by Lynn Cahoon
“Exactly.” Esmeralda grinned and nodded to her house. “Sorry, I need to get inside before they arrive. It’s kind of a staging thing for the whole experience.”
“I don’t see anyone coming.” I glanced back down the street. Empty. Which is another reason I loved living in South Cove. On nonweekend days, our traffic was slim to none.
Esmeralda was already halfway across the street when she said to me, “I do.”
I watched her disappear into her house. The woman was unusual. That was certain. Okay, so I could go with weird and still be on point. But she was a good neighbor and she’d watched Emma one weekend when Greg and I went out of town. So she had a few little oddities that you had to accept. I started up the hill toward town and that’s when I heard the car engine.
Turning back, I saw a Land Rover turn off the highway and up Main Street. It pulled into Esmeralda’s driveway, and as I watched, an older woman climbed out of the driver’s side. Her gray hair was cut short and her casual linen pantsuit flowed in the breeze. Esmeralda had to have known what time the woman would arrive. There was no way she could have either seen or heard the car when she cut short our talk and returned to her house.
I headed back to town, thinking of Esmeralda and her gift and the idea of not looking for what I was trying to find.
By the time I got to the winery, I was hot and annoyed. Esmeralda’s dream had made me grumpy. I decided I didn’t want the spirits, or anyone, telling me what to do. I walked into the large barn that held the tasting room and the winery. Darla had the space to add on a dining area, but besides the small snacks she kept behind the bar, she claimed she had no desire to change South Cove Winery into a drinking and eating establishment.
The light inside the bar was dim, but I could see Matt working at the stage at the end of the room, setting up equipment for this weekend’s musical guest. He’d brought in several bands the last six months that had increased the winery’s draw of customers. Darla had put him in charge of the festival’s entertainment too. Matt knew his music. I ordered a beer off their grocery store bottle list from the woman setting up the bar for the evening, and once I’d paid her, I took my bottle over to the stage.
“Hey, Jill, what are you doing out this early?” Matt grinned at me. “I figured you’d be working still.”
“I’m the morning slave. After noon, I’m free to do anything.” I glanced around the room. “I guess you and Darla are night owls around here.”
“Yeah, we don’t get a lot of day customers. But sometimes we get a bus full of tourists who want the winery experience.” He flipped out a cord and started winding it up. “I’m trying to get this mess cleaned up. Barry gave Darla a hassle about how much equipment we have plugged in over in this corner. I think I can get a few things moved, but realistically, you need a lot of power for the bands’ equipment.”
“Of course, Barry’s not around anymore.” I watched his reaction to see what kind of emotion I’d get.
He sank down on the edge of the stage. “Yeah, I know. But he was right about the wiring. I guess I’d like to honor him by at least getting this corrected.”
I saw sadness cross his face. I tried to keep the surprise out of my response. “You liked Barry?”
Matt nodded, looking down at the wires in his hands. “Barry was a tough nut to crack, but he took a chance on me and let me into the fire fighter group. He didn’t have to, not with my past.”
I didn’t know much about Matt’s past, except for the fact he’d been assigned to the work program last winter. I sat next to him on the edge of the stage and took a sip of my beer before I asked, “What do you mean?”
He glanced around the now-empty room. Even the bartender who had helped me was in the back, probably getting more product to stock for the evening customers. “Hell, I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure the new chief won’t be as forgiving as Barry was, at least with me.” He turned toward me. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us.”
“Darla is my …”
He cut me off before I could finish my sentence. “Darla knows everything. Do you think I’d even start a relationship with her if I wasn’t going to be completely honest?”
“No, I guess not.” The fact was, I didn’t know Matt very well, and I had worried about what his intentions were with my friend. Darla had a big heart and a quick wit that kept everyone around her happy. She deserved a great guy. But I was willing to withhold judgment until I heard Matt’s story.
“I got out of prison last year.”
My eyes must have shown my shock because he laughed.
“Before you run away screaming, let me tell you the situation. I was a troubled kid. Never wanted to be in school, always wanted the fast money, cars, and girls.” He smiled at the memory. “When I dropped out, I started hanging with some friends. Well, actually, they were a gang and had a nice business in stealing cars and selling them to a chop shop. I didn’t even complete my first assignment before I was arrested. I guess I’m a horrible thief.”
“You were in a gang, stole a car, and went to prison?” Matt didn’t look that old. “What were you, sixteen?”
“Nope, just two days after my eighteenth birthday. I was tried as an adult. My folks had washed their hands of me years before so I didn’t even try to ask for help.” He shrugged. “I did my time and realized when I was in there that my so-called friends never visited or helped me out while I was inside.”
“You find out who are your real friends when you really need them.” I guessed that was a truism no matter what type of trials you were going through.
“For sure. So when I got out, my probation officer approved a move to Bakerstown and got me into the work program. And you know the rest.” He snuck a glance at me. “So what’s your reaction now that you know? Am I off your Christmas card list?”
I laughed, wondering how a man could go through all that and not have residual scarring. “I don’t send Christmas cards. The store does though, and if you want, I’ll get you on that list. You just have to buy a book from us.”
“I appreciate that.” He rubbed his face. “You’re the third person here I’ve told about my past. Darla, Barry, and now you. It gets easier with each telling.”
I saw Greg walk into the darkened room and figured he’d found out through official channels what Matt had just told me. I patted his arm. “Your past doesn’t change who you are now. Don’t forget that.”
Something in my tone made him look up at me, then at the door. He put the cords down and stood. “I don’t think your boyfriend is here on a social call. It sucks to be the easy answer to all the problems in the world just because you’re on probation for one stupid action.”
“He’ll be fair. You know him.” I just hoped my words were accurate. Sometimes Greg had too much evidence to look at the emotion of the situation. Which usually worked in his favor, but today, it might work against him.
We watched Greg approach and he caught my eye. “Jill, will you excuse us? I have official business with Matt.”
“You just want me to walk away? You know he didn’t kill Barry.” The words were out before I could stop them.
He looked at me, sadness in his gaze. “I know only a few things. Like Barry is dead and Matt was one of the last people to see him alive.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Jill, I’m just trying to do my job here.”
“It’s okay, Jill,” Matt said with a touch of tenderness to his voice. “I want to tell Greg everything. Besides, this time, I didn’t do anything wrong. I have nothing to hide.”
I drained my beer and threw it away in a trash can as I was leaving. Turning back to watch the men talking, I realized I felt bad for the young boy who had finally found his way and his home but who might lose it for something out of his hands.
I thought a lot as I walked back to my house, and when I arrived, a new car was sitting in Esmeralda’s driveway. She was a busy lady. Her words came back to me then: “You’ll never find what you’re looking for
until you look for something else.”
I hadn’t been looking for the answer I got from Matt. But now that I’d removed him from my suspect list, the only one left was Tiny. I needed to find out more about the six-foot-two chef who created dishes for a small diner in a small town like a chef in a five-star restaurant.
I went inside and opened up my laptop. Google Investigations R Us could be my business name if I ever decided to become a real private investigator. I started with Diamond Lille’s website and tried to find everything I could about the chef named Tiny. Two hours later, I closed the laptop and leaned back in my chair in disgust. Nothing. I’d found nothing. Before or after the brief mention of Tiny Colsen on Diamond Lille’s website, there had been nothing. Either Tiny wasn’t his given name (which was a strong possibility) or Tiny hadn’t done anything in his life that had gotten him noticed by the Internet bots. No articles, no Facebook page, no Internet footprint at all.
Emma snored at my feet. It was still early, though the light was dimming, but I had time for the one thing that would help everything that happened this day make sense. I had time for a run on the beach with my favorite partner.
I went upstairs to change into running clothes and Emma sat by the door whining while she watched me get ready. The dog loved to run. Typically, we ran in the morning when the beach was empty. Doing it this late meant she’d have to stay on her leash the entire time, but I knew the dog wouldn’t mind. A leash run was better than no run at all.
As I suspected, the beach was packed. We started jogging as soon as we got down the stairs but it was a slow process. We swerved to avoid a family coming up from a day at the beach. The kids, cranky from the sun and surf, were stomping their way through the sand, not wanting to leave. The mother, with a bag filled with wet towels and other beach toys, was leading the way, calling after the kids like they were baby ducks. The dad was in the rear, picking up the lost sandals and blow-up toys. For not the first time, I felt blessed that all I had to do was clean up after my dog.
The mayor had tried to get a “no dogs allowed” sign on the beach, but so far, the council had vetoed his idea. Mostly because a lot of the council members had dogs that they liked to bring with them on their own beach excursions. The mayor didn’t have any pets at all. Not even a gold fish. That told you something about the man, didn’t it? I thought that should be a mandatory question on any politician’s request to run for office. What pets did they have?
I dodged a trio of surfers coming up from the waves, their wet bodies glistening in the sun and their surfboards dangerous to passersby.
“Looks like you picked the wrong time to run,” a familiar voice called out to my left. Looking over, I saw Carrie from the diner sitting on a towel with a book in hand. I moved toward her and plopped down on the sand next to the towel.
“It’s crazy busy for a weekday.” I glanced at my watch. “And it’s after five. I would have thought most of the tourists would have left by now.
“Oh, they have. This is mostly town regulars.” Carrie waved at the young girl playing in the surf with a bodyboard. Carrie pointed to her. “That’s my Hannah. My daughter’s oldest. I’ve been drafted as her beach buddy for the summer as Sarah works in town. We come out here after I get out of the diner. I get to read, she gets to play. It’s a good system.”
“What are you reading?” I glanced at the cover. “I love that author but I haven’t read that book yet.”
“I bought it over at your store if you’re wondering.” Carrie tucked a bookmark in the pages. “That girl you have working afternoons? She suggested the first one and I’ve been hooked ever since. She got Hannah into some mystery series too. The girl can sell books, that’s all I have to say.”
“Sasha knows her stuff.” I loved hearing that she was doing a great job, even if I already knew it. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I didn’t kill Barry.”
The frankness of her answer surprised me for a second and it must have shown on my face.
She laughed. “Girl, don’t you know you already have a reputation for figuring out who the killer is long before that lovely young man of yours.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I pulled the leash close and Emma plopped down next to us. “But since you brought up Barry, what do you know about your cook?”
“Tiny? You can’t think that man had anything to do with Barry’s death. He’s a sweetheart. I don’t think he even lets a mouse be killed in the kitchen. He bought no-kill traps for the place when we had that problem last year.” Carrie shook her head. “Your murder radar is off on this one.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t think he killed Barry, but I can’t find anything on a Tiny Colsen. It’s like he showed up and started cooking for Lille fully grown.” Emma watched a seagull land a few feet from us and I could feel her muscles tense.
“That’s because Tiny Colsen isn’t his birth name. Once he left wrestling, he started to use his mother’s maiden name. I think you’ll find what you want to know if you look up Ralph McMasters. He changed his life and I think Tiny fits him better than Ralph, but who am I to judge.”
“He wrestled? Professionally?” I shouldn’t have been so surprised. With Tiny’s body type, he would have been a great athlete.
“Right up until he left six years ago. There was some sort of accident with one of his stunts. The guy felt so bad about actually hurting someone, he quit the sport and went to culinary school. He’s been at Diamond Lille’s ever since.”
As I was running back to the house after my talk with Carrie, I knew one thing. None of the three men who were on the fire training exercise with Barry had killed him. Now, I just needed to prove it and find out who did. The clock was ticking and I didn’t have any clue as to what had actually happened.
Chapter 5
Tiny Colsen had led an interesting life before becoming a small-town chef. He’d been big-ish in the world of wrestling. Not a headliner, but a consistent player with a string of wins under his belt. He was loved by the crowds, but apparently, didn’t like the grandstanding it took to be one of the really big guys in the sport. By the time Greg came over for dinner, I was still following the Google trail on Ralph McMasters.
Greg started unpacking the groceries he’d bought. “I brought over steaks to grill and potatoes to bake. Or if Doc Ames calls me with the toxicology report and I have to cut the evening short, I bought potato salad so we won’t have to wait on the potatoes to cook. He’s got it on rush, but you know those guys in the lab.”
“I found out some stuff about your suspects. Do you want to know or are you going to give me that lecture where you tell me I’m not an investigator?” Greg didn’t like me getting involved in murder cases. He thought it wasn’t safe, but I’d been careful and discreet this time. Well, except for going to talk to Matt, but there had been a bartender there so it wasn’t like he could have kidnapped me or killed me on the spot. And Greg already knew I’d talked to Matt because he’d caught me.
“I’m going to regret this, but I’ll worry if I don’t ask. What did you find out?” He grabbed a soda out of the fridge and sat down next to me. For the next ten minutes, I filled him in on what I’d found out. After I was done, he wrote down Ralph McMasters’s name in his notebook and then put it away.
“That’s all you need?” I closed my notebook and went to season the steaks. “His name? I could be offended.”
“You know I don’t like you investigating, but everything you’ve told me I’ve also found out through official channels. Except Tiny’s real name. Every time I go to interview him, he’s either left or is coming in late. It’s like he knows I’m coming.” Greg paused at the back door. “I’ll go clean the grill. You want to put those potatoes in the oven? I’m going to take a chance that I’m not going to be called out for the next hour at least.”
“I’ll get them in and come and join you.” I called after him and watched as Emma followed him out. The dog loved him, which was a good thing since he seemed to s
pend a lot of time at my house. I finished washing the potatoes, sat the steaks in the fridge, and grabbed a glass of iced tea.
Evenings on the porch had been our thing since we’d started dating. I know most girls would want a more “date night” event, but I enjoyed sitting and talking about our days. I stood and leaned against the porch railing, looking out toward the road. Studying Esmeralda’s house I noticed another car now sat in her driveway. The woman was fully booked today. I wondered if the spirits got confused in all the commotion. “I got some advice from the other side today,” I said to Greg.
“Really? I didn’t think you believed in Esmeralda’s second sight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s always telling me one thing or another. Most of the time, she’s spot on, but I think that’s more because she’s really good at reading people.”
“Apparently, she’s dreaming my answers.” I laughed at the look Greg gave me. “She said she was told I needed to stop looking.”
“I so totally believe in her gift right now. She’s right. You need to stop looking into things that aren’t your business.” He grinned and threw Emma’s ball into the yard.
“You didn’t let me finish. She said I should stop looking and then I’d find what I was actually looking for.” I sipped my tea. “And it worked. I couldn’t find Tiny on Google so I took Emma for a run. And there was Carrie with my answer.”
“I’m not sure it really works like that.” He took the slobbery ball from Emma and threw it again, wiping his hand on his jeans afterward. “I like my interpretation better. You should just stop looking.”
“So since I’m going to ignore your advice, who are you thinking about as a suspect? Are you sure it was just the four of them? I don’t think Matt, Bill, or Tiny could have done this to Barry, do you?”
Greg blew out a breath. “No. I don’t. And yes, it was just the four of them. I’ve asked all of them and they tell me the same story with different versions. Well, except for Tiny. He’s still on my list to interview again, but I’m expecting to get the same story. It’s not rehashed. They all ring true. Barry could be a jerk, and they all admit that, but the day he died, no one there had a reason to kill him.”
