by Nancy CoCo
“Will do,” she said and snitched a couple of pieces of sampler fudge from the open box on the reception desk. Popping it in her mouth, she chewed and smiled. “Good fudge.”
“Thanks,” I said. “The samples are for the senior center. I was going to take them down and ask questions. But you’ve given me something better to pursue. So, do you want to take the fudge to the center for me?”
“It will be my pleasure,” she said and swiped the box from the registration counter and tucked it under her arm. “See ya.”
“I will be asking the others at the center if they got the fudge,” I said as she headed out the door.
Carol waved at me and was gone in a flash.
The news about Peter put a whole new spin on things. Surely if Shane made a mistake he would own up to it, not hide it. We all made mistakes. While I couldn’t talk to Shane about it, I certainly could talk to Peter.
Frances and Douglas came back from lunch and I put Mal on her leash, gathered up my shipping boxes, and headed out the back door. I stopped so Mal could do her business in her favorite patch of grass on the other side of the alley.
“Well, good afternoon, Allie.”
I turned to see Mr. Beecher walking toward us. He always wore dress slacks, a waistcoat, and a suit coat. Today’s suit was brown tweed. With his white hair and white mustache, he reminded me of the snowman in the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer television special. “Hi, Mr. Beecher.”
Mal finished fast and ran to the old man. She jumped up and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small treat for her. Mal liked that he always had treats. Mr. Beecher was one of her favorite people.
“A fine afternoon, isn’t it?” he asked as he straightened up from patting Mal on the head and giving her the treat.
“It is warmer today than yesterday,” I said. “I didn’t get out my jacket. Only a sweater today. Summer is coming.”
“It’s your second tourist season. How are you doing? Do you feel more ready for it this time?”
“I don’t know if more ready are the words I would use, but I certainly have better support this time. I’ve made lots of good friends in the last year—including you.”
“I understand your Mal found another body,” he said.
“She seems to be able to root them out, doesn’t she?” I said. “Listen, do you know Peter Ramfield?”
“He was one of the painters who finished the outside of the McMurphy, right?”
“Yes. Carol told me he might have a grudge against Shane Carpenter. Shane’s evidence helped put him in jail.”
“I imagine he might have a grudge against Shane,” Mr. Beecher said. “Peter went to jail for five years over a felony theft conviction in St. Ignace. He did his time and has been a model citizen ever since.”
“So I shouldn’t worry about him being around the McMurphy?”
Mr. Beecher shook his head. “I don’t think so. I heard he has a new fiancée and is settling down in St. Ignace. Nothing like a good woman to get a man’s mind straight.”
“Do you think it would be safe for me to ask him some questions?”
“I don’t see why not,” Mr. Beecher said. “Like I said, Peter seems to have come out of the whole experience a better man.”
“Thanks, I said. “Have a great day.” I waved and he tipped his bowler hat to me as he started down the opposite way in the alley. “Well, Mal, we have to ship this fudge first. Then we can go see if we can’t hunt Peter down. He might be painting Harry’s place already. We’ll look there first.”
Mike and Peter had finished painting the McMurphy the day before. Harry told me they were going to squeeze his place in, which meant there was a good chance they were over there now.
With only two packages, we were in and out of the shipping store quickly. Harry’s place was a few blocks away from the store, so we strolled over there. The wind off the lake rippled my wavy hair. I tried tucking it back behind my ear. It smelled of spring and rain. I glanced up at the sky. Clouds were forming on the horizon.
“We’d better hurry,” I told Mal. “If it starts to rain they will pack up the painting and be gone before we can talk to them.”
We power walked our way to Harry’s place and, sure enough, Peter and Mike were up on ladders painting the main exterior a lovely blue gray. There were swatches of white on the trim and red on the accents of the trim.
“Hi, guys,” I said and waved up. “This is looking good.”
“Thanks, Allie!” Mike said and climbed down from his ladder. “We love these traditional red, white, and blue cottages.”
“So, blue with white trim and red accents?” I waved at the white and red swatches.
“Yes,” Mike said. “We painted swatches to get Harry’s opinion on the shades. The red, white, and blue were his suggestions.”
“Smart,” I said.
“What brings you out this way?” Mike asked. “Is there a problem with the McMurphy job?”
“Oh no, no problem, the McMurphy is her lovely self again,” I said. “Thanks so much. Mal and I were just out selling tickets to the policemen’s ball. Have you or Peter purchased tickets already?”
“I haven’t,” Mike said. “How much are they?”
“One hundred fifty dollars for a single and two hundred fifty for a couple. I’m sure your wife would love to go, and all profits go directly to the police and fire departments.”
“I’ll take a ticket for two,” he said and reached into his pocket for his wallet.
“Fantastic,” I said and pulled off a couple’s ticket. The tickets were inside envelopes that were labeled single or double. I took his money and handed him his envelope. “Thanks. Oh, do you mind if I talk to Peter for a few minutes?”
“Sure, no problem,” Mike said and put the envelope with the tickets in his back pocket. “Just don’t steal him for too long.”
“Thanks,” I said and went over to where Peter was painting the far side of the house. “Hi, Peter,” I said and waved.
“Allie,” he said from the top of the ladder. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said. Mal barked that she was good as well. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” He climbed down and then hopped off the ladder. “Mind if I take a swig of water?”
“No, go ahead,” I said.
He picked up a nearby water bottle and took a big gulp. Then he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I was wondering if you heard about Christopher Harris’s death,” I said.
“Sure. The whole island is buzzing,” he said. “I didn’t know the guy personally, but I feel bad for his family.”
“Do you remember talking to Shane Carpenter the night Christopher died?”
“Why do you ask? Is Shane the killer? I heard he had something to do with it.”
“Oh,” I said. “No, I’m convinced he isn’t the killer, but he’s not talking. Anyway, I was told you and Shane were seen talking that night. You caught him on the corner of Main Street and Astor. Then you both went into the pub.”
“Oh yeah,” he said and took another swig. “I heard Shane was getting married to your friend Jenn and I wanted to ask him for some advice when it comes to fi-ancées.” He blushed. “I’m not the best at relationships and I wanted to know how he was handling all the wedding hoopla.”
“I see,” I said. “Do you know how long you two talked?”
“I’d say about half an hour,” he said. “I bought us drinks and he only had one. Said he wasn’t feeling so good, and I asked him if he wanted me to walk with him. He must have been drinking a lot before I met him because he seemed to stumble a bit. He asked me to take him to his new cottage. I did and that was that.”
“Where’d you go afterward?”
“Is this an investigation?” he asked, mopping his forehead again.
“No, no,” I reassured him. “I’m just trying to retrace Shane’s steps.”
“I went back to the pub,” h
e said. “It was snooker night.”
“Thanks.” I touched his forearm. “This was really helpful. Say, do you want to buy tickets to the policemen’s ball? It’s a great place to bring a fiancée.”
“Sure,” he said and got out his wallet. “How much?”
“One hundred fifty for a single, two hundred fifty for a double.”
“I’d better take the double,” he said. “Don’t want to mess things up with my lady before the wedding.”
We exchanged money and the ticket. Mal sniffed his paint-covered work boots and barked.
“Oh Mal, I know I promised you a walk and I’ve stopped to talk,” I said. “Come on, then. Let’s finish and go home. I’ve got work to do on Jenn’s wedding.”
“Thanks for the tickets,” Peter said and he climbed up the ladder.
“Looks like a storm is brewing,” I said. “Stay safe!”
“We always do,” Peter said and picked up his paint sprayer, pulled a mask over his nose and mouth, and proceeded with spraying blue paint.
So, Shane had gotten drunk and Peter left him at the cottage. Seemed a little out of character for Shane but might explain why he missed dinner with Jenn. Also why he might be too embarrassed to own up to it.
So how did he come to be in that alley that night? What did he see that made him pick up the murder weapon with no gloves on?
Chapter 10
“You’re back later than I thought,” Frances said as I unhooked Mal from her halter and leash.
“I sold four tickets,” I said triumphantly as I handed her the cash. “Doubles to Mike and Peter, and I ran into Suzy Olds and Tracy Birk. They each bought doubles, too.”
“Wonderful,” Frances said.
“I also learned a bit more about Shane’s whereabouts the night Christopher was murdered.”
“Is it good news or bad?”
I explained to her what Peter told me. “I’m going to talk to Jenn to see if she knows why Shane might get so drunk he had to be walked back to the cottage.”
“Good call,” Frances said. “Oh, by the way. We’ve had everyone check out today. We don’t have guests coming in until Thursday for Jenn’s wedding.”
“That leaves us two days with no guests to spruce things up,” I said. “We can do a spring cleaning.”
“Things will pick up when the season gets going,” Frances said. “They always do.”
“I’m not going to worry. We have our discount offer and, like I said, it’s a good chance to air out the rooms and do some deep cleaning. I’ll go get started.”
“You make a good innkeeper,” Frances said.
“Yes, well, if we do get any walk-ins, please tell them we have availability. Even the best innkeepers need a steady income stream.”
“Will do,” she said and went back to her computer.
* * *
Later that afternoon Jenn walked into the office carrying a gorgeous bouquet of fresh-cut flowers in a vase.
“Those are beautiful,” I said. “Did the florist give them to you for inspiration?”
“Nope,” Jenn said and grinned as she set them on my desktop. “These are for you.”
“For me? Who would send me flowers?”
“Read the card,” Jenn advised.
I was so surprised. I loved getting flowers, but Trent had been the only to buy me flowers and we had broken up months ago. I grabbed the card and opened it and read: Thanks for dinner last night. Thinking of you, Harry.
“It’s from Harry,” I said and smelled the lovely fragrance from them.
“So, the date went very well, then.” Jenn waggled her eyebrows at me.
“This was very sweet,” I said. “I’m going to text him.” I opened up my phone and texted Harry a nice thank-you.
“He sure knows how to make you blush,” Jenn teased.
“I love flowers,” I said. My phone chimed with a text. I glanced down. It was Harry, telling me that I was welcome and he hoped I would have dinner with him in two days. “He wants to go to dinner again in two days,” I said. “Do you think that’s too soon? I mean, we do have guests coming in for your wedding. Oh wait, that would be Thursday, and we’re doing the bachelorette party. I guess I have to say no.”
“The question is, do you want to say no?” Jenn asked.
“Of course I do; I’ve planned a super fun girl’s night that evening. I’ll ask if we can do it another time.”
“So next week, stop and take a break and enjoy some time with a beautiful man,” Jenn said.
“You know, you’re right, I should. Wait, Rex asked me to be his plus-one at your wedding.”
“You are my maid of honor and he is the best man,” Jenn said with a twinkle in her eye. “Do you want me to ask Harry to come?”
“Oh, um, can I say no?”
She laughed. “Of course you can say no. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said and studied the beautiful bouquet. “Rex isn’t exactly buying me flowers and Melonie is still on the island, trying to get him to see her as marriage material—er, remarriage material.” I leaned back. “I have a question. Would you feel any different about Shane if he had two divorces behind him?”
Jenn sat on the edge of my desk. “I might,” she said. “It’s hard to separate the man from the failed marriages. Was it bad luck? Was he bad at picking wives? I’m not sure, but it seems the odds might go up of you being exwife number three.”
“It doesn’t help that Rex has been dragging his feet for a year,” I said. “It’s on-again, off-again. Why couldn’t I have just married my high school sweetheart and spent my whole life with him, like my parents? None of this weird dating stuff.”
“Did you have a high school sweetheart?” Jenn asked and crossed her arms.
“No,” I said and frowned. “You know I didn’t have time for that. All my time was spent preparing to enter the Culinary Institute.”
“Just be honest with Harry. Tell him you’re going to my wedding with Rex.”
I sighed. “I had such a good time with Harry last night. I like him, too.”
“Then tell him that, too,” she said. “Honesty is the best policy in relationships.”
“Speaking about that, has Shane told you what happened yet?”
“No.” Jenn shook her head. “He said it was for my own protection, but frankly, I think he’s embarrassed about the whole thing.”
“What if I told you that he not only had drinks with Annie Hawthorn that night, but also Peter Ramfield? In fact, Peter told me that they talked for about thirty minutes and Shane became really drunk. So Peter asked to walk him to the cottage so he could lie down for a while and sober up.”
Jenn’s eyebrows pulled together. “Shane never gets drunk. Is Peter certain that’s what happened?”
“Very certain,” I said. “So he walked Shane to your cottage and left him there. It would explain why Shane stood you up. Did you check the cottage that night?”
“I did,” Jenn said and pursed her lips. “The cottage was the first place I went, but I didn’t see him. Of course there was no power and I was using a flashlight, but it seems like if he were there, I would have seen him.”
“You probably just missed him,” I said.
“Hmph,” she said. “Then how did he end up in that alley with a knife in his hand?”
“I’m going to keep digging, but I’m thinking only Shane knows, and possibly Rex, if Shane told him.”
Jenn shook her head. “It’s all so weird.”
“I know,” I said and stood and hugged her. “But we’re going to get to the bottom of this and finish the plans for your wedding. Don’t forget, tomorrow we have hair appointments.”
“I didn’t forget,” she assured me. “We’re doing the hair and makeup consultation. I am so glad Emma didn’t mind us doing one.”
“She’s doing it for free, right? How’d you manage that?” I asked.
“I’m sending her all the ladies in the Wilkins wedding,” Jenn said. “U
nlike my two bridesmaids, Jessica has nine.”
“Wow, I don’t think I know nine women who would want to be in my wedding,” I said. “That is, if I were getting married.”
“If you had married Trent, I’m sure they would have come up with nine bridesmaids for you to make everything look grand.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”
“Have you seen Paige?” she asked. Paige Jessop was Trent’s sister and she had taken over management of all the businesses on the island the Jessops owned. There were a lot.
“No,” I said. “I heard she was on the island, but I’ve been busy and so, most likely, is she.”
“We should invite her for girls’ night,” Jenn said. “I invited her to the wedding. She sent back her RSVP with a plus-one.”
“Really?” I said. In the year I’d known Paige, I’d never seen her dating anyone. I figured whoever her boyfriend was, he lived in Chicago, where her family and now Trent resided full time.
“Yes,” Jenn said. “I can’t wait to see who she’s dating.”
“Let’s talk bachelorette party,” I said. “I’ve invited Sandy Everheart, Liz, Sophie, Mary Emry, Frances . . . and now Paige. Is there anyone else you’d like there?”
“No, I think eight is enough,” she said.
“I booked the back room of the Boar’s Head,” I said. “They will supply an open bar and a buffet of sliders, nachos, quesadillas, and other bar foods. Then there will be cake.”
“Yes, we have to have cake,” Jenn said. “What kind of cake?”
“Your favorite, ‘’ I said.
“Lemon?”
“Yes,” I said.
“From Suzy’s Cakes?”
“Yes,” I said. “There will also be a few games and some fun surprises.”
“Sounds fabulous,” Her eyes twinkled with delight.
“I thought I’d schedule it the night before the wedding, but I changed it to two nights before,” I said. “To give us all time to recover so our skin looks better for the pictures.”
“Smart woman!” Jenn said. “I’m going to suggest that for all my clients. Let the men look all hung over. Just one thing,” she said.
