Seaside Secrets

by Glen Ebisch

  Clarissa nodded her agreement. “I don’t think Harry’s father killed Llewellyn, although the man’s death definitely helped him by allowing his grandfather to buy the hotel and put him in charge.”

  “So who remains on our suspect list?” Ashley asked.

  Clarissa shrugged. “I’m pretty much out of names. There’s still the widow, Doris; I suppose she could have killed her husband because of his cheating. But she’s close to her nineties now and rather frail, so she couldn’t have killed Ames and Spurlock.”

  “What about Maggie Preston? She could have murdered Llewellyn if she thought he was going to dump her. She could have been the one paying blackmail to Ames all these years. She’s up in her seventies, I guess, but you said she was still active. Maybe she killed Ames and Spurlock to end the blackmail,” Ashley suggested.

  Clarissa frowned. “I suppose she’s physically capable of killing the two men. I guess I could go talk to her again—if she’s willing to see me.”

  “Might be worth a shot,” Ashley said. “Even if she isn’t the killer, she was on the scene when the original murder took place. Maybe she could suggest another suspect.”

  “Last time I talked to her, she seemed to be certain that Doris Llewellyn had killed her husband because he was going to leave her for Maggie. And we already know that Doris didn’t kill Ames and Spurlock.”

  “Press her harder. She might know more than she realizes.”

  Clarissa checked her watch. “Maybe I’ll go by her place for lunch. She’s sure to be there, and if she doesn’t throw me out again, she might tell me something worthwhile.”

  “Want me to join you?” Ashley offered.

  Clarissa thought for a moment. “I’d better go alone. She won’t be happy to see me in any case, so she certainly won’t be thrilled to see that I’ve brought a friend.”

  “Good luck, and be careful,” Ashley said.

  Clarissa nodded headed in the direction of the beach. Who knew this sleepy little coastal town could hold so many secrets?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clarissa walked along the boardwalk, wondering how she was going to get Maggie to speak with her. She found herself envying the people who walked past, obviously intent on enjoying the beautiful day at the beach with nothing more pressing on their minds.

  When this is all over, Clarissa thought, I can go back to being just a pastor.

  Oddly, along with a sense of relief, there was also a feeling of disappointment. She had to admit to herself that, although it had provoked some anxiety, she also enjoyed solving a mystery. Just as she had gotten pleasure from the challenge of writing a good research paper in seminary, she was getting satisfaction from delving deeper and deeper into the death of David Ames. It was probably because both activities were focused on finding the truth.

  She entered Maggie’s Luncheonette just as the lunchtime rush was coming to an end. The waitresses were busy clearing the tables, although there were still a few people eating.

  “What can I get you, honey?” a middle-aged waitress asked her.

  “I’ll have a ham and cheese on rye and a cup of coffee.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Would Maggie be around?” Clarissa asked as the woman turned to go.

  “She’s working in the back.”

  “I’d like to see her, if she isn’t too busy.”

  “We’re not hiring right now, if that’s what you want to see her about,” the waitress said, pushing her hair into place. “Not that we couldn’t use another girl.”

  Clarissa smiled. “I’m sure you could. But what I want to see her about is something personal.”

  The woman gave her a long look, as if trying to decide whether she was trouble. “Okay, honey, I’ll see if she’s available.”

  A couple of minutes later, Maggie came out of the kitchen and walked into the dining room. When she saw Clarissa, she stopped in her tracks. For a moment, Clarissa thought she was going to turn around and head back into the kitchen. But after clearly debating with herself, Maggie advanced toward the table.

  “What do you want this time?” she asked.

  Clarissa was still uncertain about the best approach to get Maggie to talk to her. Finally, she decided on directness. “There’s a killer in Shore Side,” she said, “and I want you to help me catch him.”

  Maggie paused, then sat down in the chair across from her. “I already told you, Doris killed her husband,” she said. “Any more recent murders, I’ve got no idea about.”

  “I think whoever killed Royce has killed two other people in the last week, and I don’t think that person is Doris,” Clarissa told her. “A man like Royce, who liked to be in charge of things, must have had some enemies. Wasn’t there anyone else with whom he came into conflict?”

  Maggie stared across the room, and Clarissa could almost see her mind traveling back across the years.

  “Morris Hazelton, who owned the Orion Hotel just down the beach from us—he wasn’t a big fan of Royce’s,” she said. “He came by one time and point-blank accused Royce of trying to put him out of business.”

  “Was that true?” Clarissa asked.

  Maggie smiled gently. “It probably was. The Orion was our nearest rival, and Royce could be a pretty tough competitor.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Oh, he ran ads saying that our hotel was the best on that stretch of the beach. He’d lower our prices to undercut the Orion at the height of the season, and send out flyers to lists of former Orion guests letting them know we were cheaper.”

  “How did he get a list like that?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but there was lots of talk that he would bribe Orion employees to get him the information,” Maggie said. “There were even some who claimed that he bribed Morris’ people to make mistakes, so the Orion would get a bad name. In fact, David Ames worked at the Orion before he came over to us, and some said he was actually working for Royce the whole time to sabotage the Orion.”

  “Sounds like a pretty hardball approach for a hotel in a small beach community,” Clarissa said.

  Maggie smiled and Clarissa thought there was more than a hint of admiration in her eyes. “Royce never did anything halfway.”

  “If Royce and Ames were so close, why did Royce fire him right before the murder?” Clarissa asked.

  “Royce’s daughter, Elise, started hanging around the hotel when she wasn’t in school. She was only fifteen and couldn’t officially work, but Royce would give her little jobs to do to make her feel important,” Maggie explained. “From what I saw, she spent most of her time flirting with the busboys and lording it over people that she was the boss’s daughter. To be fair, she seemed pretty attached to her father. I think she hung around the hotel because it was better than being at home with her mother.”

  “Were David Ames and Elise starting to get involved?” Clarissa asked. “Did her father feel he had to break them up?”

  “Not exactly. David Ames was a good-looking guy when he was young, and I think Elise was kind of attracted to him. But what got Royce so angry at Ames is that he told Elise about us.”

  “About you and her father?”

  Maggie nodded. “That was right after Royce had set me up in my own place. The last thing Royce had wanted was for Elise to find out that he was cheating on her mother. Family was important to him, in a funny sort of way. We were always careful not to show how we felt about each other in front of the girl.”

  “But, if you’ll excuse me for saying so, he’d had other girlfriends. Didn’t his daughter already realize her father cheated?” Clarissa asked.

  Maggie shook her head. “Royce was always pretty careful, and Elise only started coming to the hotel in the month or so before the murder.”

  “And David told her about the two of you. Why would he do that?”

  “From what I heard, Dave was making a play for her, and she said something about how he wasn’t the man her father was. Dave always had a hot temper, and I gue
ss he couldn’t resist disillusioning her. I don’t know exactly what he said to her, but it was enough that she confronted Royce right on the spot in the center of the lobby. They had quite a public argument, and when she was angry, Elise had a voice that would shatter glass. Everyone on the staff knew about it. Back then, this was a smaller town with a tight grapevine. The whole story had traveled up and down the beach by the next day. Morris Hazelton even stopped in the next morning for breakfast in the dining room just to gloat.”

  “And the next night Royce was killed.”

  Maggie nodded. “And my life changed forever.”

  ***

  By the time Clarissa returned to the church, both Mrs. Gunn and Ashley had left for the day. She sat in her office, wondering what to do next.

  Finally, she took out a phone book and looked up the name Hazelton. There was only one listing in Shore Side, and she called the number.

  “Hello, I’m Clarissa Abbot, pastor of the Shore Side Community Church,” she said to the man who answered. “I was wondering if you were related to the Morris Hazelton who used to run the Orion Hotel. I’m trying to get in touch with him.”

  The man chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to rely on the power of prayer. Morris was my grandfather, and he passed away over fifteen years ago. I’m Ronald Hazelton.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” Clarissa said. “I’m doing some research on the town of Shore Side as part of my history of our church. Would you know anything about the period of time when your grandfather owned the Orion?”

  “I was only a boy when he sold the hotel, but my grandfather certainly talked to me a lot about it in his later years,” Ronald replied. “I might be able to help you.” He told her his address and they agreed to meet in about an hour.

  Clarissa went back to working on her sermon. She wanted to get a head start because tomorrow morning would be devoted to hospital visits, and the afternoon to going to the homes of congregation members. She started working on her topic, which was how your faith could help with making good decisions. She became so engrossed in the subject that forty-five minutes had gone by before she glanced at the clock, and she had to immediately set off to see Ronald Hazelton.

  He lived in a condominium that overlooked the small harbor in the northern part of Shore Side. As she rang the bell and took in the view from his front door, she could see the fishing boats coming in from a day at sea and could clearly see the yacht basin. Clarissa was willing to bet that one of the slips down there belonged to Hazelton. Apparently, he had done very well for himself—or else his grandfather had left him well-off.

  The man who opened the door was a plump, jovial fellow in his mid-thirties who invited her into the living room, where he offered her tea and cookies that he said he had made himself.

  “This is a wonderful cookie,” Clarissa said after taking a bite. “I’m impressed that you made them yourself.”

  Ronald smiled. “Well, there is no Mrs. Hazelton, so I’ve had to learn to take care of myself. Plus I enjoy puttering around in the kitchen.” He paused and took a sip of tea. “You wanted to talk to me about Grandpa Morris?”

  “That’s right, particularly about the time when he owned the Hotel Orion,” Clarissa replied. “I’m quite interested in his relationship with Royce Llewellyn.”

  Ronald laughed. “I’m not sure there was a relationship, unless you consider hatred to be one. Grandpa was convinced that Llewellyn was determined to put the Orion out of business, by fair means or foul.”

  “Did he ever tell you why?”

  “The hotels were on the same block of beach, so they were direct competitors. But I’m not certain that was all of it,” he said. “I think what it came down to is that they just didn’t like one another. They were probably just too much alike: domineering, competitive, and aggressive. I only really knew Grandpa in his later years, after he’d begun to mellow, but even then, you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”

  “So he probably wasn’t very upset when Royce Llewellyn got murdered?”

  “Of course, I don’t know what he actually felt because it was before my time,” Ronald said, “but he told me later that he wasn’t surprised that things turned out that way. He said that Royce wasn’t above dealing with some pretty unsavory characters, so it was no surprise that all his double-dealing finally caught up with him.”

  “Did your grandfather ever mention David Ames?” Clarissa asked.

  “Did he!” Ronald exclaimed. “He still talked about him with disgust thirty years after the event. He was always telling me how Ames worked in the Orion for six months, and during that time he had rats in the kitchen, bugs in the beds, and a huge uptick in the number of clogged toilets. Granddad had a private investigator work undercover to find out what was going on, and he determined that Ames was sabotaging the hotel. My grandfather fired him. He probably would have had him arrested if there had been more proof. A week after he was fired, Royce Llewellyn hired him. Granddad was always convinced that he had been in Llewellyn’s employ all along.”

  “Your grandfather must have been furious.” Clarissa paused, unable to think of a tactful way to put the next question. “Would he have been angry enough to kill Royce Llewellyn?”

  Clarissa had been half expecting Ronald to be offended, and she was relieved when he laughed. “You never knew my granddad or you wouldn’t ask that,” he chuckled. “Like I said, he could be tough and competitive, but his anger always burned out quickly. In many ways, he was the gentlest, wisest man I ever knew. He was always able to put things in perspective. Actually, I think he felt sorry for Llewellyn because the man was never satisfied with what he had. He always wanted more and couldn’t be content. Granddad was happy just to have the Orion doing well. It was his baby.”

  “Did your grandfather have any contact with David Ames after he fired him?” asked Clarissa.

  “I suppose he saw him around town. We all did at one time or another. One thing about living in Shore Side, you’re bound to see both your friends and enemies on a regular basis,” said Ronald. “But as far as I know, he never had any further contact with him. I think he always figured that it was at least half-possible that Ames killed Llewellyn after getting fired.”

  “What happened to the Orion? It’s doesn’t exist any more, does it?”

  Ronald looked sad. “My grandfather continued running it until he was in his late seventies and it became too much for him. Neither my father nor I wanted to go into the business—my dad’s an accountant and I’m a high school history teacher. So Granddad sold the hotel. It was renovated and renamed the Claremont. My dad gave me some of the money he inherited from the sale to buy this place.” He gestured around him.

  “I’ve heard of the Claremont,” Clarissa said. “Folks say it’s a good hotel.”

  “It probably is, but my grandfather always thought it went downhill after he left the business. I suppose it’s only natural to feel that way.”

  Clarissa stood up and thanked Ronald for his hospitality and help.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “I am a historian, after all. I like talking about the past.” He gave Clarissa a shrewd glance. “I hope you find out what you want to know. But lots of people have been curious about the Llewellyn murder over the years, and it’s never been solved.”

  “Maybe I’ll have better luck,” Clarissa said.

  He reached out and shook her hand. “I hope you do, Pastor.”

  She hoped so, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning, Clarissa sat in the outer office facing Ashley, who was seated in front of her computer as usual. Clarissa had just told her about her conversations with both Maggie Preston and Ronald Hazelton.

  “So Maggie said that Ames told Elise Llewellyn about her father’s affair, and that’s why Royce fired him?” Ashley said, looking somewhat puzzled. Clarissa understood; it was a lot of names to keep track of.

  “I guess Royce took his family life seriously, ev
en if he wasn’t faithful, and he wanted to protect his daughter from his infidelities,” she said.

  “That certainly gave Ames a motive for murder—especially since he was apparently kind of a hothead to begin with,” Ashley mused. “Is there any way that Ames is the murderer and someone killed him in revenge? Maybe Maggie Preston? She still seems to be carrying a torch for Llewellyn.”

  “But over forty years is a long time to wait for revenge.”

  “Don’t they said it’s best served cold?” said Ashley.

  “After all that time, it would be frozen. Plus, we already know that David Ames was blackmailing the killer, so he couldn’t have been the one who murdered Royce Llewellyn,” Clarissa said.

  Ashley toyed with a paper clip for a few moments, and then her eyes lit up. “Do we really know that Ames was blackmailing anyone?” she said. “All we have to support that is Owen Chandler’s speculation that Ames was getting extra money that way. The only confessed blackmailer we have is Chandler himself, who was blackmailing Ames by threatening to expose the fact that Ames wasn’t in the bar at the time Llewellyn was killed like he’d claimed.”

  “But Ames was clearly getting extra money from somewhere; both Chandler and Ames’s last girlfriend, Sharon Meissner, were pretty sure of that,” Clarissa pointed out.

  “Sure, Ames was a crooked guy, there’s no doubt about that. But who knows what he was involved in to make extra cash? It didn’t have to be blackmail.”

  Clarissa paused. “Okay, let’s say that you’re right. But if Ames wasn’t blackmailing the killer, why was he murdered? If we take both revenge and blackmail off the table, there’s no reason left for anyone to kill him. But someone obviously did.”

  Ashley gave a weak smile. “Yeah, I guess I’ve talked myself into a corner here.”

  “The problem is that we have no idea who Ames was blackmailing,” Clarissa said.