ivan had to show up for his judging duties by three o’clock, he didn’t stick around The Flip Side as long as usual after it closed for the day, but Tommy was still there when I finished cleaning up the dining room.

  “Getting ready to head out?” I asked as I entered the kitchen and took in the sight of the clean and tidy work surfaces.

  Tommy took off his apron. “Yep. You?”

  “As soon as I grab my bag from the office.”

  Tommy was planning to watch some of the cooking competition, so we ended up walking over there together. By the time we arrived at the grocery store’s parking lot where the competition tent was once again set up, a small crowd had already gathered and spectators dotted the bleachers. I noticed someone waving at me from the seats and realized it was Lisa. I was about to head her way when I saw Quaid talking with Coach Hannigan near the tent.

  I still didn’t know what to make of the conversation I’d partially overheard between the coach and his mystery companion down by the beach. I’d probably never know what it was about, though, and I was more interested in Quaid at the moment.

  “Save a seat for me?” I requested of Tommy.

  He assured me that he would, and I continued past the bleachers to approach Quaid.

  Whatever the food blogger and former baseball coach had been talking about, their conversation drew to a close and the coach walked away. I intercepted Quaid before he could step beneath the tent’s canopy, where Ivan and Marielle stood talking with Patricia.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Mr. Hendrix,” I said, trying my best to sound sincere.

  He stopped midstride and looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m Marley McKinney. I own The Flip Side pancake house here in Wildwood Cove, and I stepped in last week when you weren’t able to judge the competition.”

  He stared down at me. “Good thing I’m back this week. At least one judge will know what they’re doing. Though I’ll probably get sick again, considering the crap I’ll likely get fed. I shudder to think who you people let through to the final round.”

  His attitude rendered me momentarily speechless.

  He brushed past me, jostling my arm. That seemed to loosen my tongue.

  “Has the sheriff talked to you about Demetra Kozani yet?”

  Quaid stopped short and turned around slowly. His dark gaze zeroed in on me, not the least bit friendly.

  “Why would he do that?”

  I didn’t think I imagined the subtle note of wariness beneath his cold words.

  “You knew her, didn’t you? I understand Sheriff Georgeson is talking to pretty much anyone who knew her.”

  “Since I didn’t know her, there’s no reason for the sheriff to talk to me.”

  His words were meant to dismiss me, but I got his attention back with my next words.

  “But weren’t the two of you in a relationship? She was seen visiting the cottage where you used to live.”

  He stepped closer, towering over me. “You’re mistaken,” he said, his voice all ice and steel. “And if you don’t want me telling the world that your little pancake house has a rat infestation, you’d better keep your unfounded accusations to yourself.”

  With one last glare down his nose at me, he strode away, not looking back.

  I stared after him, barely able to keep my mouth from hanging open.

  Someone gave my arm a gentle nudge. “Marley? What’s going on?”

  I realized Lisa was standing next to me. “I was talking to Quaid about Demetra.”

  “Did I hear him threatening you? Something about spreading rumors about rats at the pancake house?”

  To my relief, she lowered her voice and whispered that last part.

  “You heard right,” I confirmed. “That was after he denied knowing Demetra. But Lonny Barron saw her visiting Quaid’s cottage on more than one occasion.”

  “Lies and threats. Sounds like a suspect to me.”

  “And me,” I agreed.

  We both watched Quaid as he pulled out a chair at the judges’ table and dropped into it. A second later, he focused all his attention on his smartphone. The other judges and several of the contestants had gathered around the refreshments table. Hope wasn’t among them, I noticed.

  “I’m going to talk to Ivan for a second,” Lisa said. “I’m hoping he’ll come over to my place for dinner tonight.”

  She headed around the tent, and I figured I might as well join Tommy up on the bleachers. I was only halfway there when I caught sight of Hope crossing the street, heading for the parking lot. I called out her name, and it took her a moment to spot me by the foot of the bleachers. As I walked over to meet her, I noticed a crease across her forehead that wasn’t usually there. Her typical smile didn’t make an appearance when I greeted her, and she had anxiety written all over her face.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

  Tears glistened in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. “Not really. Lonny went to Port Angeles to talk to the sheriff earlier, and he’s still there.”

  “Being questioned?”

  Hope nodded and rummaged through her purse until she came up with a tissue.

  “But he hasn’t been arrested, has he?”

  “No,” she said, to my relief. “And when Lonny called, he said he wasn’t being detained or anything, but the sheriff wanted him to give a statement. I didn’t want him to do that without a lawyer, but he said everything would be fine.”

  She dabbed at her eyes as a couple of tears tried to escape.

  “He’s probably right,” I said, wishing for that to be the truth.

  She crumpled the tissue in her hand. “I can’t relax until I know he’s on his way home. I don’t even know if I’ll bother competing.”

  “But you worked hard to make it to the finals.”

  “None of that matters if Lonny’s in trouble.”

  “Maybe it will help pass the time,” I said.

  “I suppose.”

  “The teens haven’t started to compete yet, so you still have time to decide. Why don’t you sit down and see what happens over the next while?”

  She agreed to that plan and followed me over to the bleachers, where I found Lisa sitting next to Tommy. I sat down on Lisa’s right, with Hope on my other side. I was about to introduce her to Lisa, but it turned out they already knew each other. Hope had met Tommy before too, since she’d hired him to take some photos of the Wildwood Inn to use on the website she and Lonny had set up. Tommy did photography as a sideline, and I’d seen enoug
h of his photos to know he had talent. Patricia Murray would have asked him to take pictures at the competition except for the fact that Amy had been filling that role for years already, so she was asked first.

  Hope’s phone buzzed, and when she checked her text messages, she put a hand over her heart. “Thank God.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Lonny’s on his way home.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “It is.” She bit her lower lip as she tapped out a response and sent it. “He thinks he’s still under suspicion, but the sheriff didn’t arrest him.”

  “So do you think you’ll compete now?”

  Hope tucked her phone into her purse. “I think so. I might actually be able to concentrate now.” She drummed her fingers against her leg. “But word will probably get out that Lonny’s connected to the ring found with Demetra’s remains. What if that affects business at the inn when we open? If we don’t have guests during the tourist season, our business will go belly up before we’ve even had a chance to establish it.”

  “Try not to worry about that,” I said. “The inn doesn’t open for another couple of weeks. Maybe the case will be wrapped up before then.”

  “It would be a relief if it were.”

  Below us, it appeared as though the competition was getting ready to start. All three judges were seated at their table, and three of the four teen finalists were at their cooking stations. I’d only just figured out that it was Ellie Shaw who was missing when Sienna came running around the outside of the tent. She went straight to her mom and spoke to her quickly as she pointed beyond the tent.

  Patricia’s gaze snapped toward the bleachers, skimming over the spectators before coming to rest on a spot to our left.

  “Judith!” she called out as she briskly approached the bleachers.

  Ellie’s mother got up from her seat and made her way down toward Patricia.

  “I’m afraid Ellie’s fallen ill,” Patricia said.

  “Where is she?” Mrs. Shaw asked with alarm.

  “She threw up in some bushes,” Sienna said. “I’ll take you to her.”