by Clover Tate
“You’re serious about it.”
He snapped his head toward me. The intensity of his gaze pushed me back against the sofa. “You have no idea. There’s so much potential. I must have talked to Gus about it a—”
“You two getting to know each other?” Rosa asked from the doorway to the kitchen. It wasn’t a throwaway question, either. She waited for an answer. I remembered how Jack had turned away from Matt.
“A little bit. Enough to know I need to try more of Matt’s pinot noir.”
“You’ll have to visit sometime,” Matt said, his poise returning. “The new tasting room turned out well. I hired a terrific architect and used granite and fir from the valley.”
“Bring Jack,” Rosa added.
Claire emerged from behind Rosa with a plastic container I guessed held pie. “It’s late. We’d better get going.”
* * *
• • •
On the drive back to Rock Point, Claire and I were mostly quiet. I focused on keeping the Prius on the road through its dark twists and turns. A few times, I thought Claire was going to ask me something, but she never did.
Now she and Jack owned their uncle’s farm. Would Jack really sell it? And, if not, what did that mean for our relationship? We’d been seeing each other only a few months. I didn’t know if we could withstand an hour-and-a-half commute.
I glanced at Claire. She took in the scenery, but the hulking shadows of the Douglas firs clearly didn’t interest her. Her mind was somewhere else. So was mine. I thought about Jack and the farm, for one thing. I also remembered how adamant Rosa was that Gus’s death had been an accident.
“Your uncle must have gone over that trail to the winery a hundred times,” I ventured.
“Thousands, probably,” Claire said absently.
“But he fell?”
Her coat rustled against the upholstery as she turned. “Of course. He slipped on a rock. Why?” When I didn’t respond right away, she added, “You think he might have been pushed?”
“Well, after Allison, I have to wonder.”
“No,” she said instantly.
“You sound pretty sure about—”
“It was an accident. That’s all.” Her voice softened. “Sorry. I know you’re simply concerned. But Uncle Gus’s death was an accident. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” We were only a few minutes from Rock Point now. “Where should I drop you off?” I asked. In my mind, I was already turning off Main Street toward the marina’s new docks and the Claire de Lune.
“Jack’s, please.”
If she saw my raised eyebrows, she didn’t say anything. I steered the Prius toward the cutoff road for Rock Point and slowed as I came closer to Jack’s, just a few blocks above Sullivan’s Kites. Jack’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but I hadn’t expected it to be there yet.
“Thank you for inviting me out,” I said. “It was great to see the farm and meet Rosa. I’d heard so much about them.”
Claire didn’t make a move to open the door. She stared straight ahead.
“Claire? Is everything all right?”
She bit her lip, then turned toward me. I could make out only half her face in the faraway streetlight. “I know this is asking a lot, but do you have room to put me up for the night? Jack isn’t home yet, and I don’t want to be alone.”
I remembered my nearly empty living room, with just its coffee table, now that I’d broken the chair. And that leak. I didn’t even have a couch for her to sleep on. I noted that she didn’t ask to go to Dustin’s boat.
She must have taken my pause for apprehension, because she said, “I wouldn’t normally ask, but I can’t help think about Allison.”
“She’d inherited the farm, you mean. And now it’s you.” The car’s interior was barely illuminated by the glow from a streetlight down the block. “Do you think it’s about the farm, then?”
“What else could it be? Allison didn’t have enemies.”
Neither of us came up with an answer to that one. “And now you’re the one with the farm,” I said. “And maybe at risk. Of course you can stay with me. The only problem is that I just moved, so I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep. But I have a better idea. Do you know Avery, the woman who owns the Brew House? She’s a close friend, and her family’s house is on the cliff on the north side of town. She has plenty of room.”
Claire’s shoulders dropped, and her clenched hands released. She must have been worrying about this the entire ride home. “Thanks. If you’re sure she won’t mind.”
“Absolutely sure. Sunny’s staying there, too. And I need to stop by to pick up Bear, anyway.”
I backed out of the driveway. It was only a few minutes’ drive through town and up Perkins Road. As the Prius pulled up Avery’s gravel driveway, I had to wonder. Was Claire hiding anything from me?
chapter nineteen
Pounding on my door—followed by Bear’s frenzied barks—woke me. I didn’t know what time it was, only that it was still dark. I sat up with the blankets pulled up to my chin.
“Emmy, open up. It’s me.”
Jack! I leapt out of bed, grabbing my bathrobe as I went, and finished tying it around my waist just as I opened the door.
“You’re home!” I hugged him and smelled waxed oilcloth. My cheek brushed against his whiskery jaw.
He hugged me back, then released me and laughed. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed, but your message sounded urgent.”
“It was,” I said, nodding fervently. “Come in. What time is it?”
“Barely six. Dad and I were rained out, so we finally admitted defeat and packed up camp. We drove all night. I had him drop me off here. By now he’s probably sacked out at my house.” He set down his pack in the hall. “What’s going on?”
“Come in. I’ll make coffee.”
Bear trotted after me as I led the way down the hall to the kitchen. I flipped on the light over the stove and pushed aside the curtains over the French doors. My reflection in the glass woke me up more than any amount of caffeine could. I tried nonchalantly to smooth down my renegade curls with one hand and erase the pillow marks on my cheek with the other.
“What happened to your chair?” Jack held up the kitchen chair’s seat.
“Long story. Grab a cushion. We can sit on the floor and talk.” I started the coffeepot and thought about how I might tell Jack what I knew—and what I suspected.
I must have been fidgeting with the coffee mugs too long, because Jack broke in. “Em, out with it. Whatever you have to say, you can give it to me straight.”
I dropped to the cushion across from him. “They found out who the body was in the shop.”
“It was the reporter, wasn’t it? The reporter from Sunrise magazine?”
“No.” I leaned forward and rested a hand on his wool-clad arm.
“Not the reporter? Why would someone pretend to be her?” He shrugged. “I guess that makes it easier for the sheriff, though. The murderer had to be someone connected with the real reporter.”
In a few seconds, I’d have to tell him something that would weigh him down even more than his uncle’s death. Maybe it was to give him a few more relatively happy seconds that I hesitated.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Why? There’s something you’re not telling me.” He fastened me with those soft gray eyes, now as steely as I’d ever seen them.
“Jack, the body was your aunt Allison’s.”
Jack froze. For a few seconds he seemed to retreat beyond an ice wall. I could see him, but I couldn’t touch him.
Then he pulled me against his chest. I turned my head so my cheek rested against his neck, under his chin. I heard his heart beat, his breathing.
“They know it’s Allison for sure?” he said finally.
“Yes. Dustin ide
ntified her.”
“Wait, Allison texted me that day. It couldn’t . . .”
I knew what he was thinking. He was beginning to put the facts together. “I know. And they haven’t found her phone.”
The sky over the ocean began to lighten from iron to pearl gray. Day would dawn not in a wash of pastel, but in cement tones. The coffeepot beeped. I reluctantly let Jack go and fixed our coffee. When I returned to the cushion, he was staring out to sea.
“That’s what you wanted to tell me,” he said.
“That’s the big part. But there’s more.” I handed him a mug. “I found your kite charm, the one with the broken tail, at the shop.”
His head snapped toward me. “I wonder how it got there.”
I plodded ahead. “I gave it to the sheriff.” Jack stared at me. “I had to. You understand.”
He drew a deep breath. “Yes. Of course. You couldn’t not give it to him.”
“The text from Allison, then the charm. Jack, the sheriff is looking for a murderer, and so far the evidence points to you.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “And Claire and I inherit Uncle Gus’s land. He told us when he changed the will. That farm is worth millions.”
“Exactly.”
He sank against the wall.
“Claire said you both inherit. We drove out to the farm yesterday to see how Rosa was. Claire wanted to check in with her.”
He’d barely heard me. “So that’s why the sheriff wants to talk to me. He thinks I killed Allison.”
“He has to clear you, anyway. He’s going to be mad that I got to you first,” I said.
“I’m glad you did.” He squeezed my hand. “But isn’t that foolish? I mean, why point a finger so clearly at me? If I were going to kill someone, I wouldn’t leave the body in Strings Attached. That makes no sense at all.”
“I don’t get it, either. I’ve tried to figure it out.”
“Well,” Jack said, “Maybe he thinks I couldn’t very well kill her at my house.”
“And if you left to drive to the woods, Claire would have heard you.” I leaned over and touched his arm, but I couldn’t look him in the face. “Jack, I asked Claire if she’d heard you leave that night. It wasn’t because I suspected you.” Now I looked up. He was studying my face. “I needed to know what she’d say.”
An excruciatingly long moment passed. Bear nosed between us and laid his head on Jack’s lap. “I understand.” Jack pulled me closer. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, why would I make the body appear to be the reporter’s? Again, let’s pretend to be the sheriff.”
“Maybe you wanted to bring me down for some reason. I mean, we are competitors.” I thought about the uptick in sales since we’d found Allison. If that had been the plan, it had backfired.
Jack shook his head. “No. That’s just—crude.”
“Or to delay identifying the body as Allison’s.”
“Why? If I were really so desperate for a piece of Uncle Gus’s estate, why would it matter if Allison’s body were found before or after the funeral?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“Emmy.” The furnace kicked in—it must be close to seven now—and the seagulls were starting their daily calls from the roof of the Pronto Pup stand near the beach. “Emmy,” he repeated. “Will you help me figure this out? I’m going to have to count on the sheriff being reasonable. I’m the one with the motive.”
“You and Claire.” I lifted my gaze to his.
“Claire didn’t do it,” he said flatly.
“But she and Dustin—”
“No.” His voice was firm.
“Remember, we’re looking at this like the sheriff would.” I ticked off my fingers. “First, she knew Allison would be in Rock Point.” Jack nodded. So far, so good.
“Without Allison, and with Dustin excluded from the will, she inherits. Do you know if she has any financial problems?” Jack fidgeted with the flap of a box. “The sheriff will find out, believe me.”
“The Sea Star’s lease is steep, and I know she lives on a shoestring.”
“So, that’s a possible motive. Plus, she’s awfully attached to Dustin.”
“And?”
“Never mind.” It seemed ridiculous now, the thoughts I’d had on the drive with Claire back to Rock Point. “I was grasping at straws. I’d wondered if having Allison out of the way would somehow make it easier.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said flatly.
“She mentioned to me that your uncle Gus discouraged her from seeing Dustin. To the point that he offered to buy her an airline ticket anywhere she wanted to go, as long as it wasn’t to see Dustin.” I watched Jack. How would he take this hint that Claire might have had a motive for Allison’s death? From how he tensed his jaw, I knew I was on shaky ground.
“Uncle Gus didn’t want Claire to get hurt. Dustin used to be kind of a flake. Before he invented the seching machine, it didn’t look like he’d amount to much. Besides, until recently, I never got the impression he was interested.”
“Fine.” I backed off.
Just then, for the second time that morning, someone pounded on my door, and Bear barked in return. Jack jumped to his feet.
“I’ll get it,” I said.
I put an eye to the peephole for a fish-eye view of Ace, his nose abnormally close and ponytail far away. I opened the door.
“Got my toolbox,” he said. “Let me have a gander at that leak.” He raised his eyebrows and looked beyond my shoulder. “What have we here? You remembered I was dropping by this morning, right? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” He returned his glance to me. “You might want to put on some clothes.”
I was fully covered, but embarrassed to be seen in my robe and nightgown all the same. I smoothed down my hair again. “I was just about to get dressed.”
“I stopped by the Brew House for an Americano and ran into Lenny. He says the sheriff’s looking for Jack.”
Jack reached for his coat. “I’d better get home and unload the car.”
Ace spoke as if Jack weren’t there. “Said he planned to check in with you. He thinks you might know how to find Jack. Looks to me like he was right.”
chapter twenty
I stared a moment at the door as it closed behind Jack. I hoped Sheriff Koppen wouldn’t be too hard on him. As people always seemed to be pointing out, the sheriff was fair. But evidence seemed to be stacking up against Jack.
I sighed and turned toward Ace. “How long will you be?” Stella was opening the shop this morning, but not for a few more hours. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if Stella knew Ace was upstairs.
Ace followed me into the living room. “Depends on what I find. Don’t worry, though. I’ll give you a fair rate.” He set down his toolbox. “That’s not what you’re worried about, is it?”
“No. You’re right, but I don’t want to talk about it.” I just wanted Allison’s murderer found and Jack off the hook. “How are things between you and Stella?”
“I’m not going to lie. They could be better. Got any more of that coffee?”
I poured him a cup. “No changing the subject, Ace.”
He faced me full on. “What am I supposed to do? I’m just being myself. It’s not like I mean Stella any harm.”
“Your old house was tidy. I remember. You used to brag about having one of the greenest lawns in town.”
“Turf care isn’t easy in this part of the world. You try growing a lawn without moss.”
“So, what’s different now?” I would have sat down, but I didn’t have a proper chair yet. I leaned against the wall.
“Can’t I just be myself for a bit? Michelle was always carping at me to be something different, too.”
So, that was it. “Stella isn’t Michelle. You don’t have anything to prove to her.”
“Thank you, Miss Nosy. Now, get dressed like you’re going to see an important government official.”
“What?”
“The sheriff is after Jack. You need information. You’ve got to see my sister.”
I’m afraid I might have looked a little dense the way I stared at Ace. “Huh?”
“Jeanette,” he said. He raised the coffee mug and sniffed. “This coffee is strong.”
“Jeanette the postmistress is your sister?”
“You don’t happen to have a little cream, do you?” He was already in the kitchen.
“Check the refrigerator. You’re Jeanette’s brother?”
“Sure.” He took a long swig of coffee. “You get this at the Brew House?”
“Never mind that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier about Jeanette?”
Jeanette and I had had our encounters. A few times in the past I’d been forced to visit her to try to gain insight into a situation or person. She hoarded information like a squirrel hoards nuts, except imagine a squirrel that kept his nuts in a double-walled safe with a combination lock. Oh, she’d dole out information, but only when she was assured a juicier bit in return. Why the National Security Agency hadn’t hired her long ago, I had no idea.
“Sure, she’s my sister. What’s the big deal?” Having drained his mug, he set it aside. “Where’s this leak?”
“Up there.”
He squinted at the ceiling. “These leaks are tricky business. Where it leaks is rarely where the problem is. Kind of like life itself, come to think of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Say, for example, you’re having trouble with your wife.”
“A theoretical example, you mean,” I said.
“Sure. Say your wife seems mad at you all the time, but never wants to talk about it. You hang your coat up wrong, and your wife snaps at you. That’s where the water drips.” He stabbed at the air. “The source of the leak might be way back in your wife’s childhood when she never felt listened to.”
