“You did a good job this morning with serving, kiddo.”
“What happened with Mrs. Carter?” Alex asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“You’re cruel.” Marquetta said.
Alex rolled her eyes as she sipped her juice. When she’d finished, she sat up straight. “Breakfast is fun. I get to talk to all the people and find out where they’re from. Those newlyweds are sure weird.”
“Why’s that?” Rick asked.
“Because they spent, like, ten minutes figuring out what they were going to have. She wanted toast, but he didn’t think she should have gluten. Then he didn’t think she should have potatoes. Then she got mad. Are you sure they’re married?”
“They’ll figure it out, kiddo,” Rick said. “You must have done a good job in handling their little breakfast squabble. They seemed happy enough when I walked in. What did you do?”
Alex sat a little straighter and smiled at Rick. “I told them they were getting the honeymoon breakfast surprise specials.”
Marquetta nudged Alex’s elbow with her own. “You told me bacon and eggs with country potatoes and toast for her. You said he ordered a veggie omelet with a gluten-free muffin.”
“Yup. That was the surprise,” Alex said.
“You’re turning into a first-class restaurateur, kiddo. You seem to know exactly how to keep the guests happy. Have you changed your mind about what you want to do when you grow up? Would you like to run the B&B or a restaurant?”
“No, Daddy. I told you yesterday I want to be an archaeologist like Miss O’Connor. I wanna travel the world!”
Rick whistled. “That’s an admirable aspiration. And more power to you if you can do it. I applaud your interest. And speaking of interest, there’s one I can’t applaud.”
Alex set down her mug and stuck out her lower lip. “What did I do?”
“I think you know. You sent an email to the mayor.”
Marquetta drew in a quick breath and stared at Alex. “When?”
“Last night.” Alex made a face at her juice glass and took a sip.
“Oh, God.” Marquetta shot a glance at Rick. “Don’t tell me that’s why she demanded you get right over there.”
A feeling of sadness overcame Rick as he watched Alex. Gone was her enthusiasm. Her eyes welled with tears. She got it. Now, she was only a little girl disappointed by an unforeseen turn of events.
“Let me be clear, Alex. This is not a scolding. Not yet, anyway. The mayor showed me the email. It wasn’t the best choice of words, but there was nothing terrible about it. I want to get your side of the story. What made you take such a serious action?”
They spent the next few minutes going through Alex’s reasons for interfering. It all came down to her fascination with Flynn O’Connor. When she’d finished explaining, Rick considered his options. Should he commend his daughter on her foray into political activism? No. If anything, he wanted to nip this in the bud, not offer encouragement—even if that meant Alex might shed some tears.
“Alex, I’d like you to try to understand something. I think you had good intentions, but you went about this the wrong way. When you email someone and demand they take action, it’s probably not going to have the effect you want. As it is, the mayor demanded I stay out of this investigation.”
“That’s messed up.” Alex swiped at her wet cheeks and sniffled. “Why’s she so mean? She wants Miss O’Connor to go to jail for something she didn’t do.”
Marquetta reached out and caressed Alex’s shoulder. “Sweetie, Francine has her reasons for believing Miss O’Connor is guilty. Just as you have yours for believing she’s innocent.”
“But she’s wrong!” Alex’s voice cracked and she swiped again at her cheeks.
“That’s what she thinks about you, too,” Marquetta said, then glanced at Rick. “Were you able to smooth this over?”
“Actually, her dogged insistence caused me to reconsider. I’m going to talk to Isabelle. When Traci gave her statement, she said Isabelle was with her. The thing is, Deputy Cunningham told me he’d been instructed to leave Isabelle alone.”
Marquetta let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “The brain tumor. Everyone walks on eggs around poor Isabelle. All she wants is for people to treat her normally. What’s so hard about that?”
“It’s what I intend to do. I’m going to see her when we’re done. I want to know what she remembers. Maybe I can get her to make a statement.”
“You are?” Alex gaped at him, a smile growing on her lips.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Marquetta asked.
“I thought you wanted people to treat her normally.”
“Isabelle will be fine. I’m more concerned about Francine’s ruffled feathers.”
“I’m guessing the mayor’s caught in a place she doesn’t want to be. She might be looking for a way out.”
“Daddy? Am I gonna get grounded again?”
Rick chuckled. “No, kiddo. But you might if you keep sending midnight emails.”
“But it wasn’t midnight!”
“Alex.” Rick glared at her. “You know what I mean.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she scooted back onto her barstool. “Okay.”
Rick looked at Marquetta. “I have a question for you. And it’s got nothing to do with this whole murder investigation. I need the name of a good lawyer. Someone local.”
“H. Jordan Lane,” Marquetta said. “He’s the good one in town. Thorne Waldorf is a crook. What’s funny is they both have places on Dolphin Avenue. They both run their offices out of their homes, but they live on opposite sides of the street. If Exploration International needs some legal muscle here, they’re probably using Thorne. He’s smarmy enough to take their money. Jordan’s got too many principles.”
“Good. Since I have to go into town, I’m going to pay Jordan Lane a visit.” Rick reached out and put his hand on Alex’s. “I hope you’re okay with this, but I’ve decided to file the divorce papers. It’s time I let go of the past.”
CHAPTER 17
ALEX
Daddy’s watching me like he expects me to say something. But, what? I haven’t seen my real mom since I was little and except for a couple pictures I don’t even remember what she looks like. So why’s my throat all scratchy and tight? I just wanna go to my room, but Marquetta’s standing behind me and rubbing my shoulders. I lean back against her and it makes me feel better. Marquetta’s more like my mom than my mom ever was.
“Does this mean she’ll never come see us?” I ask.
Daddy looks at me with his sad smile—the one he uses when he’s super unhappy. His eyes are watery, too. “This won’t change anything, kiddo. She can come visit anytime she wants.”
Marquetta kisses the top of my head and hugs me real tight. I sniffle and brush away my tears, then turn around and hug her back. I totally know it now. What happens with my real mom doesn’t matter anymore. “It’s okay.”
Daddy’s eyes are all misty, and I know he doesn’t want to file the papers. He’s waited so long. He kneels next to me.
“Alex, if she ever wants to visit, she’ll be welcome.”
Holding onto Marquetta’s hand helps me to feel stronger.
“Sweetie, I’ll be here. You know I won’t leave you.”
I swallow hard and look up at her. Her cheeks are hot and wet like mine. For me, it’s not ‘cause I’m sad but ‘cause I’ve got my dad and Marquetta and maybe someday we’ll be a real family. I smile at her. “I know.”
Daddy sits back on his stool and looks at me. He still looks super sad. Even he has tears in his eyes, and Daddy never cries. I go stand next to him and give him a big hug.
When I get back on my stool, we’re all kinda quiet. After a while, Daddy asks, “Alex? What’s going through that head of yours?”
“I dunno.” But I do. Daddy should’ve told the mayor she was wrong.
“Don’t give me that. I can see the wheels turning. W
hat’s up?”
“Miss O’Connor doesn’t have anyone on her side, Daddy. Nobody’s gonna help her.”
“I will if I can. But all I can do is see if Isabelle is willing to give a statement. That might help Miss O’Connor; it might not. What you have to realize is it’s the job of the police to find the facts. A court has to decide whether she’s guilty or not. Besides, Mayor Carter doesn’t want me interfering, so even talking to Isabelle might have repercussions. Do you understand all of that?”
I nod, but this is totally unfair. Is my dad afraid of Mayor Carter? Or is he, like, super stressed over filing those stupid divorce papers? Me and Daddy learned to deal with my mom’s drama when I was little. If he needs time to get it together, I can totally do some investigating on my own. Daddy would get super mad about that. Marquetta probably would, too. That’s why I’ve gotta go totally undercover. With my help, Daddy can prove Miss O’Connor’s innocent. It’s so gonna work.
“Can I go to my room?”
“Are you feeling okay, Sweetie?” Marquetta comes and stands in front of me. She’s frowning and has little lines around the corners of her eyes.
“I’m good.” Oh man, I really, really don’t wanna lie to her or my dad.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about this some more?” Daddy asks.
They both seem all worried and are doing that grownup thing where they look at each other and then me. “It’s okay, Daddy. There’s a lot going on right now.”
“Okay. Head on up to your room. If you want to talk…” He stops and looks at Marquetta, then me. “To either one of us. We’re here for you.”
“It’s cool.” I hop off my stool and go through the butler door.
When it closes behind me, I let out a big breath. Awesome. I’m totally relieved. I didn’t have to lie.
CHAPTER 18
RICK
After Alex went to her room, Rick headed into town. He was not yet ready to deal with the mayor, so he quickened his step as he passed her store, Scoops & Scones. Traci Peterson’s candle shop, The Bee’s Knees, was nestled between Scoops & Scones and Isabelle’s Pet Shoppe. He waved to Traci, who was rearranging the display in her front window.
He found Isabelle at the grooming table in the back of the store. Before her, she had a pint-sized ragamuffin who growled at Rick as he approached.
“Now, now, Mr. Tibbs. Rick won’t hurt you.” She held out a biscuit for the little ball of fur, who quickly forgot his animosity in favor of chomping down the doggie treat. “What are you up to, Rick?”
“Hey, Isabelle. Just trying to keep my head down and my tail up. So to speak.”
Isabelle chuckled. With her chubby cheeks and wide smile, she reminded Rick of a chipmunk.
“Talk about boring,” she said. “Have you heard? The latest is that a man at Bayside Coffee was boasting about an artifact he found.”
Rick stared at Isabelle for a moment. She’d mixed up her gossip? That was not like her at all. She was one of the key players in Seaside Cove’s rumor mill. Was her brain tumor starting to affect her memory? “No, Isabelle. I think you mean a woman found the artifact. You remember, she’s the one who died on the beach.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Rick. I haven’t lost my marbles. I remember the walk with Traci, probably better than she does.” Isabelle chuckled. “Sweet kid, but she’s got too many competing priorities. Nope. This tidbit came from Howie Dockham. I’m telling you, Bayside Coffee. It’s the hot spot. Except for people like Traci, of course. Between the wedding, her store, and making sure I don’t kick the bucket, she doesn’t have time to focus on anything."
“What wedding?”
“Traci and Adam decided to get hitched. Sweet couple, huh?”
Rick winced with the realization he should have figured out the obvious. He’d seen Traci’s ring. The way she and Adam acted around each other. “Oh, their wedding,” he said, then added, “You know what, Isabelle, you may outlast us all.”
“That’s my goal. Now, you didn’t come all the way downtown to talk to an old woman about pets. I bet you want my version of what happened on my walk with Traci. Am I right or am I right?”
“Are you willing to talk about it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? We saw Flynn O’Connor, Reese Potok, and Allan Spaulding. In that order.”
“Mr. Spaulding was there? What was he doing?”
“He was down by the water.” Isabelle snickered before she continued. “More like a sightseer than a guy who was looking for a big score. You know how the tourists get. I see it once a week or so when one of them announces they’re going to find Joaquin Murrieta’s cache. All they usually get are scratches from the thorns and, if they’re unlucky, a bad case of itchy butt from the Pacific Poison Oak. There was one guy who…”
“Let’s stop right there, Isabelle. I did hear about that story, but I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to take his pants off and sit in poison oak.”
“He wasn’t sitting, Rick. He was…”
“I heard.”
“You sure do know how to ruin a dying old lady’s fun.”
“Somehow, I’m pretty sure the doctors have it wrong. You’re too feisty to die very soon.”
Isabelle winked at Rick as she teased the fur on Mr. Tibbs’ tail.
“Would you be willing to give a statement to the police about what you saw?”
“Of course, but Adam’s been told to avoid upsetting me. Traci gave hers, and so did your Miss Potok. It sounds to me like there’s more interest in who has the rights to retrieve the treasure than who actually killed that poor woman.”
“What do you mean?”
Isabelle paused, the comb mere inches from Mr. Tibbs’ tail. “Our mayor obviously wants Exploration International to have those rights. Your Miss Potok has been bending the mayor’s ear a lot lately. I’m surprised you don’t know.”
“Reese hasn’t told me anything about what her job is. I assume you’re correct, but I have no idea how she’d secure those rights without an actual wreck.”
“Don’t underestimate her. She’s very resourceful—but I suppose you knew that already.” Isabelle pursed her lips as she regarded Rick.
He’d heard more than once how Reese’s flirtatious ways caused a stir in Seaside Cove. One thing was certain, he wasn’t the only man who’d been the target of rumors thanks to his association with “that woman.”
Reese played fast and loose with the rules—that, too, was common knowledge. But would she do anything to secure the salvage rights? Anything meant…well, anything. Rick blew out a slow breath. “Isabelle, is this real or part of the rumor mill?”
“I have my sources, Rick. Believe me, Miss Potok has a very broad job description. And resources to fulfill her mission.”
From what he knew about Reese, Isabelle’s assessment made sense. And, if Reese was charged with securing the salvage rights at any cost, could she have committed murder? “Why haven’t you told this to the police?"
“Adam’s under orders to give me space.”
“From who?”
The lines around Isabelle’s mouth deepened as she puckered her lips. “Seriously?” A moment later, she said, “Wait, you don’t know. The chief, of course, who is under instructions from Francine to get your Miss O’Connor convicted.”
“Your testimony could change things. From what I know, you’re pretty strong. You told the brain surgeon to take his operation and shove it. Since when does an old woman with that much spunk let a couple of politicians decide what’s best?”
Isabelle’s face reddened again as she began to laugh. Her eyes filled with tears and she wobbled from side-to-side. Rick started toward her, but she waved him off.
She stroked the dog behind its ears and rubbed noses with him while talking in a high-pitched falsetto. “Mr. Tibbs liked his treat, didn’t he?” A moment later, she stepped away from the dog and picked up the phone near the grooming station.
“What are you doing?” Rick ask
ed.
“I’m giving my statement. That’s what I’m doing.” Isabelle held up her index finger, listened for a few seconds, then yelled into the handset. “Adam Cunningham, get your butt over to my store. Now!” She disconnected the call and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Oh God, that was fun! Thank you for setting me free again.”
“You’re…you’re welcome, I think.”
Isabelle glanced at her watch, then at Rick. “This won’t take long.”
About thirty seconds later, the welcome bell tinkled. Traci Peterson ran through the doorway, into the shop, and stopped next to a tabletop filled with pet toys. She stood, gasping, her face white as could be, “Isabelle, are you okay?”
“You see what I put up with?” The old woman glanced at Rick. “Everybody thinks I’ve got one foot in the grave.” She smiled at Traci. “I’m fine. Is Adam on his way?”
Traci opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when the bell clanged again. Deputy Cunningham rushed through the opening and stood, sucking in huge gulps of air. He stammered, “Should I call the paramedics?”
Isabelle burst into laughter again and grabbed the edge of the counter. Traci rushed to her side, but the old woman shook her head.
“I’m doing fine, Traci. By God this is fun.”
“Fun?” Traci gaped at her. “You scared us half to death.”
“I’m not on life support, you two.” She looked from Traci to Adam, then continued. “Deputy Adam Cunningham, you’re an officer of the law. It’s time you started acting like one. I’m a witness in your investigation, and I don’t give a rat’s rear end what the mayor or anyone else says. Are you ready to take my statement, or am I calling the FBI?”
“The FBI?” Adam croaked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you are the last bastion of hope for Flynn O’Connor. And because the mayor has ticked me off one too many times. Well?”
All eyes settled on the deputy. He took in a deep breath. “You’re right. This might cost me my job, but if you have information, I’m obligated to investigate. Take your time.”
Clues in the Sand Page 7
