by Joy Avon
Strong smiled softly. “Ah, Book Tea. So that’s still your life.”
“Yes, more durable than some other things.”
He winced, lines tightening around his mouth. Then he gestured at the arched entrance to the hotel bar. “Shall we have a drink?”
Without waiting for their reply, he walked to the archway.
Iphy shot Callie a quick look and then followed. Callie wasn’t quite sure what she had seen in her great-aunt’s eyes: alarm, uncertainty, or even a hint of excitement? Was she still under the spell of this dashing man?
Callie rushed to catch up with her and watch it all play out.
Strong was at the bar, ordering something. Then he came over to them and directed them to a table in the far corner. There was nobody around to overhear them. He waited until Iphy had taken a seat and then gave the chair a polite little push into place. Callie noticed he touched Iphy’s shoulder a moment. He didn’t do the same with her when he stood behind her chair. Callie smiled up at him. “Thank you. I hope you aren’t too annoyed with the situation?”
Strong took a seat and looked at her, confused, it seemed. “The situation?”
“Well, a fellow singer asks you to step in for him; you graciously agree to do so, flying out all the way from Vienna; and suddenly you’re embroiled in a murder case?”
“Oh, that.” He said it as though it was but a minor thing—an hour’s delay at the airport. “Like I just said, I have nothing to do with it.”
“Callie may not be with the police,” Iphy said, playing with her bracelet, “but she is seeing a police officer. Deputy Falk, who is leading this case.”
Callie flushed at the ambiguous word seeing, which left the question open of how serious their relationship really was. Ace had been so reticent to be seen with her.
“And?” Strong studied her with a half frown.
Iphy shrugged. “I’d be careful about lying.”
“I’m not lying. I was with the orchestra.”
“But not the entire time,” Callie said. “Or else you couldn’t have been observed arguing with the victim.”
“Our source claims,” Iphy added, “that you were holding the victim by the shoulders, shaking him. That suggests more than just a few exchanged words in passing.”
Strong leaned back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Iphy shook her head. “The source will speak with the police and be considered reliable. He was close to the victim. He—”
“He may be lying to shift suspicion.”
A waiter brought drinks. A whiskey for Strong and a raspberry mocktail for Iphy. Strong gestured to Callie. “The young lady still has to order.”
After Callie asked for mineral water and the waiter left, Strong lifted his whiskey glass and toasted Iphy. “To the old days.”
Iphy seemed reluctant to touch her glass to his. “What did you fight about with the victim, Sean?”
Before he could repeat that he had no idea what she was talking about, Iphy continued, “We both know you’re a determined man when it comes to something you feel deeply about.”
Strong leaned over to her. “I was asked to step in and do this performance. Yesterday around this time, I was still in Vienna, going about my business. Do you really believe I came to an event and then got into an argument with an unknown man and killed him?”
Iphy held his gaze. “You tell me.” She waited a moment and then said, “If someone had told me you’d come to Heart’s Harbor, I would have put money against it.”
“Is it so hard to believe I would do a fellow singer a favor?” Strong shook his head. “You have a dismal view of me.”
“I think you might have done someone a favor, but not when hearing it involved coming here.” Iphy kept her gaze on him. “Why, Sean? I don’t understand.”
He gestured with both hands. “I just wanted to help out. And it was all so long ago. Does it really still matter?”
“Of course not.” Iphy sat up straighter. She reached for the raspberry mocktail and toasted Strong, jutting her chin as if in a silent challenge. “To the old days, then.”
Callie watched her great-aunt take a sip while never taking her eyes off the man.
Strong seemed confused by the sudden change in her. “Now you accept my arrival without question?” he asked.
“If you say so.” Iphy sounded light, almost teasing. But her expression became serious again as she lowered the glass and said, “You did tell us the truth about the murder, didn’t you, Sean? You’re not involved?”
“Of course I’m not involved. I’d never even heard of that guy.” Strong made a dismissive hand gesture. “He might be a big name here because he’s been on TV, but you don’t hear much about such things across the pond. I spend so much time in Europe, I consider myself more European than American these days.”
Iphy nodded. “I suspected you’d feel that way. You’ve always been a man of the world.”
“And what are you then? A small-town girl?” He leaned over and shook his head, his dark eyes lighting. “You can’t make me believe it, Iphy. Your talent is wasted here. You could have worked at patisseries all over the world. Vienna, Paris, Rome, Sydney. They would have been fighting to engage you.”
“And everywhere I would have been the worker—never the owner, never the boss. Book Tea is mine, Sean, to do with whatever I want. I have freedom to make my own creations, not churn out what others decide for me.” Iphy studied him. “You should have understood that was most important to me.”
“Freedom?” he asked, with a strange little smile. “Oh, I did understand that.”
There was a long, tense silence. Strong nursed his whiskey; Iphy tore apart the mint leaves on her mocktail. Callie had the strong impression that both of them were back in another scene, another meeting, a long time ago, replaying events in their minds, maybe wondering if it might have been different if they had acted in another way, had spoken other words.
Strong said, looking at Callie, “So you’re seeing a police officer? The guy who was on the scene this afternoon? What was his name? Hawk?”
“Falk,” Callie corrected.
“Oh yes. It reminded me of Falco, falcons. One bird or another.” Strong gestured. “I was never an outdoor person. Did you grow up here? Have you always craved to work in the tearoom and live this small-town life?” His question sounded challenging, almost disparaging.
Callie sat up. “Not at all. I was a tour guide. I’ve been to all those cities you just mentioned and then some. Budapest, Warsaw, Moscow, Venice. I’ve seen the northern lights and stood in the Parthenon. Explored catacombs and palaces.”
He smiled appreciatively. “Sounds like an exciting life. Still, now you’re here. Did you get sick perhaps and couldn’t travel anymore?”
Callie shook her head. “It wasn’t a decision made for me by circumstance. I made a conscious choice to change my life around. To settle here in Heart’s Harbor.”
“Settle?” Strong said it as if it was a dirty word. “I see. For love perhaps, for the deputy?”
“I …” Callie paused a moment, as her attraction to Falk had been part of her decision to settle down, the idea that she should get serious about finding someone to spend her life with, maybe have a family with. She wasn’t as young as she used to be.
But here she was, living close to Ace for months already, and she still didn’t know for sure what he felt for her. Yes, there was an attraction; yes, they were dating, having a good time together, but they rarely had a deep conversation about anything. Ace often looked so tired from his work that she wanted their dates to be about relaxation only, having fun. But they never really talked about their pasts, their values, their ideas for the future. Was their connection serious enough for a real relationship? Did she even want that?
Strong held her gaze. “You sure take a long time to answer. There’s no shame in it, I suppose. People like to settle. Most of them.” He glanced at Iphy. “There are just a few rolling stones who don
’t want to gather moss.”
“I hope you’ve been happy,” Iphy said.
“Happy?” Strong scoffed. “What is happiness anyway? I’ve traveled. I’ve performed at some of the most spectacular places in the world. Music makes me happy, a near perfect performance, a night where everything comes together.”
Callie noticed how Iphy shrank a moment under the latter words. Had there been a night, back then, when Iphy had believed everything would come together for this man and her? Their attitude toward each other now was far too charged to assume they had known each other only superficially.
Strong emptied his glass and gestured for the waiter to refill it.
“You shouldn’t drink too much before bed,” Iphy said.
Strong smiled at her. “It helps me sleep. Better than pills, I suppose.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Now what exactly did you want to talk to me about?”
The waiter came with a new glass and took away the old. Iphy waited until he had retreated before saying, “I want to know what you argued about with the man who was murdered this afternoon.”
“I told you, we didn’t argue. Your source lied.”
Strong looked confident as he spoke. Still his hand tightened on the whiskey glass, and he gulped down the contents in a few drafts. He put the glass on the table with a thud. “If that’s all, I’m off to bed. I’ll be flying back to Vienna tomorrow.”
Iphy shook her head. “You can’t leave. You are part of —”
He rose to his feet. “I gave a statement. I have nothing to do with it. I’m leaving. Goodbye.” And he turned on his heel and marched off.
“What a strange man,” Callie observed. “When he came from the elevator, he seemed almost glad to see you. I had a feeling he had even dressed up for the encounter.” She studied her great-aunt from aside. “He was very attentive, getting you your favorite drink and being so gallant with the chairs. Now he’s just walking out on us?”
Iphy sat motionless, staring at the spot where Strong had vanished from sight. “Something is wrong here,” she said. “I can’t imagine that Seth Delacorte lied to us about having seen Sean with the victim, shaking him. Why would he make that up?”
Callie shrugged. “Strong said it might have been to divert suspicion.”
“But Delacorte would know we would ask about it, or the police will if he tells Falk the same story. So why risk it? He could have said someone argued with the victim, shaking him, not naming the person, claiming he only saw him from behind and didn’t know him.”
Callie sipped her mineral water. “He doesn’t want to confide in us. We can’t force him to.”
Iphy sighed. “I should not have told him you were seeing Falk. That must have spooked him.”
“Why, if he has nothing to hide?” Callie leaned over. “Has he been involved with the police before?”
Iphy stared at her. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Well, it was obvious this afternoon that you were rather shocked to see him here. I just thought he might have run some con here in the past.”
Iphy held her head back and laughed. “Sean, a charming conman. I admit the role would be perfect for him. His tongue is so glib.” Her laughter died, and she stared into the distance again.
Callie touched her arm. “I’m sorry he came here. Bad luck he was asked to take Teak’s place.”
Iphy sighed. “Yes, him of all people. But I guess I should see the bright side of it. I once told myself that if Sean ever came back into my life, I would feel I had made the wrong decision back then.”
“And what are you feeling now?” Callie asked.
Iphy looked at her with a hint of alarm in her eyes. She looked at the raspberry mocktail and suddenly got to her feet. “It’s getting awfully late, and we do have to work tomorrow. Come along.”
She went to the bar to pay for the drinks, but the waiter said the gentleman had told him to put anything they ordered on his hotel bill. Iphy seemed to doubt whether she could just accept this offer, but Callie touched her arm and nodded toward the exit. They left and gave the receptionist, who still seemed wary of them, a friendly greeting.
Outside, Callie breathed the chill February air with relief and said, “That’s that then. We did all we could.”
Iphy nodded. “I just hope Sean isn’t serious about leaving. I don’t think Falk will appreciate it.”
Callie studied her closely. “You’re worried that Delacorte told us the truth about Strong shaking the victim in a fierce argument.”
Iphy’s eyes were sad. “Yes, I’m almost certain that Sean lied to us. And I don’t know why. I just hope that …” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders a moment.
Callie studied her with wide eyes. “Are you afraid he could be the murderer?”
Iphy shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of. But I have a bad feeling about this whole thing. Him coming back here and …” She pressed a hand to her forehead. Then she looked up and forced a wan smile. “Let’s go home and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the morning.”
Chapter Ten
Callie remembered those words first thing when she woke up the next morning. A vague worry about her great-aunt’s state of mind niggled at her, and she got out of bed quickly. She greeted Daisy and went to shower and dress. Then she made Daisy some breakfast but decided to drink only a cup of coffee herself, with a few rice crackers, and then drive out to Book Tea right away to go see how Iphy was. She could have a better breakfast there. First of all, it was nicer having breakfast with someone than all on her own, and second, Iphy made the best pancakes Callie had ever had.
She had just arrived at Book Tea, Daisy in her basket in the passenger seat beside her, when a police car came from the other direction. The two cars pulled up simultaneously, turned into empty parking spots. Callie put the brakes on and got out. She waved at Falk. “Ace! Good morning.”
Ace gave her a less than enthusiastic wave back. He came over and said, “Someone should make a law against early morning arrests. They drain all the energy I need for the rest of the day.”
“Poor you.” Callie rubbed her hand down his shoulder. “Come on inside for a bit of breakfast. I’m here to enjoy Iphy’s fabulous pancakes, and I’m sure she can make a few extra for you.”
Ace’s face cleared. “That would be great.”
Callie took him and Daisy around to the Book Tea’s back entrance and knocked on the back door before pushing it open and stepping in. Callie inhaled, expecting the invigorating scent of coffee and eggs, or toast, or pancakes, but there didn’t seem to be anything on the air at all.
As she came into the kitchen, she found it empty, the sink pristine, with no traces of cut-up oranges or some spilled coffee, and her great-aunt was nowhere in sight.
Ace hitched a brow at her. “Where can she be? Still in bed?” He checked his watch.
Callie shook her head. “The back door was open, so she must be up and about. She locks it overnight.”
“A wise precaution, even in a small town,” Ace said. “Do you want to go see where she is?”
“Yes.” Callie told Daisy to stay with Ace, and with an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she rushed upstairs. She knocked on her great-aunt’s bedroom door and got a groggy reply. She opened the door an inch and peeked in. “Hello. Good morning. Are you not feeling well?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Iphy replied from under a heap of blankets. “I must have fallen asleep in the early hours, and now I feel like I got no sleep at all.”
“You stay in bed. I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
“Just tea and toast. I can’t eat anything substantial right now.”
“Okay.” Callie closed the door again softly and rushed downstairs.
“She just didn’t sleep very well.” Callie tried to sound light. She didn’t want to attract Ace’s attention to the fact that something upsetting might have happened the previous night. She felt bad enough knowing where she had been and what
she had done. “A nice chance to treat her, instead of the other way around.” Callie turned on the tap to fill the kettle with water for tea.
“Can I help you?” Ace asked. “I do great omelets.”
Callie nodded. “Sure. The frying pan is in there. Eggs and butter in the fridge.”
Ace opened the fridge, with Daisy standing beside him, looking up as if she expected him to produce some ham or other treat for her.
“Just ignore that,” Callie said.
Ace came back to her with eggs and butter, and put them on the counter. He collected the pan and hummed as he went. Callie suddenly wondered what it would be like to live under the same roof with him and make breakfast together like this every day.
As if he would have time for that, she scolded herself. He’s always off to work early.
Ace buttered the pan and put it on the stove, then beat the eggs in a bowl. While Callie made toast for Iphy, the scent of omelets began to fill the kitchen.
“On toast?” she asked Ace, and when he nodded, she also put bread in the toaster for the two of them. She ran up with Iphy’s tea and toast, and when she came back in, Ace had already put plates on the table, and the toast was ready to eat. They sat down opposite each other, with hot toast and fresh omelets, while coffee brewed in the maker.
“Pretty perfect,” Ace said around a bite.
“Your omelets?” Callie asked with a grin.
“No, this moment.” He smiled at her, a leisurely smile that warmed her inside.
She held his gaze, not minding that her food was getting cold. He was right: this was perfect. The perfect start to the day. She had done the absolute right thing coming back to Heart’s Harbor and settling here. This was real life, not all the traveling about from one hotel to another, where breakfast was good, but also impersonal. Life was about forging bonds with special people.
Then Ace’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket to answer it.
Callie hoped he wouldn’t have to rush off right away. She listened intently to his end of the conversation.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I see. Okay. I’ll do the interrogation when I get back. Just let him sit there and think it over. Yeah, right. Later.”
