“You didn’t tell me that he was coming to town,” Patrice accused Lydia.
“Didn’t know I was supposed to,” Lydia said. She wasn’t about to admit out loud that she’d forgotten.
“Hello, Patrice,” Theo said. He had plastered a nice enough smile across his face. Dad would be proud. “What news? As someone obviously forgot to mention me,” he said, throwing a sneer Lydia’s way.
“About Schooner Thomas!” Patrice said. “He’s dead!”
“What?” Theo said, suddenly standing. “How? Why? What happened?”
“Don’t know the details yet,” Patrice said as she reached across the counter and snagged herself a mug. “This was what you meant by your text earlier, wasn’t it?” she asked Lydia as she sat down and poured herself some coffee.
“Alice said that her cousin Mitch had heard the news on his police scanner,” Lydia admitted.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Theo said, glaring at Lydia as he sat back down again.
“I didn’t know for certain if it was true or not,” Lydia said, shrugging. “And I didn’t want to spread a false rumor. What did you hear?” she asked Patrice.
“Well, you know Becky St. John, who lives two doors down from Schooner? She said the police have been going in and out of the house all day. Then the ambulance came and they carried away a body wrapped in a sheet. No one knows what’s going on. The police won’t say anything.”
“They can’t,” Theo said.
“Why not? They should at least tell the neighbors so they know what’s going on,” Patrice grumbled.
“They have to notify next of kin before they make a general announcement,” Theo said.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Patrice said. She took a big bite out of one of the cookies Lydia had set out and then sighed heavily.
“You haven’t eaten all day, right?” Lydia asked pointedly.
“Maybe?” Patrice admitted. “I just got so busy this morning.”
“Should I make you a sandwich?” Lydia said.
“No, I’ll be fine. I have a nice Portobello steak waiting for me at home,” Patrice said.
That was something else that differentiated the pair of them. Patrice was a hard-core vegetarian, had been one for the longest time, while Lydia liked her steak and meatloaf and hot dogs and lamb roasts and anything else she could afford.
“Who do you think killed him?” Patrice asked.
“Why do you think someone killed old Schooner?” Lydia asked. “Maybe he died of a heart attack or something.”
“Oh, please,” Theo said. “Nobody liked him. I bet somebody grew tired of his nastiness and knifed him. About time, too.”
“What did Schooner Thomas do to you?” Lydia said, surprised at her brother’s vehemence.
“Nothing,” he said, shooting a look at Patrice.
There was some sort of story going on between the pair of them, and neither had thought to include her, Lydia was certain of it.
“Fine. Keep you secrets,” Lydia said. She had a few of her own that she wasn’t about to share.
The three of them sat in the dimly lit restaurant, remembering old hurts.
“Theo’s going to be here for the next few months,” Lydia finally said after a few more cold moments, trying to bring them all back into the warmth. “While my parents are out having adventures.” They’d promised to call regularly, as well as send postcards of all the fabulous sights they were visiting.
“Ah,” was all the response Patrice gave. “Well, I should be going back to the shop. Text me later, okay?” she said as she stood to leave.
Misty came in just then. Patrice slipped out as Lydia introduced Theo to Misty (who remembered him) and then he was gone as well.
“What was all that about?” Misty asked as she helped Lydia clear the table they’d been using, carrying everything back into the brightly lit kitchen.
“I have no idea,” Lydia said. “And quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Course you do,” Misty said. “You’re as curious as I am.”
The bell to the door tinkled, and Misty went to see greet their first guests for the evening.
Lydia put away the bread, fresh fruit, and juice into the walk-in while she thought about the strange currents that had flowed between Patrice and Theo. And what Theo had against Schooner. Had the old man just died? Or had he been killed?
Whatever was going on, Lydia was certain that while she might be curious, she would probably be better off not knowing.
7
Sergeant Alex Gonzales walked into the Nip & Bud Tuesday just after the lunch rush had finished. He’d scared Lydia as a girl, glowering at her and the other kids anytime he came to visit the school, back when he’d just been a deputy. He wasn’t very tall, and had a barrel chest which gave him a surprisingly deep voice for his size. His black hair was starting to gray a little along the temples and sideburns, making him look even meaner. He had dark skin and three small moles under his chin, like an old-fashioned witch, someone who would eat children. His forehead was perpetually creased, making it look as though he was always scowling even when he smiled.
Dad had always gotten along well with him, but then again, her dad got along with everyone.
“Can I help you officer?” Lydia asked as she put the dish bucket back down on the table she’d been clearing and wiped her hands off on her apron.
The sergeant didn’t eat at Lydia’s restaurant often. The two officers who shared all the policing duties for Lake Hope tended to eat lunch at The Cove, which was just up the street, and was more of a bar than a restaurant. Fortunately, she’d never had to call the police, though she’d threatened a few times when dealing with overly drunk tourists.
“Lydia Marsh?” Sergeant Gonzales asked, squinting at her with his dark eyes.
“Yes,” Lydia said. Who else would she be? He surely knew her on sight, right? “What can I do for you?” She wasn’t in trouble with the law, as far as she knew. Crap. Had something happened to her parents? They’d been killed in an accident and the officer had come to warn her. Her heart suddenly beat loudly and her throat dried out.
“We’d like you to come down to the station at your convenience,” Sergeant Gonzales said, making it sound as though it had better be convenient for her right now.
That…didn’t sound as if it was her parents. He’d tell her here and now, right? Lydia made herself take a deep breath, pulling herself back from that bleak edge.
“What do you want to see me about?” Lydia said as she started untying her apron, hoping the sergeant didn’t notice her shaking hands.
“I’ll explain once we reach the station,” the sergeant said.
“I need to let Misty know that I’m going,” Lydia said, picking up the dish bucket and walking back into the kitchen, unsurprised that the sergeant followed her.
“Ah, hola!” Misty said as Sergeant Gonzales came into the room. “¿Cómo estás?”
Lydia had learned Spanish in high school, as had most everyone else. Though she was not fluent in it, Misty was, which was handy around here.
“Buenas tardes, señora,” the sergeant said to Misty, nodding. “I need to speak with Ms. Marsh down at the station for a bit.”
That earned him a huge smile, which surprised Lydia. “Good, good,” Misty said. “I’ll hold down the fort here,” she assured Lydia.
“Thank you,” Sergeant Gonzales said with a nod of his head to Misty. “Shall we go?” he said, turning to Lydia, growing more formal.
Of course, Sergeant Gonzales was friendly with Misty. She liked everyone, and everyone liked her. It didn’t matter that Lydia had also been born and raised in Lake Hope. People just gravitated toward Misty.
Lydia put on her best smile and led the sergeant out of the B&B.
As always, it was much warmer outside than Lydia expected. She was glad that she had on shorts that day that went down to her knees, with colorful red and white hibiscus flowers on them, making her feel pretty. She also h
ad on brown canvas sneakers and an off-white T-shirt which the apron had managed to spare from the usual stains. Her hair was braided and her bobby pins held back any wisps, keeping it out of her eyes while she worked. Ed and Alan would probably have given her a B for effort, but downgraded her on chicness.
The sun shone down brightly from a pale blue sky, the asphalt reflecting it back in waves of sheen, making it seem like the heat of summer was already upon them. The smell of tar rose from the street, thick and sticky. The sidewalks had been redone recently, with small squares of concrete instead of larger blocks, an artistic look that was a pain to keep up. When the chamber of commerce had proposed the new sidewalks, Lydia had voted against it. She’d been right—while the smaller blocks gave the area a more historic feel, she now had a constant battle with grass and weeds growing in the cracks, at least until the heat of the summer when everything died back.
The police station was only a block and a half away, just off Main Street, in a newer building. Lydia was old enough to remember the old warehouse that had been there when she was a kid.
“Is this about Schooner Thomas?” Lydia asked as they walked down the street. They passed three people she knew as they made their way along the sidewalk. She could just imagine the rumors that were already being put into the mill.
“I’d rather wait to talk about it until we reached the station,” Sergeant Gonzales said.
They walked in frosty silence for a few moments before the sergeant asked, “How is your father?”
“He and Mom went on a trip for the summer,” Lydia said. “They’re out RVing for the next few months.”
“Really?” Sergeant Gonzales said. “Huh.”
“I know, right?” Lydia said. “I had never expected them to just take off like that.”
A thoughtful look crossed the sergeant’s face. “When did they leave?”
“Monday morning,” Lydia said.
“Hmmm,” the sergeant replied. “Are you taking care of their place?”
“No, my brother, Theodore, is. He’s here for the summer.”
“And when did he arrive?”
Lydia wasn’t sure if there was something behind all the questions or if he was just being nosy. “Friday, I think. I didn’t see him until yesterday.”
She still wasn’t sure what Theo was doing in Lake Hope either. Or what was going on between him and Patrice.
For a small town—practically a village—there was suddenly so much going on!
The Sergeant stepped in front of Lydia and opened the door to the station for her. There was a small counter running across the front of the room, with two desks behind it, for the two officers, Sergeant Gonzales and Deputy Virginia Markus, who wasn’t there at the time. The room was done in shades of government beige and smelled of stale coffee. The only personal touches that Lydia saw were a bright-blue plush hedgehog on one desk, and two small framed photos on the other desk. Everything else felt as though it had been issued by the state, along with instructions for how it should be displayed, like the American flag, the Washington state flag, and the (ugh) picture of the state governor with his smarmy smile.
“Come with me,” the sergeant said. He lifted up part of the counter so Lydia could walk past it, then led her along a small hallway that went down the center of the station. More photos hung here, showing the officers happy and smiling, posing with members of the community. The Sergeant opened up a door on the right to a small room.
An interrogation room, Lydia would bet, having seen enough cop shows on TV. There was a one-way glass mirror on the right wall, a small white table directly in front of her, and two chairs. The place felt cold and sterile, despite the worn brown carpet that gave off a musty smell. A pile of folders sat on one side of the table, so Lydia sat on the other side, facing the mirror.
It was only after she’d sat down that she realized she’d been subtly maneuvered to sit in that seat. Was Deputy Markus watching her from behind the mirror? Lydia shifted uncomfortably on the chair, feeling as though she was a kid again and had been brought in front of the principal, though she’d never gotten into that much trouble when she’d been in school.
At least, nothing that anyone ever learned about.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?” the sergeant asked after she’d sat down.
“No, nothing,” Lydia said. She didn’t want to ask for something and then have him disappear on her for hours, like cops did on shows. She had work to do.
“Okay.” The Sergeant smiled at her again. It looked forced.
He dropped down into the chair facing her and pushed the folders to the side. “Now, what I’m about to tell you is confidential, at least for a bit longer. But Schooner Thomas is dead.”
“Really?” Lydia asked. She knew she was going to hell for the wave of relief that went through her at the news. “I mean, I’d heard rumors, of course. It’s a small town.”
“We’ve notified Mr. Thomas’s ex-wife about his death. But we’re still trying to get in touch with his son, Bernard. Once we notify him, we’ll make a formal announcement about the death,” Sergeant Gonzales said.
That was what Theo had said—that the police wouldn’t tell everyone about Schooner’s death until after they’d notified the family.
When the sergeant didn’t say anything more, Lydia asked, “How did he die?”
“We still don’t have the exact cause of death, and we only have an approximate time. So we really haven’t been able to build an accurate timeline yet,” the sergeant admitted. “But we are treating this like a homicide. There were enough questionable things at the house.”
“A murder? Here? In Lake Hope?” Lydia said, stunned. “I just—wow. I never would have imagined it. Here of all places!” That sort of thing happened in places like Seattle or Spokane.
The Sergeant studied her hard for another moment, then his expression softened into something that looked much more genuinely friendly. “I know, right? You grew up here. The last murder we had was four years ago.”
Lydia nodded. “Old man Green. Shot his wife.”
“And then marched right down here to the station to tell us about it,” Sergeant Gonzales said. “Now, you wouldn’t have anything to confess, would you?” he said, maintaining a much more easy demeanor—he actually sounded as if he was teasing her.
“Me?” Lydia said, startled. “No. I didn’t like Schooner Thomas. But nobody did.”
The Sergeant sighed. “And that’s the problem. Schooner Thomas didn’t have many friends.”
Lydia silently amended that to any friends. He was sour and a grump and mean to everyone.
The Sergeant opened up the top folder from the stack on his right, then pulled out a page and pushed it to her. “Do you recognize that?”
“Obviously,” Lydia said. She just barely managed to hold back her eye roll. “That’s one of the letter openers that we sell at the gift shop.”
The paper held a printout of a series of pictures of the letter opener, with a ruler next to it to show scale. The opener itself was plain metal on the business side, silver, with blunt edges and tip. The handle was encased in pretty purple agate, with the words, “Nip and Bud, Lake Hope” embossed on one side in golden letters. Lydia thought it was one of the better mementos that they sold.
“Did you ever sell one of these to Schooner Thomas?” the sergeant asked as he put the sheet of paper back into the file folder.
“No,” Lydia said. “But Misty and I suspect that he’s been stealing things from my shop for the past six months.”
“That’s a serious allegation,” Sergeant Gonzales said. “Tell me about it.”
Lydia shrugged. “We couldn’t prove it. Otherwise I would have come to you. But we’ve only been missing items from the gift shop since the start of the year, when Schooner started coming into my restaurant regularly.”
Though if Lydia were being honest with herself, she probably wouldn’t have said anything to the police if she had been certain it was Schooner.
All she would have done would be to have a quiet word with the other shopkeepers downtown to keep an eye out for Schooner and his light fingers.
“I see,” the sergeant said, nodding. “Where were you Friday night?”
Lydia’s heart suddenly started pounding again. The police didn’t suspect her, did they? She wiped her hands off on her cute shorts, wishing suddenly that she were more covered up.
“I was at an impromptu wine tasting,” Lydia said, “that I held in the restaurant.”
As she’d started to poll guests about having a wine tasting on Saturday night, she’d discovered that the majority had wanted one on Friday instead. She’d quickly arranged for Elmer from one of the nearby vineyards to come in, bringing a large variety of wines for her guests to taste.
“And after that?” the sergeant asked.
Lydia couldn’t help her snort of derision. “I was in bed. Asleep. I had to get up at six the next morning to start breakfast.”
Sergeant Gonzales sighed. He peered intently at her, studying her, seeking the truth.
Lydia stared back defiantly. She hadn’t done anything wrong! “Am I a suspect?”
The Sergeant sat back in his chair. “Everyone’s a suspect at this point,” he admitted. “Though I’d like to clear you.”
“Was Schooner Thomas killed with that letter opener?” Lydia couldn’t help but ask.
“We don’t believe so, no. We think he was stabbed with it post mortem.”
“Why would someone do that?” Lydia said, confused. “The point is really dull.” Or was someone just that angry at Schooner that they wanted to stab him after they’d killed him? That sent a shiver of cold down her spine.
“Do you have any enemies in town that we should know about?” Sergeant Gonzales suddenly asked.
“I don’t think so?” Lydia said. “What, do you think someone was trying to frame me?”
The Purloined Letter Opener Page 4
