“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll take care of it when I get back. Mrs. Logan offered to pay me to find out who killed her daughter, and although I wouldn’t take money for doing it, I’m not averse to being reimbursed for costs.”
“Give me a call sometime tomorrow or tomorrow night. I know you’re planning on talking to Julie’s ex-husband, and I’ll be curious to hear what you think of him. Do you have a plan?”
“No, I’ll just have to play it by ear. I hope this trip isn’t in vain.”
“Kelly, don’t forget to find out his birthday,” he said sarcastically. “I’m sure that’s terribly important, at least Stephanie thinks so.”
“You can lose the attitude, Mike. Stephanie and a lot of other people really believe in astrology, and who am I to say there’s nothing to it?”
“Right, Kelly, right. Keep on believing that, but let me give you a little free advice. Don’t tell this guy Mark that you want to know his date of birth, just so you can tell someone who believes in astrology. Don’t think you’d come off sounding very professional if you did that.”
“You’re probably right. Love you and talk to you tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”
“And I’m off to defrost and heat one of those casseroles you always have on hand in the freezer. I saw one in there that’s calling my name.”
“Which one is that?”
“The one labeled chicken and spinach crepes with a mushroom sauce.
“Enjoy. Sleep well.”
CHAPTER 17
The next morning Kelly packed the last of her clothes in her suitcase, walked out of her room, and down the hall to the elevator. A few moments later she walked into the restaurant.
“I see you’re wearing that beautiful pendant I commented on last night,” the hostess said. “Will Mr. Logan be joining you for breakfast or are you dining alone?” she asked.
“Thank you for noticing, and I’ll be eating by myself.” The hostess walked across the room and seated Kelly at a small booth.
“You seem to know Mr. Logan quite well. I just met him last night. What can you tell me about him?” Kelly asked, hoping she was being resourceful, as Mike liked to think she was.
“I don’t know much about him. He’s been coming here for several years, at least as long as I’ve been a hostess here. He usually has a different woman with him each time. I don’t know if he’s married or not, but he’s a very good tipper.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that people who are heavy drinkers are usually good tippers, but now that he’s not drinking, has that affected the amount he tips?”
“That may be true for some people, but since he’s still drinking he still tips well.”
“Really, I thought he’d quit drinking,” Kelly said.
“Not that I know of. He was here quite late last night drinking double martinis. Actually Billy, the bartender, told me he had to quit serving him, because he was getting sloppy drunk. He arranged with the doorman to get a taxi for him. It’s a good thing he never drives when he comes here, because I wouldn’t want to be on the street after he leaves. Excuse me, some people just walked in. I need to seat them.”
“Thanks, Lisa.”
Well, that’s interesting. He certainly lied to me about that. I wonder if everything else he told me was a lie.
*****
Although Kelly had been dreading renting the car and driving in Boston, she was surprised at how smoothly it had gone. Within fifteen minutes she was on the outskirts of Boston and on her way to Maine. After the reservation clerk told her about the scenic coastal drive, she never even considered taking the Interstate all the way to York. Marshes, the ocean, Plum Island, and charming little cities, one after another, comprised her drive.
When she got to Kittery, Maine, she stopped at a drugstore to get some contact lens eye drops. She’d had enough to last her over the weekend, but with the added days of the trip, she knew she was close to running out. “Passing thru or gonna stay awhile? See ya’ got a rental car,” the grizzled clerk said.
“I’m on my way to York, and yes, I’m just passing through. I’ve been told that this is the area where I can get great lobster rolls. I own a coffee shop in Oregon, so I’m always on the lookout for good food.”
“Ya’ won’t find none better than at Josie’s place next door. I’ve been gettin’ one every day longer than I care to count. She serves ‘em up with her homemade potato salad. She’s won some contests, and she’s been written up in ‘bout every paper around. Once she even made the Boston Globe. Service is a mite slow, but trust me, it’s worth the wait.”
“Thanks, fortunately I’m not in a hurry. I think I’ll take your suggestion and go next door and try one.”
“Ya’ won’t regret it. Tell her Sol sent ya’. Need a bag for them eye drops?”
“No, I’ll just put them in my purse, and I’ll be sure and tell her you sent me. Thanks again.”
Kelly put the eye drops in her purse and went next door to the tiny nondescript diner. There were six wooden tables with chairs sitting on an old linoleum floor, that from the discoloration and stains, looked like it had been the original flooring. The wooden counter was marked with cigarette burns and it too, looked like the original one. Each table had a Mason jar on it containing brightly colored flowers.
“Are you Josie?” she asked the middle-aged woman standing behind the counter dressed in worn jeans and a dark blue t-shirt with the word “Kittery” emblazoned on it in white letters. Her brown hair with flecks of grey was pulled back in a high ponytail.
“That I am. And you are?”
“My name’s Kelly. Sol next door said you make the best lobster rolls around. I’ve never had one, and I’m really looking forward to eating one.”
“Well, Kelly, you’ve come to the right place. Been makin’ them since I was old enough to stand behind this counter with my mother who ran this joint before I took over. People tell me they’re purty good,” she said modestly. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring you one.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“I’ll collect it after ya’ eat it. Ain’t never had no one not pay because they didn’t like it, but I’m sure there’ll come a time, and if they don’t like it, don’t want ‘em payin’ me anyway.”
Kelly walked over to a table and sat down thinking, that would never happen in a big city. I’m definitely in another part of the world.
Ten minutes later Josie put a huge split hot dog bun filled with chunky lobster and a side of potato salad in front of Kelly. “Wow, this looks delicious. Thank you!”
“Just a pile of fresh lobster, mayo, celery, lemon juice, and some chives. Easy peasy. See ya’ helped yerself to some water outta the case. Can I get ya’ anything else?”
“Just a little time. I’m going to enjoy every bite of this,” Kelly said as Josie walked back to the counter to take the orders of a man and woman who had walked in.
Halfway through the roll, Kelly made her mind up to try and reinvent the recipe at her coffee shop in Oregon. I know the freshness of the lobster has something to do with it, and mine might never compare to this, but I’d bet not too many people who come to my coffee shop have had the real deal. It’s definitely worth a try.
When she was finished she walked over to the counter. Josie slid a handwritten piece of paper with the amount Kelly owed across the counter. “Well, honey, what did you think of it?” she asked.
“It was fantastic. I’m going to try and duplicate it when I get home, but I know I’ll never be able to make one quite like this. Thank you so much. I’m so glad I didn’t go to some fancy schmancy restaurant and pay an arm and a leg and then be disappointed. This is definitely a highlight of my trip.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. Ever get back to these parts, don’t be a stranger, hear?”
“Thanks, and I promise if I’m ever this way again, your lobster roll will be a priority!”
CHAPTER 18
When Kelly got to the city lim
it sign for York, Maine, she plugged in the address of the Harbor House Bed and Breakfast on the car’s GPS and followed the directions from the anonymous voice. Within minutes she entered a lane that led to a large white clapboard house with a wraparound porch and five detached cottages, all of which looked out at the protected harbor. In front of the main house was a white sign that said “Welcome to Harbor House Bed and Breakfast” in green letters.
She parked her car under a large tree, and as soon as she stepped out of the car she could smell the saltwater, which wasn’t all that different from what she smelled when she stepped outside her home on the bluff overlooking Cedar Bay, Oregon. It was a clear sunny day, and she paused for a moment watching the boats bobbing in the harbor.
Next to the screen door was a sign that said “Registration.” She entered the house and walked over to a dutch door that had the word “Registration” above it. A large antique grandfather clock flanked the lower half of the dutch door which had been converted into a small counter. A buzzer and a note on it asked guests to press it for service. A moment later a young woman walked out from a room behind the counter and asked, “May I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Kelly Reynolds, and I have a reservation for tonight.”
“Of course. You were the one who was driving up from Boston. How was your drive?”
“I thoroughly enjoyed it. Thanks for the recommendation to take the scenic route, but I think the best part of it was the lobster roll I had in Kittery at a place called Josie’s.”
“If you ate at Josie’s you definitely had the best lobster roll in these parts. She and her restaurant are an institution. You couldn’t have done better. Here’s the key to cottage #5. It’s early in the season and so far, only one other cottage has been rented, so if you’re looking for a little quiet time, I think you’ll definitely find it here, plus, cottage #5 is at the far end.”
“That sounds great. I know it’s early in the season, but will the restaurant be serving dinner tonight?”
“Yes, although it is early, we have a lot of locals who look forward to our restaurant opening the first of May. We also have a continental breakfast for our guests in the dining room in the morning, beginning at 7:30.”
“Thanks. If you take reservations for dinner, I’d like you to put me down for six-thirty tonight. Is that possible?”
“Not only possible, but done.”
Kelly looked out at the ocean and said, “The view is just beautiful. You must enjoy working here.”
“I do, but I just hope it doesn’t close,” the young woman said.
“Why would it close?” Kelly asked. “When I read the blurb about it on the Internet it said the Harbor House had been owned by the same family for three generations. I can’t imagine they’d think about closing it.”
The young woman looked around to see if anyone was within hearing distance and then whispered to Kelly, “They don’t want to close it, it’s just that the last couple of years have been rough financially. When the economy is down, people don’t come to bed and breakfasts in Maine. I understand the owner is very close to bankruptcy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I seem to recall that his name was Jessup or Jensen, something like that.”
“It’s Jensen, Mark Jensen.”
“Now I remember. Is he here today?”
“No. He left a little while ago. Rather than have the supplies delivered by a commercial delivery truck, he’s started going to the suppliers to pick them up and save on the freight charges. He told me he’d probably stay in Boston for dinner and avoid the traffic. He said he’d be back around 8:30 or so tonight.”
“In that case, I probably won’t have a chance to meet him tonight, but please tell him how charming I think his bed and breakfast is. Thanks again, you’ve been very helpful.”
Kelly walked along the stone path bordered by budding spring plants to cottage #5 and unlocked the door. She entered a small room with a closet and a dresser. Off to the right was the bathroom and directly in front of her was the bedroom which had sliding glass doors that looked out at the water. The sunlight danced on the water, creating what looked like moving golden jewels as the tide rose and fell.
The décor of the cottage was chic maritime. Nautical prints were above the bed which had a quilt with white boats on a blue background with red accents. The color theme was repeated throughout the cottages. Even the shower curtain had a nautical motif.
Given the theme, I’m surprised the windows aren’t portholes, Kelly thought as she walked out the door to retrieve her luggage. I have to give Mark a five star rating on the maintenance and upkeep of the property. Even though it sounds like he’s in serious financial trouble, you’d never know it by looking around. Everything is freshly painted, planted, and groomed. It would be a shame to see this beautiful place sold or closed.
Kelly opened the glass doors and sat down in one of the chairs on the small patio. She got her phone out of her purse and took several pictures, wanting to share the beauty of the view with Mike when she returned to Cedar Bay. She spent the next hour making notes about everything she’d learned regarding Julie, including her conversation with Mrs. Logan and her suspicions about Mark, Clint, and Megan.
Kelly was still uncertain about what to think of Clint. She had a hard time believing that everything he’d told her was a lie, but then there was the conversation with the hostess at the hotel restaurant earlier in the day. The hostess had no reason to lie about Clint’s alcohol intake the evening before. When she was finished, she reviewed her notes and couldn’t come to any conclusions. In her mind, and in Mrs. Logan’s mind, Mark, Clint, and Megan all seemed to have reasons for wanting to see Julie dead. Stephanie thought that Sophie might be another suspect. That made four people who might have murdered Julie, but which one, if any? She had no answer.
She had no way of knowing if any of them or all of them knew about the ten million dollars, although in Sophie’s case, that didn’t seem to be relevant. If it was Mark, he’d have to know that Julie hadn’t changed her will. If it was Clint, he’d have to know that Mrs. Logan had gifted ten million dollars to her daughter. If it was Megan, she’d have to prove she was the rightful heir to the ten million dollars, although that might create a real legal battle between Mark and Megan. Who would be the legal heir in that case? Can a child given up for adoption successfully claim she’s an heir when her biological parent dies? She decided to ask Ryan about that when she saw him in Portland. Her mind was going in circles, and she was getting nowhere. She took a book out of her tote bag and read into the late afternoon sun, simply relaxing, a rare thing in the life of Kelly Reynolds.
Reluctantly, she put her book on the nightstand at 6:00 and changed clothes. She wasn’t sure if there was a dress code for dinner at a place like this, but jeans might not make it. As she walked towards the main house she noticed that the parking lot was full.
Guess the receptionist wasn’t kidding when she told me the locals liked the food here. Think lobster will be my choice tonight. I can’t come to Maine and not have a lobster dinner.
She entered the restaurant, walked up to the hostess station, and said, “I have a reservation. My name is Kelly Reynolds. It looks like you’re doing a very good business this evening.”
“Right this way, Mrs. Reynolds. Yes, although it’s very early in the season, the local people eagerly wait for the restaurant to open each year. Here’s your table. Daniel, your waiter, will be with you in a moment,” she said handing Kelly a menu.
A moment later a young man dressed in black pants with a white shirt approached her table and said, “I’m Daniel. May I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”
“Yes, I’d like a glass of chardonnay wine. If you have a recommendation, that would be fine.”
“A lot of our guests are partial to the Rombauer chardonnay. I think you’d enjoy it’s soft, buttery taste,” he said.
“Yes, that’s a good choice. I’ve had it before, and it’s one of m
y favorites.” When he walked away she thought it was a good thing Mrs. Logan was paying her out-of-pocket costs, given the fact she’d just ordered a glass of a very expensive wine. Also, since the menu indicated the lobster was “market price,” it didn’t sound like it was going to be cheap, either. Along with the lobster, which was topped with a warm brandy lobster cream sauce, she opted for an appetizer of blue mussels simmered in chardonnay with herbs, garlic, tomatoes, and served with a warm baguette. When Daniel returned with her wine, she gave him her order, thoroughly looking forward to the next hour.
As she swallowed the last bite of the lobster she thought, no wonder people come to Maine from all over the world just for the lobster. That was one of the most fabulous meals I’ve ever had. I’m absolutely stuffed. I couldn’t eat one more thing.
“It looks like you enjoyed your lobster. May I recommend dessert?” Daniel asked as he removed her plate from the table.
“You did just fine with the wine recommendation and the dinner was superb. I’m stuffed, but since I probably won’t pass this way again, what do you suggest?”
“Just before my shift started, I had the sliced apples baked with cinnamon and sugar. It’s covered with a brown sugar and oatmeal mixture and topped with whipped cream. I really think you’d like it.”
“If I have to call 911 tonight for overdosing on rich food, may I also call you?” she asked laughing. “Yes, I’ll try it, although I’m sure I’ll regret it in the middle of the night.”
When Kelly walked back to her cottage, she noticed the new moon which was just peeping out, and she was glad she’d left the porchlight on even though it was still twilight. The only other light came from the parking lot and a few small twinkling lights along the stone path that led to her cottage.
She unlocked the door to her cottage and gratefully changed into a non-binding nightgown and robe, filled beyond full with delicious food, but having no regrets.
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