by Lynn Cahoon
“I’ll let you get back to breakfast.” I clicked off and skipped up the stairs. My referral program must be working. Maybe this kid will have the work ethic and personality of our youngest staff member and work out just fine. Although I had been hoping for someone to work year round, not just on school breaks.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking toward town. If everything worked out, I’d be back home no later than eleven and be able to stop at the Korean/Mexican fusion place for lunch before heading to campus. A girl’s gotta eat, especially on a final exam day.
I’d planned out my entire lunch order by the time I’d reached South Cove Bed and Breakfast. I opened the gate and saw that Nathan was sitting outside in a rocker, his laptop on his legs. He grinned at me. “Hey, Nathan.”
“Hey, yourself. What were you thinking about? I could see the wheels turning in your head while you walked up.” He sat the laptop on a table and stood to greet me.
“I hate to admit it, but I was planning my next meal.” I met him on the porch. “This looks like a great place to write. How’s the book going?”
“Good, good. I’m not scheduled to visit the police station until after one today. I guess Greg had some meetings that were sensitive and I couldn’t just hang out.” He grabbed a page that the breeze had picked up off a pile of paper sitting by the laptop. He reached down and grabbed one of Mary’s antique steel chickens she had bought to decorate the porch. “You here to see me or the hosts?”
“The hosts. I was hoping to catch Bill. Is he around?”
Nathan walked to the front door and held it open. “He was when I came out. Let’s go see if we can find him.”
The house was quiet. No one sat in the living room, but Mary had said that most of her guests would be checking out today. The dining room was set for snacks and beverages so there must have been someone besides Nathan who was staying on. As we made our way to the next door, the kitchen if I remembered right, I turned to Nathan. “Don’t you want to bring in your laptop? Aren’t you afraid someone will read your draft?”
“I guess I should be, especially after last time where I almost went to jail for murder, but really, what’s the chance of lightning striking twice?” He slapped a flat palm on his forehead. “Cliché alert. Honestly, it’s so hard to get around those sayings in this world.”
We opened the door and Bill stood at the sink, washing dishes. Dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, the apron with Kiss the Cook seemed a little out of the ordinary. He turned and smiled when he saw me. “Jill, what are you doing here? Did I miss a meeting?”
“No, I just needed to talk to you.” I looked at Nathan. “About council business.”
“On that boring note, I’ll leave the two of you alone and head back to my writing. I’m laying down red herrings for the reader.”
We watched him leave while Bill grabbed a towel and dried his hands. “Have a seat.”
“You look pretty cute in that apron.” I sank into the wooden kitchen chair.
He sat next to me, moving a basket of apple cinnamon muffins within my reach. “What can I say, I’m a modern man. Mary had to deliver the clock to Killing Time this morning. That Ian is a little off. He told her last week he could fix it here, but today, we get a call saying she has to deliver it.”
“He’s different. He was a bit anxious when I stopped to talk to him about the business-to-business meeting. Maybe our new business owner works with clocks for a reason. They’re more predictable than humans.” I took a muffin and broke it in half. It was still warm from the oven. “How do you work around this all day? I’d eat everything before the guests woke up.”
“It’s no different than being in the coffee shop. We just have to serve once a day.” He took his own muffin. “Besides, Mary has always baked. This way I’m not the only one eating her creations. So what really brings you here this morning? I know we don’t have council business.”
“I’ve been talking to people who knew Walter and Doc Ames and thought I should talk to you.” I pulled out my notebook and a pen. “So you and Walter were rivals?”
“Going straight for the jugular, are we?” He shook his head. “No wonder Greg doesn’t like you messing around with his cases. You need a better bedside manner.”
“You mean easing into the questioning?” I broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it into my mouth. Before I took a second one, I pointed my finger at Bill. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to get to the point. That your time is valuable.”
“Ouch. Direct and pointed.” He tugged on his apron. “I’m the best kind of bed and breakfast owner.”
“So what about Walter. What kind of owner was he?”
Bill leaned back in his chair. “Tired. The guy was tired of being on 24/7 and that’s what you have to do when you have guests in your home. You can’t just pad down to the kitchen for a midnight snack in your boxers.”
“How did you know how he was feeling?” I tapped my pen on the notepad. “Were you friends?”
“Friends? No. Friendly rivals, or what’s that new word, frenemies? That might describe us, at least up until last month. He came by and asked to talk to Mary and me.” Bill rubbed his chin. “When we sat down at the table over coffee, he surprised both of us.”
“How?” I could see the three of them sitting here, a basket of muffins between them.
“Look, I haven’t told Greg this, mostly because, well, I didn’t kill Walter. But I’ll admit, it makes me look bad.”
I shook my head. “I’m confused. What makes you look bad? That you met with Walter?”
“No. Walter came over and offered to sell us Beal Street. He was asking way too much, the place needs a lot of work and I told him that. I mean, we might be interested in expanding if we could get the house at a reasonable price,” Bill admitted. “So we told him to let us know if he dropped the price. Or if he got an offer on the place.”
“Because you’d rather buy it than let someone else come in and compete?” I was beginning to see Bill’s logic.
“Exactly. I mean, there were things to think about. Mary’s been working on a cost estimate for the remodels, the linen and furniture upgrades, and of course, the extra staff we’d need to open a second house.” Bill rolled his shoulders. “I was planning on making him a counter offer as soon as things slowed down. Then, he was killed.”
“Who gets the place now that Walter is dead?” When my friend Miss Emily died, the rats came out of the woodwork.
“Not sure, and we haven’t been approached by anyone.” He looked at his watch. “I need to make a call. Mary’s running late. I wonder if she stopped to talk to your aunt.”
I glanced at the clock. I was supposed to be at Coffee, Books, and More in less than ten minutes. I made some notes and then started the other questions. “Did you know Walter in high school? College? When did you first meet?”
“Wow, you are detailed. Let me think.” Bill got a faraway look, then smiled. “It was the week we opened. He came by to welcome us and bring us a muffin basket. Mary threw them away after he left. She said they were day-old rejects from the Bakerstown Grocery. I told her he wasn’t as lucky as I was to have a lovely wife to partner with who bakes.”
“You are the charmer.” I put my notebook into my tote. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got an interview for Sasha’s replacement today.”
“Sorry I couldn’t have been more help. But if I were you, I’ll look into who is inheriting Beal Street. Maybe that will lead you down the right path.” He stood. “Finish your coffee. I’ll be right back.”
There was a pile of mail on the table. Bill had left and I could hear him in another part of the house, talking to what sounded like his daughter, or more precisely, the new grandbaby. I fingered through the piles, stopping when I saw the last envelope. It was from an attorney’s office. I slipped the letter out of the envelope and quickly scanned the letter. The first paragraph stunned me. It was an offer from Walter’s estate to sell the Beal Street Bed and Bre
akfast to Bill and Mary. And was dated a few days ago.
Bill had lied to me.
I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of the letter. I shoved the letter back into the envelope, straighten the pile and then stood when I heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen door. Bill stepped inside, surprised to find me walking toward him. “I really have to take off. I’m opening this morning.”
“You should come over more often. I feel like the only time we talk is about council business.” Bill walked with me to the door.
I paused, my hand on the screen door handle. “You wouldn’t know who his lawyer is, would you?”
“Actually, I do. Walter told me to contact Thomas Burke in Bakerstown if I changed my mind about buying the place.” Bill stopped at the spot where the clock previously stood and picked up a coin from the floor. He pocketed the change while he continued talking. “I assumed it was an attorney. I guess it could have been his realtor.”
“I’ll check it out. Either way, they should be able to tell me who Walter’s lawyer is.” Thomas Burke had been the name on the letter. I stepped onto the porch where Nathan was busy reading the manuscript from his pile of papers. Or what I assumed was his manuscript. It could be pages of ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY. I smiled at the thought and wondered if I could find a copy of The Shining for our next dinner and a movie date. “Bye, Nathan.”
He grunted something that sounded like good-bye and then scribbled something on the page and then turned to the next one.
The artist at work. I wish I’d had a camera; no one would believe the friendly, outgoing Nathan could be this grumpy and out of sorts. Other authors had mentioned their writing persona was totally different than the author persona they showed to the world. I just never imagined it would be this much of a change. Or this quickly. He seemed chatty when I arrived a few minutes earlier. Now he seemed lost in his own mind.
Almost like he was a completely different man.
CHAPTER 18
I chalked Nathan’s behavior up to working intensely and headed back toward Main Street. As I crossed Beal, I checked my watch for the time. Aunt Jackie would already be watching out the window for me. I had two more stops to add to my notebook of clues. I wasn’t sure what the lawyer would tell me, except maybe go away, so stopping by the house might be more fruitful.
Just as soon as this interview was over.
A young man sat across from Aunt Jackie at a table when I walked into the shop. Bonus points for him in my aunt’s eyes, he had been early. “Sorry, I was talking to Bill about the business-to-business agenda.”
I could tell by the look my aunt gave me that she didn’t quite believe my excuse, but to her credit, she let it go. At least in front of company. She made the introductions. “Jill, this is Ethan Morris. He goes to school with Nick.”
I shook the young man’s hand. “So what are you studying?”
“Engineering. My math test scores were through the roof, so I got all kinds of scholarships. And you have to go where the money is anyway.” A smile curved Ethan’s lips but never hit his eyes. “Of course, Nick was my primary competition for any scholarship.”
“You went to the same high school?” Something was making my alarms go off.
“Bakerstown High. All the kids in the area are shipped up there. That way the school district doesn’t have to support more than one building.” Ethan shrugged. “Of course we were in totally different social circles, then and now.”
I took in Ethan’s too perfect California-cool outfit. A polo shirt, long Bermuda shorts, and boat shoes, they all looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for one of the upscale shops in the city. “So why are you applying for this job?”
The question seemed to stun him. He looked around. “I like books. I got straight A’s in my literature classes. I’ve drank enough coffee during study jams to keep me wired for years. I guess, I just thought it would be a great place to hang out this summer.”
“You realize we work hard here.” Aunt Jackie had set her pen down. Now she was seeing what I saw.
The smile was back. He was feeling the misstep, but he didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. I could see his mind replaying the last few minutes. He had expected to be welcomed, not challenged. “Most definitely. And I’m a hard worker.” The words came out of his mouth smoothly.
“So what was your last job?” I thought I already knew the answer.
“I’m president of our fraternity, the first time ever a freshman had been elected his first year.” He leaned back into the chair, his arm dangling from the top of the chair back. “You do all sorts of tasks for that position, delegating, event managing, and even supervising people.”
“That’s all nice, but what was your last real job? Besides the volunteer work.” I saw the wince in his eyes as I said volunteer.
“I haven’t held a real job yet. This would be my first opportunity.” He paused, then the smile deepened. “If you hire me, that is.”
Aunt Jackie sat forward to return to the stock questions, but I cut her off. “Tell me about a time when you worked with a large group of children.”
“My family has children all over the compound all summer. They like our pool best because of the water slide. Mostly it’s just my aunt and uncle’s kids, but sometimes, they bring friends from school too. Some days, there’s four or five kids in the pool at once.”
I looked at my aunt and saw the brief nod. Turning my attention back to Ethan, I stood and held out my hand. “Thank you so much for coming in today. We’ll be in touch.”
He looked at Aunt Jackie, then back at me, definitely confused at the direction the interview had taken. Standing, he shook my hand. “I’m perfect for the position and uniquely qualified.”
“We just have some more interviews. Like I said, we’ll be in touch.”
He adjusted his polo, nodded to my aunt, then left the shop.
Aunt Jackie shoved his application into a folder. “You said you wanted a warm body. He was intelligent, attractive, and had both of his hands. What made you go all attack dog on him?”
“He just seemed too perfect. Like he was trying out for a part in a play or something.” I stretched. “We can keep him in the running. I mean, he’s not a serial killer or anything. I just wonder what Nick has to say about him.”
“Well, isn’t that just a glowing recommendation? He’s not a murderer. You’ve been hanging out with Greg too much.” Aunt Jackie flipped through the application. “Funny, he didn’t list Nick as a reference on the application. He must have mentioned him as we were talking.”
“Now that’s not just funny, it’s weird.” I looked around the empty shop. “Do you think we should open on Mondays for the season?”
“Not until we have another person. Or you’re done with school. We’ll talk about it next week. Don’t you have a final to get to?” My aunt took the file and tucked it under her arm. “And I’m shortening your shift tomorrow. Nick will be here at nine and I want him to work a few hours alone to get him back into the swing of things.”
“But…”
My aunt waved away the rest of my unspoken argument. “He has to swim some time. Besides, I’ll be upstairs, you’ll be a phone call away, and Toby will come in two hours later. The boy needs to be able to work the entire shop by himself. This is just his first chance.”
“Whatever you think is best.” This was the only answer my aunt was looking for. She knew what she was doing with staffing, though. I pointed to the front. “You want me to lock that on my way out?”
“That reminds me. That clock guy, Ian, came over just before you got here. I told him we weren’t open but he hung around anyway. He said he had to talk to you about council business? Something about the upcoming festival, I guess. He asked where you lived. Isn’t that weird?”
“Maybe he thought it would be easier to catch me at home.” Ian wasn’t the most socially experienced guy.
“Well, I told him he could just wait and come back tomorrow morni
ng when you were working. I didn’t want you to be disturbed before your exam tonight. Then when Ethan came in, Ian took off.”
“I’ll stop by on my way home and see if I can catch him at the shop. Maybe it’s just something quick like he wants to volunteer for some role with the festival.” I was hoping he wasn’t a Josh Thomas and wanted to complain about everything the business-to-business committee did to bring in business to South Cove.
“Please lock the door on your way out. Do well on your exam. I’m sure you’re very prepared.” She considered me. “You have been studying, right?”
Tonight was the marketing final. I got marketing. My final report was all ready to e-mail my professor today. It was Thursday’s economics final that had me freaked out. “I’m studying.” I kissed her on the cheek. “See you soon.”
As soon as I locked up, I paused outside the door. Killing Time was to my right and Beal Street was to my left. Glancing at my watch, I turned left and headed to the Beal Street Bed and Breakfast. As far as I knew, they hadn’t released Walter’s body to the family for burial, so my excuse was to find out when the services were being held. And to pay my respects, of course.
The porch had a broken step that had been repaired badly and creaked under my weight. Walter had been dead just over a week and the place looked abandoned. Bill and Mary would be getting this place for a song. I paused at the door, noticing the chipping paint. Leaning close, I heard noises inside.
I knock and waited. Nothing. I knocked again. Still no answer. Finally, I tried the knob and the door swung open. The sounds I had heard through the door were louder now, a hammering. And the noise seemed to be coming from the kitchen area, if I remembered the floor plan from my stay here more than five years ago.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” I started toward the kitchen, then thought of Greg’s comment about how I put myself in danger. Shaking off the sudden chill, I pushed my way through the swinging door.
An older woman stood on a chair, hammering a nail into the curtain rod that had seemed to come loose. She had ear buds in and seemed to be badly humming along with some old 70s song. I waited until she climbed down the chair, but when she saw me, she dropped the hammer and screamed.
