A low murmur rumbled down the line beside us. I noticed we were drawing heated stares. It was probably bad form to jump the line and then hog the proprietor on top of that.
“We should let you get back to your customers.” I paid the bill, grateful for the excuse to get of there before I tripped over my lies.
The rumble grew louder as Jenna and I moved toward the door.
“Murderer,” a lanky man with evil eyes hissed.
“…no shame,” another was muttering. “Admitted it loud and clear.”
A young woman with bright blue hair yanked her toddler behind her legs. “Planned the whole thing and went through with it.”
“Do we know who she killed?”
“It’s these small towns, no accounting for what folks get up to.”
“I’m calling 911.”
We picked up our pace and scurried through the door, but I slammed to a halt the moment we hit fresh air. “Do you think I should go back and say something?”
“When in doubt, run!” Jenna grabbed my arm and tugged me forward. “Lily will set them straight.”
“How did that even happen?” I glanced over my shoulder, saw some faces smudged up against the window. “They’re watching us.”
“Come on, before they decide to try and make a citizen’s arrest.” Jenna merged into the foot traffic along the store fronts.
I hurried to catch up with her. “That’s not funny.”
Her lips twitched. “It kind of is.”
No comment.
Once we were a safe distance from Cuppa-Cake, we stepped onto the less congested grassy green and slowed to a stroll.
I removed the lid of my coffee and inhaled my first sip.
“So…” Jenna bumped hips with me. “Tell me everything.”
“About?”
“You and the smoking hot detective you’re sharing a house with, of course.” Her voice took on a coy, sing-song beat. “How did last night go?”
“Hmm…” I shouldn’t encourage her, I really shouldn’t. But this was Jenna, the one person I talked to about everything; the good, the bad, the warts, the all. Besides, I was due a little fun. “We shared a whole lot more than just a house.”
She choked on her mouthful of coffee. “You shared a bed?”
“A bedroom,” I qualified with a laugh. “Nate spent the night in the chair, playing guard dog. There was an almost-kiss, but other than that, Nate was his usual charming self. He threatened to cuff and book me, and this morning he accused me of inciting a rebellion.”
Jenna, naturally, heard only what she wanted to. “Why would you stop the kiss?”
“Actually, Nate did.”
“Are you sure?” She gave me a suspicious look.
“It was hard to miss.” We’d crossed the green, taking the long route back to The Vine. I slipped into the narrow alley between the Treasure Chest and Seefies ahead of Jenna. “And that’s everything that’s going on.”
“I can’t believe how boring the two of you are,” she said grumpily.
“And I can’t believe I never knew you were so cynical about marriage,” I tossed out over my shoulder. “I had an interesting chat with your friend, Mason. The word he used was ‘disillusioned.’”
“It’s something new I’m working on.”
I rolled my eyes and looked forward again. “Because of me and Joe?”
“You guys were the charmed couple. Heather and Peter were the golden couple.” She sighed loudly. “If charmed and golden can’t make it, who the hell can?”
“Jeez, Mason wasn’t kidding.” I stepped out from the alley into the South Pier parking lot. “You should just sign up for the Blue Rinse Ladies and be done with it.”
“Maybe I’ll start my own spinster club.”
“I’ll be your first member.” I sipped on my coffee while I waited for her to pop out. “Anyway, Joe and I were hardly charmed.”
“Seriously?” Her brow cocked high. “Name one thing that went wrong from the moment you two hooked up.”
“Chintilly,” I deadpanned.
“Precisely,” Jenna said, warming up to her theory. “But before that, you and Joe lived on your own patch of eternal sunshine where no one and nothing could touch you. Following your dreams, crazy in love, and then boom, it’s over, done and dried for no good reason.”
“There is a reason as it turns out,” I told her. “Chintilly was a research project for his new book. And here’s the good part. Joe assumed I wouldn’t mind because I’m an actor.”
Jenna gawked at me as that sank in. “How does that make any sense?”
“I never said it was a sensible reason.” I drained the frothy dregs of my cappuccino and squashed the cup. “So much for our charmed life, huh?”
Jenna chewed on her flawed theory in silence.
Not much to say after that, I guess. I breathed in a deep lungful of pine scented forest and fresh lake air as we crossed Birch Road for the short walk back toward The Vine. The pier was busy, the noise from the square leaked out the through the alleys and over the rooftops, the people themselves overflowed onto the shorefront with their yapping dogs and squealing kids, but it still felt like a spot of secluded paradise. A breeze had picked up, rippling the glassy surface and brushing the velvet needle clusters of the tall pines.
Jenna saw my Beetle drowning in the shadow of the enormous touring bus parked along it. “You’re living dangerously. Beatrix Salmer tried that last Christmas and a cranky bus driver parked right over her car. Claimed he didn’t see it. And okay, it was one of those tiny smart hybrids, but still. Those bus drivers grow devil horns when you mess with their parking rights.”
I looked around nervously. There were three parked busses, but just as many open bays. “I hope she sued.”
“Sheriff Matthews said she was in violation of the law and her case would be thrown out of court,” Jenna said. “And her insurance wouldn’t pay up, either.”
My car wasn’t crunched, but my heart hammered as I hurried over to check for malicious scratches. This was why I’d never make a decent criminal; I didn’t deal well with consequences.
Instead of scratches, I found a yellow ticket pinned beneath the wiper.
I plucked the ticket out with an indignant gasp and waved it at Jenna. “What’s Jack doing plodding the streets, anyway, harassing harmless cars when there’s a murderer on the loose.”
“Ouch,” Jenna said when she saw the price tag, then she pointed and crooned, “Oh, look, he drew a sad face.”
Yeah, well, we all knew what Jack could do with his sad face.
“How does he not know it’s unethical to ticket your girlfriend’s best friend?” I crumpled the ticket into a ball and shoved it into my back pocket. “You should train him better.”
Jenna laughed so hard, she snorted. “He’s still a rookie, Maddie Mads. He thinks humanity will crash and burn if he doesn’t uphold every single law and silly infraction.”
“Meanwhile I have to suffer?” I groused.
“There are worse things than a ticket,” Jenna said, glancing around us.
“I guess,” I sighed, thinking of Lydia Fieldman. “At least I’m not dead and hanging from a tree.”
“I was thinking about Beatrix Salmer’s car, but dead and hanging counts, too.” She shuddered. “Silver Firs used to be such a safe town. Now we’ve had two murders in less than a month. What are the odds?”
“Two out of two, apparently.” I said goodbye to Jenna and climbed behind the wheel.
To be fair, Silver Firs was still a safe town, it was Hollow House that seemed to draw the trouble. Miss Daggon’s death had nothing to do with me, but I couldn’t help feeling I was the magnet for our latest murder.
Hosting a murder mystery weekend was practically an invitation to murder, after all.
TWELVE
I lumbered across the gravel driveway and up the steps like an elephant with an extra trunk that kept getting in the way. A Savage Garden paper bag under each arm and another tw
o dangling from my fingertips. One full menu had looked tame on paper, but twelve full menus plus a bit extra was a whole other animal.
Burns was nodding off behind the reception desk. He peeked open an eye at my ungainly entrance, started to drift off again before he caught himself. Or maybe he’d gotten a whiff of the aromatic noodles.
He stood and tugged his jacket straight where it had rumpled up his portly figure. “Do you need a hand, Ms Storm?”
I bit down on the retort that leapt to my throat. Burns didn’t get sarcasm, not at all. He really would think I loved having my fingers stretched to the bone and he’d leave me to it. “Thank you, Burns, that would be great.”
He came around and relieved me of the dangling bags. “I’ve set up on the terrace,” he murmured. “Everyone’s already gathered, enjoying the last of the evening light.”
“Have things been, um, relatively normal?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”
Why did I even bother?
Burns took his paper bags and started off in the wrong direction.
“Where are you going?” I called after. “The hungry people are on the terrace.”
He ground to a slow halt, turned to me with a look of (and Burns never wore much expression on his face, so this was huge) mild confusion. “Are you proposing we feed our guests from paper bags, Ms Storm?”
“Of course not.” The GRIMMS had overstayed their welcome, murdered one of their own. These people were nothing more than intruders parading around as guests. I doubted my attitude would wash with Burns, though. “We’ll take the cartons out of the paper bags, but after that, it’s grab & eat. All the rage in the trendy restaurants at the moment, Burns, seriously. They’ll love the concept.”
Burns didn’t look convinced, but I left him no choice. I absconded through the lounge with the main course and the fortune cookies.
When I stepped out onto the terrace, I got my answer. Things here were eerily normal. The sky was just beginning to streak pink above the mountain tops in the distance. The lake lapped gently against the shore with the breeze. Classical music from the outdoor speakers played softly over the laughter and conversation. The mingling guests spilled off the terrace and along the boundary where the narrow lawn met the soggy rushes.
Nate was there as well, standing next to Charles, both men gazing out over the lake. As I watched, Nate ran a hand through his hair and kept it there, palm cupped at the back of his head. A smile unfolded and stayed with me as I off-loaded my bags onto the extended table pushed up against a wall. The table also held three large jugs filled with electric-colored cocktails and rows of pineapple Pina Coladas. I’d completely forgotten about the Hawaiian-themed dinner party we’d originally planned for tonight. Maybe I should have gone with pineapple and ham pizza instead of Savage Garden.
“You didn’t have to go to all this effort,” I said to Burns as he joined me.
“I didn’t,” he said. “Mr McMurphy was looking for something to do, so I merely offered a suggestion.”
“Joe?” I looked around and found him. Near the lake’s edge with the Parkers and a tall cocktail glass in hand.
He’d been holed up in his room for weeks, fingers glued to the keyboard. The reclusive act wasn’t typical, not for such long stretches anyway, but I’d assumed he was manic about finishing the new book so he could cash in his next advance check. There was only one thing I could think of that would bring him out into social butterfly mode.
My stare drilled into his back until he felt the prick and glanced my way.
I smiled, waved him over, and left Burns to unpack supper as I drew Joe over to the side. “I know exactly what you’re up to and you should know, I do mind and I won’t understand.”
“Maddie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He put a hand out to ward me off.
Me!
As if I were the one who’d lost my grip on reality.
“Your book has stalled again, hasn’t it? So now you’re sniffing around my guests, looking for inspiration or doing research or whatever the hell you want to call it.” I folded my arms, narrowed my eyes on him. “Maybe it’s just an experiment to you, but these are real people you’re messing with, Joe, real lives that could be changed forever. We’re not puppets you can shove back into the closet once you’ve got your chapter on paper.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. “This is still about Chintilly.”
“No, Joe, this is about you.”
“You’re right.” Joe blew out a painfully slow breath. “What I did to you, Maddie, the way I justified it to myself, was despicable. I’d never do that again, not to anyone.”
Yeah, forgive me if I didn’t trust him. “Then what are you doing downstairs?”
“Taking a break, that’s all.”
“Or maybe our little chat earlier reminded you that you had a shortcut to get around writer’s block.”
“It was the chat, but not the way you think,” he said wearily. “When my characters screw up, I control whether they get to fix it or not. It was easier to hide inside my story than admit I couldn’t fix what I’d done. But that wasn’t fair on you.”
“No,” I said in a small voice. “None of it was fair on me.”
“I know this doesn’t fix anything, Maddie, but I never meant to hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you, for throwing away the best thing in my life.”
The emotion in his eyes threatened to swallow me. Dammit all, how was I supposed to stay mad now?
A tinkling sound snapped my head around.
It was Burns, announcing dinner with a silver bell that looked like it had been stolen off the set of a Jane Austin period drama.
My stomach rumbled. No surprise there. I was a stress-eater, always had been. You know how some people say you can’t eat away your problems? Well, I’m living proof that they’re wrong.
“Hey.” Joe touched my arm. “Are we good?”
I looked at him. Those expressive eyes I’d fallen into so many times. Sandy hair that felt like silk when I ran my fingers through it.
That dull, bruising ache in my heart was still there, but it also felt like the truth when I said, “We will be.”
Nate had reached the table ahead of us. He turned to me, weighing one carton against another in his hands. “Chicken noodles or shrimp fried rice?”
I took the noodles. “Thanks.”
He studied me for a moment. “Everything alright back home?”
“Oh, yes.” I smiled to reassure him, then lowered my voice. “But we did learn something interesting. Did Joe tell you?”
“He only said you were okay, and that you were spending the afternoon with your parents.” Nate grabbed two pairs of chopsticks. “Let’s take this somewhere quieter.”
The GRIMMS had spread themselves into groups at the intimate tables. I was pleased to see Burns sitting with Joe and Miss Crawley instead of standing on duty. He was finally getting into the spirit of the revised weekend schedule.
Nate and I took our food off the terrace and out of hearing distance. The crumpled ticket in my jeans pocket made an uncomfortable bump as I landed cross-legged on the grass.
I raised one butt cheek to pull it out and tossed the paper ball at Nate. “Can you take care of that?”
He caught it out of the air and shook it open to read. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind paying this.” His eyes lifted to me, slate-grey with warmth. “You short of cash?”
“God, no!” Embarrassment burned to the tips of my ears. “I’m not asking for money. I thought you could, um, squash it for me.”
His jaw firmed. “Is this what Spinner does for you?”
“Jack Spinner wrote that ticket,” I muttered.
“That’s a relief.”
“For you, maybe.” I grabbed the ticket back, mortified.
“I don’t mean to come down hard on you, but squashing tickets is the kind of thing that can give a cop a bad rep. Spinner’s a good kid. I’d hate to see him ruin his career before
it got started.”
“Don’t worry.” I opened my carton and stuck my chopsticks in. “I haven’t corrupted him yet.”
“Maddox, I’m sorry.” Nate planted his elbows on his crossed knees and speared a shrimp with the end of his stick. “I’m being a real bastard today.”
I slurped my noodles and nodded.
Well, he was.
“It’s these GRIMMS,” he spoke around a mouthful. “They’re being deliberately obstructive.” He finished chewing, looked at me, his eyes creasing into me as the moment dragged.
“You and Joe seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion back there,” he finally said. “None of my business, I know, except I am sleeping in your bedroom. If that’s causing you any trouble, I’ll make other arrangements.”
“Like moving in with Miss Crawley?”
He chuckled, then grew serious, his gaze suddenly intense. “I don’t want to be in the way of any chance of you guys patching things up.”
“You’re not in the way, Nate.” I dropped my eyes to my food with a sigh. “We can’t be patched.”
He waited a beat, but didn’t push the subject. “Okay, then, you want to share that interesting information?”
I told him about Mom’s discovery, that the rope had been taken before the main course was served. “The rope was definitely there before we sat down to dinner, I saw it for myself.”
“That means the most likely suspect got up from the table before the main course was served,” Nate concluded aloud. “Do you have a name for me?”
“That’s rather optimistic,” I drawled. “I have three.”
Nate grinned. “Three is good.”
“Well, Jonas got a call on his cell and he left the room to take it,” I rehashed. “He wasn’t gone long, though, maybe ten minutes. Then Charles spilled red wine on his shirt sleeve. He was worried about it staining and wanted to soak it in the bathtub. He was wearing a fresh shirt when he returned. And lastly, Julie excused herself to use the restroom.”
We tucked into our food again.
“My vote goes to Jonas,” I said when I felt Nate had had enough time to process.
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