Panic at the Pier

by Mel McCoy

  Emma raised her voice. “You knew Jacobs. Admit it.”

  “Please, that’s enough,” Sarah said to Emma, but it was too late.

  Emma had already reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture of Marigold and John Jacobs standing side by side. She held it up toward Marigold. “You knew him,” Emma said. “Here you are with him.”

  “Are you accusing me of—”

  “No,” Sarah cut in, “of course not. We’re not accusing you of anything. We’re just curious about—”

  “If you have to know,” Marigold said above Sarah, voice firm, “I was with Charlotte that evening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get on with my day.”

  Marigold stormed off. By the time Sarah turned around to watch the woman rush away, she had already entered the Bar and Grill, door closing behind her.

  Sarah and Emma gawked at each other.

  Emma was the first the speak: “Did Marigold just say she was with Charlotte the night John Jacobs was killed?”

  Chapter 16

  “Yeah, that’s what she said,” Sarah said, stepping away from the restaurant and back out to the main strip. “So Marigold was with John Jacobs’ wife, Charlotte, the night of the murder…”

  Emma strode by her side, silent.

  They both walked slowly, minds spinning from the new information.

  Then Emma spoke up, “So we should probably swing by Jacobs Manor to talk to Charlotte.”

  Sarah’s chest tensed. “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sarah thought of the foreboding house and the creepy feeling she got when she was there last, standing outside the wrought-iron gate. She thought of the fact that a murder had likely taken place there. But she had a mission, and Charlotte Jacobs was the next puzzle piece—she needed to be questioned.

  “Nothing,” Sarah said, finally. “Next stop: Jacobs Manor.”

  They forged on, walking past Larry’s Pawfect Boutique with not much more than a glance, set on getting to the bottom of the mystery of what exactly happened to John Jacobs.

  Before long, the wrought-iron fence came into view. They continued on until they reached the main gate. The gate was open, so they walked along the driveway and toward the house.

  At the door, Sarah lifted the large knocker to rap on the door several times.

  They waited for half a minute, though to Sarah it felt like an hour.

  Behind them, a car drove by and then was gone.

  She could hear the sound of waves crashing on the other side of the house.

  Sarah knocked a second time, and then they waited once again.

  “Nobody’s home,” Emma said, and she started off along the front of the house.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Maybe she’s outside somewhere. Let’s check it out…”

  Sarah hurried to catch up with her cousin. Around the back of the house, she could see the ocean off to her right. The dunes were high, topped with beachgrass that swayed in the occasional gust of wind. Between two of the dunes, Sarah saw a wooden walkway.

  “I don’t see her back here,” Emma said, focused on the back of the house.

  When Sarah reached the gap between the dunes, she saw that the wooden walkway led out to the pier. It was a private entrance, which Sarah then realized must’ve been owned and controlled by the Jacobs family.

  Her eyes ran along the wooden pier, the blissful scene marred by the yellow crime scene tape near the middle of the pier. Before the crime tape, she saw a figure.

  “Emma,” Sarah called over her shoulder. “Maybe that’s her…”

  “Only one way to find out,” Emma said, rushing down toward where Sarah stood.

  They walked out onto the pier, stepping closer to whoever was standing out there. Sarah’s heart raced as they approached the mysterious person.

  “Looks like a woman,” Sarah said, now getting a better look at the features that had been difficult to see with the glare of the sun.

  As they grew closer, the woman turned around. She appeared to be in her late forties, maybe fifties. Her hair was up in a French twist, and she wore dangling earrings and a long, wispy dress that danced gently with the wind.

  “This is a private pier,” the woman called.

  “Mrs. Jacobs?” Sarah asked.

  The middle-aged woman stepped closer toward the entrance of the pier, where Sarah and Emma currently were.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked, face scrunched up in a scowl.

  “I’m Sarah Shores and this is my cousin, Emma. Larry Shores is our grandpa.”

  The woman stepped up so she was only a few yards from them, and she shaded her face with her hand, squinting. Suddenly, the sides of her mouth turned up slightly and her brows went from furrowed to relaxed.

  “Oh, of course!” Charlotte Jacobs said. “How’s Larry doing?”

  Sarah and Emma approached her. “Good. He’s staying busy at the boutique,” Emma said.

  “Ah yes, the pet boutique.” Charlotte took a deep breath, shifting her gaze off toward the ocean. “I haven’t been there in a while,” she said, looking off into the water.

  Sarah saw a couple walking down on the beach below. They disappeared under the pier for a moment, then reappeared on the other side and continued along.

  “More and more tourists will be coming soon,” Charlotte said, gazing upon the couple.

  Sarah thought she saw a forlorn look in the woman’s eyes. Perhaps she was thinking about her late husband.

  Sarah said, “So sorry to hear about Mr. Jacobs.”

  Charlotte peered at the couple for a few long moments, then turned back to Sarah. “Thank you.”

  Emma said, “It’s terrible.”

  “At least John lived a long, productive life,” Charlotte said, as if she were trying to comfort Sarah and Emma. “It’s unfortunate, sure, but he’s had his fair share of time on this Earth.”

  “Are you okay?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “We haven’t seen you around town much,” Emma said.

  The woman smiled. “Then you’re not looking hard enough. I go into town to meet with my friends quite often.”

  “We ran into one of them today,” Sarah said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Marigold Dunham.”

  “Oh, of course. She’s a sweetheart. Like a daughter to me.”

  Sarah nodded, choosing her next words carefully. Before she could say anything, Emma pulled out the picture of Marigold and her late husband.

  “We were going through an old scrapbook and found this picture,” Emma said, handing the picture to Charlotte.

  “Well, look at that,” Charlotte said, looking at the picture with a smile. It wasn't the reaction Sarah or Emma expected. “I remember that day well.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure do. I took this picture.”

  Sarah looked at Emma for a moment, as Mrs. Jacobs stared at the picture, clearly filled with nostalgia.

  “You took this picture?” Emma asked.

  “Of course!”

  “So do you get together with Marigold often?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said. “Just saw her last Friday. I was going to go to a dinner party, but I had a bad evening and didn't feel like being around too many people. So, Marigold picked me up, and I went to her place to stay the night.”

  Sarah and Emma exchanged glances again. Friday was the night of the murder. So, as long as she wasn’t lying, her story seemed to corroborate with Marigold’s. Still, Sarah had to dig some more.

  “Was that the night of—”

  “Yes, imagine coming home to that news. But thank goodness for Marigold…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Marigold had been helping me through a rough patch. John and I were in the middle of a divorce. That night, she was helping me cope with all the stress John was causing me. The whole legal battle and all. That evening, John was just downright miserable, angry
. I’m lucky to have a friend like her who can keep such a big secret between us. I really didn't want the divorce to get out. You know how this town is with gossip.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear,” Sarah said, keeping her face neutral.

  Charlotte looked out at the waves crashing upon the shore and said, “All that mess gave me something to be tired about. But now…oh, I don’t want to bother you with all of this.”

  Sarah smiled sweetly. “It’s quite all right, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  “You can call me Charlotte,” she said with a smile. “I just don’t know how to feel right now.”

  “Maybe we should go. We shouldn’t be bothering you during this time.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. You want some lemonade or something?”

  “Uh, no. We’re alright,” Emma said, politely.

  Charlotte smiled. “How about some tea? I can make us some hors d’oeuvres and we can have ourselves a little tea party.”

  Emma and Sarah looked at each other for a moment before Sarah spoke. “No, we should be going. Grandpa is probably waiting for us.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, looking out toward the horizon.

  Back at the boutique, Larry was finishing up helping a customer with the purchase of a collar and leash. He rang up the customer and bagged the items.

  Sarah could tell he was in a good mood—the cash register was ringing.

  Of course, the killer was still on the loose and she felt like they were farther away from figuring out who murdered John Jacobs.

  “Okay, I’m going to get some dinner ready,” Larry said.

  Sarah nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “Hey, I have an idea! You can invite your friend Adam.” Larry waggled his brows at Sarah.

  “Will you stop that?” Sarah said. Her grandparents were always trying to set her up with Adam, ever since she was a kid.

  Larry laughed.

  Then it dawned on Sarah. Adam! She forgot to call him. She had been so wrapped up finding lead after lead that she’d forgotten to give him the update. Perhaps, with Adam there, they could go over what they knew and come up with a theory based on all of their current information.

  “I’ll text him,” Sarah said.

  “Now, that’s the right attitude,” Larry said. “Let him know I’ll be making his favorite: lasagna with my super-secret sauce.”

  Sarah texted Adam, and received a message back accepting the invitation. A few seconds later, she received another text from Adam, stating he had something big to tell her about the Jacobs case and that he would tell her in person when he got there.

  The hours passed, and the boutique had an intermittent flow of customers, mostly small-ticket items purchased by some locals.

  With the shop empty of customers, Sarah and Emma sat behind the counter. Rugby padded by, on his way to his water bowl. The sounds of him lapping up water filled the boutique.

  The seconds ticked by as they sat in silence.

  Emma said, “Was it just me or did Charlotte do a one-eighty back there?”

  “I definitely noticed.”

  “Yeah, one minute she seems to be mourning her husband and the next she’s smiling and ready to have a party.”

  “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but her mood definitely changed.”

  “Almost like it was all an act.” Emma paused. “And she seems to still be under the impression that it was an accident.”

  Sarah did pick up on Charlotte Jacobs calling her husband’s death an accident, but chalked it up to the woman’s grief.

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said. “I mean, I guess we all grieve differently. And we have to take into consideration that they were in the middle of an ugly divorce.”

  “True.”

  Winston walked by, going over toward where Rugby now lay. The corgi yawned, which in turn caused Sarah to yawn.

  “Yawns are contagious, even between species?” Emma asked.

  “Apparently.”

  “So, I’m stumped.”

  “About what?”

  “If Marigold and Charlotte were together the night of the murder, then who killed Mr. Jacobs?”

  Sarah shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. Let’s see what Adam has when he gets here.”

  Before long, it was closing time. They locked up the store and took the dogs upstairs. Misty was already in the apartment, and fled upon seeing Rugby and Winston. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood to harass them.

  Sarah saw that the table was set for four and smiled. It had been several years since she’d had dinner with Adam. She remembered the last time, they had talked about Adam beginning his career. She’d been impressed with his drive, and intrigued by his mission in life: to serve and protect, bringing justice to the small town of Cascade Cove.

  Tonight’s conversation, she knew, would be just as interesting.

  A rap at the door caused both dogs to bark as they raced across the living room to greet their guest.

  Larry answered the door.

  “Hello there, Adam,” Larry said, shaking the young man’s hand.

  “Hi, Mr. Shores.”

  Adam waved to Sarah and Emma, and they walked over to him, taking turns giving him brief hugs.

  “You hungry?” Larry asked, putting his oven mitts on to check his masterpiece, sizzling in the oven.

  “Famished.”

  “Long day?”

  “Long week.”

  They all sat down around the dinner table. Larry asked, “Anyone want some wine? Got a few bottles of my favorites from Dunham Vineyards.”

  They agreed on a wine and Larry poured four glasses.

  Larry lifted his glass and everyone else followed suit. “To a happy and prosperous peak season,” Larry said, and they all clinked their glasses together.

  “That’s if the murderer is apprehended,” Emma said.

  Sarah noted her grandpa’s expression sour slightly, but then he perked back up again upon taking a sip of the wine. “My favorite.”

  Adam sipped the wine as well and said, “I’ve never had Dunham’s wine. It’s delicious.”

  “Eh,” Emma said, “I’ve had better.”

  Larry waved dismissively. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Okay, now…Dig in, everyone.”

  They took turns filling their plates with a slice of Grandpa Larry’s famous lasagna, salad, and homemade bread sticks.

  “So,” Adam said, setting his wine glass down after taking another sip. “I’ve found out something very interesting.”

  “What?” Sarah asked.

  “I did some digging about what you told me earlier.”

  Emma leaned forward. “And?”

  “It’s about John and Charlotte…”

  “Oh, I’ve been meaning to call Charlotte,” Larry said.

  “Grandpa,” Emma said, “let Adam finish.”

  “Sorry.”

  Sarah took a sip of wine, waiting for Adam to continue.

  “So,” Adam said, “it turns out that a week before Mr. Jacobs passed, his life insurance policy was increased dramatically.”

  Sarah nearly spit her wine. She looked over to Emma and said, “My goodness. This changes everything.”

  Chapter 17

  “It sure does,” Adam said, taking a bite of his lasagna.

  “They’re probably both in cahoots,” Emma said, shaking her head. “We learned that Marigold’s car was parked outside Jacobs’ house the night of the murder.”

  “We already knew about that,” Adam said. “Charlotte was the first person we questioned about her husband’s murder and she said that Marigold picked her up. She stayed the night with her. We then called Marigold in to corroborate her whereabouts.”

  Emma and Sarah looked at each other. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Sarah asked.

  “Didn’t think it was important, I guess. Their stories matched on day one, so we ruled Charlotte out.”

  “Yeah, well after what you just found out about t
he life insurance policy being increased, they might very well be using each other as a means to a solid alibi.”

  “We still don’t have any proof,” Adam said.

  “I know, but hear me out. Charlotte could’ve been growing tired of the cranky old man, and so she decides to get a divorce. That could net her half of his money.”

  “Unless he had her sign a prenup,” Emma said.

  “Prenups aren’t common amongst us older folks,” Larry chimed in.

  “So why wouldn’t she be happy with half of his wealth?” Adam asked.

  Sarah scratched her chin. “Maybe Charlotte had asked Marigold for help with something regarding the divorce.”

  “Saw dollar signs,” Emma said. “Probably put Charlotte up to getting Jacobs to increase the life insurance.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah continued, “and if Charlotte didn’t like her husband, it’s not a stretch to imagine Marigold manipulating her into having her husband ‘taken care of.’”

  Emma nodded. “Right. It could be a whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’ deal, where Marigold took care of the deed in exchange for a cut of the money.”

  “Could also explain Charlotte’s peculiar behavior back at the pier today.”

  “And Marigold dodging questions.”

  Adam looked at both Sarah and Emma. “What do you mean?”

  Sarah and Emma told Adam about their run-ins with Marigold and Charlotte that day.

  Adam took a sip of wine, then placed his glass down, clinking slightly against his plate. “Still pure speculation.”

  “I think it is,” Larry said, wiping his face with a napkin. “Sarah, I think Emma’s gotten into your head a bit, don’t you think? Marigold is a sweet young lady and Charlotte is a kind woman. I don't see them causing harm to anyone.”

  Adam sighed, but remained silent.

  Sarah said, “If the motive is money, which would definitely be the case for Marigold since she’ll probably be losing the winery, then—”

  “But why would Charlotte risk it?” Larry interrupted. “Maybe I can see the case for Marigold, I really can, but Charlotte…she’s been around for quite a while and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her hurt so much as a fly. I just don’t see it.”