by Kathi Daley
“Oh, absolutely. It is, after all, Hope’s cottage. I’m only there temporarily. I’m very grateful that she supported my desire to freshen things up a bit.”
“Hope knows a good thing when she sees it.” Hank chuckled. “I know she’s been wanting to get in there and do some cleaning and repairs ever since Bucky passed, but she simply hasn’t had the time.”
“I imagine that it takes a lot of work to run the inn.”
“Oh, it does. Plus, Hope is involved in a lot of different community projects. The Christmas Village alone has her hopping for months.”
“She mentioned that. I’m looking forward to helping out where I can.”
Hank nodded in my direction as if he approved of my willingness to get involved.
“Come on back, and we’ll look at the paint samples Hope and I discussed. I can show you how to use the primer as well. It’s not going to be an easy job.”
“That’s okay. I like a challenge.”
Hank really did take his time to go over everything and make sure I understood exactly what needed to be done. I could see that he enjoyed doing what he did, which is probably why he was still working even though he had to be well into his late sixties or possibly even early seventies. I guessed if you owned the store, you could work as much or as little as you liked.
After Hank helped me load everything into my vehicle, I continued down the highway to the general store where I’d first met Cammy just two days ago. I was still having a hard time with the idea that the vivacious and enthusiastic young woman I’d met on my first night in town was truly gone.
Unlike the boardwalk area of town, which had been mostly deserted, the mini-mall that housed the bank, the post office, the general store, and a bait and tackle shop was bustling. I supposed it made sense that locals would be out on a Monday doing errands. The general store was located on one end of the outdoor mall. When I’d been here on Saturday night, the post office, bank, and bait and tackle shop had been closed, so the parking area was nearly deserted. Today, however, I was met with a different situation entirely.
After parking at the back of the lot, I grabbed a cart and made my way to the side of the large multi-purpose store that sold groceries. I’d brought the list I’d prepared on Saturday, so I made my way up and down each aisle, crossing things off as I went, and even adding a few extras not on the list, like cookies and pretzels.
By the time I made it to the front of the store with my full cart, they’d opened a second checkout counter. A tall, lanky kid was checking out the line I got into, and the woman he was chatting with referred to him as Chip. A middle-aged woman with a nametag that said Wanda served the other line. I’d almost gotten in Wanda’s line even though it was longer figuring that she might be faster than Chip based on her age and gender, but as it turned out, Wanda liked to chat with each customer while Chip stayed on task, making his line the most efficient by far.
“Morning, ma’am,” Chip said as I arrived at the front of the line and began unloading my cart.
Ma’am? I wasn’t that old. “Good morning,” I responded, even though it was the noon hour. “It’s busier than I expected.”
“Mondays are always busy.”
I wanted to say something about Cammy, but I was new in town and had never met Chip before today, so it didn’t seem appropriate.
“Do you need stamps?” he asked as he began bagging the items he’d already scanned.
“No, thank you. This will do.”
Chip totaled my order just as the woman in the next row over brought up Cammy’s death to the middle-aged checker.
I handed Chip my credit card but continued to listen in on the conversation taking place across from where I was standing.
“I heard that Deputy Todd isn’t even going to investigate other options,” the female shopper said.
“I just don’t think our Cammy would hurt her mama by jumping like everyone is saying,” the middle-aged checker said.
“Patty near had a breakdown,” the shopper said. “I heard she went to Bellingham to stay with her sister until this all gets sorted out.”
“What about the other two kids?” the checker asked.
“Peter hasn’t made it home yet, and Steve is old enough to take care of himself.”
“There you go, ma’am,” Chip said, handing me my credit card and receipt. I thanked him and slowly pushed my basket past the other checkout counter. I hated to move on, but it seemed rude to linger.
As I walked out of the store, I noticed the security cameras. I supposed it was the PI in me that had me wondering if they’d caught the exchange between Cammy and Brody. Not that a video of the exchange would necessarily prove or disprove anything since the security cameras I’d accessed in past investigations rarely had audio, but getting a peek at them still seemed an exercise worth undertaking.
After I’d loaded my groceries into my vehicle, I headed back to the peninsula, where I would need to schlep everything in one armload at a time. Maybe buying fewer items would make more sense in the future. Or maybe a wagon with large rubber wheels. The trail was dirt, but it seemed to be fairly hard-packed. I supposed it might be muddy when it rained, but with a wagon, I could triple the number of bags I could transport with a single trip. I wondered where someone would buy something like that. Of course, once I got the cottage stocked, I wouldn’t need to buy as many things at a time, so maybe the problem would take care of itself. I supposed I could ask the others how they handled things.
Chapter 6
Josie had assured me that Kai and Kallie were welcome at the strategy session, so I’d decided to bring them along. The better acquainted they were with the gang, the better it would be if anyone needed to enter the cottage for some reason when I wasn’t around. When we arrived, we found Jemma and Josie in the kitchen. It appeared the others had yet to arrive.
“Something smells wonderful,” I said as Josie greeted the dogs.
“I made enchiladas,” Josie informed me. “We have beef, chicken, and cheese. I also made black beans, Spanish rice, and, of course, my famous guacamole, which I plan to serve with chips and salsa.”
“It all sounds wonderful. You must really like to cook. Do you cook for the Rambling Rose?”
“No, not usually,” she answered. “I fill in sometimes if the kitchen staff is short, but I’d rather work in the front where I can chat with everyone. Tegan likes to cook and spends part of her time in the kitchen, coming up with daily specials, but most of the orders come from the fixed menu, which means the majority of the job is really more of a short-order type situation. To be honest, I find it boring to make the same food day after day.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
“Can I get you a beer or an ice-cold margarita?”
“A margarita sounds good,” I answered. I was, after all, walking and not driving tonight.
“Good choice,” Josie said. “Jemma makes the best margaritas anywhere.”
Josie returned to the kitchen, so I took a seat at the counter. Jemma handed me a glass filled with ice, tequila, lime, amongst other things, while Josie poured tortilla chips into a big bowl.
“Have the two of you lived here long?” I asked. “In this cottage, I mean?”
“About five years,” Jemma answered. “Tegan lived here on the peninsula before we did. In fact, she was the first full-time tenant after Hope hooked her up with her uncle. Josie met Tegan when she worked in the kitchen at the inn. The two of us had been roomies in an apartment complex across town, which was going to be torn down. Once Tegan realized we were going to be homeless, she talked to Hope and asked her to talk to Bucky about letting us rent this place full time. Before that, the cottages had been weekend and weekly rentals. He agreed, and once we moved in and he had two long-term rentals, he realized how much easier it was to deal with full-time tenants rather than vacation folks, so when Booker came around looking for a place, he was all primed to let him have one. Coop just moved in about a year ago, but all of us
out here have become a family.”
“Bucky too? Was he part of the family before he passed?” I asked.
“Sure,” Jemma said. “Bucky was a lot older than us, but he was really great. We all miss him a lot, but we’re happy to have you join our little family. I know you said the length of your stay was open-ended, but I think you’ll find Gooseberry Bay to be a wonderful place to live. Once this place works its way into your heart, it will be hard to leave.”
“Jemma came here on vacation eight years ago and never left,” Josie said.
“And you?” I asked Josie. “Did you grow up here?”
“I summered here as a kid but didn’t move here full time until after I graduated high school and set out on my own. Tegan grew up here, as did Hope. Booker and Coop are more recent converts to the Gooseberry Bay way of life.”
“So you mentioned that you were in the area to do some research,” Jemma prodded.
I nodded. “As I mentioned before, I was adopted, and after the man who raised me died, I decided to look into my past. Maybe try to find my birth parents. I don’t have a lot of clues, but I do have a photo of a woman with two young girls standing on the porch in front of a house I am pretty sure is the house on Piney Point.”
Jemma raised a brow. “Piney Point? Really. As far as I know, Adam and Archie don’t have any sisters.”
“I don’t think I’m their sister necessarily, but I do think I’ve spent time in that house. Maybe my mother was a friend of the family. Or an employee. Or possibly even a cousin. All I have to go on is a photo, so the whole thing is really rather vague, but I do find that I’m intrigued, so I came to the area in the hope of chatting with the owners of the house and maybe even taking a look around.”
“Have you been up to the house?” Jemma asked.
“No. With the weekend and all, I haven’t had a chance to arrange a meeting yet.”
“Adam is most likely out of town,” Josie joined in. “He’s a busy man who spends very little time at the house. Archie, however, is very approachable. I can text him and ask if he would be willing to meet with you if you want.”
I smiled. “I’d appreciate that very much.”
Josie picked up her phone. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she typed in the message. “Archie will get a kick out of this. He’s the sort who’s always up for something interesting to sink his teeth into.”
“Archie is painfully rich and chronically bored,” Jemma expanded on Josie’s statement. “He’s a nice guy. He’s fun to hang around with and always up for something interesting to do, but unlike his brother, who works all the time, Archie has never found his calling, so he tends to spend his life fluttering around, never really doing anything of importance. Sure, he travels extensively and attends all the best parties, but his life feels really empty to me.”
“Archie’s life isn’t empty,” Josie countered. “It’s just so vastly different from ours that we can’t really understand it.” Josie’s phone dinged. She looked down at the text that had just arrived. “Archie is in London until the weekend, but he says if you want to set up a meeting at the house for a week from today, he’d be happy to chat with you.”
“Okay, great. I’d appreciate that very much.”
“I get off by three on Mondays, so I can go with you if you want,” Josie offered.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“I’ll come too,” Jemma jumped in. “If there’s a mystery afoot, I want in on it.”
Josie had returned to the kitchen to check on something she had simmering in a big pan on the stove when Tegan wandered in with Booker. Jemma got up and mixed up another batch of margaritas, handing one to each of the new arrivals.
“Coop will be a few minutes late,” Tegan said. “I guess he had a charter that went long, but he said he’d be here by six-thirty.”
“We can wait to eat until six-thirty,” Josie said. “If anyone is starving, we have chips, salsa, and guacamole.”
“Which are delicious,” I said, dipping a chip and taking a bite.
“Did you ask Hope if she wanted to come over this evening?” Jemma asked Tegan.
“I did, but she had plans with someone from the lodging association. She said she might try to stop by when she was done, but she wouldn’t be here for dinner. I invited Parker as well, but apparently, she managed to get an appointment to talk to Harrison Davenport about Cammy’s death and his son’s possible involvement.”
“Wow. I’m impressed,” Jemma said.
“Me too,” Tegan agreed. “Parker can be relentless when she needs to be. I guess it isn’t surprising that she wore the man down. She probably told him she planned to do a story with or without his cooperation, and if he wanted to have any chance at all of controlling the narrative, he should talk to her before the piece went to press.”
“Hopefully, she’ll call and let us know what she finds out,” Booker said.
“She said she would,” Tegan informed him.
“Jackson and I were chatting about Cammy’s death today,” Booker added. “He heard from some of the guys who work down at the county that Harrison Davenport was behind closed doors with both the sheriff and Deputy Todd for over two hours today. We both thought that was odd, given the fact that Deputy Todd seems to be sticking to his story about Cammy’s death being the result of a suicide.”
“Does anyone know if there’s a reason to suspect suicide other than the text Cammy supposedly sent before her death?” I asked.
“I asked Parker if she’d heard anything since she seems to be in the know most of the time, and she said that there is zero evidence that she has heard about to support the idea of suicide other than the text,” Tegan answered.
“Which anyone could have sent from Cammy’s phone,” Jemma pointed out.
“Did they find Cammy’s phone?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know,” Tegan answered.
It appeared that the information relating to this case was sparse at this point, which I supposed was understandable. The body had only been found the previous morning.
“I can hack into Cammy’s phone records, and find out what time the text was sent,” Jemma offered. “If nothing else, that might give us a timeline.”
“Do you all do this often?” I asked. “Jump in to solve local crimes, I mean.”
Tegan answered. “Not really, but Cammy was someone we all knew and cared about. I think the general consensus is that if Brody is the one who hurt her we don’t want him to get away with what he did simply because his father is a rich and powerful man who has the sheriff and his staff under his thumb.”
“So you think that if Brody actually did push her, his father would find a way to have that fact covered up,” I verified.
“Exactly,” Tegan responded.
“It was actually the conversation we had with you about Brody being seen at the store where Cammy works just before closing that got us all to wondering about him,” Jemma informed me.
“Not that we’d easily buy the theory of suicide,” Josie added. “Cammy was over Brody. She was happy. She might have been having an off night, but someone doesn’t jump into the sea just because they’re having an off night. There has to be more going on.”
I found I had to agree with that. When I spoke to Cammy on Saturday night, she’d been happy and had plans for the following day. She didn’t seem at all like someone who was on the verge of ending their life. Not that I had a lot of, or really any, experience with such things.
Jemma crossed the room and picked up her laptop, which she’d left lying on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She logged on and then immediately logged off the browser that had opened when she’d turned the machine on and logged onto another location within the web. She began entering a code she seemed to understand but was beyond me. After a few minutes, she sat back and waited as a series of numbers and random letters filled her screen.
“Okay, I’m in,” she said. She bit her lower lip as she continued to work. “Ai
nsley saw Cammy closing up at seven-thirty. She was happy and alive at that point. Or at least she was alive. I guess we don’t really know if she was still happy or if Brody had said something to upset her.” Jemma punched in a few lines of text. “There were four texts sent from Cammy’s phone after seven-thirty. One was sent at eight-fourteen.” Jemma jotted down the number. “Another was sent at twelve minutes after ten.” Again, she jotted down the number. “The third was sent at eleven thirty-eight to the same number she texted at ten-twelve, and the last one was sent at two-fifteen the following morning.”
“Two-fifteen?” Tegan asked. “I figured, based on what I’d heard, that Cammy was already dead by two-fifteen.”
Jemma frowned. “Yeah. I guess I figured the same thing.”
“Can you figure out who she texted?” Josie asked.
“Yeah, hang on,” Jemma said.
“And check and see if she had incoming texts during the window we’re looking at,” Booker added.
After a few minutes, Jemma spoke again. “The outgoing text at eight-fourteen looks to have been in response to an incoming text at eight-twelve from Heather Brown.” Jemma looked up and met my gaze. “Heather is a friend of Cammy’s. If I had to guess, Cammy was supposed to meet up with her that night and was texting to confirm things, but I can ask Heather just to be sure.”
“Give me her number, and I’ll call her right now,” Tegan offered.
While Tegan was making her call, Jemma looked up the other phone numbers. “The texts that Cammy sent at ten-twelve and eleven thirty-eight went to an unlisted number,” Jemma informed us. “The texts were outgoing, without a corresponding incoming text that I can find. She may have been texting a burner cell, so we might not be able to figure out who was on the other end, but I’ll keep working on it.”
“And the text at two-fifteen?” I asked.
“It looks like Cammy texted Harper Maxwell at two-fifteen.”
“Harper Maxwell?” Tegan gasped. “Why would Cammy text Harper so late at night?”
“Who’s Harper Maxwell?” I asked, hating to interrupt the flow but wanting the answer.
