I decided to walk from home, heading down toward Main Street where the bulk of the activity began. The hot sun beat down on the pavement, heating the day. With the weather report saying it was supposed to hit the low- to mid-eighties, without a single cloud in the sky, this was going to be a perfect day. I knew I was getting close when I passed a local high-school student dressed in a giant orca costume. He waved at me, and I waved back. I walked down Main Street, which was completely decked out for the festival. Colorful flowers lined the streets, which were pedestrian only during the festival. The windows of every store were decorated with summery scenes: paper flowers, window paintings of people surfing in the bay, fake suns, and more. Even the vet clinic, despite being closed for the duration of the festival, got the treatment. A high school art student had kindly come and painted little cartoon cats, dogs and other animals frolicking in a summer field on the front window. I was definitely going to keep that painting up long after the festival ended; it looked amazing. I decided to make a quick stop at Betty’s to grab a vanilla latte before continuing on. It was just after nine in the morning, and business was booming. Every table was taken, and groups of tourists and locals alike were hovering near the counter while waiting for their to-go coffees. As I placed my order and joined the throng, I suddenly heard someone call my name.
“Angela!” the voice said. I turned and looked down to see the local real estate kingpin in town, Leanne Chu, looking up at me. Leanne was in her late forties, around four feet tall, with short black hair and a better sense for sales than anyone I’d ever met in my life.
“Oh, hi Leanne,” I said brightly. I’d never bought or sold any property, since my parents had left us the house we lived in when they died, but Leanne made sure she knew everyone in town just in case.
“Listen, your landlord is a client of mine, and I was going to start making this known after the festival ended, but the other party wants to move faster than that. The building your vet clinic is being leased from is being sold.”
“What?” I said, my mouth dropping open. Leanne nodded.
“Yes. My client was approached a few weeks ago by a man looking to add to his investment portfolio. He has decided to sell. Of course, this likely won’t make much of a difference to your business. Commercial real estate investment is very much a behind-the-scenes business. Most likely the only thing that will change is the number of the account you pay your rent into every month.”
“Let me guess,” I said darkly. “The man buying the property is named Matt Smith.”
Leanne nodded. “You have good information sources.”
I had run into Matt Smith—literally—a couple of months ago in this very coffee shop. He had tried to flirt with me, and I immediately wasn’t a fan. Call it witches’ intuition. Betty had told me he was one of those big hotshot real estate developers from Portland. Another one of those Donald Trump wannabes who saw Willow Bay and thought they could make their millions by buying up property here and modernizing it. Of course, people like that didn’t realize two things: first of all, the rustic charm of Willow Bay was half of what brought so many people here in the first place. And second, the people who lived here were very good at preserving the heart and soul of the town. Most of these investor types gave up pretty quickly on Willow Bay. I really hoped Matt Smith would be one of those. Unfortunately, it looked like he might be my new landlord.
“When is the deal supposed to happen?” I asked Leanne, a million thoughts running through my head.
“The negotiations are almost finished. I’d say they will give an offer that will be accepted within the next seventy-two hours, and then a few weeks for closing.”
Great. In a few weeks I was going to have some hotshot from Portland as my new landlord, instead of the kindly old man who had owned the building Healthy Paws’ Vet Clinic, and the small kitchenwares shop next to it, for over forty years.
“And you’re totally sure this deal is going to go through?” I asked. Leanne patted me kindly on the arm.
“Don’t worry. Nothing will change. You re-signed your lease last year, remember? You’ve got your current price locked in for at least six years.”
I nodded glumly as Betty called out Leanne’s name. She grabbed her coffee.
“I have to run. Don’t worry Angela, it won’t really mean much of a change for you.”
I wasn’t so much worried about me as I was worried about my town. We had soul. We had charm. And every time someone came in and tried to turn us into some modern-looking resort like in Hawaii, I worried. Tourism was all this town had; we had to make sure the soul stayed the same.
A minute later I grabbed my coffee, and left the shop, the conversation with Leanne leaving a sour taste in my mouth as I continued down the street toward the beach where most of the action was happening.
As I walked further down Main Street, the infectious happiness of the festival began to get to me, however, and I quickly put Matt Smith and his plan to modernize Willow Bay behind me. Hordes of children ran around in circles screaming and laughing, helium-filled balloons trailing behind them and tangling together. The aroma of grilling meat from the barbeques mingled with the smell of popcorn from the stalls selling their various foods. A man standing behind a wooden cart took money and made freshly-squeezed lemonade. A woman, next to him dressed like a clown scooped up fluffy cotton candy for excited kids.
I walked past all of them with my coffee, and made my way toward the beach. It was a gorgeous day for swimming and for surfing. The sun shone down on perfect waves—large, but evenly sized and spaced apart. The water wasn’t choppy at all. An announcer somewhere blasted out names from a loudspeaker, but the ambient noise around was so loud that I had no idea what was going on. I took off my shoes and left them in a quiet corner, hoping they wouldn’t disappear, and let the warm sand envelop my feet as I made my way closer to the edge of the water.
I shaded my eyes with my hand and watched a surfer manage to do a 360 on top of a wave. It was so impressive; these guys and girls could do things on their surfboards that I could barely manage to do on my own two feet on dry land. Suddenly, I felt someone wrapping their arms around my waist from behind.
Instantly, I began to panic. I was being attacked! I struggled, dropping my half-drunk coffee onto the ground and spilling it onto my foot. I let out a yelp as I leapt backward and threw my elbow back into whoever was assaulting me. I heard a grunt behind me as the hands let go, and I spun around angrily to see who it was.
What I saw was Jason, looking as sexy as always, laughing while holding his shoulder, which was evidently where my elbow had gotten him.
“Oh my God!” I said, completely mortified. “Jason, I’m so sorry!” I ran over to him, my hand covering my mouth. I really hoped I hadn’t hurt him too badly.
“I came over here to surprise you, but it looks like I’m the one who got a surprise,” Jason laughed, his eyes twinkling. Thank goodness he wasn’t mad.
“I didn’t realize it was you! I thought someone was attacking me!” Oh boy. I felt like the least sexy person in the world right then. I knew some people around were watching us, amused, but I forced myself to put them out of my head. Had it really been so long since I’d had a romantic relationship that the instant someone put their arm around me my instinct was to hit them? Great.
“Well, I’m glad to know my girl can defend herself, at least,” he replied, rolling his shoulder in the joint a few times. “Sorry about your coffee.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. My face was beet red. I couldn’t believe my boyfriend had come up to be all romantic and nice and I’d attacked him.
“Rule number one to dating Angela Martin: always approach her from the front,” Jason said. “You know, I think that’s what they tell you to do with cheetahs and grizzly bears, too.”
My face flushed an even deeper red. “I thought we weren’t meeting until this afternoon,” I said lamely. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”
Jason grinned.
“Well, there isn’t too much going on today compared to the other days, so when I saw you coming onto the beach I figured I’d come and surprise you.”
“Well, you succeeded at that,” I replied.
“I noticed.”
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” I asked, and Jason shook his head, a smile still beaming across his face.
“Nope!”
“What if I bribe you? Maybe buy you a lemonade and some popcorn?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes, trying to make up for the decidedly un-romantic way I’d reacted to my boyfriend’s greeting.
“That’ll certainly help,” Jason replied, and we made our way toward the stalls. On the way I told him about my conversation with Leanne. Jason’s face darkened.
“I’m not surprised. I’ve been hearing from a few people, apparently he has more than one deal in the works.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Definitely. Apparently he’s trying to buy the building your vet clinic is in, Betty’s Café and the long building that houses that children’s clothing store, the swanky gift shop and the art gallery. Apparently, his plan with Betty’s Café was to modernize the whole thing. He wanted to put in floor-to-ceiling windows, change the façade out front to be sleek and modern and make Betty change the logo.”
“I hope she told him to pound sand,” I replied incredulously. Jason laughed.
“She did, definitely. Betty told me she’s owned that building since she started the café in the late nineties, and no young whipper-snapper with more money than business sense was going to ruin her business or this town, as far as she was concerned. She told me I could quote her on that.”
I laughed. “Wow, it must be serious. I rarely ever hear Betty say a bad thing about anyone.”
“Exactly. I wonder what other properties he’s thinking of buying that we haven’t heard about yet.”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
“Me neither. But, unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about it. When the festival is over I’ll write an article in the paper. Who knows. Maybe the people will be so outraged that my article will spur an open revolt. It’s every journalist’s dream.”
“Really? Inspiring a revolt against a business developer in small town Oregon is your dream?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, to start with. Eventually I hope to write an article that will inspire a populace to topple a fascist regime somewhere, but I figure this is a good start.”
“Start small and work your way up,” I laughed as I linked my arm in his. “Now, what do you say we forget about the fact that I tried to attack you, and let’s go enjoy this festival.”
“Oh, I’m not going to forget about that, or let you forget it... ever,” Jason teased, his eyes glimmering as he let me lead him down toward the beach.
Chapter 11
Arm in arm, I walked with Jason along the beach. Everywhere we went people were talking about the murder. It seemed that not only was it the talk of the Festival of Fun here in Willow Bay, but it had actually led to more people visiting than would have otherwise. It seemed a little macabre to me, to visit a place just to see the festival someone had been murdered at.
“The irony is, the murder has actually improved festival turnout,” Jason said, obviously thinking the same thing I was.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it? You’d think people would be afraid to come here, not clamoring to be here so they can tell all their friends they were here where the murder took place.”
A huge wave suddenly took out one of the surfers, and a loud cheer rose up from the crowd as they enjoyed the carnage. I turned to have a look. What? Half the fun of watching extreme sports was seeing the crashes.
“If you want we can head up to the stands on the other end of the beach,” Jason said, motioning to where a small set of bleachers had been installed to give VIPs a better view through the crowd.
“Aren’t those reserved for VIPs only though?” The VIP seats were sold for around three hundred dollars each. A number of prominent businessmen from the Portland area generally bought them every year, so they could say they came to the festival but didn’t have to mingle with the regular people on the beach. Jason grinned.
“You forget, I’ve spent three days now schmoozing people, and that includes the VIPs. We can go up there no problem, I guarantee it.”
“All right,” I replied, and we made our way over. However, just before we reached the bleachers, I saw someone I recognized. It was the man I had impersonated that morning! Lester Forrester. He was talking with a man I didn’t recognize; they were walking away from the bleachers, heads together like they were talking about something important.
I stopped and grabbed Jason’s arm.
“What is it?” he asked, and I pointed to the two men.
“That’s one of the partners at Jessica’s job. I don’t recognize the man he’s talking to, but what if they’re talking about the murder?”
“Then we definitely need to listen in,” Jason replied, understanding immediately. It was good, dating a journalist. I knew if Charlotte was here she’d complain that eavesdropping was terrible and we shouldn’t do it and a whole bunch of other nagging that I’d promptly ignore.
“Awesome,” I grinned as the two of us made our way as subtly as possible toward the two men. They made their way away from the crowd and behind the nearby taco truck. Continuing past it, they headed to the beach parking lot on the far side of the beach who’s sixty or so available spots had all long been taken up. They stopped, leaning against a late model white Porsche SUV and continued to talk.
Jason motioned for me to follow him. We swiftly ran to the other side of the parking lot, and made our way back to where the two men were, standing on the other side of the Porsche. It was a tall enough car that when Jason and I crouched down slightly, there was no way the two men on the other side of the car could see us.
“You’re going to have to take care of this, Les.”
“I know. I know, I’m taking care of it.”
“How? You’re a lawyer, for goodness sake. When one of your employees turns up dead, it’s not good for business.”
“Yeah, well, how the hell was I supposed to know that one of Jonathan’s playthings was going to turn up dead in some hick town?”
My face flamed red at hearing the man speak of Willow Bay like that. I had half a mind to throw myself out there and tell him just what I thought of him and his opinions, but Jason grabbed my arm firmly and shook his head. I realized he was right; we could get far better information by continuing to eavesdrop.
“Besides,” Lester continued. “It’s not like she was a high profile partner or anything. She was just an intern. It’s not going to be bad for business.”
“It had better not be, Les. Especially with what happened back in Chicago.”
“That was an accident too. Besides, the cops ruled Jonathan out of that murder. He had a rock solid alibi.”
“Well all I’m saying, is that when your partner has two employees that he just happens to be sleeping with turn up dead, it’s not a good thing.” My eyebrows rose. It looked like I had some Googling to do when we got home.
“It’s a coincidence, Gary. Nothing more.”
“I want to get out in front of this. We need to get out in front of this.”
“I know, I know. I said I’d handle it, ok?”
“Last time you handled it so well, you got driven out of town and had to move to Portland.”
“Look, I know you think that was all because of that girl being murdered, but I’m telling you, it wasn’t. We had planned on moving to Portland anyway.”
“That’s bull and we both know it. Besides, it doesn’t matter what the truth is. If the media figures this out, they’re going to run with what sells papers. And right now, the fact is, that two people working for your business have been murdered in the last ten years.”
I saw Lester Forrester throw his hands up in frustration.
“Fine. Whatever. You’re the public relations expert, Gary. If you think you’re so smart, you figure it out.”
“I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble Les. That’s what big brothers do. I told you years ago to stay the hell away from Jonathan Cork.”
“You always hated the guy. He’s never actually done anything though. The girl in Chicago, that was probably just some crazy guy looking for a thrill. I told you, the police looked at Jonathan then. He had an airtight alibi, there was no way he could have done it.”
“Damn it, Les. Don’t you get it? It’s not about what he did, it’s about what it looks like he did. You haven’t been listening to me at all. Anyway, I don’t care if he killed that girl or not. He’s a bad guy, and you shouldn’t have gone into business with him. But don’t worry, I will fix this.”
Suddenly, the guy named Gary slammed his palm against the side of the car we were hiding behind. Instinctively, I let out a small squeal. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, but it was too late.
“What was that?” I heard Les ask sharply. I looked over at Jason, my eyes wide with panic. I had no idea what to do. We were totally going to get caught eavesdropping. Great. Suddenly, Jason took me in his arms, pulled me toward him and started kissing me!
I looked into his eyes in surprise as his lips pressed against mine. Part of me wondered what on earth he was doing, another part of me surrendering to the sweet touch of Jason’s lips, my legs going weak as his mouth explored my own. I involuntarily closed my eyes as sensations of pleasure coursed through my body.
“Aw, Gary, it’s just a couple kids making out,” Lester Forrester said, coming over and finding us. “Come on guys, get out of here.”
“Whatever man, stop ruining my vibe,” Jason said, shooting Lester a dirty look as he grabbed my hand and led me away. We ran off, giggling like children as adrenaline coursed through my body, both from the kiss and the fact that we’d just barely gotten away with our eavesdropping. If it hadn’t been for Jason’s quick thinking, we would have been caught for sure.
Lipstick on a Pig (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (Willow Bay Witches Book 4) Page 7
