by Agatha Ball
"Hear what?" asked Granny.
Marnie realized what had happened and pulled her hair out of her cup. She grabbed a handful of napkins and tried to soak out the liquid as I set about brewing her up a new cuppa. "Tim's been arrested for murder. BOTH of the murders. Can you believe it? TIM!"
Granny popped her gum in disbelief. "Tim? No. I've known Tim for YEARS! That man is the gentlest giant. Whatever made Stan think that TIM could possibly be capable of murder?"
"Well, evidently Johnny was showing some tourist around the island and saw Tim go onto this boat that was anchored in the cove. I mean, really. A boat that hasn't even been registered. Just ANCHORED. In the COVE. Well, Stan went out there and Tim was on the boat, and he kept shouting something about maritime law and such. But Stan just went right onto that boat, pretty as you please. And what do you think he found there?"
"What?" asked Granny.
"Nothing," said Marnie. She gratefully took the new tea from me.
"Can you believe it? NOTHING!" emphasized Wanda.
"But why did Stan arrest Tim for being on a boat?" asked Granny, confused as to where this all was going.
"I have no idea!" said Wanda. "Stan said something about new evidence that has been uncovered and Tim was a prime suspect and that he could come the easy way or the hard way, but it certainly wasn't going to look good in front of a judge if Stan reported he had found Tim trying to skip off the island on an illegal sailboat."
As she paused to take a breath, Granny jumped in. "Was the boat illegal?"
"Oh, you know Stan," said Wanda, brushing aside her question. "He likes to put the fear of God into a person to get them to admit something they might not want to admit at first."
All three of them nodded their heads in understanding.
"So, Tim went along the easy way. But what do you think could have made Stan point a finger at TIM?" asked Marnie conspiratorially.
"I just can't get over that he arrested TIM!" Granny said again. "I mean, I've known that man since high school, and that was a long time ago. He wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, he is AWFULLY good at descaling a fish..." said Wanda.
"And handling a knife..." added Marnie.
"And killing seafood..."
"A fish is a lot different than two men," said Granny.
"Just seems awfully suspicious, if you ask me," said Wanda. "I mean, why would a man agree to be arrested for murder, without an ounce of protest, if he wasn't guilty of SOMETHING?"
"I don't know, girls," said Granny, shaking her head dismissively and going back to filing her nails. "It just feels wrong."
Captain gave a meow of agreement from his pillow on the window ledge.
"Well," said Marnie, casting a knowing look Wanda's direction. "We will keep our ear to the ground and let you know if we hear anything. You do the same. Promise?"
Granny nodded. "Promise."
The ladies sashayed out of the coffee shop, leaving just Granny and me. She let out a huge sigh.
There was something about Granny thinking that Tim couldn't be capable of murder that made me wonder if maybe I hadn't been seeing things right. I picked up a rag and started wiping down the coffee machine nervously.
"Such a shame about Tim," I said, trying to be casual. "They say it is always the quiet ones."
Granny walked over and leaned against the counter, chewing her gum thoughtfully. "I just don't know, Paige. Something isn't right. It just coudn't be Tim."
"Well... if it wasn't him, who else could it have been?"
"I don't know. You've been the one snooping around town asking questions," she said with a knowing wink. "Who do YOU think it is?"
My face burned bright red.
She patted my hand. "Oh, don't worry. I know you are just trying to clear your name and Nate's name, but make sure you don't go pointing your finger at an innocent man just because you want to get out of a sticky situation. It makes you no better than the people who accused you."
"But don't you think that it is awfully suspicious? The boat? And Tim's about the only man in town strong enough to have carried a body... or two bodies... And everyone who came onto the island through the ferry is clear. When I told Tim about the sailor, he got really weird."
Granny stared out the window at the street, watching as the gossip of Tim was passed down the road. The other shopkeepers were looking over their shoulder in the direction of Tim's shop. "I don't know, Paige. It just doesn't feel right. I don't know what DOES feel right, but it's not this." She rapped her knuckles on the counter. "You keep looking. There is something off. You make sure, and you make doubly sure, that Stan hasn't locked up that poor man for the wrong reasons."
I nodded. "I promise."
She grabbed a cookie from the pastry case and headed back toward her apartment. She lifted up the cookie. "I look forward to your report!"
I swiped my cloth one more time across the counter. Had I made a mistake? Was I wrong for thinking what I thought? Had I accused an innocent man? Granny's words were hitting home and I felt ashamed that I had gone to Stan without concrete proof. I was just so scared that Tim and that sailor might disappear.
I rested my chin on my fist and thought through everything I had learned. There seemed to be only one loose end. If Byron hadn't drowned, but instead had been killed and moved, someone needed to find the original murder site. I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be officers Stan and Fred. That assumed there WAS an original murder site. Maybe I was right about Tim, and this was a wild goose chase.
At that moment, Nate passed by the store window. He gave a furtive look up, but the moment he saw me looking at him, he cast his eyes down again.
It was worth making sure, for all of our sakes. It was worth making sure that I was right.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day came and went. Every local who came into the shop had an opinion they felt obliged to share with me on Tim's guilt or innocence. The more they talked, the worse I felt. You know things are bad when you start looking forward to the tourists.
Finally, my work day was over, and I could not fold my apron fast enough as Granny came down to take over.
"I'm headed out!" I said, loading up the bag with some leftovers.
"Have a nice afternoon!" she replied, blowing a bubble with her gum. "See you tomorrow!"
I went around the back of the shop and unlocked the powder blue beach cruiser, and placed the bag of goodies in the basket. I turned my bike in the direction of Nate's house. I know things weren't exactly right between us, but I needed his help to figure out if I had completely screwed up with Tim.
I pedaled up the hill and was breathing heavily by the time I reached his house. I noticed he had made some minor improvements. The yard had been cut back and there was a sprinkler trying to bring the dead grass back to life. I didn't have the heart to tell him there was more likelihood of his uncle coming back than that yard. I pushed open the gate and it didn't squeak. He had obviously oiled it. His uncle's old pickup truck was parked in the driveway, and it looked like it had just gotten a good wash. I walked up the path, tripping in my flip-flops on the uneven cobblestone, and knocked on the door. I waited for a few moments and then it opened.
Nate stood there. His face was awash with a mix of emotions. I think he was glad to see me, but also a little scared and nervous.
It was up to me to bridge this gap. I held out the bag. "Peace offering?"
He smiled, all tension disappearing as he took it from me. He opened up the bag and nodded. "There's not an international conflict on this globe that could not be solved with your baked goods," he said.
"I'm totally a dealer in weapons of mass appetite destruction," I replied. I shifted on my feet and folded my arms. "I see you're fixing up the place!" I offered. "It looks nice."
"Well, just a little therapeutic work," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Needed something to keep my mind off of things."
I realized he was talking about the way we left things yest
erday. I wet my lips. "Listen, Nate," I said. "I was wondering..."
"Yes?" he replied, his head lifting quickly as if he was hoping for something.
I wasn't sure what I was ready to say about what was going on between us, though, so instead, I just lamely asked, "I was wondering if I could take a look at the maps of the land your uncle purchased."
Nate's face fell. "Sure," he replied. "They're this way." He motioned for me to come inside.
He walked me into the dining room and began digging around some file boxes. "I think I saw them here somewhere," he said. "Ah! Here they are!" He pulled out some folded paper and brought them over to me. He laid them out on the table for me to get a look at. "Turns out, he owns all of this land."
I squinted at the boundary lines. "I didn't know he bought the old fish cannery."
Nate shrugged. "Seems like he was buying up everything that was for sale. I even found some contracts saying that he hired a surveyor. I haven't been able to find any of the results of the survey, and the company won't be open until Monday, but I'll need to give them a call to find out if we owe them any money."
I shook my head. "Being the executor sucks."
"Completely," said Nate with a sigh.
"I'm sorry you have to sort all of this out," I said, hoping he'd also get the implied apology for not being understanding yesterday.
"Thanks," he replied.
I motioned to the maps. "Do you mind if I borrow these?"
My question seemed to make him really uncomfortable. "I'm not sure," he replied. "They're the only ones I have..."
I cut him off. This conversation wasn't going the way I wanted it to go. "What if you brought them with you?" I offered. "Maybe tomorrow you could go with me to these plots of land? I think we can figure out where most of these are. Maybe we can just look around and see if there is anything there, maybe some clues."
"Clues?" Nate asked. "What about Tim? I heard he is all but convicted of the crime."
Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable. "Nate, I might have done something really bad," I admitted.
"What?" he asked, leaning against the table with a concerned look.
"I might have jumped to some conclusions. And I might have gone to Stan with my suspicions. And he might have taken my suggestions for routes of investigation as an accusation that Tim was the murderer." I grimaced, bracing myself for Nate to lay into me about what an idiot I was.
But he didn't. Instead, he rested a hand on my arm and said, "It takes a big person to admit they might be wrong."
"I could be wrong," I admitted.
Nate smiled. "And that's what I love about you."
I knew he was just joking around, but the word hit my heart like an arrow. Did he just say that was what he loved about me? I felt the heat rising in my cheeks and tried to hide my smile as I looked down at all the maps.
"We'll either clear Tim's name or come up with evidence that he did it," Nate pronounced with finality.
I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. No matter what, he was the one guy on the island who viscerally understood the tangled web of this whole mess. "I'm sorry we fought," I said.
"Me, too," he replied. And then he gave me a great, big, warm, make-up hug that was so wonderful I almost felt like I wanted to pick another fight just so he would have to hug me again.
Instead, after we pulled away, I decided to refocus our energy on the task at hand instead of the list of other things that hug made me want to do. I pointed to the town. "So, he bought up the parcels of land on Main Street, but it looks like he also purchased a bunch of land on the other side of the island. I wonder why?"
Nate looked closer. "It’s on the open ocean side," he answered. "Perhaps he was planning on building a dock?"
"A dock?"
"Cruise ships maybe? The boats could come in, and then he could bus people to Main Street and build up hotels along the road...? I don't know," Nate guessed before giving up. He motioned to the mess of papers in the room. "I'm sure the answer is here somewhere, but I haven't found it yet. It doesn't mean it isn't here or even that I haven't seen it. But, I promise you I will find it, Paige."
I smiled. "Okay. I'll keep you to that promise."
"Shall we go tomorrow?" Nate asked, looking like maybe he was just as excited as me about our grand adventure. "Maybe early?"
"Sure! That sounds perfect!" I replied.
"Okay," he said. He reached over and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. "I'm glad that you came over. And I'm sorry I was a jerk."
"Me, too," I replied.
"You're sorry you're a jerk?" he laughed, thinking he had caught me in a logic blip.
"I am," I said. "And I'm also glad I came over."
His gaze lowered to my lips and lingered.
There's a moment when you're about to kiss someone for the very first time. You both want to cross that distance, you both have to decide who has the courage to say "yes."
And it turns out that Nate was braver than me. His lips touched mine lightly, tenderly. They were soft, yet firm. Just that gentle brush sent a rush of warmth up from my naked toes in their flip-flops to the tip-top of my ponytailed hair. His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me closer. All I wanted was for him to keep going, but instead, he stopped himself. Because he is a gentleman, the jerk.
His hand cupped my face and his thumb traced my jaw. "I should let you go," he murmured.
"Are you sure about that?" I asked.
He closed his eyes and nodded, but I could see that he was having a herculean battle to not pick up where we left off. As much as I wanted to fling my arms around his neck and tell him I had nowhere to be besides here with him, I respectfully disentangled myself and stood back. I shyly smoothed my hair as he let out a deep exhale. He smiled, and I could see in his eyes he was already regretting breaking things off.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I reminded him.
"Yes," he replied. "We will pick up where we left off tomorrow." And I could see that he wasn't just referring to the job we had to do.
He walked me to the door and his hand lingered upon mine as I walked out. "Tomorrow," I reminded him.
"Tomorrow."
As I walked out of the front gate though, the fact of the matter is I'm a liar.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that from the moment I looked at the map, I had already decided I wasn't waiting until tomorrow to prove Tim's innocence. I didn't want to give the murderer another day to clear out whatever it was he or she was hiding. I was going to head out to the old cannery this afternoon. I looked back at the house and waved to Nate, who was standing in the window watching me.
The sooner I solved this mystery, the sooner we could figure out if that kiss had any future.
Chapter Nineteen
I grabbed my bike and headed off toward the other side of the island. It was about ten miles away and my guesstimate was it would take me about an hour. Fortunately, the land was fairly flat and deserted. There were a few houses out this direction, inhabited by summer folk, but the season was still early and most of the places looked vacant. People came out to hike and camp on the island, but most of those folks went through the paths that went around the island, where the view was better, as opposed to the boring road straight through. I didn't pass a single car as I pedaled.
It was turning into a hot and humid day, though, and I was sweating by the time I got to the far end. The sky was gray in the distance and it felt like we might get an afternoon thunderstorm.
And that was when I was in for a bit of a surprise. There was a concrete barrier across the road to the old cannery with a sign that read, "Closed." I mean, if Byron owned all of this land, there wasn't much sense in anyone using the road except him. But still...
I walked my bike behind the barrier. The road was covered in dead branches and pine needles and potholes. Maybe he had blocked off the road because it was in such bad shape, I thought. I propped my bike behind a tree. There was no chance of anyone seeing it and I was
n't sure the tires would survive the punishment I would inflict riding it. I stumbled my way along. Although it was light now, I realized I needed to make sure I wasn't out here when either the darkness or the rain fell.
The trees finally cleared and I found the expanse of the cannery before me. It was an old, wooden, rotted-out building. The cobblestone parking lot had been taken over by Mother Nature. The weeds cracked through and were as tall as my waist. I slapped my calf as something bit me. I made a mental note to check for ticks as soon as I got home. My shorts and flip-flops were an idiot idea.
There was a tall security fence around the building and metal bars on all the windows. There were great, big, orange hazard signs warning of toxic chemicals. It's why the place never became a party spot. It's only fun and games until someone slips in a puddle and dissolves into a pile of goo in industrial waste.
Which is why it seemed really, really weird to see a construction trailer set up in one corner of the parking lot, and the fence to the building unlocked and open. I picked my way toward the trailer, not exactly sure what I'd say if someone was inside, but feeling like I should check it out before I went trespassing.
I knocked on the door. No one answered. I peered into the window. It looked like a standard office trailer. There was a conference table and plans tacked up on all the walls. Looked like it was outfitted with a computer and printer. I moved over to the next window, and there was a bed set up, and some men's clothes draped over a chair. No one was home.
I realized I had kind of been hoping someone would be there to stop me from what I was about to do next.
I crept toward the cannery building. The whole time, my brain kept telling me how stupid I was to head here without Nate. Why couldn't I have waited until tomorrow? Why had it seemed so urgent to come today?
I looked down at my phone. There were no bars. I guess demand for cell towers isn't particularly a high priority in the boonies. I couldn't even call Nate to tell him to meet me.
I stepped through the gate and into the building. The floor of the cannery was concrete, which was a small blessing. At least I didn't have to worry about falling through rotted out floorboards, although it seemed like a hearty sneeze might bring the whole place down around my ears.
