by Cat Chandler
Nicki tilted her head to the side as she studied his face. “And was it?”
“Oh certainly. We’ve both built a solid business and a good life here, if you don’t count either of Robin’s wives.” Paul rolled his eyes at that.
“Seattle’s a pretty large city.” Nicki’s polite tone didn’t give away that you could fit ten Seattles inside of her hometown of New York, so the west coast city didn’t seem big to her at all, and Henley Bay was an even smaller dot on the map than Soldoff, the wine-country town she was living in now. “How did you and Robin meet?”
“Our fathers. They were in the army together, the Sixty-Sixth Army actually, during the Second World War. In Europe.” Paul leaned back against the bench and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Robin’s father was a second looey, that’s a lieutenant, and mine was a sergeant in the same outfit. There were ten of them who went through the war together and stayed in touch long after that. But our fathers became like brothers, and I’ve always considered Robin family.”
“It sounds like your dads went through a lot together,” Nicki murmured, a soft note of sympathy in her voice.
Paul made a sound of agreement. “They did, and it formed an unbreakable bond between them. They moved to Seattle about the same time, started a construction business together, got married in the same year, and they almost died together.” At Nicki’s startled look, Paul smiled. “Of old age, of course, but Pop passed away just three days after the lieutenant died.”
“Oh, I see.” Not sure what to say about that, Nicki only nodded.
“I think Robin and I disappointed them when neither of us chose to go into the military.”
“I’m sure your fathers were very proud of both of you.”
“I hope so.” The florist sighed before he shook his head. “But we’re getting off track. This is all about Robin.” He looked out at the bay. “If I were the police and going to question someone, I’d start with his current business partner and move on to his second wife, who still lives in Henley Bay. Which is convenient given her constant urges to continually annoy her ex-husband.”
Wanting to check off one item on her sadly short “to-do” list, Nicki latched onto Paul’s offhand mention of Brad. “Why would the police be interested in Robin’s business partner? Was there a problem between them?”
Paul shrugged. “They certainly engaged in an argument from time to time, but lately it’s been a bit more serious. Something about a disagreement over the future of the company.” The florist shook his head. “Robin never said exactly what they were at odds about.”
“And Lydia, his second wife?”
He groaned and waved a hand in the air. “What didn’t they argue about? Money, their daughter, the color of the sky that day. Those two never agreed on anything. Which is why if I were Chief Thomas, the wicked witch of the bay would be my top suspect.” He glanced at his watch. “I guess I had better open up. June is a big party and wedding month so there are lots of customers this time of year, and it helps to keep busy.”
“Of course.” Nicki stood when he did.
“I’m disappointed you haven’t asked me for an alibi.”
Nicki smiled at the florist. “All right. What is your alibi, Mr. Franklin?”
He rose and started to walk slowly back to his shop. “I don’t have one. I was watching The Godfather on one of the cable channels that night. But if you’ll forgive me for having no one to vouch for me, I’ll make it up to you by handing over the vengeful second wife’s cell phone number.”
Nicki held out her hand. “That’s a deal.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
“I’m sorry we missed each other again. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Nicki frowned at her phone. The voice mail message was from Matt. He must have called while she was talking to Paul Franklin, and she hadn’t heard her phone ring. Not only had she missed his call, but Matt sounded tired and even a little annoyed. Sighing, Nicki put her phone away. She still had another twenty minutes of walking to reach the St. Armand, and the wind had taken on a slight chill. She would try Matt again once she reached the hotel with its more reliable cell phone service. And the added bonus of a hot cup of coffee.
She also needed to think about what she was going to say to Matt.
Yesterday she’d intended to simply pour out the whole story about the baker’s murder, but after a good night’s sleep, now she wasn’t so sure. She’d disrupted Matt’s life quite a bit over the last year. Maybe this time she should give him a break and not involve him in another murder of someone he’d never even met. With any luck, they’d have all the answers before the wedding.
She’d invited Matt to be her “plus one”, so he was already planning on attending. And she really did like him. A lot. Not just as the editor who gave her quite a bit of freelance work, but as a person. And it might be better for him if she didn’t mention anything about Robin’s sudden demise and simply let the poor guy enjoy the wedding, instead of chasing after a murder suspect with her.
She walked on another five minutes before she turned and looked behind her. The hotel sat on a hill above the small town, and the view from where she was standing was breathtaking. Nicki admired it for several long moments before taking her cell phone out and snapping a picture. When she noticed that she had at least two bars available, which was more than she’d had down by the bay, she took out the folded sheet of paper the florist had given her and tapped out the number he’d jotted down on it.
After three rings, Lydia Boral’s voice mail snapped on. Growing impatient with never talking to an actual human being, Nicki left wife number two a message, explaining that she was helping out Gin Ashton, and hoped they could have a short talk about Lydia’s former husband.
For the rest of the walk to the hotel, Nicki thought over what she should do next. It was barely eleven in the morning, and Jenna and Maxie weren’t due to arrive for another six hours or so. Alex was off with her mom, and the other members of the wedding party and the guests wouldn’t be arriving until next week. Other than the bride and the mother-of-the-bride, Nicki didn’t know one other person at the hotel, unless she counted Sally who manned the coffee cart every day until three o’clock.
Nicki’s forehead wrinkled as she thought over her conversation with Paul. He’d mentioned that Amanda had also run into a few problems with the senior partner in the hotel’s catering company. Since it was still an hour away from lunchtime, if she hurried she just might be able to catch the events manager in her office. With one last look at the eye-catching view, Nicki picked up her pace, arriving at the glass doors leading into the entrance of the hotel ten minutes later.
The lobby was jammed with guests checking out, so every clerk at the front desk was busy. Having no clue as to where Amanda’s office was, Nicki headed for the large cart set up against the far wall of the lobby. But apparently every one of the guests who were leaving had decided to take a cup of coffee with them, leaving Sally with a long line of customers she had to deal with. Giving up on the idea of getting directions from the chatty barista, Nicki settled for a friendly wave and began scanning the walls, hoping to spot a sign or a directory of some sort.
When her gaze fell on Kevin, he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and gave her a polite nod before his eyes dropped back to his computer screen. It wasn’t the warmest greeting she’d ever received, but then she only needed a single piece of information and he seemed to be the only St. Armand employee who wasn’t swamped with guests at the moment.
Making her way across the lobby, Nicki stopped in front of Kevin’s desk and waited for him to look up again. When his eyes remained glued to the computer screen, Nicki leaned slightly over and took a quick peek. Kevin was completely engrossed in a weather report for the local area. Since he arranged tours, she supposed that wasn’t too unusual, but when he continued to stare at the screen, Nicki cleared her throat.
Kevin glanced over at her, looking a little startled to see her standing there. Thinking the
man must really be fascinated with weather reports, Nicki put on her best smile.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you. It’s Kevin, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.” He adjusted his glasses and smiled back at her. “Are you interested in a tour?” He pointed to a row of brochures neatly lined up along the edge of his desk. “The three-hour hike in our Olympic National Forest is very popular this time of year.” He pointed to one of the pamphlets. “It’s a rain forest.”
“Is it?” Nicki dutifully picked up the pamphlet. She judged Kevin to be about ten years older than she was, so in his early forties. With his thinning hair, a slight paunch, and a book-worm kind of look about him, he certainly didn’t project the image of the rugged outdoor type. At least not the way the local police chief did.
After a quick glance at the photo of a cluster of very tall trees, Nicki set the pamphlet down. “Actually, I need to see Amanda Peterson, the events manager for the hotel? I was hoping you could direct me to her office?”
“Oh. Of course.” Kevin slid the pamphlet Nicki had looked at back into its place in the line-up before pointing to the stairs at the right of his desk. “Her office is on the lower level, but I’m afraid she isn’t there.”
At her questioning look, Kevin adjusted his glasses again. Must be a nervous habit, Nicki thought.
“She’s representing the hotel this morning at a meeting of the city’s Chamber of Commerce,” he finally said. “But she has a sheet taped up on her office door. If you’d like to make an appointment with her, you can leave your name and number on it. She’ll call you as soon as she gets in.” The studious-looking man’s thin lips curved up into a smile. “Amanda’s very good about returning her calls.”
“Thank you.” Nicki looked over to the stairs and then back at Kevin. “Down the stairs and…?”
“Just keep walking past the bathrooms. Her office door is just beyond them on the right.”
Nicki nodded her thanks and made her way toward the stairs. Five minutes later she was back in the lobby, frowning at her cell phone. The voice mail icon showed that there was a message waiting, but she hadn’t heard her phone ring. Again.
Annoyed and frustrated with the lack of reliable cell service, she put the phone to her ear and listened as she walked toward the tall bank of windows looking out toward the bay. A husky female voice identifying itself as Lydia Boral, said she was returning Nicki’s call and that she’d be home the rest of the day. Nicki hit the call button, but after three rings it went to Lydia’s voice mail.
“Lydia, this is Nicki Connors. Thank you for returning my call, and I’m sorry I’ve missed you again. Please give me a call.” Nicki ended by repeating her cell number and then hung up.
“Now you wouldn’t be calling Lydia Boral, would you?”
Recognizing the voice of Chief Thomas, Nicki did her best to school her features into an innocent smile before she slowly turned around. “Hi, Chief.” She made a quick scan of the lobby. “Is there a problem at the hotel today?”
“I didn’t think so until I overheard you calling one of my, well, let’s say a ‘person of interest’.”
When Nicki raised an eyebrow at him, the chief flashed his dazzling smile. “I came looking for you.”
“Oh?” Nicki’s eyebrow quirked up just a little higher. “Why is that? Did someone report me jaywalking in town this morning?”
“Were you doing some sightseeing before the shops opened?”
“It’s almost noon, Chief,” Nicki pointed out. “The shops have been open for a good hour or so.”
“Not the local florist. Drove by there just after ten, and he wasn’t open yet.” The chief quirked an eyebrow right back at her. “But I did see the two of you sitting on that bench near the docks.”
Nicki shrugged. “We both like the view and an early morning coffee.”
“I didn’t see any coffee cups.”
“But you did notice the view, didn’t you?” Nicki’s dry tone had Clayton Thomas’s gray eyes crinkling at the corners.
It only took a second for the good-looking police chief to give in to his amusement and laugh out loud, drawing the stares of several of the guests sitting nearby.
“Touché, Nicki Connors. I’m beginning to believe everything Chief Turnlow said about you.”
“You talked to Chief Turnlow?” When Clayton nodded, Nicki closed her eyes with a mental groan. That couldn’t be good. The Soldoff police chief wasn’t too fond of what he called her “snooping into his investigations”, not to mention that he favored calling her “Sherlock” rather than by her given name.
As if to verify everything she was thinking, the Henley Bay police chief tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and shook his head at her. “So, Sherlock, why were you calling Lydia? And don’t tell me you were arranging another coffee date.”
“I’ll tell you, if you’ll tell me first why you called Chief Turnlow?”
“And I’ll tell you that, if you’ll call me Clay. No one around here calls me Chief Thomas. It’s a little formal for a town our size.”
“Okay,” Nicki said. She studied his polite expression for a moment. She’d bet that Clay Thomas would play a mean game of poker. “So Clay, why did you call Chief Turnlow?”
He grinned at her. “I didn’t. The chief called me. Last night, as a matter of fact.”
“What?” Nicki gaped at him, not at all sure if he was telling her the truth. Why in the world would Chief Turnlow call him out of the blue like that? “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. The chief called to ask about the murder, and to warn me about you.”
“Warn?” Nicki tried not to sound offended at that, but failed miserably. “He said ‘warn’?”
Clay nodded. “He also said you were the best crime-scene observer he’s ever run across, and that included his twenty years with the Los Angeles Police Department. And he mentioned that you had a way of getting into trouble.”
Nicki sniffed at that, but couldn’t think of a response, since it was mostly true. She did tend to run into a few bumps along the way whenever she got involved in a murder case. But she was sure that wouldn’t happen this time. After all, in Soldoff, everyone knew everyone else, which tended to complicate things. Here, she didn’t know anyone, so it should be much simpler. Nicki crossed her fingers behind her back, just in case.
“He also said that if I was short on resources, I might consider letting you help as a kind of unofficial consultant. Which would also allow me to keep an eye on you,” Clay went on smoothly. “Which I am.” He smiled again. “Short on resources, I mean.”
“Chief Turnlow said that?” Nicki’s eyes widened in surprise. Now that was certainly an unexpected, well, kind of a compliment, from the chief.
“Yes, he did. And he also warned me that you seem to attract men like flies, which isn’t hard to believe, and that I should be on the lookout for two boyfriends. He wasn’t sure which one was currently your favorite.” Clay grinned. “He called them the Where's-Waldo-guy, and the one-that’s- all-teeth.” He chuckled. “Sounds to me like you could do better.”
Feeling the blush all the way to the roots of her shoulder-length, honey-blond hair, Nicki crossed her arms and glared at the grinning Clay. “Did he?” Her foot started tapping against the floor as she considered the tall man standing in front of her. “I like to keep my personal life separate from, well,” she narrowed her eyes, “from anyone not involved in it. Which you are not.” Her foot tapped a little faster. “Now exactly why did Chief Turnlow call you in the first place?”
“Like I said. To ask about the murder and warn me about you, although he sounded more worried than irritated over your likely meddling.” He glanced over her head, and since she was only five feet two inches to his solid six feet, it wasn’t hard for him to do. “And probably because he got a call from one of your boyfriends about you finding another dead body. And I assume that caller would be the guy headed our way.”
“What?” Nicki whirled ar
ound. Her mouth dropped open when she spotted Matt striding quickly across the lobby, headed right for them.
The editor stopped in front of her and reached out long arms, pulling her in for a hard hug before lowering his head and placing a solid kiss on her mouth. When she finally got both her breath and her balance back, she looked up at him, still not quite believing he was standing right there.
“Matt! What are you doing here?”
Matt shoved a heavy lock of dark hair away from his forehead and gazed into her upturned face through the lenses of his glasses with their thick black frames. Tall and lanky, he easily stood eye-to-eye with Chief Thomas.
He glanced over at the chief and then back at Nicki. “You aren’t glad to see me?”
A brilliant smile bloomed across Nicki’s lips. “Ecstatic would be more accurate. Astonished, but ecstatic.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. She drew back and smiled when his shoulders relaxed and he grinned at her.
“I’m glad to see you too.” He put an arm around her waist and held a hand out to the chief.
“I’m Matt Dillon.”
“Clay Thomas. I’m the local police chief, and you must be the boyfriend who’s currently in favor.”
“Permanently in favor,” Matt corrected while Nicki rolled her eyes at the two of them.
She looked up at Matt. “Why did you call Chief Turnlow?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “I didn’t. I got your voice mail, but before I had a chance to call you back, Jane got hold of me with a message from Ty that the guy making the cake for their wedding had been murdered, and guess who’d found the body?”
“That ‘guy’ would be Robin Boral,” Clay put in. “And Nicki didn’t actually find the body. Karen, the receptionist at the catering business, did.”
“See? I’m not always the one who finds the victims,” Nicki said.
“But she was the second person at the scene, and she conveniently brought along a doctor, just to speed things along.” Clay grinned and stepped back when Nicki glared at him.
