by Sarah Fox
Setting him down on the floor, I refilled his water dish and gave him a couple of kitty treats to tide him over until dinnertime. Flapjack had improved my mood, but a low hum of anxiety continued to run through my body. I didn’t want to worry unnecessarily, so I decided to find out how precarious my situation really was.
When I put a call through to Sheriff Ray Georgeson’s direct line, he answered after three rings.
“How are you doing, Marley?” he asked after we’d exchanged greetings.
“I’d feel better if I weren’t a murder suspect.”
“I take it Rutowski spoke with your employees.”
“He did. Do you really think I could have killed Ida?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice.
“My personal opinion doesn’t matter much in the circumstances,” he said. “You found Ms. Winkler’s body, you’ve admitted to owning what is likely the murder weapon, and it’s well documented that you’ve had an ongoing dispute with the victim.”
I sank down onto the couch. “That doesn’t mean I killed her.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ray agreed.
I interpreted the silence that followed. “But it does make me a suspect.”
“A person of interest at this time,” he amended.
That didn’t sound much better.
Pressing a hand to my forehead, I tried to slow my thoughts. “When did she die, exactly?”
“At this point we only have a rough idea.”
“Between the last call to the pancake house and the time I found her body and reported it.”
He didn’t respond, but I knew I was right.
The last prank call had happened only minutes before I’d left The Flip Side, so in all likelihood I wouldn’t have an alibi. From the time of the last call to the moment I found Ida in her shed, less than half an hour had elapsed. I didn’t know if the medical examiner would be able to come up with a narrower window for the time of death than that, but even if they did, Ida had probably been killed while I was on my way to her place. Since I was alone during my walk across town, no one could vouch for me. I’d spoken to Juliette Tran, but for all she knew I could have killed Ida either before or after our brief conversation. Knowing I didn’t have an alibi sent my anxiety up a notch.
I wanted some sort of reassurance from the sheriff, but I knew he likely couldn’t give me any. I heard a voice in the background and Ray excused himself, telling me he had to go. I hung up the phone more dispirited than before.
Longing for Brett’s company, I sent him a text message, asking if he’d have time to hang out later in the day. I’d just changed into cutoffs and a racer-back tank top when I received a message in reply.
Finishing up my last job of the day. I’ll be there within the hour.
That brought a slight smile to my face.
While I waited for Brett to arrive, I kept myself busy by putting together a pasta salad for dinner later. As I tucked it away in the fridge, footsteps sounded on the back porch. I met Brett at the open French doors, and some of the tension inside of me slipped away when I saw him.
“Hey.” He pulled me close and gave me a quick kiss.
I smiled up at him, brushing aside a blond curl that had fallen across his forehead, damp from a post-work shower. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. How was your day?”
My smile faltered.
“Marley?” Brett took my hands. “What’s wrong?”
I told him about my morning, how I’d found Ida dead. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as I told the story, a sure sign of concern.
He squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, wishing I could focus on nothing but the two of us. “That’s not all. It looks like Ida was murdered, and I’m a person of interest.”
“What? But that’s crazy.”
“Your uncle doesn’t think so. I found the body and Ida’s been causing problems for me lately. She was also hit over the head with the lamp base she stole from me. That puts me on the official radar.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t really believe you killed her.”
“Like he told me, his personal opinion doesn’t matter much. Even though I never would have wished her dead, it looks like I have a motive and—at this point—opportunity.”
“Ray’s just doing his job. He has to do things by the book, but I’m sure it won’t take long to clear you.”
“But what if it does take a long time? If people think I’m a killer, they’re going to stop eating at The Flip Side. And if the business goes down the drain…” I couldn’t even think about that possibility without a flare of panic snatching my breath away.
“Hey.” Brett rested his hands on my shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine, Marley. I promise.”
I closed my eyes, wanting to believe him, but not sure if I could.
He gathered me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my cheek against his chest.
“Your name will be cleared soon and everything will go back to normal,” he said into my hair.
Keeping my eyes closed, I drew reassurance from his strength and the comforting sound of his heartbeat. He kissed me on the top of my head as I held on to him tightly. Slowly, my anxiety trickled away, replaced by a sense of peace. I pulled back so I could meet his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Thank you. I didn’t mean to overreact.”
He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You didn’t overreact. It’s understandable that you’re upset, but everything really will be fine.”
I hugged him again, a rush of powerful emotions flowing through me, and in that moment it hit me—I’d fallen for Brett, head over heels. I’d known since our first kiss weeks ago that it was happening, but I hadn’t before realized exactly how far I’d fallen. Now I knew that my feelings for him were far stronger than those I’d had for any other man in the past. That knowledge should have made me happy, and it did, but then a wave of fear crashed over me, drowning the happiness almost as soon as it had surfaced.
Suddenly overwhelmed, I stepped back from Brett and tried to smile. “You’re right. Everything will be okay.” I headed for the fridge. “Are you thirsty?”
“Marley…” The crease of concern was back between his eyebrows.
I made sure my smile was more convincing this time. “I’m okay, Brett. Really.” I grabbed a jug from the fridge and held it up. “Iced tea?”
He studied me closely for another second before his expression relaxed. “Sure.”
With a sense of relief, I poured two tall glasses and we wandered out onto the back porch to enjoy the sunshine and sea breeze. We spent the next hour chatting about inconsequential things, simply enjoying the summer weather and each other’s company. I worked hard at staying in the moment, but I was always aware of the undercurrent of fear that now flowed through my head and heart.
“My mom’s going to have a table at the market this weekend for her pottery,” Brett said as we watched Flapjack balance his way along the porch railing. “I promised I’d help her get organized this evening since she’s going to be in Port Angeles all day tomorrow.”
“So you have to go?”
“I should.” He reached over and took my hand. “Unless you need me to stay a while longer. I can tell her I’ll be over there later.”
I smiled and shook my head. “That’s all right. You go ahead.”
He got to his feet and I followed suit. Although I wanted to keep hold of his hand, to pull him close for a deep kiss, I didn’t. Instead I walked with him around the side of the house to the driveway, where he stopped and faced me.
“Call me if you need me,” he said.
“I will.”
He leaned in to kiss me and I met him halfway. I wanted to get lost in the kiss, to forget about everything else, but my brain refused to let that happen and I pulled away after only a second or two.
Brett studied my face, his forehead furrowed. “You’re
sure you’re okay?”
I forced a smile. “Of course. I’m fine.” I took a step back. “See you soon?”
Something flashed in his eyes. Confusion? Hurt?
I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but I knew I was the cause of it.
He smiled, but it was a shadow of his usual grin. “Soon. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I stood there at the foot of the driveway, watching him walk toward the road, wanting to chase after him and run in the opposite direction at the same time. When he disappeared from sight, his absence left a hollow ache in my chest, and I wondered if I was a greater threat to my happy new life than the one posed by the investigation into Ida’s death.
Chapter 6
After Brett left I took a quick swim in the ocean, but even the salt water couldn’t wash away the jumbled emotions tangled up inside of me. Once I’d changed back into my shorts and tank top and had hung my swimsuit and towel out on the clothesline, I stood in the middle of the family room, feeling lost. Flapjack snoozed away soundly on the kitchen windowsill, and I wished I could be as relaxed and untroubled as he was.
The evening breeze wafted in through the open French doors, bringing with it the scents of the ocean and summer. With the warm air brushing against my skin, I wandered over to the fireplace and picked up one of the framed photos on display on the mantel. It was a group shot from a happy time in my life—shortly after my mom married my stepdad when I was seventeen. One of my mom’s friends had taken the picture at a barbecue in Seattle. My mom and stepdad had their arms around each other, and I stood in front of them, hugging my two giggling stepsiblings, Charlotte and Dylan.
At that point in time we had no idea what lay ahead. We never anticipated that in just over ten years my mom and I would once again be on our own, the rest of our family wiped out by a tragic accident on a mountain highway. Ever since that terrible day four years ago, I’d kept a wall up around me, burying myself in my work and never letting anyone get too close. I’d dated, had even thought I was falling in love at one point, but I’d always held a part of myself back.
Leaving my job in Seattle and moving to Wildwood Cove had been a major step for me. I’d felt like I was coming out of hiding, finally moving forward. Now I feared I could lose everything I’d gained over the last few months. If my reputation suffered, so could The Flip Side’s. My relationship with Brett was worrying me too. I didn’t know why though, and that made me more uneasy than ever.
With a last look at the smiling faces in the photograph, I set the picture back on the mantel and put out some dinner for Flapjack. I picked at my own meal, returning most of the pasta salad to the fridge untouched. I took a book down to the beach to read, but mostly ended up staring out at the water as the tide inched its way up over the sand and pebbles. When the light finally began to fade from the sky, I shut my book—only a few pages farther along than when I’d settled in to read—and headed for bed, hoping that life would seem far less complicated in the morning.
—
Despite my hopes, none of my problems resolved themselves during the night. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours before finally drifting off into troubled dreams, waking up twenty minutes before my alarm was set to go off. When I threw back the covers, Flapjack jumped off the bed and trotted hopefully out into the hallway, pausing to look back at me.
“You know the drill, buddy,” I told him as I made my way to the bathroom. “Shower first, then breakfast.”
I left a disappointed Flapjack out in the hall and found him waiting for me when I emerged with freshly washed hair. He meowed at me and rubbed against my ankles as I got dressed in my usual outfit of jeans and a graphic tee, and he barreled down the stairs ahead of me when I left my bedroom. I smiled as he purred and wound a figure eight around my legs while I doled out his breakfast. It was hard to lose myself completely in my low spirits with the cute tabby around, and I was more grateful than ever for his companionship.
As soon as I’d finished my own breakfast and had brushed my teeth, I set off for The Flip Side, eager to get my day started. I was glad to have hours of work ahead of me. Hopefully serving meals, paying bills, and ordering supplies would keep me well distracted. After a quick stop in the kitchen to say good morning to Ivan and Tommy, I ensconced myself in the office and dove into my work. I took a short break to open the restaurant at seven o’clock sharp, but then I was back in the office for another hour.
When I returned to the front of the house to help out Leigh and Sienna with the breakfast rush, I gladly dove into that task as well. The tourists were mostly chatting about their plans for the day or what they’d done the day before, but it didn’t take long for Ida’s death to emerge as the hot topic of the morning among the local residents. Several people—including regulars Ed and Gary—had already heard that I was the one to find Ida’s body.
“Terrible,” Ed commented when I confirmed that I was indeed the one to report Ida’s death.
Gary nodded in agreement as he poured a generous stream of maple syrup over his pancakes. “That woman caused you enough problems while she was alive, and now she’s still making trouble for you when she’s dead.”
“Trouble?” I echoed, hoping he was only referring to the unpleasant experience of finding her body.
Ed lowered his voice. “We heard she was murdered and you’re a suspect.”
I’d hoped that bit of information hadn’t yet spread through town, but I wasn’t surprised that it had.
“A person of interest,” I corrected, but Ed and Gary didn’t seem to hear me.
“Makes no sense.” Gary shook his head as he sank his knife and fork into his stack of pancakes. “Marley a killer?” He shook his head again.
I glanced toward the neighboring table to find wide eyes staring back at me. Gary, unlike his friend, hadn’t lowered his voice before speaking.
“I had nothing to do with it.” Although I aimed the words at Ed and Gary, they were equally for the tourists at the next table.
“Of course you didn’t, Marley,” Ed said. “Don’t you worry yourself about it.”
It was too late for that. I moved on to the neighboring table and asked the four fifty-something tourists if they were ready to order. They exchanged glances, and one of the two women cleared her throat as she pushed back her chair.
“We’ve actually changed our minds.”
Her companions joined her in getting to their feet.
Speechless, I watched the women grab their purses and turn for the door with their husbands.
“Have a nice day,” I managed to say as they left the restaurant, my words too weak to have reached their ears.
“What was up with them?” Leigh asked on her way by with a plate of s’mores crêpes and another with a breakfast roll and scrambled eggs.
“I think they were afraid I’d poison their food.”
“What?” Leigh sent a glare at the door. “That’s insane.”
“Is it?”
“Yes!” Leigh leaned closer to me. “Don’t you let those people get to you. I know it’s unpleasant, believe me, but keep your chin up. Everyone who matters knows you’re innocent.”
She set off around the nearby tables to deliver the meals. What she’d said was true—those who were most important to me knew me well enough to know I wasn’t a killer. The problem was that my business relied on more than those people I’d grown close to over the past few weeks. With the news of my connection to the murder investigation spreading through town like wildfire—among the tourists now as well as the locals—I couldn’t help but worry about the future of The Flip Side.
Maybe my name would be cleared soon, but maybe it wouldn’t. And even if the sheriff’s department no longer viewed me as a person of interest, as long as the real killer went unidentified, would there still be some people in town who looked at me with suspicion, who gave me and my restaurant a wide berth?
As I grabbed the coffeepot, intending to make the rounds to provide free ref
ills, a sense of determination came over me. I didn’t want to wait around, worrying and fretting, while the future of my business and my life in Wildwood Cove remained in jeopardy. A firm time of death might or might not clear my name, but I knew what definitely would—identifying the true murderer.
—
Although The Flip Side’s regulars continued to pepper me with questions throughout the morning, no one else rushed out of the restaurant without eating. A few people shot glances my way—some suspicious, some curious—and occasionally whispering broke off as I passed by a table, but the rest of the morning was otherwise uneventful.
Even so, the steady flow of diners and the pile of office tasks needing my attention kept me busy, so busy that I didn’t have a chance to consider how to start my investigation, how to figure out who had killed Ida. When I arrived home in the late afternoon, I thought I would sit down and plan my strategy, but once at the kitchen table I found I couldn’t remain still or settle my mind.
“I need to go for a run,” I said to Flapjack.
He was curled up on the back of the couch, and only cracked open one eye at the sound of my voice, closing it again a second later. He clearly had no interest in my plans, but I knew I was right. I had too much anxious energy buzzing through me to be able to sit still or think effectively.
After a quick change into my running gear, I gathered my hair into a ponytail and spent a few minutes stretching before setting off at a brisk walk along the driveway. The hot weather wasn’t ideal for running, but I figured I could cool off in the ocean afterward. Once out on Wildwood Road, I kicked up my pace, jogging into town. I almost took a left, thinking I’d jog through one of the residential neighborhoods at the eastern edge of town, but a new plan lodged in my mind and I kept going straight.
I passed through the small commercial district that made up the center of town and then veered southward, my back to the water. The curls that had escaped from my ponytail were already sticking to my temples and the ice cream shop near the marina almost tempted me into reversing my direction, but I resisted and continued on into Ida’s neighborhood.
