He looked crestfallen. “I know.”
“But you can get some samples for another day.”
All smiles again. “Thanks, Mom.” He grabbed his spoon in the middle of the handle and began to shovel in his cereal.
Helen picked up Fred’s dish, opened a covered container by the back door, scooped out two cups of dried dog food, and placed it in the dish. Fred jumped up and down as best he could, considering his short legs and heavy torso.
Helen placed a platter of golden muffins spotted with red raspberries on the counter and bowls of fruit in front of Scott and me. Blueberries mingled with bananas and bright green slices of kiwi fruit in freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Would you like something more? I’d be happy to fix you bacon and eggs.”
“This works for me,” I said.
Scott had already started on a muffin. “These are delicious. I won’t need anything else.”
“I’d like to deliver some of the breakfast baskets while Tommy is here with you,” Helen said. “Does that work with your plans?”
“You bet.” I took a sip of my now-tepid coffee.
“Tommy, I want you to stay with Kelly until I get back.”
Tommy mumbled an agreement around a mouthful of cereal. Helen picked up two baskets and left.
Someone knocked on the back door. Scott got up and opened it. “Hi. How can I help you?”
A gangly young man in a red plaid flannel shirt and oil-splattered jeans stood in the doorway.
“I’m Chet Wilson, part of the festival setup crew.” He rubbed his hand down the leg of his pants in a futile attempt to clean it and held it out.
Even from a distance the grime under his nails was visible.
Scott shook it without flinching. “Scott Thompson.”
Chet shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, his shoulders hunched forward. “We had one of the main tent poles fail during the night. We’re trying to find any extra hands so we can get it fixed in time for the event.”
“Let me finish a few things here, then I’ll be out.”
Chet’s rocking movement stopped. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” He grabbed Scott’s hand again and began pumping it vigorously.
Scott extricated his hand. “Happy to be of assistance. We want the chocolate and wine festival to be a success.”
“I need to attend to the guests, or I’d help,” I said. “We have another person coming in later. I’ll send him.”
“That’s great. Cool.” He was now standing a bit straighter, as if pounds of trouble had rolled off his shoulders. “I’ll get back to work. See you in a bit.” He left at a trot.
Helen came back as Tommy got up and put his bowl in the sink.
“I’m going to get dressed now, Mom.”
“Wait.” Helen looked at me. “I need to go with him. He can help me deliver baskets when we come back, and we’ll be able to get the breakfasts out on time.”
“Okay. I’ll finish putting them together.”
They left, and I prepared the remaining baskets. Scott put dishes in the dishwasher.
“Kelly, I want to speak to you in private for a few minutes,” Scott said when we were done. There was no lightness in his tone. “Let’s go somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.”
“Okay.” What was up? “We can go in the study.”
When we got there, Scott closed the door. “Kelly, I want you to be careful.”
“I am. I—”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “I mean it. You’re asking questions. This is a small community. Whoever did these things knows you’re checking into what’s happened.”
Goose bumps covered my arms. He was right. I’d already seen how fast information spread through town. Like my poison oak after a night of mindless scratching in my sleep.
“We’re backup for each other right now. It’s a two-way street. We need to communicate with each other where we are at all times. We’re a team. That’s what the company rule is about. Protection for staff and guests.”
“Right. It makes sense.” The goose bumps were still there. “I won’t go anywhere without telling you.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Promise?”
It was a fair question. I hadn’t exactly followed protocol in Colorado.
“I promise.” Our eyes met. I meant it.
Scott let go of my shoulder. “I know you keep your word.”
I now had a partner. New concept.
We walked back to the kitchen.
Helen picked up the last couple of breakfast containers. “This will do it.” Tommy was next to her, holding a basket, his hair combed back. Fred had been put in his crate by the back door. Mother and son left to finish the morning rounds.
“I’ll go see what I can do to help with the tent.” Scott headed for the door, but before he could leave, Stanton’s cruiser pulled in.
Now what.
The policeman got out, shoving himself up from the driver’s seat.
Scott opened the door and waved him in. “I’m Scott Thompson with Resorts International.”
“Deputy Sheriff Stanton.” He plodded up the stairs.
I saw no spring in his step. “Hi, Deputy Sheriff Stanton.”
“Ms. Jackson.”
The men shook hands. “Glad to meet you.” The deputy walked in. He tossed his hat on the now-familiar counter and slumped down on one of the stools.
The creases in his face were canyons, his eyes the color of a blood-red sunrise. The stubble on his chin was the silver of sagebrush and sure to feel as prickly. “Ms. Jackson, when was the last time you saw Jason Whitcomb?”
I thought for a moment. “It was yesterday afternoon, after the festival committee meeting. Why?”
“He’s dead.”
Chapter 29
Cupcake man? The one who made Tommy’s special treat yesterday? “What happened?”
“Murdered.” Deputy Stanton rubbed his sprouting whiskers. “Shot twice. Found next to his van.”
“I can’t believe it!” I pulled a stool over and sat with a thud.
“Do you know who did it?” Scott asked.
“No. We didn’t find anything at the scene that gave us a lead. Maybe something will be discovered during the autopsy or from the evidence we collected.”
“Could it be connected with the abalone poaching or the attack on Tommy?” I asked.
“Highly unlikely, Ms. Jackson. There’s a lot of drug trafficking in this area. Jason rented a room in a house near the airport. I think he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe stumbled onto a load of marijuana going out.” A network of red blood vessels obliterated the whites of his eyes. He scrunched them closed. “They don’t call it the Green Triangle for nothing.” Stanton opened his eyes and stretched his back. “Maybe heavier drugs coming in. There’s more of that happening now.”
Helen bustled in carrying two breakfast baskets, with Tommy close behind. He ran to Fred’s crate, knelt down, and let him out. Fred jumped into his arms, grinning from ear to ear. Every wag of his tail shouted, Where have you been? I’ve missed you more than you know. Bringing the joy only a dog could produce time after time in the same day. Tommy hugged him close.
“Good morning, Deputy Sheriff Stanton.” Helen placed the baskets on the counter and began to empty them.
“Same to you, Mrs. Rogers.”
As Helen unloaded the dishes into the sink, she glanced over at the deputy, studying his face. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yeah.” He stifled a yawn. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
Deputy Stanton and I looked at each other, then at Tommy. The unspoken agreement was clear. Don’t say anything about the murder.
Helen pulled a mug from a hook under the dish cabinet. “You look exhausted. Have you had anything to eat?” She poured dark, steaming liquid into the cup.
He massaged his forehead. “Sometime last night I grabbed a burger.”
“A burger?” Helen stared, her eyebrows raised. �
�Last night?”
She turned, opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of eggs, and placed it on the counter. “I know I have some cremini mushrooms in here.” She put an oversized red bell pepper next to the eggs. “This’ll be perfect.”
“Please, don’t bother, Mrs. Rogers. I’ll catch a bite later.”
Helen placed a bunch of green onions on the cutting board, the yellow organic label brightly displayed. “Deputy Stanton, you’re helping Tommy and me. I want to do something for you in return.” She stopped moving and faced the officer. “And I’d feel more comfortable if you called me Helen.”
Deputy Stanton looked at her, then away to where Tommy and Fred were playing tug-of-war with a worn rope toy. “Thank you. I’m grateful.” He put his large hands around the warm mug. “And please call me Bill.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but now wasn’t the time for Helen to find out there’d been a murder. Bob’s death was still officially an accident. Jason’s death wasn’t. Jason’s was the real deal.
Scott grabbed another muffin from the plate on the counter. “I’m going to go help with the tent.”
“I’ll be in the study making a call.” I nodded at Scott, keeping my agreement with him about letting him know where I was going to be.
He touched the side of his head in a mock salute and flashed a grin.
As I walked down the hallway, questions flew through my mind. What if the deputy was wrong? What if Jason’s death was connected? I was convinced Bob was murdered. That would make two murders and one attempted. Jason was off the list for the attack on Tommy because he’d been seen at work during that time, but he could’ve been involved with the poaching. He could’ve killed Bob. Or he could’ve found out something that got him shot.
Tommy was still at risk. I needed to find two people who could’ve been on the cliff when he was attacked. If there was a connection between the assault on Tommy and Jason’s murder, who could’ve been at the headlands one night and at the place where Jason was killed the next? Phil and Andy provided alibis for each other Wednesday evening, but they could be covering for each other. Where were they last night? And I still didn’t know about Charlie.
As soon as I closed the office door, I hurried to the phone and dialed Suzie’s number.
“Ralston Hotel,” Suzie said in a subdued voice, her usual energy not there.
“Hi. It’s Kelly.”
“Oh my gosh, did you hear?” Suzie asked. “Someone killed Jason.”
The phone lines must be melting.
“Deputy Stanton told me a few minutes ago.”
“I can’t believe it. We have boxes of pastries he baked for the event today lining the counters.” She paused. “It’s surreal. His creations are here, and he’s gone.” Suzie took a deep breath. “He’s never coming back.”
Never.
That word shot through me.
The finality of it. Someone I saw yesterday and would never see again. I didn’t know Bob personally, but I talked to Jason recently. This death was someone in my life. “Did you know him very well?”
“He’d worked here part-time for about eight months. Sweet guy. I really liked him.”
“Do you have any idea why someone would kill him? Has he been in any arguments lately?”
“Not that I know of. He baked for us and occasionally helped with catering. He was thorough and conscientious.”
Dishes banged in the background. Life went on.
“Bob, Tommy, Jason,” Suzie said. “What’s going on around here?”
“I thought maybe you’d have an idea because you’ve been here so long.”
“Not a clue.”
“Please let me know if you think of anything.”
“I will. And, Kelly, be careful. A couple of guys commented on the questions you’ve been asking.”
Warned twice in one morning. Not a good sign. “Thanks for your concern. See you at the festival.”
So Suzie didn’t know anything, but she was definitely in the information loop. I walked back to the work area.
Helen was in full swing, chopping Italian parsley with vigor. The smell of sautéing onions and bell peppers filled the room. A slab of Parmesan and a grater waited on a counter nearby. Silverware and a napkin were in front of the officer.
“Mrs. Rogers…” Stanton paused. “Helen, I appreciate this.” He glanced in my direction. “But I know you have work to do.”
“Deputy Stanton, you’re working to not only help us, but the community. I’m pleased we have an opportunity to give something to you. Helen’s an excellent cook.” I smiled. “Her breakfast will give you energy to deal with the day.”
“Thanks.” The deputy fiddled with his fork and shifted in his chair.
Definitely out of his element. Uncomfortable at being the receiver of good intentions.
Daniel and Allie came in carrying armfuls of flowers.
“Decorations for the tent tables,” Daniel stated in answer to my questioning look.
“Where are the vases?” I asked.
Daniel pointed a toe at the cabinets under the counter behind the deputy. “Down there.”
“Let me help.” Deputy Stanton creaked out of his chair, leaned down, and opened the door. “How many do you need?”
“Five should do it,” Daniel said.
He handed the large vases up to me, one at a time.
“Thanks.” I placed them on the counter and filled each with water.
Allie and Daniel put the flowers on the counter and began arranging them in the containers.
“Daniel, the setup crew has a problem with one of the poles. I offered your help.”
“I’m on it.” He turned to his daughter, his long raven hair swinging over his shoulder. “Allie, you’re talented at this. Are you okay finishing on your own?”
“You bet, Dad.” She beamed up at him, the blue-black locks falling down her back.
Some families resembled each other. Spitting image more closely described these two.
Daniel left and Allie finished arranging the remaining flowers.
“Mom, can we watch television in here?” Tommy asked.
“That’s fine.” Helen looked at me. “I need to stay here for a while to take care of the dishes and get the afternoon baking started. I’ve picked up all of the baskets.”
Good. Tommy was covered. Nonverbal communication was at an all-time high today.
Tommy and Allie rushed over to the flat-screen television. She picked up the remote, and Tommy pulled out two large green beanbags from against the wall. They flopped down in them, and Fred squeezed in between the two of them, settling with a contented grunt.
Helen flipped one side of the omelet over her mixture of herbs, vegetables, and cheese and gently slid it out of the pan onto a warmed plate. She garnished it with some finely chopped tomato and dill sprigs. Placing it on a tray, she added a cup of fresh fruit, then put it in front of the deputy, along with a basket of thick-sliced homemade wheat bread.
Deputy Stanton shoveled a few forkfuls in like a starving trucker after a long haul on a barren stretch of road. He suddenly stopped, sheepishly glanced at us, then slowly filled his fork and took another bite.
He smiled at Helen. “I was hungrier than I thought, and you make an amazing breakfast.”
“Thank you.” Helen busied herself at the sink. “Glad I was able to help.”
“I’m going to the office to do some paperwork.” I headed back down the hallway.
I spent a couple of hours taking care of orders and invoices, pushing thoughts of Jason out of my mind. I stopped at eleven thirty. Time to see how the festival was going . . . and to think about who could’ve killed Jason.
The huge festival tent covered scores of tables filled with wine, chocolate goodies, and gifts for the silent auction. I saw Scott and headed in his direction. He waved, holding what appeared to be a cupcake.
“Is the pole taken care of?” I asked.
“Yes. And the tasting has begun.” He
grinned.
A dark fudge-like frosting and some kind of cream filling surrounded by cake disappeared into his mouth.
I felt a tug on my sleeve.
“Miss Kelly, could I talk to you for a minute?” Tommy asked, his eyes wide.
“Sure.” I wondered what was up.
“I want to go somewhere private.” He was all serious in tone.
“Okay. Let’s go to the far end where the roses are.”
Daniel observed us from a few feet away.
“Tommy and I are going to have a chat. I’ll bring him back to you when we’re done.”
“Got it,” Daniel said.
I looked at Scott. “We’ll be at the end of the tents and will stay in sight.”
He nodded and his hand reached out for a chocolate truffle decorated with white chocolate stars. “I’ll be here.”
Tommy and I walked to where the yellow fragrant flowers had attracted Mary when she was on her Silver Sentinel shift to watch the inn.
“I didn’t tell you everything the other night.” Tears began to flow. “I know I can only have Fred here if he’s good.” He squatted down and clutched the thick-necked dog.
I’d known there was more. “Tommy, what happened?”
“Miss Kelly, please don’t make me get rid of Fred. Please,” he sobbed.
His nose needed a tissue.
“Please, I can’t lose him,” he wailed. High-pitched. Heartbreaking. The tears were a river.
What on earth had the dog done?
Chapter 30
“Tommy, I know Fred’s a good dog. You won’t have to get rid of him.”
“Honest?” Tommy’s eyes were hopeful, the beginning of a smile appeared. “But you don’t know what he did yet.” The corners of his mouth drooped.
“Please tell me what happened.” I held my breath. Had the dog done something terrible? Had I just made a false promise?
“He . . . he . . . chased Mrs. Henderson’s cat.” Fear controlled every inch of his body and contorted his face.
I exhaled. I wanted to laugh with relief.
My father’s voice called to me from years ago. “Erase your face. Show no emotion.” Advice he’d given when I was handling my first difficult ranch guest. Laughing would devastate Tommy right now. I couldn’t make light of something so serious to him.
Murder at Redwood Cove Page 17
