“I could have said no and not gone with you,” Claire said. A year or so back she might’ve been more timid, but after being on her own after her husband’s death, she’d grown a much thicker skin. “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl. I can take a little shock. I love that show, CSI, and trust me, they have way worse things on that show than what I saw today.”
Scott brightened somewhat, giving her a smile. “You’re something different, aren’t you Claire? Pretty cool customer.”
She grinned back. “Maybe I am, or maybe it’s all an act. Maybe I’m a trainwreck on the inside. Ever thought of that?”
Shaking his head, Scott’s face registered his unbelief. “Nope. You may have had a bit more wear and tear in your life than some people, but you’re something…special.”
His eyes lingered momentarily on her face, but the sudden sounds of sirens interrupted their thoughts.
Hope Ben’s not hurt in the pursuit, Claire thought as she pulled out her phone. She didn’t know if he was guilty of anything or not, but she felt a pang of sympathy when she remembered his panicked expression. Knowing it might be some time before an officer came by to take over their vigil over the still-submerged body, she dialed the bakery’s number.
Looked like the German chocolate cake she was supposed to make that afternoon would have to wait.
Chapter 4
Darryl jogged back to the marina, puffing loudly with exertion, a few moments before two cop cars came roaring up. He was breathing hard and despite the cold temperature, sweat was streaming down his face. As soon as the other officers were out of their cars he talked with them quietly, then all three headed down toward the docks where Claire and Scott were waiting.
“No luck?” Scott asked as Darryl walked up.
Officer Portman’s face was gray under his normally-tan skin, and he grimaced as he shook his head. “No. Guess I’ve had too much of Lucy’s pot roast lately.” He paused, but finally admitted, “And a whole bunch of pecan pie over Christmas, too.” Two other officers were busy pulling at the rope attached to the crab trap and Darryl turned to watch them, then turned and gestured for Scott and Claire to follow him away from the boat. “Thanks for staying. I know it couldn’t have been pleasant being that close to a body.”
“Well, next time you ask me to lunch I’m going to say no and eat a sandwich at the bakery,” Claire teased, refusing to look back even as she heard Scott’s muffled protest.
“It didn’t exactly go as I’d planned, either--” Scott said, “—but next time we’ll do something different.” He turned to Darryl. “Can we go now?”
“Let me get your statements and then you’ll be free to leave,” Darryl said, pulling out a small notepad and pen. It only took a few minutes for them to record what they’d heard and seen, and soon they were heading back toward the resort. Scott’s face was grim as he drove, as if he was thinking of Ben and what he’d discovered, but Claire was more concerned about how her new boss would take her being so late from lunch. Even though Mrs. Applegate had told her to take the rest of the day off, she’d known employers who had said one thing and meant something entirely different. The thought of Mrs. Applegate being upset with her about a situation she couldn’t control made Claire’s stomach hurt. She was just getting to know people in Brightwater Bay, and the last thing she wanted to do was get on the wrong side of a woman she admired.
As soon as she and Scott walked in the bakery’s front doors, Sandy frantically called for Mrs. Applegate, who came running from the back room. The older lady didn’t’ stop at the counter, but sprinted around it and wrapped Claire in a big bear hug.
“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly, and when Claire finally extricated herself from the older woman’s grasp she could see the concern pn her lined face. Sandy was right behind her, peppering both of them with questions about what had happened, but Mrs. Applegate threw her plump hands up and shushed her.
“They’ve both been through a terrible shock today. Everyone go sit down at the back table and I’ll go heat up some orange rolls.”. She paused and pointed a threatening finger at Sandy. “No questions until I get back!”
Sandy nodded, then giggled after Mrs. Applegate had stormed off to go get the rolls and pop them into warmer. “Torture!” she said, as they moved toward one of the metal-topped tables in the back kitchen. “She’s going to make me wait.”
Mrs. Applegate propped open the door to the front area, so they could hear anyone coming in and needing service. It was about three in the afternoon and there were no customers, for which Claire was thankful. She would have felt odd talking about what had just happened, if people could overhear.
After Mrs. Applegate returned a few minutes later with a pot of coffee and four steaming orange rolls, she sat and began pouring for everyone. “So, Claire, we understand you’ve had an adventure? Care to tell us about it?” she asked primly, as though she hadn’t just hugged the stuffing out of her in the front lobby.
Claire leaned forward and launched into the story, describing how Ben entered the Dogwood Diner and then how she and Scott followed the police officer to the docks. She made sure to gloss over the details about the body, though that wasn’t difficult considering she hadn’t seen much of it. Sandy and Mrs. Applegate were more interested in how Ben had run off, almost knocking Darryl and Scott into the water in the process.
“Ben gets scared pretty easily,” Sandy said. “He hates Halloween more than anyone I know, and locks his door so ghosts won’t get him.”
When she was done, the others were deep in thought. Sandy was chewing on one of the rolls, but Mrs. Applegate was just holding her coffee mug. “I don’t think Ben did anything,” she finally said, putting the cup back down on the saucer and crossing her arms on the table in front of her. “I’ve known him for years. He’s just not the type.”
Scott nodded. “I know. I doubt he’d hurt anyone as well, though it doesn’t look good for him if that was blood in the bottom of his boat. Him running off didn’t help his case any, either. Maybe he did something by accident and is trying to cover it up?”
Mrs. Applegate laughed softly. “Can you really picture Ben pulling off a lie like that? That man would ‘fess up before two sentences were out.” She paused, her voice thoughtful. “He’s got one of the purest hearts I know.”
“True,” Scott said, “but if he didn’t do it, why was there blood in the bottom of his boat?”
“Or perhaps a better question would be, why would someone want to make it look like he did it?” Claire said, tapping her chin. “Is there anyone in town who was fighting with Ben? Or had something against him?”
“You mean framed him? Well, I know Captain Karl had a beef with him,” Sandy volunteered. “Some friends and I were down at the candy store when we saw him yelling at Ben several days ago.”
“Yelling at him? Did you hear what it was about?” Mrs. Applegate asked, but Sandy shook her head.
“No. You know how thick of an accent Captain Karl has. We probably couldn’t understand him if he were up close and we weren’t close enough to really hear what he was saying, anyway. We just saw him across the street, waving his hat at Ben and screaming.”
“Who’s Captain Karl?” Claire asked.
Scott shifted in his seat. “He owns one of the bigger fishing boats around these parts. Usually he’s out to sea, making his living, but he comes into port once a week to offload his catch. Keeps to himself a lot. I don’t know what he’d have against Ben, though.”
“Well, why don’t we just go ask him?” Claire said, smiling at the startled look on everyone’s face.
“Didn’t you get enough excitement for one day?” Scott asked.
“Apparently not,” Claire answered, a little bemused at her own words. When she’d been down in Arizona, she wouldn’t have dreamed of involving herself in anything so crazy, but for some reason, Scott just brought out the adventurer in her. “You’re not scared of some grizzled old sea captain, are you?”
Scott t
hought about it, before his face lit up. “You haven’t met Captain Karl yet, but I know he’ll be back in port in a few days. We can go see him then.”
Chapter 5
Claire hummed softly to herself as she walked Roscoe along the back area of the resort. Though the buildings had a fantastic view of the deep green ocean, they backed up against a forest which Claire loved. Blocked from the cutting winter wind, it felt peaceful and woodsy back there, and she loved the pine smell that permeated the grounds.
Despite not liking the cold, Roscoe busied himself sniffing around the ferns that fringed the base of the trees. They were still slick from the mist which had burned off earlier that morning. Claire knew that by the time her little black and white dog was done he’d be almost as wet as if he’d romped in the surf, but she knew what to expect from Roscoe and always had a towel ready to dry him off once they went back inside.
As they made their way back to the bakery, Claire could see Officer Portman standing at the counter, chatting pleasantly with Mrs. Applegate. She was just pushing a doughnut and a cup of coffee toward him.
“Hello, Officer Portman,” Claire said pleasantly as she walked in with Roscoe. The small dog barked happily and bounced toward the policeman, panting as the man reached down to pet him. “It looks like you’re proving the stereotype of police and doughnuts.”
Darryl laughed quietly as he straightened back up. “I have my duty,” he said, then picked up his doughnut and coffee, tilting his head toward one of the tables. “Besides, I’d be crazy not to grab one of Myrna’s eclairs when I happen to be in the area. Care to join me? I have some information for you.”
Claire looked at Mrs. Applegate questioningly, but the older woman smiled and made a shooing motion with her hand. Mouthing a silent thank you, Claire turned and walked to the chosen table and sat. She picked up Roscoe in the process, petting the patient dog, who was watching Darryl’s doughnut with keen interest.
“Since you were kind of involved in the case, I wanted to let you know that your name might appear in the story that’s going to be published in the paper. They don’t know everything, but we couldn’t keep you or Scott out of what the reporter found out.”
“What did he find out?” Claire said, making air quotes around the last two words.
Darryl fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment before continuing. “Well, you can imagine that something like this is pretty big news in Brightwater Bay. Murders may happen all the time in big cities, but out here, it’s much more of a big deal. That two have happened within the same number of months has gotten people’s attention.”
Claire frowned and leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, what’s the bad news?”
Darryl paused again and took a deep breath. “Look. I set him straight but the guy seemed to be asking if you might have anything to do with the murders. I got the distinct impression his news story might be just a bit…slanted.”
“What? Why is he saying that?” Claire asked, her face showing her dismay. “We just followed you to the docks. How could I have had anything to do with it?”
“That’s what I told him. Honestly, I verbally pushed him as hard as I could and tried to set him straight, but he’s not likely to back down easily. Once he gets his teeth into something he has a tendency to take things too far.” He gave a small shrug. “If it helps, a lot of people probably won’t believe him.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “You said probably. Is there a chance I can expect a crowd with pitchforks and torches?”
“No,” Darryl said, “--but I wanted to warn you in case you hear whispers. I’m pretty sure that Jeff will probably try to talk to you as well, so I wanted you to know what he looked like.”
Claire took a deep breath but nodded, trying not to be angry with the police officer. She knew he was just trying to help but she didn’t welcome the information. Brightwater Bay had been a haven for her. Being new in town, it would be just her luck that she would become a pariah because of some overzealous reporter. “So what does he look like?”
“His full name is Jeff Sinclair and he works for the Brightwater Bay Review,” Darryl said. “He’s a skinny guy with shoulder-length blond hair, glasses, and a scraggly beard. A bit bucktoothed, too, so he should be easy to spot.”
“Okay, got it. Bucktoothed, skinny, blond guy.”
“With glasses,” Darryl said, nodding.
“Right, with glasses. So is that everything? I don’t want to let your coffee get cold.”
“Nope, except I also wanted to let you know we’ve identified the body we found,” Darryl said, then leaned forward, his voice growing softer. “It’s part of the reason that Jeff thinks there’s something about you being around both deaths. It was Dexter Cable. Orrin’s brother.”
It felt as if her heart stopped for just a moment, and Claire gasped in shock as she stared at Darryl. Dexter Cable? It was beyond strange that she happened to be witness to the bodies of both brothers. The first one happened when Orrin was killed on her front porch of her cottage just before Christmas. The man practically fell on top of her when she opened the door the next morning. Now, she was a witness to the retrieval of the man’s brother’s body. She almost didn’t blame anyone for wondering if she was involved.
“That cant’ be right,” Claire finally said, still a bit in shock. “Didn’t he leave town in a hurry?”
Darryl nodded in confirmation. “Yep. No one’s heard from him. I don’t know what he was doing between then and about a week ago.”
“Why a week ago?” Claire asked.
“Ben usually checks his crab traps once a week. Unless Ben is the one that did it, which I don’t believe, Dexter would have had to have been killed between that time.”
“Why not earlier? Can’t your forensic people tell how long he’s been dead? Maybe someone was keeping him on ice.”
Darryl shook his head, his face grim. “Maybe if he had been killed on land, that would be the case, but deaths in the ocean are really hard to tell. All the salt and sea animals chewing on the body tend to make it impossible to pinpoint a time of death.”
“Ugh, thanks for that visual,” Claire said with a grimace. “But seriously, thank you for the information, Officer Portman. I appreciate knowing about who died, as well as the reporter and what he thinks. I know you didn’t have to tell me anything.”
Darryl sighed as he stood up, his hat in his hand. “I’m not telling you anything that won’t be in the news article, but I did want to give you a heads up. Take care, Claire.” He turned to leave, but nodded toward Mrs. Applegate and Sandy before he left, leaving Claire to ponder what she’d been told while petting Roscoe. She’d have to look for a copy of the Brightwater Bay Review and see what was said about her.
Claire had just stood to return to the counter when her phone rang. Checking it, she smiled when she saw it was her friend Molly and held her finger up toward Mrs. Applegate, letting her know that she’d be busy for the next minute or so.
“Hey, Molly! It’s good to hear from you.”
“Claire! I wouldn’t forget about my newest favorite person. I wanted to invite you to go to bingo at the high school tomorrow night. It’s going to be at seven.”
“Bingo?” Claire asked somewhat skeptically. She’d never really thought of it as something entertaining and was just about to say no when Molly continued. “Please? Pretty please? It’s for a good cause, and it’s also a good place to meet some of the people of the town.”
Claire sighed softly and wrinkled her nose to the left as she considered it, but knew she couldn’t resist Molly’s wheedling. “What is the cause?” she finally asked.
“It’s a triple whammy. Money for refilling potholes in the town, and also a coat and canned food drive for the needy.”
“Okay,” Claire said. “I’ll see you there.”
Chapter 6
The local high school was everything Claire remembered from every high school she’d ever seen. It was a huge, square affair, surrounded by sub-buildings and
portable classrooms with slightly peeling paint and a few murals that had been created by former students. The weather-worn sign next to the entrance said Walton High School, and she briefly wondered who Walton was to get their name attached to a place like this.
Claire pulled her car in next to the scattered vehicles in the main parking lot and sat for a few moments, watching the residents of the town wrapped in their various winter coats and hats slowly making their way toward the double doors of the gym. Smiling, she just took in the sight, thinking about how different it had been from her life in Arizona.
Before her husband had passed, they’d been social enough, but since they hadn’t had children, there had never been the meetings or events that one attended at schools. The last time she’d set foot on a campus had been in college, when she’d been much younger. Now, she wondered what it would have been like raising a child and attending school functions.
Spotting Molly in a bright blue scarf and matching hat, she popped out of her car and waved, hurrying to catch up with her curvy friend. After a hug and a quick greeting they were inside, getting ready for the strange ritual of small-town bingo night. Molly seemed to be an old hat at the experience, directing Claire through the lines to pay for several bingo cards, and making sure she bought several markers of various colors. She also produced a large army green coffee thermos that looked like a true antique, sporting the typical seventies green and a few token dents in the side. Holding it up with a grin, she shook it, making sure Claire could hear the liquid sloshing inside. “Have to have our fuel to outlast all the old biddies!” Molly crowed after they collected all of their cards.
Claire grinned and relaxed a bit, listening to the gentle murmur of people greeting each other and gossiping in the large room. They moved through the sparse crowd and whereas Claire would have just headed for a seat, Molly stopped and chatted with several people, introducing Claire to each of them in turn. It was a good experience, and even though Claire was normally more shy, she found herself enjoying meeting new folks as they made their way toward one of the long table and bench combinations.
A Tiny Dash of Death Page 3
