by Mel McCoy
“That’s so sweet of her.”
“Yes, and Danny has been equally sweet. He’s been doing all the heavy lifting around here lately and I’m so proud of him. He held my hand in the hospital.” Patricia paused, looking around, and leaned forward. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but I think I heard him crying and praying for me. Poor guy was devastated.”
“What happened that you were in the hospital?”
“My ticker’s not what it used to be,” she said, pressing one hand against her chest. “Nancy found me on the floor, right over there.” Patricia pointed to the floor by the counter. “Nancy was hysterical. It was Danny who took me to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be sorry, dear. You’re not the one who gave me a bad heart,” Patricia said, with a laugh.
The front door opened as more customers filed in. Nancy walked over briskly with two sets of porcelain tea cups and saucers on a serving tray lined with paper doilies. She set down the serving tray and placed one small cup in front of Sarah and the other in front of Patricia. “There you go. Enjoy,” she said and hurried off to serve the next customer.
“Did they say what might have been the cause?” Sarah asked.
“The doctor’s said it could have been due to stress. Most women my age are retired, but I’m still kicking. Busy as a bee. Though, my grandkids think it was the stress of the rent increase coupled with getting ready for the season.”
“Yes, I heard that John Jacobs increased everyone’s rent.”
“By twenty percent,” Patricia said, her eyes wide, and Sarah could see a tinge of anger behind them.
“You do know he’s—”
“Dead. Yeah, I know about that.”
Sarah took a breath, then said what was on her mind without another moment’s hesitation. “I heard you threatened him.”
Patricia froze. “Threatened? I don’t threaten anyone. It’s not the way I was raised.”
“I heard you said you were going to clobber him over the head with your cane.”
Sarah studied Patricia’s face as she asked the question. It seemed like a light went on in Patricia’s eyes suddenly. “Oh, that! Well, I didn’t mean that. He just roused me up that day. He had come in here to cause trouble.”
“About the rent increase?” Sarah said.
“No, he told everyone about the rent increase well over a week ago.”
“Oh, what day did you threaten him, then?”
“The day before he died, I think.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “What? What happened?”
“He comes in here and asks me about my oatmeal cookies, needs a box of them for a dinner party or something like that. I tell him that I can whip up a fresh batch in 24 hours. I got other orders, you know. That’s not good enough for him. He needs them tonight!” Patricia paused, taking a sip of her tea. “I don’t normally do this, but I think, what the heck, I understand that we all get into a bind from time to time, and I offer to get them done before this party, but he’ll have to pay extra for a rush order and to come back in five hours. He agrees. He comes back and he wants to try one of the cookies. I have to admit, I was taken back by this, as everyone knows my oatmeal cookies.”
“Does he normally order oatmeal cookies?”
“Come to think of it, no. I don’t think he’s ever ordered an oatmeal cookie here,” Patricia said, thinking. “Or any cookie, for that matter.”
“Hm.” Maybe he’s just not into cookies, Sarah thought. “So, what happened next?”
“Well, he comes back, tries the cookie, and spits it out in front of me and several of my customers. He says that they are no good. I ask him why, what’s wrong with them? And he says that they are too dry and way too sweet.”
“Oh, boy.”
“‘Oh, boy’ is right,” Patricia said. “Of course, I was offended, and he embarrassed me in front of my customers. I apologized to him and told him I could make him something else. I mean, I’m not going to adjust an old family recipe just to his liking. He tells me to forget about it. He doesn’t have the time, and goes to walk away. I told him to hold up. He still owes me for the cookies, including the rush-order fee. That was the deal. He says no way is he going to pay for something as disgusting as those cookies.”
Sarah gasped. “He said that in front of your customers?”
“Word for word. Practically yelled it to the heavens. I’ll never forget,” Patricia said, shaking her head. “Well,” Patricia paused, face flushed. “That’s when, I guess you can say, I threatened him. Told him that I would clobber him over the head the next chance I got. He laughs and walks out the door without paying a single cent. By then, the show was over, and the remaining customers left. Can you believe that? Next thing I know, my chest begins to tighten and I’m on the floor, and the next morning, I wake up in the hospital and I hear John Jacobs has drowned.”
Patricia hesitated, then continued, “I’m ashamed to say this but, I remember my first thought was ‘good for him.’ But I immediately felt guilty for even thinking like that. He wasn’t a well-liked man, but no one deserves to drown.”
Sarah nodded, also feeling ashamed of herself to think it would be Patricia who was behind John Jacobs’ death. In fact, how could she think that this poor woman would even have the ability or strength to pull off a crime like that? Sarah could kick herself for allowing her cousin to get into her head. “I’m so sorry for everything you went through.”
Sarah hurried home. She had to get to her cousin and let her know that Patricia had more than a solid alibi the night of John Jacobs’ death. Not only did she have witnesses of her whereabouts that night, but she had been tended to by nurses and doctors all night.
Inside the store, Rugby and Winston played, and Emma shook her head. “These dogs are driving me crazy.”
Larry came out from the back office, his hair disheveled.
“How’s the order going?” Sarah asked.
Larry shook his head, like a doctor delivering bad news through somber body language. “I need a break. I think I’ll take over watching the store awhile.” Larry sat down behind the counter.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Sarah said. She turned to her cousin. “Hey, Emma, what do you say we take these dogs for a walk? What do you think?” Sarah gave her cousin a wink, the signal that she had a secret to tell.
At the word “walk,” Rugby sprung up, hopping around in circles.
“Please! Let’s,” Emma said.
They leashed up the dogs and she and Emma said goodbye to their grandpa and stepped out onto the street. Winston walked alongside Sarah, leash slacked, unlike Rugby, who pulled a bit for the first five minutes of the walk, with excitement. Sarah was surprised at how well Winston walked. Whoever his owner was, they had definitely spent time training him.
They walked past the Tea Room, and Emma turned to Sarah. “So, what’s going on? Did you talk to Patricia?”
“Yeah, but—” Sarah started. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure standing between the Tea Room and the neighboring building.
“Oh, geez,” Emma said to the man, who Sarah recognized as Patricia Greensmith’s grandson, Danny. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry,” Danny said. He looked at the dogs, a puzzled look on his face. “New dog?”
“We found him,” Sarah said. “Spread the word that we found a corgi named Winston last night, right before the storm hit.”
Danny didn’t say a word, still focused on the dogs.
Before he could say what was on his mind, Sarah and Emma both waved and strode off.
“What a goof,” Emma said. “So, tell me about what you learned from his nana. Is she the murderer?”
“First, they still don’t know if there was any foul play—still classified as an accident. Grandpa was right, you do jump to con—”
“So do you,” Emma cut in. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to talk to our only suspect.”
“Well, one
thing I know for sure is that it wasn’t her.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because she has a solid alibi with many witnesses on her that entire night, including paperwork that will corroborate her whereabouts.”
Emma looked at Sarah, confused. “Where was she?”
“Cascade Memorial Hospital. She had problems with her heart that day and she collapsed. Danny rushed her to the hospital.”
Emma’s mouth dropped. “How come I didn’t hear about this?”
“You know Patricia, she doesn’t give everything away unless you ask.”
“What about the threat?”
Sarah explained Patricia’s story about the oatmeal cookies and John Jacobs.
“Wow. Poor Patricia. First, her cookies are insulted, and then she has a heart attack.”
“And then we suspect her of foul play,” Sarah added.
As they walked along, Sarah felt the sun warm her face. She hadn’t worn sunscreen, and she made a note to remember for next time—the last thing she wanted was another lobster face this summer.
Both Rugby and Winston were sluggish by the time they made it to the end of the strip and back. There were more people than when Sarah had arrived, the only indication that the busy season was soon to arrive. Shop owners were cleaning their display windows. Off-season vacationers were enjoying one last bit of calm before the true storm that would sweep across the Cove. Its pristine beaches, beautiful sunsets, and historic lighthouse were a magnet for off-season vacationers and summer tourists alike, the latter enjoying the shops, wake boarding, parasailing, and the small amusement park at the end of the boardwalk that would soon be lit up and alive again.
They stopped into the ice cream shop and ordered two vanilla and chocolate swirl cones. They took their treats out and sat on a bench, looking out at the businesses on the opposite side.
“I’m glad it’s just a coincidence and still an accident,” Sarah said.
Emma nodded, but said nothing.
Sarah continued, “I can’t imagine what a murderer would do to our little town this summer.”
“Do you think tourists would catch wind of that and not come?”
“Probably.”
Sarah sat with her cousin and thought about what would happen to their town, the local businesses, her grandpa…
“I bet it’s all just in our heads,” Sarah said, finishing her ice cream cone. She hoped that was true.
If not, the next two weeks would be very interesting if a killer were on the loose.
Chapter 7
Once finished with their ice cream cones, Sarah and Emma walked the dogs across the street, and strode along the sand-swept walkway until they reached their grandpa’s boutique. An intermittent breeze cooled Sarah’s skin, giving her much needed reprieve from the heat.
“Cover for me, Emma,” Larry said the moment they were in the main shop area. “I’m going to make some lunch.”
“It’s about time,” Emma said, taking Larry’s place.
“Come with me,” Larry said to Sarah. He followed her, both dogs now with them, and they made their way up to the apartment. Once there, she closed the door and saw her grandpa lumber toward the kitchen.
Sarah let the dogs off their leashes, and they bolted across the kitchen to their bowls of food and water. Misty had just finished her food and leapt up onto a chair, out of the way of the two wild dogs, licking her paw to clean her face.
Sarah heard them crunching on kibble as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen table.
“What’s this?” Sarah asked, though she didn’t have to. It was one of Grandma’s scrapbooks. “Is Grandma back already?”
“Oh heavens, no,” Larry said, fishing ingredients out of the fridge. “I just like paging through them. Memory lane and all…”
Sarah sat down and leafed through the scrapbook. “Wow, these pictures are ancient.”
“Your grandma and I always said that her scrapbooks belonged in the library—good source of local lore.”
“A visual history book.”
Larry walked over to her and stood beside her chair, craning his neck to see what page she was on.
“Exactly. Sometimes she writes captions,” Larry said, and pointed to handwritten notes below one of the pictures.
“I can’t read that,” Sarah said, squinting.
“Hmm, let’s see,” Larry said, leaning closer. “Walter Greensmith and George Jacobs.”
Sarah recognized both last names.
“Greensmith, is that…”
“Patricia’s late husband, yes,” Larry said, index finger tapping against the man on the left.
“And this man on the right…”
“That’s John Jacobs’ father. He’s gone too.”
“Did you know them?”
“Of course, I’ve been here long enough to know about their firm.”
“Firm?”
“Let’s just say, they were longtime partners. Owned a lot of the land in the area, back when this town was even smaller than it is now, and we had nothing more than a dirt road, the lighthouse, and the pier. Well, a little more than that, but you get the picture.”
Sarah thought about this new information, though it was no surprise that Patricia Greensmith had more than one connection to John Jacobs. It was a town where everyone knew everyone else, and gossip flew around faster than the seagulls.
“Hmm,” Sarah said, and paged through the scrapbook.
“Lots of goodies in there,” Larry said. “See, there’s me and your grandma before we even moved down here. Well before you were a twinkle in your father’s eyes.”
Sarah looked at the old picture. Larry’s hair was still just as curly and light-colored, though it was hard to tell what shade of blond it was in the black and white photo. She gazed upon her grandmother, who was probably Sarah’s current age in the picture.
“Those were the good old days,” Larry said, staring intently at the picture. “Hopefully you’ll get to see that amazing woman before you go.”
“I hope so too.”
“You can keep paging through,” Larry said. “I need to cook up some grub.”
Larry walked toward his array of ingredients and started up the stove’s burners to make bacon for BLTs.
Sarah continued to page through the scrapbook, seeing a bunch of familiar faces and some not-so-familiar faces. Eventually, she closed the book when she smelled the completed lunch.
“Here you go,” Larry said, putting a plate off to the side of the book. Larry picked up the book and carried it into the living room. There, she saw him place it on a bookshelf. She’d have to revisit that scrapbook again, if not just to take another peek into the past.
Finishing her lunch, Sarah felt the necklace around her neck, the antique pendant’s weight noticeable. She took off the locket and set it down on the table, then took her plate into the kitchen, putting it in the dishwasher.
Sarah got her sneakers on and started toward the door to head back down to the boutique. She heard Larry’s voice behind her. “I’m going to clean up,” he said. “I’ll be down in a jiffy.”
Down in the boutique, Sarah saw Emma practically falling asleep behind the counter. Rugby and Winston raced over to where Emma sat, startling her. She and Misty were much alike, and when resting, preferred to be left alone. Now, with a bustle of activity, Emma simply rose from the stool and stretched toward the ceiling.
Larry came in a moment later, and Sarah turned to see him sauntering in, surprised that he cleaned up so quickly. He looked like he was a man on a mission. Stepping behind the counter, he pressed a few buttons on the register. The register drawer flew open and he stared down at the different denominations of bills and coins.
“Did we make any sales today?” Larry asked, placing a Tupperware container with Emma’s BLT in it on the counter next to the register.
Emma shifted her weight to one side, eyeing up her lunch. “A woman came in with her dachshund and bought a few
items. Twenty dollars, maybe.”
“That’s a start,” Larry said, nodding.
“Yeah,” Emma said, pulling off the top of the Tupperware and revealing her sandwich. “We’ll have a lot more than that in sales by lunch time when the busy season hits.”
Larry closed the register drawer and let out a sigh. “Let’s hope so.”
“We did well last year.”
“I know, but it’s been getting tougher and tougher.”
Sarah made her way over to the counter and looked under it. She’d placed the flyers she made for Winston in one of the drawers, and found them quickly. “I’m going to walk around and spread word about Winston.”
“Good idea,” Larry said. “Don’t forget to tack a few of those flyers to the telephone poles.”
“I will. I’m taking the dogs with me.”
Sarah got the dogs leashed up and was out the door only a few minutes later.
Their walk was longer than usual that afternoon. Sarah made one stop after another, going into whatever businesses were open. Half of them still weren’t, so she made note that she’d have to cycle back through the town in the coming days as more and more of the family businesses got ready.
She tacked a few flyers to a pole here and a bulletin board there. In the small, corner grocery store, she utilized a large open space on the community cork board. She was glad that she went with neon-green paper, as the flyer really stood out among all the black and white announcements, business cards, and flyers.
Sarah said hello to many people she’d seen every summer. She stopped in to see Gordy, the owner of the delicatessen, where she got a few complimentary slices of salami and bologna. The next stop was Surf’s Up, an off-the-wall surf shop run by a mother and her twin daughters, Faye and Isabella. In that shop, Rugby and Winston both enjoyed being petted by the twins, their mother, and several of the customers who were browsing around.
So far, nobody had any clue as to who Winston belonged to.
“Come on, guys,” Sarah said to her two canine companions and pressed on to continue their journey across town.
