by Sarah Fox
Brett and I didn’t hang around the marina much longer. I had no desire to watch Easton’s body get transported up from the docks, and I knew Ray was too busy to have me interrupt him at the moment. I’d call him in the morning instead, I decided.
Brett and I bypassed the ice cream parlor as we left the marina. We’d both lost our appetites after hearing about Easton, and all we wanted to do was get home.
* * * *
As soon as I finished breakfast the next day, I phoned Ray on his direct line. The call went to voice mail, so I left him a brief message, letting him know why I wanted to speak with him.
Brett took Bentley to work with him, getting an early start, so I set out on a run on my own. Even though Brett and I hadn’t ended up indulging in ice cream the night before, I still wanted to get some exercise. Running helped to clear my head, and it was nice to get out for some fresh air before the day grew too warm.
When I returned home, I checked my phone for messages. Ray hadn’t returned my call but I had a text message from Patricia, asking if I wanted to join her for tea later that morning. I sent her a quick reply, accepting the invitation, and hurried upstairs to shower and change before heading to her place.
Patricia’s house was a beachfront Victorian like my own, although hers was yellow and white rather than blue and white. It was a short walk away from my house, and today I opted to go along the road instead of the beach, since there would be more shade. Although it was only midmorning, the day was already gearing up to be another scorcher.
It only took a couple of minutes to reach Patricia’s B&B. As I followed the long driveway toward the house, I heard a woman’s voice drifting toward me on the gentle breeze. It took a moment for me to realize that the voice was coming from the upper level of the carriage house where the windows were wide open to take advantage of the sea breeze.
Patricia used the ground floor of the carriage house as a woodworking studio, and the second story had been converted into a suite for B&B guests. I knew the voice wasn’t Patricia’s, so I figured it belonged to whoever was staying in the suite.
“I understand that the investigation is ongoing,” the woman said, sounding short on patience, “but surely you’ve made some progress.”
I slowed my steps, realizing the voice belonged to Pippa, Rowena Miller’s friend.
“I understand that too, but can you at least tell me when you expect a final ruling on the cause of Easton’s death? We… his wife needs closure.”
It sounded like she was talking to someone official, and since there was no sheriff’s department vehicle in the driveway and I was only hearing one voice, I figured she must be on the phone.
“What about Yvonne Pritchard’s death?” she continued a moment later. “I know it’s been ruled a homicide, but have you made any other progress with that investigation?”
I didn’t want to get caught listening in, so I continued toward the main house, albeit slowly, straining to hear what she’d say next. Unfortunately, all I heard were a few muffled, exasperated words.
I decided to skirt around the house to the back door. As I rounded the corner, I heard a door slam. I glanced over my shoulder. Pippa was jogging down the carriage house’s exterior stairway. I picked up my pace, not wanting her to see me. A moment later, an engine roared to life, followed by the sound of a car heading off along the driveway toward the road.
Judging by Pippa’s side of the conversation and her obvious exasperation, I thought it was safe to assume that her phone call hadn’t provided her with much—if any—information. It made sense that she wanted an update on Easton’s case for Rowena’s sake, but why was she interested in Yvonne’s death? Pure curiosity, perhaps.
Patricia was in the kitchen when I reached the back porch, the French doors standing open to let in the fresh summer air.
“Hi, Marley,” she called out when I stepped inside. “Make yourself at home. I’m just slicing up the zucchini bread I baked this morning.”
“Sounds delicious,” I said, my mouth already watering.
Patricia’s baking was never a disappointment.
I paused by a shelf in the family room where a carving was on display. Patricia had a talent for shaping beautiful animals out of wood. I’d seen several pieces of her work before—I’d even purchased a couple—but the elephant displayed on the shelf was one I hadn’t seen before.
“Is this new?” I asked when Patricia headed for the dining table that sat between the kitchen and the family room.
“Yes,” Patricia said when she saw what I was talking about. “Sienna and I watched a documentary about elephants a few weeks ago and I guess it inspired me.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I’m thinking of making a baby elephant to go along with it.”
“That would be adorable.”
Patricia fetched the teapot from the kitchen and we sat down to enjoy cups of tea with the scrumptious zucchini bread. We chatted for a few moments about the gorgeous weather and my wedding preparations before I brought up Yvonne’s death.
“I guess you’ve been left with Yvonne’s belongings,” I said. “Has Ray or one of his deputies told you what to do with them?”
Patricia nodded and took a sip of her tea. “They’ve been in touch with her next of kin—her adult daughter, Luanne. Apparently Luanne lives in Buenos Aires and isn’t able to come to Washington, so she got in touch with her father—Yvonne’s ex-husband. He’s coming to collect Yvonne’s things and is planning to stay in town for a few days, probably so he can try to stay in the loop with the investigation.”
“Yvonne’s death must have been a terrible blow for Luanne.”
“I get the sense that they weren’t terribly close, but even so, it must have been a shock.”
Patricia was in the midst of refilling my teacup when the doorbell rang.
“That might be the ex-husband now.” She set down the teapot. “He thought he’d get here before noon.” She pushed back her chair. “Excuse me a minute.”
She disappeared down the hall toward the front door. A moment later I heard a man’s voice along with Patricia’s. They talked for a few moments in the foyer before Patricia showed him to a room on the second floor. She came back down soon after and rejoined me at the table. We were almost finished our tea when we heard footsteps in the hallway.
A man with thinning dark hair appeared in the doorway. He wore a gray suit and looked tired, with bags under his slightly bloodshot eyes.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said to Patricia. “Would it be possible to have a glass of ice water?”
“Of course.” Patricia got up from the table and fetched a glass from one of the kitchen cupboards. “This is my friend, Marley McKinney. Marley, this is Bryce Harcourt.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, “although I wish the circumstances were better. I’m sorry for your loss.”
He offered up a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”
“Is this your first time in Wildwood Cove?” Patricia asked as she handed him a glass of ice water.
He took a drink before replying. “It is. From what little I’ve seen from today’s drive, it’s beautiful.”
“Hopefully you’ll get to see more before you leave, although I know you’re not here to go sightseeing.”
“I might have some time on my hands to look around.” He downed the last of his water. “Probably not today, though. Sheriff Georgeson asked me to see him in Port Angeles once I got to the peninsula, so that’s where I’m headed next.”
Patricia took his empty glass from him. “Is there anything else you need before you go?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
She set the glass on the kitchen counter. “I’ll probably be here when you get back, but just in case, I’ll give you a key.”
She walked with Bryce toward the foyer, and the front door
closed a moment later.
When Patricia returned to the back of the house, she paused, her eyes on me. “Is something wrong, Marley?”
I realized I was frowning. “I’m confused.”
“About what?”
“Bryce said he arrived on the peninsula today and had never been to Wildwood Cove before.”
“That’s right. He lives in Portland.”
“But it can’t be true. I saw him here four days ago.”
“Are you sure?” Patricia asked.
“Positive. I saw him at Wildwood Park during the opening ceremonies for the Golden Oldies Games. He was talking to Pippa Hampshire.”
Patricia looked as confused as I felt. “That’s strange. Why would he lie?”
“That,” I said, “is a very good question.”
Chapter Twelve
Patricia and I didn’t linger over our tea much longer. She needed to get some groceries, and I was thinking about going for a swim in the ocean. I left through the back door and decided to take the beach route home. It wouldn’t matter much if I got hot, since I could cool off in the ocean as soon as I got home and changed into my swimsuit.
I’d barely left the Murray property when I met up with Sienna.
“Heading home?” I asked.
“For a bit,” she replied. “Ellie’s coming over soon. We’re going to hang out on the beach, maybe go for a swim.” Ellie was a friend of hers from school. “Were you visiting my mom?”
“I was,” I replied. “She’s just gone out to get some groceries.”
“I hope the new guest doesn’t show up while she’s gone.”
“Yvonne’s ex-husband? He arrived a little while ago. He’s gone to Port Angeles to meet up with the sheriff.”
“That’s good. I didn’t want to be the one to greet him. I wouldn’t know what to say. I mean, would he be sad that his ex-wife is dead? Or did he hate her?”
“I’m not sure how he feels about it. But that’s not the only thing I’m not sure about.”
“What do you mean?”
I told her about the fact that Bryce had claimed he’d just arrived in Wildwood Cove for the first time and how I knew that wasn’t true.
“And you’re wondering why he lied,” Sienna guessed.
“He must have something to hide.”
Sienna’s eyes sparkled with a light I’d seen before. “Maybe we can find out what that something is. Come on.” She hopped over a log, heading for her house.
I hurried after her. “What are you planning to do?” I suspected I already knew the answer.
“You said he went out, right? And my mom’s at the grocery store. That means we can search his room without anyone knowing.”
“Sienna, that’s not a good idea.”
She had her keys out and was unlocking the back door. “What if he killed his ex-wife? We can’t sit back and do nothing.”
I followed her into the house. “Your mom wouldn’t like this.”
“Mom!” Sienna shouted.
Nothing but silence greeted us.
Apparently satisfied that Patricia hadn’t returned unexpectedly, Sienna shut the back door. “She never needs to know. No one needs to know, unless we find something that has to be turned over to the sheriff. Even then, I can say I accidentally found it while I was putting out fresh towels or whatever.”
I still had misgivings, mostly because Patricia was a friend of mine and I knew she wouldn’t approve in the least. At the same time, I was just as curious as Sienna. If I was completely honest with myself, I was itching for a chance to get a look at Bryce’s belongings.
With guilt and curiosity battling it out inside of me, I followed Sienna up to the second floor.
“All the other guests went out after breakfast and said they wouldn’t be back till tonight.” She turned left at the top of the stairs. “My mom must have given him Yvonne’s room.” She stopped outside the second door on the right. “This one.”
I was having a bad case of second thoughts right at that moment, but Sienna opened the door and disappeared into the room. I followed after her, knowing I was failing at being a responsible adult. Once inside, I left the door open a crack, hoping we’d hear if anyone arrived home while we were snooping.
Sienna made a beeline for the suitcase sitting on the bed. It was unzipped, so she flipped the top open. The suitcase was empty aside from a cell phone charger and a belt.
“He’s already unpacked.” Sienna wasted no time moving to the chest of drawers.
While she carefully rifled through the contents of each drawer, I focused my attention on the lightweight jacket hanging from the hook on the back of the bedroom door. The first pocket I slid my hand into was empty.
“Nothing,” Sienna said with disappointment as she shut the last drawer.
“I guess that’s not surprising,” I said. “We weren’t likely to find the murder weapon lying around.”
When I slid my hand into the jacket’s second pocket, my fingers touched what felt like plastic.
Sienna sat on the edge of the bed. “Do the cops know what the murder weapon was?”
I pulled the piece of plastic out of the pocket. “I don’t know, but since Ivan thinks she was stabbed, it was probably a knife or some other type of sharp object.”
“What’s that?” Sienna got up and came closer.
“An ID badge.” I studied it further. “Bryce works at a hospital in Seattle. He’s a pharmacist.”
Sienna lost interest and dropped down onto her knees to look under the bed. I returned the ID badge to the jacket pocket before peeking into the small attached bathroom. There wasn’t much to see in there.
As I shut the bathroom door, Sienna climbed to her feet.
“Nothing,” she said again. The excited light in her eyes had dimmed.
“Don’t be too disappointed.” I cast a quick look around the room and decided it looked the same as it had when we’d arrived. I led the way out into the hall, and Sienna shut the bedroom door. “I’ve got other suspects to look into.”
She brightened. “Like who?”
On our way back down the stairs, I told her about Claudia Wu, Felicia Venner, and Nash Harlow.
“I saw one of the tweets Yvonne posted about Claudia a few years back. It really was terrible.”
“So maybe Claudia wanted revenge,” Sienna said as we continued on to the kitchen.
“It’s definitely possible. Maybe the fact that Yvonne was all sugary sweet to Claudia the other day was the final straw. She sure seemed angry when I saw them arguing at the park on Friday.”
Sienna leaned against the kitchen counter. “What about the other two?”
“Yvonne and Felicia clearly didn’t like each other, but I’m not sure how that started. I haven’t had time to do any research on Nash yet. That’s next on my to-do list.”
I expected Sienna to say she wanted to help with that, but her phone buzzed at that moment.
“Ellie’s on her way here. I’d better change into my swimsuit.”
“Have fun,” I said, already heading out the door. I thought it was best if she didn’t get too involved in my sleuthing.
“Text me if you find out anything juicy,” she called after me.
I waved over my shoulder and headed for the beach, not committing to anything.
* * * *
As soon as I was home, I settled on the couch with a tall glass of sweet tea and my laptop, deciding to leave my swim for another time. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that my concerns about Sienna getting involved in my unofficial investigation mirrored the ones Brett and Ray had whenever I poked around for clues. Ever since Sienna had developed an appetite for solving mysteries, I had a better understanding of Brett’s point of view, and Ray’s too.
Unlike his uncle, Brett never tried to stop me from investiga
ting. He knew that would mean changing who I was. He did, however, want me to be careful and stay out of danger. I wanted the same for Sienna, so I hoped she wouldn’t go snooping on her own.
When I had the Internet browser open, I looked up Nash Harlow. It didn’t take much work to find a long list of results relating to the right man. I poked around, skimming various articles, profiles, and websites. Nash’s coaching career had started almost two decades ago, and before that he’d competed internationally as a triathlete. That information didn’t hold my attention; it was quickly overshadowed by my discovery of a connection between Nash and Yvonne.
Four years ago, Yvonne had written an article about Nash and one of his athletes, but it wasn’t about their involvement in a triathlon. The article revealed that Nash—married for more than ten years at that time—was having an affair with one of his twentysomething female athletes.
I sat back and considered what I’d read. I couldn’t be sure that there was any truth to what Yvonne had written, but considering the hate-filled glare I’d seen Nash send her way, he’d harbored a grudge against her either way. True or not, I wondered if the allegations had affected Nash’s marriage.
I did another quick Internet search, hoping to satisfy my curiosity. I had to do a little more digging to find the information I wanted this time, but it still didn’t take too long to uncover it. About a year after Yvonne’s article was published, Nash and his wife had formally divorced. The timing suggested that the affair, or at least the allegation, could have triggered the breakdown of their marriage. And if Nash blamed Yvonne for his divorce, he might well have wanted revenge.
Chapter Thirteen
I awoke to another beautiful day on Wednesday morning. The sky was pale pink, and through the open window I could hear birds singing. As soon as I stepped outside, I could tell that the day would be another hot one. It seemed the Olympic Peninsula was caught in the midst of a heat wave. If I’d still been living in Seattle, I would have found the heat a bit oppressive, but here in Wildwood Cove I didn’t mind it. Most days the ocean breeze provided some relief, and I always had the option of going for a refreshing swim after work.
