by Nancy CoCo
“Apparently he stargazes every night after work,” I said. “I walked Mal by the English cottage today to see what I could see.”
“And?” Jenn’s eyes lit up.
“I ran into Harold’s mother, Irene Jones. She’s old and in a wheelchair. Mal charmed her,” I said.
“Of course she did. So Mrs. Jones told you about Harold?”
“Actually, she expected me to come around sometime,” I explained, feeling the heat of a blush on my face. “The interesting thing is that she said Harold has a lady love from the yacht club. That’s how he could recognize Paige.”
“Very interesting,” Jenn said. “Want me to do some digging?”
“Can you check Harold out? It’s weird that he works at one of the few bars on the island that the Jessops don’t own. Weirder still is that any member of the yacht club would be dating a part-time bartender.”
“Maybe they’re trying to piss off their parents,” Jenn suggested.
“Or maybe Harold has a motive to point the finger at Paige that has nothing to do with the yacht club,” I suggested. “Find out if he was fired by one of the Jessops’ bars.”
“I’m sure if he was, the Jessops have already looked into that,” Jenn pointed out.
I frowned. “Yes, they have an investigator who is quite on top of things. Darn. Maybe his girlfriend has a beef with Paige. Maybe she’s using him to frame Paige.”
“He’d be at risk of perjury,” Jenn said. “She must really be something if he would risk going to jail for her.”
“Men have risked their lives for the woman they love,” I said.
“I suppose that’s true. Wouldn’t it be nice to find a man who would do that for you?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh.
“Do you think Trent would risk his life for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said and felt a moment of sadness. “We’ve only been dating a few months, but he did shut me out for days.”
“And apologized for it.”
“Yes, he promised to never do it again and then brought in his investigator to collaborate with me on the information I’d discovered.”
“See. I bet he would take a bullet for you,” Jenn said with cheer. “You watch. After you show up at the gala tomorrow night, we’ll have more island business back.”
“It’s almost like when his grandfather died,” I said. “The island folks really are loyal to the Jessops.”
“You know that no matter how long we live here, the locals will always think of us as outsiders. Shane tells me they think of him as an outsider because he lives in St. Ignace.”
“It seems a little silly, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes,” Jenn agreed.
I turned the question back on her. “Do you think Shane would risk his life for you?”
“He darn well better,” she said brightly. “I think I’m falling in love with the guy.” Her expression softened at the mention of Shane’s name.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Does that mean you might be staying in the area?”
She sobered up. “I have a contract to work in Chicago this fall. I signed it before I came here and met Shane.”
“Long distance romances work for some people,” I said and patted her shoulder. “It will be okay. You’ll see.”
“Of course it will.” She brightened. “Isn’t it nice to know there’s a man in the world—someone besides your father—who would risk his life for you?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It is.”
* * *
Jenn was a mastermind.
She spent the next morning in and out of the attic staging the rooftop proposal. She didn’t want to set it up on the roof in case we had a storm overnight. She supervised people moving giant potted palms, a gorgeous bistro set, and more into the attic. One guy was working on a portable gazebo. The roof was waterproof and the sides could be open with long gauzy drapes that could be pulled closed for privacy or opened for a view. If there was rain, storm walls could be rolled down and zipped up, making a cozy nest. Fairy lights were planned for the ceiling as well as the railing around the roof.
We used the cover story of having contractors assess the roof and give us a quote for having events up there. Frances seemed unconcerned about the activity. I stayed in the fudge shop when she was at the reception desk and Jenn stayed with her when they refreshed rooms.
I tried to be calm, but it was fun to sneak up to the attic and see the plans all coming together. Sandy was in on it, of course, and was creating a chocolate centerpiece of delicate flowers for the table. Another worker installed weatherproof speakers. Mr. Devaney had given us a list of 1960s love songs that would play in the background. Jenn was amazed by his knowledge of music and spent two hours downloading music to create the background music for the night.
“You seem distracted,” Frances said suddenly as she looked up from her computer.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“You’ve been standing by the coffee bar with a mug in your hand staring into space.” She pointed with her hand. “What’s going on?”
I moved closer to her. “Nothing.”
“It’s the investigation, isn’t it? Are you worried because you can’t help Paige?”
I grabbed her excuse by the horns and ran with it. “Yes.” I felt the heat of a blush hit my cheeks. I was never any good at lying and felt my heart pounding harder under her scrutiny.
“No one expects you to solve every murder, you know,” she said.
“I know, but I want to help.” I leaned against the reception desk.
“I did some asking around about Harold Jones. He is in his early forties and takes care of his mother during the day. He works nights at the Nag’s Head Bar and Grill and is sometimes seen on the widow’s walk of the English cottage late at night.”
“I met Irene Jones yesterday on my walk with Mal,” I said.
“Really? You didn’t mention it.” Frances looked down at Mal curled up in her pink doggie bed at the foot of the reception desk. “You didn’t tell me you met someone new, either.”
Mal untucked her nose and looked at Frances. I knew that look. It meant Are you going to give me a treat or are you just chirping at me?
“Mrs. Jones loved Mal,” I said. “She had a bichon named Fluffy.”
“Oh my goodness. I remember that dog. Irene would bring her when she came to visit one week out of every summer.” Frances frowned. “The last time I saw that dog was 1972.”
“Oh, wow. Mrs. Jones sure has a good memory. She spoke about the dog as if it were just last week.”
“That happens as you age,” Frances said. “Things that happened decades ago are clearer than where you put your glasses today.”
“She told me that Harold has a lady love who is a member of the yacht club. Do you have any idea who that is?”
“Do you think a girlfriend is his reason for lying about seeing Paige?”
“It might be plausible . . . if the woman had a reason not to like Paige . . . or Carin for that matter.”
“Do you think he might be protecting the real killer?”
“I’m not sure,” I said with a shrug. “It’s an avenue to go down. I also wondered if maybe he got fired from one of the Jessops’ bars and was taking his revenge out on Paige, but I think Rex would have looked into that.”
“Yes, my guess is that Rex would have looked into that,” Frances agreed. “In a case of he said-she said, I imagine that Rex is all over any doubt the defense attorney can put up about Harold.”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “That’s exactly what I thought.” I leaned my elbows on the desk and looked at her. “Any idea who Harold might be dating? Is there any gossip about a rich girl dating a bartender? Maybe a rich girl looking to push her parents’ buttons?”
“Well, a rich girl in her twenties dating a part-time bartender in his forties would certainly be a rebellious act against someone,” Frances agreed. “I haven’t heard of anyone like that recently. You’ve b
een closer to the yacht club crowd these days than I have.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “They uninvited us from the committees and dropped us as a vendor when Trent made it clear that he wasn’t letting me in on the investigation.”
“They only put up with you because you were dating Trent?”
“It seems that way,” I said. “Jenn thinks after I go to the gala with Trent tonight, the committee members might change their minds about taking us off the approved vendor list.”
“Interesting,” Frances said. “Mackinac Island has that small-town mentality. I could see why Jenn thinks that, but are you certain there isn’t another reason you were removed from the approved vendor list?”
“What do you mean? We have a good product and we under-promise and over-deliver.”
“I know that and so does anyone who has hired you,” Frances said. “But it might simply be that they have removed you from the list because the committee feels you remind the Moores of their loss. You did drag their daughter’s body from the marina.”
I pondered that thought for a minute. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”
Frances turned back to her computer. “Nothing is ever cut and dry, but being cut from the list of approved vendors might be a good reason to stop by the yacht club in the afternoon.”
A smile spread across my face. “Yes, it just might.” I took off my chef’s jacket and dragged the hairnet from my hair. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“What?” Frances looked up at me from over the top of her reading glasses.
“Why don’t you come with me? You know the older members of the committee better than me. We’ll go talk to the manager of operations. If you see any member of the committee in the club, you can find out much easier than I can why we were booted. I’m sure Eleanor would have a canned response, but you might be able to get something more concrete from an actual committee member.”
“Huh. Okay,” Frances said. “If I do go with you, who will look after the desk and the fudge shop?”
I glanced at my watch. “Megan comes in in ten minutes. She can watch both while you and I go to the yacht club.”
“All right,” Frances said with a nod. “Remember, I scheduled her to take over this afternoon because I have a hair appointment. We have to be done at the club in time for that.”
“You have a hair appointment?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. Frances loved the fact that she was a free spirit about her hair. She rarely had regular appointments. My question had her blushing.
“Douglas gave me a spa certificate on my birthday.” She patted her hair. “I’m going to get my hair and nails done for our date tomorrow night. I thought it would be a nice surprise for him.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “Which spa are you going to?”
“Astor’s.”
I felt my eyes widen. “In the Grand Hotel?”
“Yes.” She blushed again. “I know it’s extravagant, but I couldn’t tell him to take it back.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” I said. “What are you getting done?”
“A full half day of services,” she replied, her blush deepening further. “I’m scheduled for the deluxe facial, then hair styling, manicure, and pedicure.”
“Wow. That is so wonderful.” I nudged her with my hip. “I’m jealous. You win the best boyfriend award.”
She laughed nervously. “Yes,” she agreed. “I do win that award. I’m about the luckiest woman alive.”
“I don’t know about that. If you ask me, Mr. Devaney is the luckiest man alive.”
“You are such a doll,” Frances said. “Now, go wash up. I need to get some things wrapped up before Megan gets here and I take off.”
“It won’t take me long. I’ll just duck into the hall bathroom.”
Frances frowned. “No, really, I don’t need you to hover. I’m fine. I can finish up here without you.”
“Oh.” I acted surprised. “Have I been hovering? I’m sorry. Sure, I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Good.” Frances looked back at her computer screen. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll learn something of value at the club . . . something for Paige’s defense. Wouldn’t that give me something to think about while I’m having my half day of beauty?”
I laughed. “You’re not supposed to think about anything but relaxing when you’re at a spa.”
“Really?” Frances’s eyes twinkled. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Neither would I,” I admitted. “But I think I read that in a magazine once.”
“Well, I’m certainly willing to find out.”
“Maybe one day, I will, too.” I grabbed my cup and moved up the stairs. A glance over my shoulder told me that Frances was really into her paperwork. I reached for my phone. A quick text to Jenn let her know that Frances was momentarily alone, but would soon be out of the building.
Jenn texted back that operation rooftop was on schedule. She was heading down to ensure Frances didn’t head up.
The whole secret event thing was tricky, but I had high hopes that we would pull it off.
Chapter 22
“Hi Eleanor,” I said as I knocked on her open office door. “Do you have a minute?”
Frances stood a few steps behind me in the hall.
“Just a minute.” Eleanor looked at me with concern in her gaze. “Things are crazy right now because of tonight’s black tie gala.”
I winced at my poor timing. I knew about the gala. I was going, so why didn’t I realize that it would mean all hands would be on deck at the club.
“This is Frances Wentworth, my associate,” I introduced her as we entered Eleanor’s small office and closed the door. “Eleanor, Jenn Christensen tells me that the McMurphy has been pulled from the approved vendor list for the yacht club.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Eleanor folded her hands on her desk.
“Can you tell me why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Was it shoddy work? Was it not delivering our product on time? Did someone get left off the list of yachts that we recreated?”
“No, no, and no,” she said, ticking off the answers on her fingers. She splayed her hands out in front of her on top of the paperwork on her desk. “The truth is, Allie, right now you’re a political time bomb. On the one hand, you are the one who pulled my dear friend Carin out of the marina. When people see you or your work, they are immediately reminded of Carin’s grisly murder by Paige Jessop. The other is the whole business of you dating Trent Jessop. Some people on the yacht club board think the Jessops should not be allowed in the club at all. Unfortunately, the Jessops are powerful enough that we have to allow them access. The one thing I can do is take you off the approved vendor list and keep you off the volunteer committees.” She frowned. “I take it you are attending tonight.”
“Yes, I am.” I folded my hands over my chest.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“There’s no reason why she shouldn’t,” Frances said.
“Of course she shouldn’t and neither should any of the Jessops,” Eleanor said. “Please, this night is about the end of another successful week of the grand yacht race. People should be celebrating the winners and teasing the losers. They paid five hundred dollars a ticket to see the trophy given out and to help raise awareness for this year’s charity. If you go, it will put a damper on the entire night. All anyone will talk about is poor Carin and the audacity of the Jessops to attend when everyone knows Paige killed her.”
“The last time I checked, people were innocent until proven guilty,” I pointed out.
Eleanor stood. “It’s not about whether Paige is guilty or innocent. It’s about how she will put a damper on one of the biggest occasions of the year. I have put far too much work and time into this year’s race week to have it ruined by Paige Jessop . . . or you, for that matter.”
“Wow.” I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Good to know how you feel.”
“Does th
is mean you won’t come tonight?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be here.”
“Really? Seriously? You can’t skip it for my sake? Or even the Moores’ sake?”
“Eleanor,” Frances said. “You know as well as I do that if the Jessops don’t come tonight, half the board will be relieved and the other half will be looking for someone to blame. The Jessops are huge fund-raisers for the club.”
“Yes, well, sometimes it’s not about money,” Eleanor said sharply.
“What is it about?” I asked.
“Decency,” she said.
“And you think it’s decent to take away my business because I’m the one who found your friend and tried to save her?”
“Oh grow up, Allie,” Eleanor said. “This isn’t personal.”
“Right,” I said with disappointment and a touch of anger. “Good to know.” I turned on my heel. “Come on, Frances. There’s nothing more we can do here.”
Frances shot a look at Eleanor that would have withered the most unruly of students and then walked out of the office with me. As we turned down the long hall and passed the big kitchen, Frances put her hand on my arm.
“What?” I asked, following her gaze into the kitchen where two older women were taking a break at a small table near the back door.
“You go on.” She glanced at the oversized watch on her wrist. “I’ve got twenty minutes before my appointment. I’m going to say hi to my friends.”
“Thanks for coming with me,” I said. “Sorry it was a bust.”
“It’s okay. All may not be lost yet.”
I watched her walk into the kitchen. I wanted to follow, but if Eleanor was right, I wasn’t exactly the most welcomed person in the club. Especially not to the staff whose reputation depended on how well tonight’s gala went.
* * *
“You look stunning,” Jenn said as I twirled in front of the full length mirror attached to my wooden closet door.
I was dressed in a backless, floor-length black dress with a scooped front neckline and long sleeves. I wore a simple string of pearls that had belonged to my grandmother. I wore it like a choker in front and let it drape down my bare back. Pearl drop earrings accented my lobes as my hair was piled high into a stylish updo that Jenn had spent an hour crafting.
