by Kate Bell
“Yes?” Phil repeated.
Alec leaned in closer to the door and shouted again. “We came because of your complaint of noise?”
“Uh, oh, yes,” Phil shouted back. “Hold on.”
Phil opened the door a crack wider, and squeezed his ample body through it as if he were made of silly putty, able to meld and mold himself to a much thinner shape. I watched wide-eyed, willing myself not to look at Alec.
Phil’s fringe of black hair stood at odd angles, looking as if it had been ages since it had been combed. He turned to face us and we took a step back to give him room.
“Sorry, Frito gets excited when there are, uh, visitors,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “Hush, Frito!”
The dog stopped barking and went to growling. At least he was obedient.
“Mr. Jones, I don’t hear any music coming from next door,” Alec said.
“Oh, that’s because she turned it down. She must have known you were coming,” he said, glancing in Jenna’s direction. “You know how sneaky some people can be.” He whispered the last part and looked in the direction of her house again.
“I see,” Alec said slowly. “Mr. Jones, we were wondering if you had heard anything new or remembered anything about the night the man was found dead across the street?”
Phil’s eyes got big. “Oh. No. I completely forgot about that. Who was it that was murdered?”
“Spencer Cranston,” Alec said. “Did you know him?”
Phil shook his head and his eyes went wide again. “Oh, no. No, I didn’t know him. I’ve never heard of him.”
“Okay, well, we appreciate that,” Alec said, looking over his head and into the house through the open crack in the door.
“But I’ll tell you something,” he whispered, leaning in toward Alec.
“Yes?” Alec asked.
“I don’t trust that Miss Maples. She’s up to something,” he said, nodding his head.
“And why do you think that?” Alec asked.
“Just a hunch,” he said. “And she called my Frito a mongrel. He’s a purebred Chihuahua!”
Alec sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Jones. We’ll be in touch.”
“But aren’t you going to do something about her music?” he asked.
“There’s no music now, Mr. Jones,” Alec said over his shoulder as we headed for the car.
I knew Alec was irritated. But you couldn’t blame Phil. He had called and reported his neighbor for loud music, just like Alec had suggested.
I poked Alec’s arm. “Cheer up, buttercup,” I whispered.
“You’ll talk to her, won’t you?” Phil called again as we walked down the sidewalk toward Alec’s car.
“Yes, we’ll talk to her,” he said, changing his mind. We made a detour toward Jenna’s house. A drop of rain hit my nose and I shivered, looking up. The sky had turned nearly to black and I wanted to get home in front of the fireplace again.
Alec knocked sharply on Jenna’s door.
“Smile,” I hissed as the door opened. Jenna was just as pretty as the first time we saw her. I wondered if she had gone out earlier or if she always did her hair and makeup, even if she was staying home.
“Hi,” she said with a smile.
“Hello, Miss Maples,” Alec greeted. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we had a complaint of loud music.”
Jenna poked her head out and turned to look at Phil, still standing on his front step. When he saw her looking at him, he popped back into his house at a speed that seemed impossible for such a little, portly man.
“Don’t tell me. My neighbor complained?” she asked, tilting her head and smiling, displaying those beautiful white teeth. Her parents must have spent a mint to get them that perfect.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Alec said apologetically.
She sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know the drill. He’s a nutty little man and for some reason, I’m his target.”
“Oh? Has he caused you any trouble?” Alec asked.
“Not really. It’s just that annoying dog of his. But he did call the police once during the summer when I left my door open to let a breeze in and I had the television on. He claimed it was turned on at full volume and that I was doing it on purpose to annoy him.” She shrugged. “I guess it could be worse. I could have neighbors that party all night.”
“That’s true,” I said, nodding. “You never know what you’re going to get when you move to a new neighborhood.”
“Since we’re here, Miss Maples, I was wondering, did you remember anything unusual about the night before or early morning when the body was found across the street?” Alec asked.
“No, not a thing. Um, who did you say it was that died?” she asked.
“I didn’t say, but it was Spencer Cranston. Did you know him?” Alec asked.
Her forehead wrinkled up in thought. “The name sounds a little familiar, but no, I can’t say that I ever met him. It’s a shame he was murdered though. I hate to hear about things like that.”
I peered at her, watching her closely, but if she had known Spencer, it didn’t show on her face. I was beginning to think Meg Cranston had been paranoid about her husband’s activities. But if that was true, what had he been doing in this neighborhood?
“Well, if you do think of something else, you’ll let us know, right?” Alec asked.
“Oh, of course,” she said.
We said our goodbyes and headed back to Alec’s car.
“Do you believe her?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if I believe either of them, but I don’t know that there’s a reason not to.”
“It’s funny that he was found in the neighborhood of the woman that his wife swore he was having an affair with, if he wasn’t really having an affair with her,” I pointed out.
“Ayup, I agree,” he answered. “But his wife hasn’t been able to come up with any real evidence of the affair. Maybe he was having an affair, but it was with someone else.”
“Did you manage to see inside his house?”
“Nope. It was dark.”
I snorted. “Special ops.”
He grinned. “Crazier things have happened.”
I nodded. “I need hot cocoa,” I said as the sky opened up and snow came down. We got into the car and headed for my nice warm fireplace.
Chapter Twelve
Monday morning Lucy and I headed over to the Cup and Bean for a steaming hot latte. Yesterday’s snow had turned icy and the clouds hadn’t completely cleared up yet. I had skipped running outside in favor of the treadmill that morning. Even with running shoes made for the snow and ice, I still had my issues staying upright when everything was so completely frozen over. The day felt cold and dreary and I thought a mocha latte was just the thing I needed to feel human again.
“So what’s this I hear about Alec getting an office? Ed ran into Alec at the gas station and he told him he rented an office,” Lucy said as we took our drinks to a table.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you about that. We were going to take a look at it the other day, but we got sidetracked by a murder,” I answered, taking the lid off my coffee and inhaling the sweet wonder that is a mocha latte. “Alec’s excited about it, but he says it’s going to take some work to get it in shape. We are really going to have to get down there and get to work.”
“Pretty bad, huh?” she asked, taking a sip of the caramel latte she had ordered.
I nodded. “Alec said we’ll need to clean and paint and then buy furniture. I’ve seen the mayor’s office and that one was pretty nasty, to be honest. Wouldn’t surprise me if mice have taken up residence in the place. But it’s also exciting. Alec is getting to do the thing he loves the most, and he’ll also be working for himself instead of grumpy old Sam Bailey.”
“You two are quite the item. I’m so happy you found each other, Allie,” Lucy said and took another sip of her drink.
“Thanks. I agree. We are quite the item,” I said, leani
ng back in my chair. “I can hardly believe I have someone in my life like him. After Thaddeus died, I didn’t want anyone else and I thought I was happy with that. Now I can see that I wasn’t.”
“That’s a wonderful thing to figure out, sweetie,” she said. “Has business picked up for you yet?”
I sighed. “Not yet. But I’m sure things will turn around. They always do, right?” I asked hopefully.
“You bet. If anyone can make it selling baked goods, it’s you,” she said.
We both looked up at the same time when Mr. Winters suddenly appeared and stood beside our table, cup of coffee in hand.
“Well hello, Mr. Winters,” I said.
“Hello to you two,” he said, nodding at both of us. “I thought I’d do you a favor and come to you instead of waiting on you to come to me. May I?”
I nodded as he took the seat he had indicated. Mr. Winters was the town gossip. It was hard to believe from looking at him, but the old guy knew a thing or two about almost everyone.
“How are you doing Mr. Winters?” I asked.
“Oh, my arthritis doesn’t like this cold, wet weather and all my joints are creaking. I’ve got a cataract startin’ up in my left eye and I need new dentures,” he said smiling big and giving me a chuckle. “But other than that, I’m fine and dandy.”
His Maine accent was so thick, it was almost hard to understand some of his words, but I laughed with him. I liked Mr. Winters. He always had information for me and he was a quirky, fun person. I wondered if it was having worked in the circus when he was younger that made him that way.
“So, what do you know about the murder that happened over by Cherry Avenue Park?” I asked him.
“Oh?” he asked. “There was a murder?”
“Indeed. Spencer Cranston was found dead in his car,” I whispered and looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was listening in.
“I don’t believe I know him,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m surprised I hadn’t heard there was a murder. I need to take some of my news sources to task on that one.”
“Hmm, well the victim was new to town. He and his wife Meg moved here around six months ago. He worked for Stanton Industries and they moved an entire office of people here to work. Do you know a Jenna Maples?” I asked.
He swirled his coffee around in his cup, releasing steam, then took a sip. His white hair was thinning and his dark rimmed glasses slid down on his nose. “I heard some funny things about that company. Some say it’s a computer company. Some say they work for the government and some say they are in touch with aliens on other planets. That would be old Ned Alderman that said that and you know as well as I do he’s nuts.”
I smiled. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I heard he once climbed a tree in Addie Davis’s front yard, meowing like a cat. She had to call the fire department to get him out of it,” Lucy added, nodding.
“I imagine that company is somewhere in between all of those things, though,” he said, peering over his glasses at me. “It’s a funny thing they moved that company out here in the middle of nowhere though. And they brought in all their own people. They didn’t hire anyone local, that I’ve heard.”
I nodded. “That’s true. That is kind of odd. But maybe the city council gave them a break on taxes or something.”
“Well, I’m going with a top secret government operation,” Lucy said, leaning back in her chair and pushing her hair out of her face. She had colored the tips of her blond hair a puce color, the former pink streak now gone. Puce wasn’t the prettiest of colors on it’s own, but it somehow worked for her.
“Do you know a Meg Cranston?” I asked him.
“No, can’t say as I do.”
“How about a Phil Jones? He lives across the street from the park. He seems a bit odd,” I said. I didn’t know Phil Jones and couldn’t remember ever hearing anything about him.
He snorted. “Phil is the oddest oddball I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a few of them. What day did you say that fella died?”
“February 3rd.”
“Well now, if I remember right, Phil was out back in my alley early that morning. I remember because that’s the day I get my social security and I like to get an early start on paying my bills and doing my shopping,” he said.
“How early was it when you saw him?” I asked. If I remembered right, Phil had said he was in bed asleep.
“Oh, it was still dark. He got my neighbor’s dog, Franny, barking. I’d say around 5:30,” he said, thinking back on it.
“Really? That early?” I questioned. “What was he doing in your alley?”
Mr. Winters shrugged. “He was hanging around the dumpster back there. When I heard Franny barking up a storm, I went out and looked over the fence, and there he was. All bundled up in his snowsuit, with the lid to the dumpster open. I hollered at him, but he didn’t answer back. Just let the lid shut and walked on down the alley.”
“Huh,” I said, pondering what Mr. Winters had just said. “Maybe he was trying to hide something in that dumpster.”
Lucy nodded her head. “Makes you wonder.”
“Especially when he told Alec and I that he had been asleep until about twenty minutes before we got there that morning,” I said. Phil had some explaining to do.
“Had you ever noticed him in your alley before, Mr. Winters?” Lucy asked.
“Not that I recall, although Franny does take to barking lots of early mornings. I’m so used to hearing it that most mornings I don’t even think about checkin’ to see what she’s barking about. I don’t even now why I did check that morning, to tell you the truth. I guess from here on out I might take a look out there and see,” Mr. winters said thoughtfully. “You never know what might be goin’ on right outside your own backyard.”
I nodded. “That’s the truth. I can’t imagine how Spencer was murdered right out in the open near the park like that, other than it must have happened while it was still dark.”
“Did the medical examiner say what the time of death was?” Lucy asked.
“He said it was somewhere between midnight and five a.m. Because it was so cold out, it was only an estimate, so it could have been earlier or later.”
Alec and I still had a lot of investigating to do to figure out who killed Spencer Cranston. I had to wonder about Stanton Industries. Just why had they chosen Sandy Harbor, Maine to relocate to?
Chapter Thirteen
“Hey,” Alec said, sneaking up behind me and kissing the side of my neck.
The hair on my arms stood up and I let out a scream and jumped. “Where did you come from?” I asked, turning around to stare at him wide-eyed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He grinned at me. “You need to keep your front door locked. Anyone could have slipped in on you.”
“Point taken,” I said, putting a hand over my heart. “Hopefully my heart will calm down sometime today. It’s a good thing it’s strong from all the running I’ve done.”
“I’m sorry, honey, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I did knock. I guess I had better knock louder next time.”
“I guess I was absorbed in my work,” I said, turning back toward the kitchen counter. I had heavy cream, dark chocolate, flour, sugar, and an assortment of other baking ingredients laid out in front of me.
“What are you working on?” Alec asked, heading to the coffee maker on the opposite counter.
I sighed. “I don’t really know. I’m thinking I need something different from my usual desserts. Any suggestions?”
He poured a cup of coffee and turned back toward me. “Anything you make will be great. It always is. And I like anything sweet, so whatever you decide on, you can’t miss with it.”
“With business being as slow as it is over at Henry’s, I need to come up with a winner. I still need to work on my dark chocolate cake for Valentine’s Day, which by the way, is coming up in six days. Hint, hint.”
“Valentine’s Day you say? Hmm, it seems like I’ve heard o
f that before, but I can’t remember where.” He looked up at the ceiling, furrowing his forehead in thought. “Valentine’s Day, Valentine’s Day.”
“You’re so funny. Seriously. Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“I know this fancy French restaurant downtown,” he offered.
“Oh please. No. I am tired of supporting my competition. Think of something else. Please,” I said. I picked up my grandmama’s recipe box and started flipping through the cards. There had to be something different in there somewhere.
Alec chuckled. “How about we make it a surprise?”
“Oh? What sort of surprise?” I asked, looking at him. I had a love-hate relationship with surprises. I loved them when they were good, and hated them when they weren’t so good.
“See, the thing is, a surprise is a surprise. That means you don’t get to know what it is.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, at least give me a hint on how to dress for the occasion.”
He smiled. “Nicely.”
“That’s so helpful,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied and went to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, anything new in your world? I think it’s been about twenty-four hours since we’ve seen each other.”
“Oh, I found out that no one seems to know much about Spencer, Jenna, or Stanton Industries. Lots of speculation about the company, but not much else. More interesting was the fact that Phil Jones wasn’t sound asleep in his bed like he told us, but was out behind Mr. Winter’s house in his alley.”
“Doing what?” Alec asked, sitting back in his chair.
I shrugged. “Mr. Winters didn’t know. But he said it was early, around 5:30 a.m. or so. I think I’m going to make Crepes Suzette.”
“Isn’t that a French recipe?” Alec asked.
I nodded. “I can do French, too. Aren’t you interested in Phil?”
“I am. But we still don’t have an exact time of death, only an estimate that may have been skewed by the cold. Phil may have had good reason to be out in the alley at that hour and if Spencer died earlier in the evening, it doesn’t matter much where Phil was at 5:30 a.m.”
