by Emma Belmont
Cookie moved the egg skillet to her side of the stove. “The warming trays are ready if you want to take those out.”
It was time to admit defeat. “I’d be glad to,” Maris said, which was completely true.
One by one she took them to the dining room, then the maple syrup, and the freshly squeezed orange juice in its pretty glass decanter. Back in the kitchen she filled the carafe with fresh coffee, brought it to the sideboard, and made sure the hot water dispenser was hot.
When she returned to the kitchen to wait for the eggs, she said, “By the way, I didn’t hear Slick this morning. I’m sure I’m just a worrywart, and he’s just taking a day off, but I thought it was strange.”
Cookie snorted. “Slick doesn’t take days off. He lives to fish, and he knows that most of the restaurants in Pixie Point Bay rely on him for their fresh seafood. More than a few places would be hard pressed to serve meals if he decided to take a few ‘days off’.”
Hard pressed to serve meals? It wasn’t like Cookie to exaggerate, but did Slick really bring in that much fresh catch?
“Whatever the reason, I didn’t hear him today.” She shook her head and grimaced a little. “Hopefully he came by earlier or later than usual.”
Cookie took two china teacups from the cupboard. “How about some tea?” the chef asked.
Although Maris’s magic gift, like her aunt’s, was precognition, Cookie’s was making potions. If she made tea, you could rest assured it was just what you needed.
Maris smiled at her. “Do you have an anti-worrywart tea?”
Cookie gave her a mischievous grin. “I might. We can have it with our eggs.” As she steeped their tea in a lovely china pot decorated with bouquets, she said, “I checked the cheeses so I could include some in tomorrow’s breakfast, but we might be running a bit low.”
Maris went to the stainless steel, double door fridge, and pulled out one of the clear drawers. “We could definitely do with a run to Cheeseman Village,” she agreed. “I’ll do that today.”
The B&B’s landline telephone rang just then, making both Maris and Cookie look at the time on the microwave. It was a bit early to call for a reservation but, then again, sometimes people called from faraway time zones. Maris went to the library and picked up the handset of the antique rotary phone.
“Pixie Point Bay Lighthouse and B&B,” she said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”
“By coming to the pier,” a familiar voice said.
“Slick?” Maris exclaimed. “Is that you? Are you all right?”
Cookie stood at the entry to the library and they exchanged worried looks.
“I’m fine,” he said, and Maris let the breath she’d been holding go. She gave Cookie the okay sign, who put a hand over her heart and smiled.
“When I didn’t hear your horn this morning,” Maris said, “I started to worry.”
“You can still worry,” Slick replied. “I’m afraid I need a favor.”
Maris’s eyebrows drew together. “Anything,” she said. “Just name it.
“I wonder if you could come to the pier.”
“The pier?” Maris looked over at Cookie, who was vigorously nodding and shooing her with one hand. “Of course. I can leave right now. Can you tell me what this is about?”
Slick was silent for a few moments before he said, “There’s been a murder.” He paused again. “On my boat.”
• • • • •
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Dedication
For Mr. Bee’s Knees
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 Emma Belmont
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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