Steeped in Suspicion

by Eryn Scott

  The chief’s fingers curled into a tense fist, and he let it fall against the doorframe “Miss Woodmere, it’s not your concern anymore. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Not my concern?” I slanted my body away from the chief. “My grandmother was murdered; a man washed up on my beach, and a car almost ran me over. I’m pretty sure this whole thing is ‘still my concern.’” I used angry air quotes around the last bit.

  Slouching, he sat in the chair across from me. “Miss Woodmere, you have nothing to worry about anymore. Sam Hoff won’t be a free man for a while. If you must know, I just observed a young man who I’ve known his whole life confess to a felony, and I don’t feel like arguing with a nosy out-of-towner. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “He confessed?” Stomach flipping, I was unsure if I felt happy, sad, or confused. “He confessed to the murders?”

  Chief Clemenson pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no evidence of murder.”

  “But I—”

  “Yes, you told me you know your grandmother was murdered, and yet you have no proof, and her body was already cremated, so we have nothing to investigate.” Unlike Sam’s, the chief’s bloodshot eyes told stories of long nights and little sleep instead of drug use. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to accuse a man of murder off your hunch.”

  “What about Frank?” I asked in a voice smaller than I hoped for. “You questioned me like I was a suspect. How could I be a suspect if he wasn’t murdered?”

  “He had drugs in his system. He most likely killed himself.”

  “And you don’t see a connection between Sam’s drugs and this random man he knew dying of drugs?”

  “Sam said he didn’t sell them, only bought them and used them himself. Plus the drugs in Frank’s system differed from the ones we found on Sam.” The chief swallowed, hard. “And that’s all I’ll discuss about this case with you. I have a mountain of paperwork to get done now, so please see yourself out.”

  This time, I did. I wandered out onto the street and started for my car. My feet seemed to float, like maybe I was a ghost in a way too. I’m sure I was pale, and I felt transparent the way people looked through me.

  I drove home in a mental and literal fog. The low clouds slunk across the roadways, making the coastal city seem eerie and quiet. Back at the tea shop, I set down my purse and plopped onto the sofa.

  “Asher, I don’t know if you’re still out there,” I said, talking into the silence of the library as I pulled a blanket over my shoulders. “But we did it. I think we found Grandma’s killer.”

  I shivered, wondering if her spirit would still move on if they arrested him, just not for the thing we wanted. The important part was that he would probably go to jail. Right? It was still justice. But if that were true, then why did the chief’s comments sit in my gut like a lead brick?

  Tucking my feet up under my body, I stared out at the foggy beach. I wished my friend were here, wished I could’ve helped my grandma more, and wished I knew what my future held.

  24

  Over the next few days, I wandered around the tea shop, flitting from room to room, barely speaking to anyone.

  The only solace was Daphne showing up a few times with food and news from the city streets. Even Carl stopped by once to make sure I was okay. Althea came by the third day to check on me, bringing a beautiful salad from The Pines’ kitchen.

  “Sam’s arraignment was today,” Althea said from across the small tearoom table as we ate lunch. “His lawyers made a plea bargain and got him out of any jail time.”

  When my mouth opened in an indignant groan, Althea put a hand up to stop me.

  “Oregon is changing how they deal with drug possession charges,” she explained. “Sending them to jail usually only exacerbates the problem. Whenever possible, they’re trying to use rehabilitation. I heard he’s paying a hefty fine and has to check into a rehab facility, immediately. Oh, and he resigned as mayor.”

  Mustering as much of a nod as I could, my focus wandered out the tearoom window next to our table, and I got lost in the undulating waves. I returned my attention to our lunch, and I used my fork to move salad around my plate. My appetite waned despite the appealing salad in front of me.

  “But nothing about murder?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse even though I’d barely talked to anyone in three days.

  Althea’s gaze dropped to her plate. “No.” She speared a forkful of salad. “The council is setting up another special election for next week.” Althea paused before she shoved the bite into her mouth and chewed. “One of former Mayor Meow’s grand-kittens, Whiskers, is on the ballot. Everyone said she’s showing great leadership potential.”

  I tried to appear excited or happy at the news, but ever since the chief had arrested Sam Hoff, there’d been a hollowness in my chest akin to the hollowed-out Dickens compilation he’d used as his hiding spot.

  “Back to a four-legged mayor,” I said before forcing myself to take a bite of the salad.

  “Your grandmother would be so proud,” Althea said as she sipped a tea and grinned.

  I returned the gesture but didn’t feel as happy as I should. Althea must’ve sensed that I needed some time to myself because she wrapped up the rest of the salad, put it in the fridge, and said she had to get back to The Pines for dinner prep. Walking her to the door, I waved and then went back to staring out the window.

  About half an hour after she left, the bells on the front door jangled.

  “I’ve got to learn to lock that thing,” I muttered to myself.

  Looking up, I expected Daphne to clomp in, but it was a man instead, a businessman, judging by his gray suit and expensive leather briefcase. He was in his fifties, I would guess, based on his silvering hair and wrinkled forehead. He kind of reminded me of Chief Clemenson a bit. Not so much in looks, but in how he held himself. Concern emanated from him, making me wonder how new his wrinkles were.

  “Hi, there,” I said.

  I was about to add that we weren’t open when he took a seat at a table by a window.

  “Can I get a tea please?” He rubbed his hands over his face.

  “Uh—”

  His hardened demeanor softened. “Thanks, it’s been a heck of a day.”

  I felt so bad for the guy; he looked so grateful that I didn’t want to say no.

  “What kind would you like?” I asked as I walked behind the tea bar and set the electric kettle boiling like Asher showed me.

  “Anything hot with leaves. Your pick.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling.

  Observing him for a moment, I ticked through the possibilities. He seemed stressed, so a blend with kava would be nice. I tapped my lips with my fingertips as I considered the licorice taste the root held the other day when I’d tried it. That would go well with the balancing power of lavender. Scanning the titles of Grandma’s blends, I pulled out the Calm container and started brewing a cup for the man. I brought it over to him, and his shoulders relaxed as I set the cup in front of him.

  “Thanks,” he said as he handed me money. He shook his head when I motioned toward the cash register to get him change. “Keep the change.”

  I smiled in thanks, tucking the bill into the apron I wore. He closed his eyes as he took his first sip.

  I was about to give him space when he looked up and said, “Tea isn’t the only reason I came in today. Is the owner here? I need to talk to her.”

  My chest constricted. The man must’ve caught my discomfort because he opened his mouth. He didn’t seem to know what to say, so he closed it again.

  “Helen is … she passed away three weeks ago as of yesterday.” My voice cracked. “I’m her granddaughter, Rosemary.”

  The man cocked his head as if he didn’t believe me. “What? I just saw her. She was …” His face adopted a far-off countenance and then it paled like he’d seen something he didn’t like in that far-off place. “This is terrible. I’m worried I’m the reason Helen w
as killed.”

  His words stole all the breath from my lungs, and I coughed. I’d said nothing about her being killed, but he’d jumped to that conclusion. And then there was the part about him being responsible. I sank into the chair across from him.

  “You think she was killed too?” The room swayed around me. I fought to stay focused on the man across from me.

  “Wasn’t she?” He leaned forward.

  I swallowed. “Everyone in town assumes she died of a heart attack.”

  He ran the back of his knuckles over his chin. “They did an autopsy?”

  Shame and guilt vied for positioning in my heart. “No. We were estranged, and I didn’t find out she’d died until days after they’d already cremated her. She had heart disease and was eighty-nine, so no one questioned it.”

  “Except you.” He held me with his kind eyes.

  I nodded.

  “Well, I agree with you. Something doesn’t feel right. She tells me she’s going to investigate a possible drug ring and then”—he stopped to count on his fingers—“less than four days later, she’s dead.” He cut the air with his hand. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “You asked her to look into the drug ring?” I stiffened where I sat.

  He grimaced. “I mean, I had to go back to the city and I couldn’t, so she said she would dig around and report back next time I made it down to visit.” His eyes creased in an unforeseen pain. “Until now.”

  I contemplated the implications of his words. “You don’t live around here? So how did you find out about the drugs?” My eyes widened. “Are you an investigator? Do you work for the FBI?”

  “I’m an investment-gator.” He chuckled. “Sorry, bad joke. I work in an investment firm up in Portland.”

  His goofy joke reminded me of the punny jokes my father used to tell, and I softened even more.

  “I’m from Portland too,” I said absently, my mind still reeling.

  “Small world. But no,” he added. “To answer your earlier question, I know about the drugs because of my godmother.”

  The fairy-tale loving, ghost-seeing part of me thought, fairy godmother?

  Realizing I still had questions, he added, “My godmother is staying down here at The Pines Restorative Center to celebrate her retirement. Well, she retired four months ago. It was supposed to be two weeks at the most, but she says she’s not coming home. Last time I visited, she was talking about selling her house and staying there indefinitely.”

  I shrugged. “It’s wonderful up there.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that.” He cradled his head in his hands for a moment. “I know this will sound crazy, but I think Ruth, my godmother, is on drugs. That’s why she wants to stay.” He met my gaze with a pleading focus.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, schooling my expression, so I didn’t appear as doubtful as I felt.

  He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “A guy at my office got hooked on opioids last year after he had back surgery. He came to work for two weeks high before any of us figured it out. I mean, we saw signs; we just didn’t know what they were signs of. And the way Ruth was acting last time I visited, it was exactly like that.”

  “So my grandma was going to look into it for you?” I shifted forward in my seat.

  “Yeah, apparently she knew someone who’d been a doctor and an addict. She thought that person might be able to recognize the signs and tell us for sure before we jumped to any conclusions. But now, she’s gone.” The man stared into his tea and took another sip.

  Doc Gallagher. The missing puzzle pieces clicked into place, and I formed a full picture. Well, almost full. Chief Clemenson had said Mayor Hoff was only buying his drugs not selling them. This could be the missing link to prove otherwise. This man’s information could be my chance to convince the police to charge Sam with the murder of my grandmother.

  Sometime over the last few days, I’d accepted that him only getting busted for the drugs wasn’t enough. He needed to pay for what he’d done, not only to Grandma Helen, but to Frank Mastronardi as well.

  Clasping my fingers in front of me on the table, I leaned forward. “Do you think Ruth would tell you who she was getting the drugs from?”

  His body sagged. “She won’t even see me since the last visit where I confronted her about it. I just came from there, and they told me she specifically asked not to see me, that I shouldn’t be let in.”

  Determination coiled inside me. “Well, what if I go? She doesn’t know me. Maybe I can get her to talk.”

  For the first time since he’d walked in the door, his face brightened. “Would you? That would be amazing.” But after a quick second, the joy faded. “But I don’t want to put you in the same danger I put Helen in.”

  I waved a hand in his direction. “I was almost run off the road the other day. Grandma must’ve been onto something with this drug ring, and they’ve already tried to deter me from finding out whatever she was close to discovering. Plus one of the main players is out of the picture, so maybe we’ll be okay now.”

  The man formed a steeple with his hands and brought it to his lips. “I don’t know. It’s too dangerous.” After a moment, he glanced back to me. “You’re sure this person who’s out of the picture was the one who hurt her? I would hate to put you in danger too.”

  I nodded, feeling Sam’s guilt as sure as I felt the wooden floor under my feet.

  “Okay, then.” He smiled, and his arms jerked up an inch like he wanted to hug me but thought better of it and downed the rest of his tea instead. Wincing at its heat, he stood. I followed the action, grabbing the empty mug from the table.

  “What’s your name?” I asked as he turned to leave. “So I can talk to Ruth if I see her?”

  “Lance Howe, her godson. I’m her late best friend, Carol’s son.” He wrangled a wallet out of his pants pocket. Sliding out a business card, he handed it to me. “Ruth has always been there for me. Ever since my mom passed, the woman has become like my second mother. This kind of behavior isn’t like her.”

  My fingers closed around the business card. “Got it, Lance. I’ll go see what I can find out. The owner is a friend. I’m sure she’ll help me sort this out.”

  He waved but paused before leaving. “I know you said your grandma and you were estranged, but … you remind me a lot of her.” He tipped his head toward the empty tea cup in my other hand. “You even made me the exact kind of tea she did when I told you both to bring me whatever.”

  An ache spread through my chest, but besides being painful and full of longing, it was also warm. I was glad I’d come back to Pebble Cove, that I’d learned more about the woman I’d sworn never to speak to again.

  As Lance left, I vowed to never let things go unresolved in my life again. People could leave you at any moment. Asher’s absence still cut me to my core. And I realized it would’ve been so much better to have told him the truth. I thought I was trying to protect him, but I’d only hurt him.

  Climbing into my car to head up to The Pines, I vowed to myself that if I ever saw him again, I would be honest.

  25

  When Althea had left after our lunch earlier that day, she’d said she needed to get back for dinner prep. I found her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and chatting with a stocky woman about twice my age.

  The creaky wood floors of the farmhouse held their own conversation as I entered the room, breathing in the mixture of garlic, whatever roasted in the oven, and fresh-cut vegetables.

  “Hi, Rosemary.” Althea’s smile lit up her whole face. “Are you going to join us for dinner? Or use the sauna.” She glanced outside. “There’s still enough light left for you to walk the labyrinth.”

  I bared my teeth in an apology. “I don’t think so, but thank you for the offer. I’m here for some information, if you can help me.”

  “Sure,” Althea said, gesturing to a stool across the stainless steel table from her.

  As I sat, I felt the phone in my purse buzz wit
h a call. A peek at the screen confirmed it was my mom. With all my revelations about people I loved being gone in the blink of an eye, I wanted to talk to her more than ever. But this wasn’t the time. I would call her as soon as I was done with this.

  Silencing the call, I turned my focus back to Althea. “I’m wondering about one of your residents … patients?” I wrinkled my nose, not sure what to call them.

  Althea raised her eyebrows with interest, nodding for me to continue as she chopped.

  “You have a guest named Ruth staying here.” My fingers tapped out my excess energy on the table. “I met with her godson. He’s worried about her.”

  Althea’s expression dropped like a raw egg onto the tile floor of the kitchen. “I know. It’s such an awful situation. We can’t get her to talk to him. I’m not sure what happened between them.”

  “It’s so sad, especially because she doesn’t have any family. He seems to be all she has left,” the cook said, picking a wilted leaf of lettuce out of a bowl and tossing it into a bowl of compost scraps.

  I chewed at my lip as I listened. Darn. I had hoped this Ruth lady would’ve at least opened up to Althea or some of the other people who worked at The Pines, since it sounded like she loved it here so much.

  “Do you think she might talk to me?” I asked timidly.

  Althea’s warm face wrinkled in concern. “I’m so sorry, Rosemary. Probably not. And I get a little protective of people’s need to relax and heal out here, so I wouldn’t want to force it. Ruth has made a lot of progress here. If she doesn’t want to talk to him, it must be because he’s triggering feelings she knows are bad for her.”

  A lot of progress, I digested Althea’s words for a moment. That didn’t sound like a woman showing signs of illegal drug use. Doubt curled in my chest. Maybe Lance was wrong; maybe he was triggering bad feelings for Ruth. It was so hard to picture kind and concerned Lance as a person who triggered bad feelings. He seemed so close with her.

  “Okay, well I guess it was worth a try.” I was about to stand when something caught my eye on the ground under the stove. A small blue button. Located where it was, it would only be visible to someone sitting in my position.