by J A Whiting
“Yes. Someone forged the license and the credit card was obtained from stolen information from a deceased person.”
“People do that? Steal dead people’s information?” Nell looked aghast.
“All the time.” Peter sighed as he pulled into a parking lot and stopped. “Here we are. The man we’re going in to see is Sam Willins. He did the paperwork with the guy who rented the vehicle. What he told us isn’t that helpful. It was a normal transaction. Nothing stood out. Chief Lambert just wants you to look around, listen as I talk to Sam. See if you pick up on anything.”
Nell said skeptically, “Okay, but any energy that was given off on the day of the rental has long since dissipated. There won’t be anything left in there for me to see.”
“That’s all right,” Peter said. “Being here is a way to get you familiar with the case so don’t be concerned if you don’t see anything.”
Reassured, Nell walked with Peter to the building.
Peter greeted Sam Willins and the three of them sat at a small table in a corner of the room.
“Thanks for speaking with me again,” Peter said to Sam and he introduced Nell. “This is Ellen Finley. She’s helping on the case.”
Sam was in his late fifties, was slightly overweight, and had buzzed brown hair and brown eyes that looked a little bloodshot. He shook hands politely with Nell.
“Can you describe the man who rented the car again? I know you’ve done it several times already, but it will benefit Ms. Finley to hear it straight from you,” Peter said.
Sam cleared his throat. “He seemed like a normal guy. We had the paperwork ready and the car was parked in the side lot for pickup. He had longer hair, down to his chin, dark, a little scruffy. He had on sunglasses so I couldn’t see his eye color, but I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He was about five-foot, ten or eleven. He was thin, but I got the feeling he worked out. He looked sort of muscular, but not overboard or anything. Just strong for his build, not soft like me.” Sam patted his belly.
Peter asked more questions and Sam responded like he’d answered them many times.
“What color skin did he have?” Nell asked.
“Medium.”
“Any tattoos or scars or anything like that?”
“Nothing I noticed.”
“What about his hands and his fingers? Were his fingernails dirty? Did his hands look like he did hard work?”
Sam’s face scrunched up in thought. “I’m not sure about that.”
“What was his voice like?” Nell asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam looked confused.
“Deep? High-pitched? An accent?”
“Normal. A normal guy’s voice,” Sam replied.
“Did he seem nervous?”
“No. He didn’t seem nervous to me. He was in and out of here quick.”
“Can you show me where he was standing when he was signing the papers?” Nell asked.
“Oh. Sure.” Sam got to his feet and led Nell to the counter. “He was standing about here. I was behind the counter.”
Nell looked down at the surface of the countertop trying to pick up on any energy left behind by Pepper’s killer. She moved her gaze around the back of the counter and then around the room and towards the glass door that led outside. When she turned back, she slowly ran her hand over the top of the counter, and for a quick moment, something seemed to flicker in her vision, but it was gone before she knew what it was. “Thank you,” she told Sam. “Peter told me you’re always a big help.”
Sam beamed at the compliment. “Come back anytime. I’m glad to do what I can.”
Back in the car, Peter asked, “Nothing, huh?”
Nell recalled the tiny flicker of something she’d experienced while standing at the counter. It picked at her, but not knowing how to describe it, she said only, “I guess not.”
12
The sweet scent of rosa rugosa drifted on the air to where Nell and Violet were pulling weeds from the flowerbeds along the public walkway that meandered over the rocks and cliffs along the ocean. The sisters volunteered once a week with a group that tended and maintained the two-mile walkway, planting and caring for the flowers and ground cover, pulling weeds, and keeping the cement staircases leading down to the beach safe and clean.
The sun beat down on the volunteers as they spread out along the path with gardening tools, wheelbarrows, flowers in small containers, and bags of mulch.
“I’m glad I brought my hat today.” Violet lifted the brimmed, straw hat from her head and brushed away the beads of perspiration on her forehead. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so hot.”
“It’s early for the heat to be lingering.” Nell lifted the bottom of her t-shirt and flapped it a little trying to create a breeze to cool her skin. “And it’s darned humid.” Looking down at the white sand beach at the bottom of the stairs, she admired the riot of colors in the sand and in the water. The sun always made everything shimmer with millions of hues, and the beauty of it made Nell wish that Violet could see what she experienced. A few big waves crashed against the beach and Nell said, “I’d love to peel these sweaty, wet clothes off and go jump in the ocean.”
“I’ll be right behind you if you do.” Violet chuckled imagining everyone’s shock when two women ran by in their underwear on the way into the waves.
Nell pulled her auburn locks into a high ponytail to get it off of her neck and then applied sunscreen to her neck and shoulders.
An older volunteer came up to them pushing a wheelbarrow full of flowers. With a hearty hello, Ben said, “Lucy says these are the ones that are going in by the benches. Do you need a shovel?”
“We’ve got a couple.” Nell smiled and thanked the man for bringing them the blooms.
“A couple of new volunteers are going to join you in a few minutes. You’ll show them the ropes?” Ben asked.
“We’ll be glad to,” Violet said.
“Okay, then. Text me if you need anything,” Ben told them cheerfully as he headed back along the walkway.
The two-mile path along the scenic cliffs started in the center of Bluewater Cove and ended up in a park down near the harbor after passing by spectacular views and vistas. The path was popular and well-traveled by both tourists and townspeople as well as by early-morning joggers.
Nell took the flats of flowers and placed them here and there in the beds near the benches to see how they looked. She stepped back, then moved a few of them around while Violet carried over two bags of the mulch.
“Rob called me,” Nell said. “He told me no one can remember if Atkins Murray was in the office or lab on the afternoon Pepper was hit by the car. Everyone was coming and going. Some of the researchers were in meetings, some went to a short lecture by a visiting professor. No one can recall if Atkins was present at any of the gatherings.”
“Too bad.” Violet’s face fell at the news. “Should we tell Chief Lambert that Atkins dated Pepper and she broke off the relationship?”
“I think we should. The chief may know already, but I’d feel better if we spoke to him about it in case it’s new information. I should also tell him that I saw red covering Atkins when we talked on the patio at the university.” Nell gave a little shiver of worry. “I hope he has an alibi for where he was that afternoon. I hate to think he’s the one that hurt Pepper.”
“It would come as a surprise to Rob to think he’s been working with a murderer,” Violet noted. With a sad shrug, she added, “I guess people can surprise you sometimes.”
Nell picked up the spade and dug a small hole to plant one of the flowers in.
Violet asked, “Has Rob told you what sort of experiments he wants to do with you to evaluate your ability to pick up on people’s emotions by seeing colors in the energy they’re giving off?”
Nell glanced around to be sure no one was listening to their conversation. “He’s doing research on it, then he’ll design the experiment. The difficulty will come in figuring out how I’ll receive the st
imuli. I need someone who is giving off strong emotion. Rob is unsure how he’ll manage that.”
“He’ll have to haul you around the university looking for people who are having fights or arguments or who are really angry about something,” Violet smiled. “It won’t be easy.”
“It seems impossible to control the experiment,” Nell admitted. “If we can’t do the evaluation, it will be just fine by me.”
Two women approached and greeted the sisters. “I’m Willa.” One of them extended her hand.
“I’m Susan,” the other one said. “Nice to meet you. It’s our first time volunteering.”
Nell thanked them for helping out and explained the day’s tasks showing them where the flowers were to be positioned, where to get fresh water, and how to place the mulch when a section had been completed. She and Willa paired up and Violet and Susan took a wheelbarrow and some tools and headed further down the walkway to work on a separate bed of flowers.
Nell and the new volunteer chatted while they worked. Willa, about thirty years old, had short blond hair and blue eyes. “I live one town over. My husband and I take the kids here all the time to go to the beach. We love the restaurants, too, and walking around town and along this cliff walk. I’ve wanted to volunteer for a few years and never got around to it. Finally, here I am.”
“We’re glad to have you,” Nell told the young woman. “Many hands make light work.”
“My husband and I use that saying around the house all the time. It’s so true.” Willa patted some soil around a newly-planted bunch of pink impatiens. “Wasn’t it awful about the woman who was visiting and got hit by that car? And the guy didn’t even stop to help or to call an ambulance.” Willa shook her head. “What kind of person would do such a thing?”
“He must have panicked,” Nell suggested.
“Maybe. But wouldn’t your panic subside and then you’d think it best to call the police?”
“He might be terrified now because he drove away after hitting her.”
Willa sat back on her heels with a trowel in one hand and a bunch of impatiens in the other. “Do you think this guy might have hit her on purpose?”
Nell made eye contact with the woman. “Why do you think so?”
“Do you know anything about Pepper Forrest?” Willa asked.
Nell didn’t want to share that she had been asked to help the police with the case. “Only what I’ve read in the news or heard on television.” A thought popped into her head. “Did you know her?”
“No, I didn’t, but she called our office and asked for an appointment. I spoke to her on the phone. It creeps me out that I spoke with her one day, and then the next day, she was dead.”
Nell’s heart began to race. “What kind of office do you work in?”
“I’m the office manager. I work for three private investigators,” Willa said.
Nell almost tipped over onto her butt. “Private investigators?”
“The office is in Bluewater City, about fifteen minutes from the Cove. Dr. Forrest called the day before she was hit by the car. I made an appointment for her for the day after she died. It’s horrible.”
“Did she say what she wanted investigated?” Nell asked.
“She said she was looking for someone and needed help locating the person. She was worried that she was being followed. She told me she attended a talk in Boston about personal safety given by one of our PIs a couple of months ago. That’s how she knew about our office. I asked a few questions so I could assign the right investigator to her case, but she wouldn’t tell me anything more. That’s not unusual though. Lots of clients only want to speak with the investigator. They want things to be as private as possible.”
“Was that the only time you spoke with Dr. Forrest?” Nell questioned.
“Just the one time.” Willa began to dig a few more holes. “I can’t stop thinking about it. She said she wanted someone found. She sounded concerned for her safety.” Willa paused and looked at Nell with narrowed eyes. “Did the person she wanted found, find her first?”
Nell’s blood went cold. “Did you tell the police Pepper Forrest made an appointment to speak with an investigator?”
“I didn’t. I heard she had died and I deleted the appointment in our online system,” Willa said.
“Did you tell the investigator one of his or her appointments had been hit by a car?” Nell asked.
“I did tell him. He was surprised by it, but not overly so. He hadn’t met with her yet.”
“Did you or the investigator notify the police?”
Willa’s eyes widened at the question. “It was an accident. Why would we tell the police?”
“You said you wondered if the driver hit her deliberately,” Nell pointed out.
“I was just talking. I don’t really think it happened on purpose.” Willa stared at Nell.
Violet walked up the path towards them. “Lucy texted us. She asked if Susan and Willa could meet her at the end of the cliff walk to help her with a different project.”
“At the town end or where it ends in the park?” Willa shook some soil from her hands.
“The park end,” Violet clarified.
“Thanks for helping,” Nell told the woman. “I’m sure we’ll work together soon.”
When Willa headed towards the park, Nell told her sister what she’d learned about Pepper making an appointment with a private investigator.
“Do you think she knew she was in danger?” Violet asked.
“It’s possible, isn’t it? Dr. Forrest called an office of private investigators located in Bluewater. She lived in Boston so why wouldn’t she call an investigator in Boston to help her with whatever it was she needed done? Why did she have to call the office of a PI she’d heard give a talk?”
Violet said, “Because she wanted to be sure someone didn’t find out what she was doing.”
“Exactly,” Nell agreed.
13
Nell walked around to the back of The Sandy Rose inn to the outbuilding where the innkeeper told Nell she could find Bobby, the gardener and handyman. Bobby had paid a visit to Nell’s and Violet’s house to take a look at their gardens and to inspect the deck and its supporting columns. He gave some advice about how to help the flowers flourish and discussed what would be involved in repairing and shoring up the deck. He wrote up his proposal and an estimate and left it with the sisters to consider whether or not they wanted to make the repairs or preferred to have the deck removed.
After much talk about the cost and if they should spend the money, they decided to go ahead with fixing the deck because they knew they would miss sitting out there enjoying the beautiful views.
Nell decided to drop off the contract and the deposit check on the way to see a new client who was commissioning a painting of a ship at sea.
Following the short path past some trees and shrubs, Nell came to the two outbuildings, one was a small cottage the handyman was given rent-free as partial payment for his services. The other was a large shed Bobby used as a workshop.
Approaching the door of the shed, Nell heard the sound of a buzzing saw and smelled the scent of cut wood. Bobby stood at a work table running a handheld saw.
Nell waited until he was finished before saying hello.
Bobby turned around with an expectant look and smiled when he saw who was at the door. “Come in. This is the woodworking shop. When I first started working here, the shed was empty and William told me I could use it for my hobby.”
Nell glanced around at the wooden items Bobby had created or was in the middle of working on … wine racks, book shelves, bird houses, dressers.
“Wow. Your things are wonderful.” Nell ran her hand over the top of a dresser. “So finely crafted.”
Bobby had a big smile on his face as he showed Nell some of his most recent pieces. “I bring them into shops in the area to sell on commission. I also take special orders from people. I do small things, too. Salad bowls, cutting boards, things like that. I ev
en make pens.” He removed one from his shirt pocket to show Nell who admired the fine workmanship and the multiple colors running through the wood. She knew Bobby couldn’t see all the colors so she didn’t mention them when she praised the man for his expert work.
“I’ve been woodworking since I was a little kid. I love working with wood and using my vision to make something beautiful and useful.” Bobby lovingly ran his hand over the top of a wine rack.
“You have quite a few talents,” Nell said. “Gardening, woodworking, all-round-handyman.”
“You’ll notice they all involve working with my hands. I couldn’t stand sitting at a desk all day. That would drive me bonkers. I need to move around, be outside. I need to be building or fixing things, creating something. I’m lucky I found things I like to do and can make a living at them.”
“How long have you worked for William here at the inn?” Nell asked.
“Oh, let’s see. I started in January so almost six months.”
“Where did you work before that? Have you always worked at inns?”
“Here and there, up and down the coast. I like it here though. I get the free cottage to live in, a decent wage. William is easy to work for and he lets me use the shed for my woodworking shop. I don’t like winter much, but I work in the shop and there’s always a lot to do here at the inn so before I knew it, it was spring again.”
Nell nodded, and then asked, “Did you meet Pepper Forrest when she was here?”
A look of confusion showed on Bobby’s face. “Who? Oh, the woman who died recently?”
“She was staying here at the inn. I wondered if you’d bumped into her while you were working.”
“If I did, I don’t remember her. She didn’t look familiar to me when I saw her photo on the news. The guests come and go. Most only stay two or three nights.” Bobby asked, “Why do you ask about her?”
Nell brushed off the question. “No reason. I just wondered how she seemed.”
“Seemed? How do you mean?”
“I wondered if something might have been bothering her.”
