Darryl reached up to take the full coffee cup Lucy offered him and said, “Most of the time I’m not working a murder case. It’s domestic stuff and stolen bikes. This is Brightwater Bay, not Seattle. Stuff like this isn’t my life. My normal job is to help people. That’s what normal people do, you know? They call the police and ask for help.”
“That’s true,” Claire said, feeling warmed by the idea of it. “You helped me so much when I first came here.”
Darryl turned to Lucy and caught her glance.
“Mrs. Freeman’s out walking with her cart today,” he said, and Lucy’s lips thinned.
“Empty or full?”
“Empty.”
Lucy sighed. “I’ve got some extra chicken pot pies in the back. I’ll box up a couple, if you can drop them by for her.”
Claire listened to the quick conversation, once so cryptic to her, with perfect understanding. Mrs. Freeman was an older woman who was well-known about town, and her mutterings and scattered thoughts were tolerated with compassion and often quiet charity that included making sure she had enough food. Without fanfare or any speeches or desire for thanks, people did their best to make sure the confused lady was taken care of.
This was Brightwater Bay with its amazing ocean, and its kind people, and its hardworking ferry boat men. Claire laid her head on Scott’s shoulder while Lucy slid in next to Darryl.
They recapped what they learned, leaving Lucy’s jaw almost on the table when they said that Leah Park seemed to be moving out from her husband’s house.
“But the boys…”
“Yeah, they seemed pretty broken up,” Scott said, rubbing his hand over his head and the back of his neck.
“Anyone would be,” Lucy snapped. “They just lost their grandma. Even if she was horrible, she was their grandma. And then their mom takes that as the first chance to head for the hills? What kind of woman does that?” She shook her head, her mouth a firm line of disapproval. “It’s just not right.”
Claire stirred her coffee just to keep her hands busy. It didn’t make any sense really. Not unless…it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Maybe to none of them? Maybe even because everyone knew…except Gertrude Park? Even the boys? If that was the case, maybe it was Ethan Park who would have been removed from the will.
“Could be,” Scott said.
Claire hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts out loud, but she apparently had. She blinked and then said, “Would you leave still? Directly after a parent died?”
Lucy shook her head, as did Darryl and Scott. Lucy got up and came back a massive basket of French fries. The four of them dug in as they talked about the Park family and relationships in general.
Darryl shook his head and said, “Not like that. I can’t imagine leaving like that for any reason. Even if you hated your partner…everyone in town would judge you for it. Most people would just fake it for a while and leave…I don’t know…at least a month or two later. After things cooled down and the sting of the loss had faded a bit.”
“It makes me sad,” Claire admitted. “Mostly for those boys. And the horse. Is it weird that I’m sadder about the horse, the kids, and that poor rat than I am about the rest of them? I kind of like Mary though.”
The thought of everything seemed to coalesce all at once and she felt her stomach lurch. Claire had to set her coffee cup down before she threw it at the wall and said, “I need some air. I’ll be right back.”
Scott let her out of the booth and she stomped outside to stand under the awning and take deep calming breaths before she could return to the booth. She watched a couple walk by hand-in-hand. A tall man was shaking the rain of his umbrella before ducking into the art gallery. A red-haired woman fumbled with her set of keys, before getting into her VW beetle.
There may be drama in some people’s lives, but normal life in Brightwater Bay still went on.
Claire smiled, feeling rejuvenated, and went back inside.
“Pie?” Lucy asked when Claire dropped onto her seat.
She shook her head. Her stomach was twisting again, and she was pretty sure it was because Mrs. Park’s life infused Claire with nausea.
“It’s just not right,” Claire said. “That woman was just not right. From the poor rat to the grandkids to her children. She was…well…she was horrible. I don’t feel good about any of this.”
“We’re not supposed to feel good about murder,” Darryl said. “Would you prefer if the person who had been murdered was a sweet little kid or a mom of four?”
Scott winced with Claire, and they shook their heads in unison.
Lucy was the one who answered when she said, “Absolutely not.”
“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” Scott muttered. “If the victim was horrible or a really kind person. Either way, they still deserve someone to stand up for them.”
Darryl sighed. “This is the worst part of my job. Getting into the dirty part of people’s lives and realizing where they’re coming from. It’s not all cartoon super villains like the Joker or Lex Luther. There’s always a reason people do horrible things. Even the people, like serial killers, who aren’t right in their heads. You can usually find out why someone is like that.”
“It bugs me,” Scott said, “that I can see someone snapping and losing it at Mrs. Park. Maybe she kicked them all out of dinner, and it was enough. Maybe it wasn’t any one big secret? I could see someone just having enough, and it bugs me that I can. You get kicked out for the hundredth time, you see the poison, you see the cake, and you’re like…this could work, and you do it before you think.”
Claire took his hand and said, “Just because we can follow the possible reasoning of the killer doesn’t mean that any of us would actually kill someone.”
Scott shrugged as he added, “Maybe she said something that clued whoever was getting disinherited into the fact that they were. Maybe the murder doesn’t have anything to do with the money. Maybe it was the maid after being yelled at too many times. It’s just…I could see any of those. After how she was so mean to Claire and Mrs. Applegate for months, I felt severe dislike for her. But to have been raised by her. I think the biggest surprise I have is why no one killed her earlier and that bugs me. That I’m actually surprised her children didn’t kill her long ago.”
Claire squeezed his hand. He’d just said what she was feeling. Maybe this was why they felt the way they did about each other. Regardless, she couldn’t quite make it work in her head about Ethan Park. Something just wasn’t right.
“Lucy,” Scott said suddenly, turning to her, “Tell us something lovely.”
She grinned and then said, “Jenny Killian and Brian Murphy are getting married. He proposed to her by the water and she cried because she was so happy. Both of their families were there. When she said yes, they cheered and I could hear it all the way through my car windows.”
“I don’t know who they are,” Claire said, “But I like it.”
“My cousin’s kid is having twin boys,” Lucy said. “They’re so excited and they’re doing the nursery in a Noah’s Ark theme because of the two by two idea.”
Claire swirled a fry through ketchup, popped it into her mouth, and said, “The daffodils are blooming. I love those. It rains enough here that it’s always green. I have good friends, and I love Brightwater Bay. I’m so glad I didn’t go back to Arizona even after today.”
“You have an awesome boss who is the most flexible boss in all of Brightwater Bay,” Scott told Claire.
She grinned at him, feeling bright again as she told him, “You get to see whales and sea otters while you do your job. And you love it. You love your job in a world full of people who do the daily grind.”
He grinned at her, tapped her on the end of her nose as Darryl said, “One of the boys on the force had their kid get a full ride scholarship to Notre Dame.”
“Oh,” Claire exclaimed, “I love that. I love all of that.”
Lucy started telling jokes that one of the kids had come into the café
saying. They were all terrible knock-knock jokes, but Claire laughed until it hurt with her head on Scott’s shoulder. The feeling of being haunted by Mrs. Park didn’t disappear entirely, but it faded. She’d discolored her children’s lives so much, she didn’t deserve to discolor their afternoon.
After a while, Darryl admitted, “I can see why Mrs. Park might disown Ethan Park for getting a divorce. That woman wasn’t right in the head, but I can’t see Ethan Park killing his mother. Not over money. He makes good money. Really good money. Mrs. Park didn’t buy that big old house he lives in, he did. He’s a successful man in his own right.”
“But…it couldn’t be Helen,” Claire said. “That doesn’t make sense. If she were going to murder her mom over money, she’d have done it the last time she was disinherited. She’d already learned to survive without the money. She’d already learned to take care of herself and be who she was outside of being a Park. She kept her baby. She picked her own life. All of it.”
Scott sighed and said, “It could be Mary. She clearly hated her mom. There isn’t love lost there..”
“But she was so wooden. She was so messed up over it all,” Claire objected. “I don’t think Mary did it.”
“Maybe not,” Darryl said. “—but we can’t be sure it was any of them. They all have a motive that a jury would buy. They all have a reason to hate their mom. They all had a chance to kill her. It’s ridiculous. We’re not going to pin it on any of them. And when we don’t…the killer will get away with it.”
Claire sighed and then said, not happily, “At least we don’t have any reason to believe the killer will move onto someone else.”
Chapter 11
The wind was howling through Brightwater Bay when Darryl pulled out his phone and read a series of messages. He glanced outside and pointed out the way several pieces of trash and some leaves were blasting through the town. His brows rose as he said, “The storm is turning for the worse, and now the utility companies are saying there’s a real chance we could lose power. I have to get to work.”
“Well, lovely,” Claire said, a little worried about her Roscoe. She’d left him at the cottage, and he should be fine, but she didn’t want to leave him for long. Especially, now that Darryl had pointed it out, the way the wind had risen to fierce levels. She’d seen her little dog get concerned at fireworks and outside noises before, and didn’t want him to be scared and alone.
“It’ll take a while for it to really hit,” Scott said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get Roscoe, go to my place, I have a good stock of supplies and everything we need if we lose power.”
Claire felt better about that but she glanced at Lucy, “You’ll be okay, right?”
Lucy grinned and nodded as she said, “Of course I will. This isn’t my first rodeo, ya know.”
“And Daisy?”
“She’ll be fine,” Scott promised Claire. “She’s home from her coffeeshop by now, but we’ll check on her when we pick up things from your place.”
Claire grinned at her friend and remembered that is what they did. They took care of those who needed it and their friends. They checked in on each other. It was that very reason why Mrs. Park’s murder bothered all of them so much. It was that someone who they’d have looked after had been killed. They all understood why one of her children had gotten fed up with Mrs. Park but it wasn’t just that this was a safe small town that bothered them so much. It was a safe small town because they looked after each other. Killing one of them was the opposite of everything Brightwater Bay stood for—even if it was someone like Gertrude Park who died.
That realization brought Claire to the certainty that despite who killed her and how justified the murder felt at first—she needed to find the killer. She needed the town to be what she’d come to love. Anything less wasn’t something she could live with.
Scott and Claire drove to the cottages to get Roscoe, and he was obviously thrilled to greet them at the door, standing on his hind legs, his tail whipping wildly in joy. After getting some things together and feeding the dog, Claire debated for a moment and then took a long shower, throwing on flannel pants and a hoodie just in case the power went out. She didn’t want to have to rinse off in the morning in a cold shower by the light of a candle.
Locking the door behind them, Claire and Scott walked over to check on Daisy. She was fine, giddy even. The fire roared in her fireplace and she had cookies on a plate with a carafe of tea next to her armchair, with lanterns set around her place just in case the power went out.
Claire examined Daisy’s setup and said, “You look like you’re ready for a cozy night.”
Daisy grinned and glanced over her shoulders as though someone might be listening in and then she stage-whispered, “I love storms. Then I can curl up with a book and a fire and not feel like I should be doing anything else. What did you find out today?”
With the crack of lighting, Claire lifted Roscoe, holding him against her body. She could feel him trembling against her. Quickly, she gave a recap of what they’d found out that day and then left Daisy to think over what they’d said.
Claire was glad that the next day was Sunday and she wasn’t going to be working. Roscoe on her lap, Scott drove to his place. She enjoyed the lash of the rain even though she knew it could cause problems. There was the howling of the wind as well, but it was cozy in the car. Roscoe licked her hand and watched out the window with her.
“It doesn’t add up for me,” Claire told Scott. “Any of them could have known about the cake, but the poison was just there at hand. All of them could have set off Mrs. Park to be disinherited, but the strongest reason seems to be that Ethan and Leah Park were splitting up. I mean…maybe? But like Darryl said, Ethan Park is wealthy in his own right.”
Scott turned the blinker on and moved towards his house. She knew he was listening to her. But the weather was really coming down. It took a lot of rain for it to build up on the roads around here. They were just…built for rain in Washington State, but either way, she could see great puddles forming here and there.
They went inside of Scott’s place, pulling out lanterns and candles. Just in case. Claire made dinner while Scott made sure that they were as prepared as they could be. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if they lost power. The water wouldn’t flood into Scott’s house, it would—maybe—build up on the roadways. If they were worried about losing power, it was loose tree limbs that were the concern with the wind and the power. Fallen tree limbs caused lack of power often enough that most people had some sort of routine to get them through occasional outages.
After dinner, which consisted of grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bananas, and cheddar chips, Claire made them Irish coffee. A grownup drink following a very toddler dinner. She giggled a little when she thought back to the look on Scott’s face when she’d served up the food, but grilled peanut butter and jelly was very different than the traditional sandwich. It ended up sort of decadent and melty and it was a comfort food for her. She took a long sip of her coffee, confessing, “I think I might be too addicted to coffee.”
“I think that’s a realistic statement,” Scott said, but he took his cup without hesitation. “For both of us.”
He pulled out a game of Scrabble and a game of Monopoly. She despised Monopoly, so they started to play Scrabble together. Claire put down the word, ‘year.’
Scott built off of it with ‘raft.’
She didn’t care who won or even if they finished the game. There was just something about playing together that was incredibly intimate, especially when the wind howling outside and the rain pattering against the roof. They were bonding over what they’d experienced that day, the darkness, and the fact that it was just the two of them and the dog making things cozy.
“You know what bugs me?” Claire said as she built the word ‘fatal.’ “Mrs. Park is as old school as they come. She’s like…the ancient feudal lord kind of old school. One that demands heirs and chops people’s heads off if they annoy her.”
Scott nodded as he examined the board and then built a word. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying daughters get disowned for things like having a baby unmarried, and sons get a pass.”
There was a huge rush of wind outside the house and the windows rattled. Their conversation paused as the electricity flickered, but once the wind died down a bit and the power stayed on, they kept playing.
“You don’t think she’d have disowned Ethan for the divorce or breakup or whatever that was?”
Claire considered, imagining the woman with her sour twist of a mouth and her lion-headed cane and said, “No. I think he carried on the family name, and he had three sons. She’d probably never have disowned him. Not if he had a secret family. Not if he was convicted of embezzling. Not if it were something really, really terrible.”
Scott built his own word, took a sip of his coffee, and said, “I think you might be right, as much as I hate that.”
The wind roared outside and there was the slamming of something onto the roof. The lights flickered again and Claire gasped. She jumped at the same time, spilling her coffee all down her front. Roscoe, who had been curled into her lap, leapt off of the couch and ran barking to the door. His movement was jerky, and Claire could see he was afraid. She called to him, trying to ignore the coffee. Thankfully, it had cooled enough so that it was just uncomfortably warm rather than burning her skin.
Claire caught Roscoe as Scott headed outside to see what had happened. A branch from one of the massive evergreen trees had dropped onto the roof. It was huge, and the power lines were wrapped around it. Scott sighed and pulled out his phone to report the downed power lines.
“I’ll probably be without power for the rest of today and most of tomorrow,” he said. “Depending on how many tree limbs went down.”
Claire shrugged. They’d make it for a day without power. She was glad she’d taken the chance to shower and change. They returned to their game by candlelight but spent more time talking about memories from their childhood and previous storms. Claire had been through a hurricane in Florida once. This was nothing compared to that. Scott had been through some pretty epic sea storms.
A Sweet Spoonful of Cyanide Page 7
