Yeast of Eden

by Sarah Fox

  Gathering up my tote bag, I wandered out to the front of the museum and found Nancy sitting behind the counter in the foyer, removing stacks of glossy brochures from a cardboard box.

  She looked up as I approached. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Not much more than I already knew, unfortunately.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile. “The sheriff never had much to go on. At least, that’s what he wanted people to think.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my interest piqued.

  “It was all before my time,” Nancy said. “Not by too much, though, so I heard the stories from my parents and others around town while growing up. Most people believed a young man named Harry Sayers had something to do with the disappearances.”

  “I read a bit about him. He was the mayor’s son. Camelia mentioned him in her diaries too. She was in love with him.”

  Nancy nodded. “I understand they were seen together a fair bit in the weeks before she disappeared. And the other girl worked as a maid for his family, so he was connected to both girls.”

  “But the sheriff didn’t think he was involved.”

  “No.” She hesitated. “Understand, these are rumors, rather than historical facts, but the sheriff and the mayor were buddies. A lot of people believed that even if Harry was involved, nothing would have come of it. The mayor wouldn’t have wanted his family’s reputation tarnished, and that could have influenced the sheriff’s investigation, or lack thereof.”

  “So it really could have been Harry who was responsible.”

  “It’s possible, and a lot of people sure seem to believe it.”

  “So what happened to Harry? He went on living his life like nothing had happened?”

  “That’s the thing. Nobody quite knows what happened to him. A week or so after Camelia’s disappearance, he took off. Nobody knows where he went and he wasn’t heard from again. For most of the townsfolk, that solidified his guilt in their minds.”

  I thought about that for a second. “There was never any speculation that he might have been a victim too?”

  She shook her head. “He packed up his clothes and other belongings before he took off. There was never much doubt that he left voluntarily. Nobody was really surprised. Most people had him pegged as a murderer. Guilty or innocent, life wouldn’t have been easy for him here.”

  It sounded as though the popular opinion was probably accurate and Harry was behind both disappearances, but it bugged me that I couldn’t be absolutely positive about that.

  “Is there anyone in town who was alive back then, who might remember something?” I asked.

  “There is,” Nancy replied. “Harry Sayers had four younger siblings. The youngest is still living here in Wildwood Cove. Her name’s Crenshaw now. Joan Crenshaw.”

  Chapter 18

  “Joan Crenshaw?” I echoed. “She’s my friend’s neighbor!”

  “Then you know where to find her,” Nancy said with a smile. The expression faded from her face a second later. “Of course, I don’t know how she’ll feel about digging up the past. I’ve never known her to talk about Harry or the missing girls. Mind you, I don’t know her terribly well, so that might be why.”

  “I don’t want to upset her, but I can at least ask if she’s willing to talk about it,” I decided.

  I thanked Nancy for her help and left her to close up the museum for the day. The light was fading from the sky by the time I pulled away in my car. The temperature was supposed to dip down close to the freezing point that night, even on the coast, and from the feel of the air, it was well on its way there. I cranked up the heat in my car and drove to Lisa’s neighborhood. I parked in front of Joan Crenshaw’s house and knocked on the door, but only received excited barking in response. Joan’s terrier, Angel, jumped up on the back of the couch to look out the living room window at me, still yapping.

  After calling out a hello to the terrier, I gave up and returned to my car. There was no point in paying a visit to Lisa’s house—she wouldn’t be off work quite yet—so I headed for home, deciding to stop by Joan’s house again in a day or two.

  Once I’d greeted the animals and had played a short game of fetch with Bentley in the darkening yard, I shed my outerwear and rubbed my chilled hands to warm them up. I put on the kettle, planning to make hot chocolate, before fishing my phone out of my tote bag. I hadn’t looked at it for hours and was surprised that I’d received several texts from Brett and had missed three calls from him. I’d left my phone on vibrate and hadn’t heard it while it sat deep in my bag.

  All of the texts were similar, asking if I was okay and requesting that I call him. The string of messages grew increasingly frantic. I was puzzled for only a second or two before I realized that he must have heard about the incident in town with the SUV. I was about to select his number when his picture flashed on the screen of my buzzing phone.

  “I was about to call you,” I said when I answered.

  “Marley. Thank God. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for an hour.” He sounded rattled. “I heard a car tried to run people down in town. I couldn’t get any details, other than the fact that you were there and maybe someone was hurt. Then you weren’t answering my texts or my calls.”

  “I’m okay, Brett.”

  “I drove to your place but you weren’t there, so I went to the museum, but it’s closed.” He wasn’t any less agitated.

  “Brett, relax.”

  “I can’t relax. I thought you might have been hurt!”

  Just in time, I managed to stop myself from raising my voice to match his. “Okay, but I’m fine,” I said calmly. “I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t call you after it happened. Sometimes I forget how fast news travels in this town. But I wasn’t hurt. No one was, other than maybe a bump or two. I saw the SUV coming and pushed Glo Hansfield and Justine Welch out of the way. Nobody was hit.”

  I heard him let out a breath and could picture him running a hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry you were scared,” I said, knowing his reaction stemmed from the still-fresh fear for his dad. “I should have called.”

  “I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” Now he sounded more weary than upset.

  “It’s okay. Where are you?”

  “Parked outside the museum. Can I come over to your place?”

  “Of course. I was hoping you would.”

  He told me he’d see me in a few minutes, and then we ended the call. I busied myself with feeding Bentley and Flapjack, anxious for Brett to arrive. I hated that he’d been so worried and wished I’d thought to call him, or at least check my phone sometime in the past couple of hours.

  “What’s done is done, right?” I said to Flapjack as I set down his food dish in the laundry room, safely away from Bentley.

  The tabby ignored me, digging into his dinner with a contented swish of his tail.

  When I heard footsteps on the back porch, I hurried to meet Brett at the door. I barely had it shut behind him when he pulled me into a hug. He was cold to the touch, bringing in a blast of frosty air with him, but I didn’t care.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be.”

  “I overreacted.”

  I stepped back, and Bentley took the opportunity to nose his way between us.

  “And I should have called or checked my phone,” I said as Brett gave his dog a one-armed hug and a scratch on the head. “So why don’t we say we’re even and move on?”

  He managed a smile, although not with its usual brightness. “All right.” He ran a hand down his face. “I meant to buy you flowers. And I should be taking you out for dinner.”

  “You already bought me a present and we were out for dinner last night.”

  “But it’s your birthday.”

  “And all I really want is a quiet evening in with yo
u.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” I brushed white powder from his cheek. “Plaster dust?”

  “Most likely,” he said, and I noticed that his shoulders were finally relaxing. “I should take a shower.”

  I took his jacket as he shrugged out of it. “Go ahead. I’m about to make myself some hot chocolate. Do you want any?”

  He declined and disappeared upstairs with Bentley at his heels.

  I took some homemade soup out of the freezer to thaw and made myself a mug of hot chocolate. Then I curled up on the couch with Flapjack on my lap. While stroking the tabby’s orange fur and sipping my drink, I tried to get my thoughts in order. Although I was eager to see if Joan would talk to me about her brother and the long-ago disappearances, I couldn’t forget that Ivan and Lisa still had a cloud of suspicion hanging over their heads.

  As frustrating as it was to admit to myself, I hadn’t managed to do much—if anything—to help them. I was certain that Glo was guilty of something involving Wally, but she didn’t fit the physical profile of his killer, and I didn’t have any evidence to tie her husband or anyone else to the crime. It was tempting to do as Sienna had suggested and approach Bailey to see what information she might have about her parents’ connection to the murder, but I still wasn’t keen on involving her.

  Maybe I could approach Mr. Hansfield and get some information out of him, but I wasn’t sure how to go about that in a way that wouldn’t make him immediately suspicious. I was a complete stranger to him, after all. I might be able to come up with another way to find out more about him, including his whereabouts on the night of the murder, but I’d have to think about it some more first.

  I hadn’t forgotten about Chester, and now I knew there was a chance he wasn’t in Seattle with Vicky at the time of the murder. Justine had mentioned that Vicky was captured on the convenience store’s surveillance footage, but what about Chester? Vicky and Chester were romantically involved, so I had to wonder if Glo was right. Would Vicky cover for Chester even if she knew he’d killed her brother?

  There were still so many question marks in my mind. I needed to find more answers before Ivan or Lisa ended up under arrest. I didn’t know if Ray had enough evidence to arrest either of them, but I wasn’t keen to wait around to find out. Somehow I needed to find out more about the people on my suspect list.

  With my hot chocolate long finished, I shifted Flapjack from my lap and got up to stretch. More than half an hour had passed since Brett had gone upstairs for a shower, and he had yet to reappear. Not hearing any sounds of movement coming from above, I decided to go in search of him. The second floor bathroom was empty, so I moved on to my bedroom. As soon as I stepped through the doorway, Bentley jumped up and trotted over to greet me. Brett, on the other hand, didn’t stir. He was sprawled out on the bed, fully dressed, his hair damp from his shower, sound asleep.

  I approached quietly, my heart aching at the sight of him sleeping. I’d known he was tired, but clearly he was more exhausted than I’d realized. Although tempted to touch him, I didn’t want to disturb him. Being careful not to make too much noise, I switched off the overhead light and turned on the lamp on the dresser instead. I fetched my book from the bedside table and curled up on the window seat, wanting to stay close to Brett while he slept. Bentley settled back down on his dog bed and I read three chapters before I heard movement from across the room.

  I set down my book and smiled as Brett sat up on the bed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

  He blinked against the lamplight. “Marley?” He glanced at the bedside clock. “I fell asleep? I only meant to put my head down for five minutes.”

  “Clearly you needed more than five minutes.”

  “I guess so, but I didn’t want to fall asleep on your birthday.”

  I left the window seat to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re here. That’s all I need to be happy. Speaking of which…” I wriggled my hand into the pocket of my jeans. “I have something for you.”

  My fingers closed around the small metal object in my pocket, the one I’d gone to Glover Street for earlier that day. I pulled it out but kept it hidden in my closed hand, a skittering of nervousness running through my stomach.

  Curiosity replaced some of the sleepiness on Brett’s face. “A present? It’s not my birthday, and Christmas is still a couple of weeks off.”

  “It’s not a birthday present or a Christmas present.” I opened my hand and showed him the key resting on my palm.

  His gaze shifted from my face to the key, and then back again. “The key to your heart?” He said it with a hint of the lopsided grin I loved so much.

  “You already have that.” Nervousness pattered through my stomach again.

  The blue of his eyes seemed to deepen a shade. “To your house?”

  I nodded, then forged ahead. “It’s an I’m-crazy-in-love-with-you-and-want-you-to-live-here-with-me present.”

  His grin slowly reappeared. “Even though I’m always forgetting to put the cap back on the tube of toothpaste?”

  I smiled. “I’ll never understand why that’s so hard to remember, but yes, even so.”

  He stared at me for a second, and it felt like he was looking through my eyes, straight into my soul. He placed his hand over mine, the key trapped between our palms, and then he kissed me, slowly and softly, leaving me breathless.

  “Does that mean you accept?” I asked when I was able to speak again.

  His adorable grin reappeared. “It does. I accept wholeheartedly. But if you need more convincing of that…”

  He took the key from my hand and kissed my palm, then my wrist.

  I smiled, almost lightheaded with happiness. “Feel free to convince me all you like.”

  Chapter 19

  After arriving at The Flip Side early on Wednesday morning, I stood near the stone fireplace, enjoying the warmth from the crackling flames as I opened the recently delivered edition of the Wildwood Cove Weekly. Wally’s murder had unsurprisingly made the front page.

  I read through Justine’s article, Charlene’s influence obvious now that I knew Justine’s feelings on the matter. Aside from mentioning that Wally wasn’t well-liked, the article was quite bland, and didn’t come close to naming anyone who might have had it in for the self-proclaimed Waffle King. The article also didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know. I hadn’t expected anything different, so I wasn’t disappointed.

  I was still trying to figure out a way to move my own investigation forward. Brett was on his way to Seattle and didn’t expect to be back in Wildwood Cove until the late afternoon or evening. After that, he would probably spend some time at his parents’ place, making sure his dad got settled. That meant I’d be on my own after work, with time to kill.

  I needed to come up with a plan, but in the meantime I had plenty to keep me busy. Ivan had brought a garbage bag full of boughs to work with him that morning, clipped from the fir trees in his yard. I’d planned to cut some boughs from the trees in my own yard to use as decorations at the pancake house, but now Ivan had saved me the trouble.

  Over the next half hour or so, I placed the greenery on the fireplace mantel and on the window ledges. Once that was done, I added the decorations I’d picked up at the craft fair. I placed Patricia’s eagle on the mantel, right in the center, and hung an adorable set of stockings. At each end of the mantel I set a rustic lantern filled with red and gold baubles, a red bow and a sprig of greenery tied to the handle at the top.

  I filled in the remaining spaces with cute snowman heads made from little bubble bowls sprayed with frosted paint. The eyes and coal-piece mouths had been painted on in black, the noses were made from tiny felt carrots, and each snowman was adorned with a top hat. What had really drawn my eye at the craft fair was the fact that the snowmen were lit from within with LED lights so they gave off a cheery, warm glow. />
  I added more of the snowmen to the window ledges and finally stood back to study the results of my work. I was pleased with the transformation. With flames popping and snapping in the fireplace and the new decorations adding holiday cheer, the pancake house looked cozy and festive. The only thing that didn’t look so great was the carpet of needles on the wood floors, the result of working with the boughs. I quickly fixed that with a broom and dust pan and was soon ready to open the restaurant for the day.

  The first diners arrived shortly after seven o’clock. Gary Thornbrook showed up about half an hour later and sat in his usual spot. It didn’t take long for his buddy Ed to arrive and join him at the table near the back of the restaurant.

  After confirming that they wanted their usual orders, I filled their mugs with coffee.

  “I saw Sheriff Georgeson in town,” Ed said as I finished filling his mug. “And a couple of deputies. Seems there’s something going on.”

  “What kind of something?” Gary asked, shaking the contents of a sugar packet into his coffee.

  Ed shrugged. “There was an ambulance too. Must be something serious.”

  “Whereabouts in town?” I asked.

  “Pacific Street,” Ed replied. “They were gathered outside the candy shop.”

  “Floyd Nuttal runs the candy shop.” Gary stirred his coffee with a spoon. “He’d still be at home at this hour.”

  “I don’t think it had to do with Floyd,” Ed said. “That door that leads to the apartment above the store was open. Could be that’s where the problem was.”

  “Who lives there?” I asked. “Not Mr. Nuttal?”

  “Nope.” Ed blew on his coffee before taking a sip. “He’s got a house on Sea Breeze Drive. I thought that apartment above his shop was empty.”

  “It was until recently,” Gary said. “That new guy’s been living there the past couple of weeks.”

  I glanced across the room as an elderly couple entered the pancake house. “What new guy?” I had a feeling I already knew the answer to that question.