“Detective Rosato?” I whispered.
Susan laughed. “She marches in, all official. Oh, Juliet gave it to her with her stupid questions. ‘Did Contessa have any enemies?’ Juliet just laughs and says ‘Evidently.’ Real dry. Oh, sometimes she’s a pistol.
“Then she got…” Susan looked away. “She had one of her bad days.”
“Bad days?” I asked.
Susan looped her lank hair behind her ear, revealing red scratches on her cheek. Verity and I gasped.
“Your friend did this. She went for the cop, too, almost pulled out a fistful of her hair.”
Susan tossed away her cigarette and went in to the office.
Chapter 40
Verity and I cruised back to Mystic Bay.
My mind tumbled. “I don’t understand why Contessa didn’t want her sister to have consistent care. And what did she mean by delusions?”
“And how am I going to get into Juliet’s house?” Verity said.
I patted her shoulder. “We’ll go back in a little while. Give Juliet time to settle.”
“Want to go back to the Mermaid?” Verity said.
I couldn’t get the image of Chick hanging the poster at Kahuna’s out of my mind. He definitely hung the sign. But did he return to paint the red X on it? Why didn’t he do it at the same time?
“No,” I said. “Let’s go back to Cousin Frank’s to watch the rest of that tape.”
“If we’re going to watch that tape, I’ll need more than doughnuts. We can get chowder at the Mermaid.”
“Let’s stop here.” I pointed to a small storefront, Mystic Bay Soup. Verity ordered chowder and I got the ginger apple curry soup.
At Cousin Frank’s we ate as we picked up viewing the tape where we’d left off.
Security lights lining the roof of Kahuna’s sprawling shack glared on tape, but the parking lot was pitch-dark. A bright light over the shack’s sign made a circle of light at its base. A few cars passed but no one stopped.
“Seriously,” Verity said as we watched the grainy footage, “your aunt’s chowder’s much better than this. And this is pretty good.”
A flicker of movement caught my eye. “Look!”
We leaned toward the screen. A shadow stepped into the pool of light and morphed into a slight figure wearing a baseball cap.
“Is that a man or a woman?” The figure walked up to the poster Chick had tacked to the Kahuna’s sign. The right arm raised and made a slashing movement, like a swordsman in an old movie. I imitated it. Painting the X. Then the figure hurried toward the main restaurant building.
A car slid by. “Hiding from the car?” Verity whispered.
“Exit stage right,” I whispered as the mysterious figure headed from the Kahuna’s parking lot toward the Ellicott house. The figure melted into the darkness and disappeared.
“The lobster libber,” Verity breathed. “Not Chick, was it?”
“No.” I sighed. “Didn’t look like Finella Farraday, either.”
“Yeah, she’s tall and snooty. She even walks snooty.”
For a few minutes longer, Verity and I watched, barely blinking, afraid to miss a split second that might show the same slight shadow. Nothing more appeared on the screen.
“Sure didn’t walk like Chick. Maybe it’s just someone who didn’t like Kahuna’s?” But still something felt off. “Did they even see Chick’s poster? I still don’t know why they defaced Kahuna’s sign and not ours.” I clicked off the tape. “Let’s go.”
We gathered our soup cartons.
“Looks like you found the lobster libber.” Verity grinned. “I’m proud of you. You’re doing all this legwork the police should be doing. Honestly, Allie, if the dancing thing doesn’t work out maybe you should be like Bronwyn and get into police work.”
I put the key back under the mat. I’d have to let Cousin Frank know he’d probably be getting a visit from the police.
“Chick wanted people to think the lobster libbers were after Kahuna’s and the Mermaid,” I said. “To play into his plan to destroy Kahuna’s and win back Megan. He must’ve really thought Megan would throw the competition for him.”
“But it turns out there really was a lobster libber,” Verity said. “We just saw him—or her.”
I shrugged. “Maybe? But Bron said there really aren’t any groups like that. At least any big, organized ones. I have to tell the police.”
Something about that big red X reminded me of something—the red splotch on the sign Bit Markey had made. In my mind it melded into Ernie’s bloodstains on the floor of the lobster shack.
“I just hope Robo Detective takes you seriously,” Verity continued.
As we got into the Tank, a police cruiser and van parked by the Ellicott place. Two officers circled the Dumpster where Bit Markey had found the poster board.
“Maybe she is.”
Chapter 41
The Tank joined a slow-moving stream of traffic crawling down Pearl Street toward the Plex. Tourists jammed the sidewalks and spilled into the street, forcing cars to inch past the Mermaid. Sawhorses blocked the entrance to our parking lot. A marine crane towered above the pier. Its pungent diesel fumes rolled in the window.
“Oh, they’re moving the boat and the car! Hang on.” I jumped out of the car and moved the sawhorses, then motioned Verity to pull in. She eased the Tank onto the grass next to the Adirondack chairs while I replaced the sawhorses.
In the middle of the gravel parking lot, a flatbed truck squatted. On the bed was a black sports car. Ernie’s. Crewmembers used chains and straps to secure the vehicle to the truck bed. Dents and scrapes marred the front and rear of Ernie’s car. Ernie wouldn’t be happy when he saw this.
The guttural grinding of engines and tang of diesel smoke filled the patch of grass where customers would usually enjoy fresh food, sunshine, and a relaxing view of the river. Now guys in hard hats and work boots choreographed heavy machinery into a recovery mission. From just beyond the yellow caution tape, dozens of tourists watched the men and machines at work.
An extra line of caution tape cut off the dock area. The floating crane, three stories tall and groaning like a metal beast, swung slightly. The cable dipped and pulled taut. The crane jerked as Sadie Mae rose from the river streaming water. Behind the barricades, people raised cell phones to record the action.
Those who weren’t recording held small paper cups. Bit Markey walked through the crowd offering the cups and spoons from a tray.
“What’s that, Bit?” I asked.
“Aunt Gully’s chowder. She sold out of lobster rolls. Hector’s stuck in traffic getting down to the town dock for lobsters so she’s been cooking extra chowder.” He pointed to police tape making a narrow path to the door of the Mermaid from Pearl Street. “Customers can’t stay and eat since there’s a safety perimeter. But so many people’re here watching, she wants them to—”
“Have a taste of the Lazy Mermaid.” Aunt Gully joined us. She also carried a tray, which was empty. She wiped perspiration from her forehead.
I took the tray from her hands. “Bit, would you please get Aunt Gully some water?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Aunt Gully protested, but Bit dashed to the Mermaid. She leaned against the Tank with Verity and me. We watched the crane operator maneuver Sadie Mae onto the barge. “They’ll take it over to the marina. Hugh says his insurance’ll cover repairs.”
Across the parking lot, a broad-shouldered man wearing a navy blazer and khaki pants spoke with Lorel. He turned. Hayden Yardley. His sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head, holding back his wavy brown hair. He tapped a tablet computer a few times, then took photos of the boat as it swung onto the barge.
“Hayden Yardley’s here?” I asked.
“Yes. He works for Hugh’s insurance company,” Aunt Gully said.
Hayden strode toward us. Verity checked her hair in the Tank’s side mirror. I smothered a laugh. We’d known Hayden since first grade. Verity’d had a crush on Hayden’s brother
, Patrick, the bad boy of Mystic Bay High School, but she said that both Yardley brothers were hotter than any other guy in Mystic Bay.
I couldn’t argue. While Patrick had been a dangerously handsome heartbreaker, hanging with the hard-partying lacrosse crowd, Hayden had been quieter, competing on the sailing team and painting scenery for the school plays.
“Hi, Hayden.”
Hayden smiled, “Hi, Allie, Verity. Aunt Gully.”
Bit brought water for Aunt Gully on his tray.
“Thank you, Bit.”
“Chowder?” Bit held out the tray to Hayden.
“You bet. Thanks.” Hayden took a cup and a plastic spoon and dug in.
“Aunt Gully, lots of people are asking if they can buy soup to take home,” Bit said.
“Oh, I just thought it would be nice for them to try it,” Aunt Gully said.
“Well, your chowder has worked its magic.” Hayden put his empty cup and spoon in a trash bin by the Adirondack chairs. “I’d love to buy some to take home.”
“We have some to-go containers in the storage room,” I said.
“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Aunt Gully said. “Let’s make a sign that says CHOWDER TO GO.”
We all headed to the shack.
Hayden jutted his chin toward Bit. “Doesn’t that kid go to school?” he asked quietly.
“He’s homeschooled.” I made air quotes. “Aunt Gully says he’s better off here. I agree.”
I held the door and Bit, Aunt Gully, and Verity entered.
“Allie.” Hayden took my arm. “How’re you doing? I mean, that thing with Contessa Wells. That was intense.”
I let the door to the shack close. “It was. But I think I’m okay.”
“I remember doing CPR on people when I was with the volunteer fire department.” Hayden shook his head. “If you ever need to talk, you can always give me a call.” He pulled a leather card case from his pocket and gave me a card.
“Thanks.” I nodded at the carved mermaid outside the shack. “If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”
We laughed.
“How’s your ankle?” Hayden said.
“Getting better. But the jury’s out. Ballet’s pretty tough on the body, so keep your fingers crossed for me.”
He smiled, the same open smile he’d had since elementary school.
Behind us I heard a commotion. Police dragged aside the sawhorses. Diesel smoke plumed as the barge and the crane chugged away from the dock. As soon as the yellow police tape dropped to the ground, people streamed into the parking lot like champagne after the cork has popped.
“Ah, Hayden, could you spare a few minutes?” I said. “We could probably use you in the kitchen.”
Hayden opened the door. “After you.”
Several hours later every single cup of chowder, bottled beverage, and bag of chips had been sold. Aggie had brought over four coffee cakes and we sold every piece of that, too. Hayden looked at his watch and reached for his blazer.
“Gotta get back to the office,” he said. “This was fun, Aunt Gully. Maybe I can help out some weekend.”
Aunt Gully gave him a hug. “Come back any time, Hayden Yardley.”
“Oh, Allie, do you have a minute?” Hayden said.
“Sure.”
Verity waggled her eyebrows at me as Hayden and I went into the parking lot.
Hayden and I walked across Pearl Street, where he unlocked his four-door sedan. Patrick Yardley rode a Harley motorcycle. How different the brothers were.
“I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but the police asked me to talk to them. They asked me”—he looked away—“if I’d seen you causing any harm to Contessa Wells. Specifically giving her any—” He looked back at me and said in a low voice, “They used the term ‘substances.’”
His words stunned me. Hayden gently put his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Allie. This has been hard for your family. Your poor aunt. Everybody knows she wouldn’t hurt a fly. I told them they were crazy if they thought you did anything to hurt Contessa Wells.”
“I spoke to them myself the other day. My own police interview,” I said.
“You Larkin women. Well, they let you out.”
“For now.”
Hayden gave me a hug and I hurried back to the Mermaid.
Chapter 42
As I walked to the shack, I passed a group sitting on the Adirondack chairs.
One woman brushed crumbs from her hands. “Best. Coffee cake. Ever.”
Another said, “No. Best. Chowder. Ever.”
The guy with them tossed his trash into the bin. “Stick to the chowder and the dessert. This is the place where they have the poison lobster rolls, right?”
The first woman laughed. “No, that’s the shack down the street.”
The reassuring warmth of Hayden’s hug evaporated. My fists clenched. Was that going to be the legacy of the food festival disaster? Even though the police had let me and Aunt Gully go, would rumors follow us forever?
I pulled open the screen door of the Mermaid and let it bang shut behind me. Aunt Gully worked at the register and Hector wiped the counter. Lorel spoke on the phone. Bit Markey’s, Hilda’s, and Verity’s laughter rang from the kitchen. I grabbed a broom and started sweeping.
The television hanging near the ceiling blared the news. “Police are asking for the public’s help in finding this man: Charles ‘Chick’ Costa of Chatham, Massachusetts.”
“Whoa! Listen, everybody!” I fumbled for Aunt Gully’s remote and raised the volume as Chick Costa’s photo flashed onscreen.
“Costa is the owner of the landmark Chick’s World Famous Lobsters shack. As we reported earlier, he was among the contestants in the Mystic Bay Food Festival, where all four judges were sickened with a poisoned lobster roll and one judge, Broadway and screen star Contessa Wells, died. Costa is wanted for questioning in relation to an assault that occurred in Mystic Bay two nights ago, on Memorial Day. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the police.”
If Chick wasn’t at his shack, where was he?
Chapter 43
“So where’s Chick Costa?” Hilda said.
“Probably hiding out on his yacht,” Lorel said.
“So the police are after Chick for beating up Ernie.” I folded my arms. “He deserves a lot more than jail time.”
Hector looked around the room. “Well, none of you look surprised. Spill!” We filled him and Hilda in on Megan and Lucia’s visit last night.
“Megan told us she was meeting with the police this morning. She must’ve reported what Ernie told her about what happened in the lobster shed,” I said.
“If only they could get him for the poisoning, too.” Lorel’s brow wrinkled. “You remember what it was like in that kitchen at the food festival. Total chaos. Maybe they reviewed the tapes and saw him do it.”
“Chick wouldn’t do his own dirty work,” I said. “Aunt Gully, remember you said you saw someone coming out of the kitchen. When you went back to get your apron?”
Aunt Gully’s voice wavered. “How I wish I’d looked at that person better. But I was in such a tizzy! I wanted to get my apron and get back fast. It was a slender person. Black hair. Oh, and a baseball cap!”
Verity said, “The baseball cap!”
I nodded. “The baseball cap.”
“What baseball cap?” Hilda said.
I explained what we’d seen in the security video at Cousin Frank’s house.
“Was the lobster libber a Sox or Yankees fan?” Hector asked.
“Couldn’t tell. Chick made the signs because he wanted us to think lobster libbers were here.” I hesitated, deciding not to say any more about Megan’s painful relationship with Chick. “But then we watched the security tape at Cousin Frank’s—”
“Oh my God, you have to call the police!” Hilda said. “You’ve cracked the case of the lobster libber!”
I frowned. “Not really. We know who it’s not. It
’s not Chick Costa.”
Aunt Gully stared out the front window to the street, tapping her lips with her forefinger. Her thinking pose.
“Couldn’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman.” How slight the figure was, I thought. “Boy or girl. I’m just sure it wasn’t Chick Costa.”
“But it could be an accomplice,” Hilda said. “The police have special equipment. They can blow up the images. Then they’ll be able to tell who it is.”
“I’ll let the police know,” I said.
“And go to Juliet’s,” Verity muttered.
Aunt Gully turned from the window. “Yes, you girls go have fun.” She shooed Verity and me out the door. “Come back to the house when you’re done and show me those wonderful clothes. I’ll have supper for you.”
Chapter 44
As I got in the Tank, I reached into my bag for my sunglasses. “Ouch!” A jolt of pain made me jerk my hand out. I pulled the lobster pick from the bottom of my bag. “Finella Farraday!”
“I wish she’d been the person who made the X,” Verity said. “We’d have her on tape.”
My mind raced. “Finella might not have poisoned the rolls, and she might not have put up the signs or painted the X, but I still think she sent the threatening letters and slashed Aunt Gully’s tires. She was right there in the parking lot at St. Pete’s.”
Verity sighed. “But how to prove it? We’ve got nothing.”
“All we have is a fancy lobster pick.” I turned the glittering pick in my hands. I stared down Pearl Street. My gaze focused on a news van parked down the street.
“Leo Rodriguez and his news team sure like the Tick Tock.” I tapped the shiny lobster against my lip.
“I know that look.” Verity started the engine. “Do you want to go stick that lobster pick in Finella’s tires?”
“Yes. But I won’t. The decent thing to do is to give it back and I think Leo Rodriguez should deliver it for me.” I rooted in Verity’s glove box. “Do you have an envelope?”
Curses, Boiled Again! Page 21
