by Sarah Fox
Stubborn, fun-loving Jimmy was gone forever.
A burning sensation in my eyes joined the one in my throat. A tear escaped from my left eye and trickled down my cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.
Brett sat down next to me and Leigh found a nearby rock to settle on. We stayed quiet, waiting. Again, I focused on the scent of the salty sea breeze, on breathing in and out. A seagull landed on a nearby log and happy, indistinct voices carried across the cove to us from three children who ran across the wet sand toward the receding water line.
The world went on without a pause, as if nothing had changed. But my world had changed. My already small family had lost another member, and I wondered, not for the first time, if I were destined to lose everyone I loved.
After several minutes had passed, Brett stood up and touched a hand to my shoulder. “They’re here.”
I followed his line of sight. Two paramedics and two men from the sheriff’s office stood at the top of the rocks. They’d driven into the public picnic area on the point and were now working their way down the rocks on foot. Brett pointed in Jimmy’s direction and stood watching as they closed in on the spot.
Unable to bear watching as they examined Jimmy’s body, I left the others behind and walked down toward the water. I picked my way across a strip of pebbly rocks and onto a wet sandbar. My sneakers left shallow depressions in the sand and a clam spat at me when I stepped near its clam hole. When I reached the water’s edge, I stopped and stared out at the horizon.
The San Juan Islands were visible to the north and to the east, Mount Baker. Puffy white clouds had gathered around the mountain, but above me the sky was clear and blue, the morning’s fog long gone. The beauty of the world around me was such a sharp contrast to the turmoil within my head and heart.
Drawing in a deep breath, I turned away from the ocean and slowly followed my footprints back toward the dry sand.
Brett met me there, a small crease between his eyebrows. “Why don’t you and Leigh go back to the restaurant? My uncle Ray is the sheriff. I’ll tell him where you’ve gone. He’ll want to talk to you, but that doesn’t have to happen here.”
“All right,” I said, finding my voice.
I glanced up at the rocks. One of the men from the sheriff’s office, the younger of the two, remained perched over Jimmy’s body. The other had climbed back up to the grassy area above the rocks along with the paramedics. My eyes flicked back to Jimmy’s body, but then I forced them away.
They came to rest on an emerald-green feather dancing about on the breeze. It drifted down toward me and I reached out and caught it.
Green was Jimmy’s favorite color.
Swallowing back an ever-growing lump in my throat, I tucked the feather into the pocket of my jeans.
Leigh hooked her arm through mine and together we walked slowly back along the beach toward the pancake house. When we stepped inside, Leigh locked the door behind us and made sure that the CLOSED sign was showing in the window. I stood a few feet from the doorway, staring ahead of me without seeing much of anything.
Jimmy, gone forever.
I couldn’t seem to process that.
I blinked and finally took in the sight before me.
One entire wall of the pancake house was made of stone and featured a giant fireplace with a log mantel. Together with the dark exposed beams running overhead, the white ceiling, and the dark flooring, it gave The Flip Side a rustic yet warm and welcoming atmosphere.
The first time I’d stepped inside, although nervous about taking care of the place in Jimmy’s absence, I’d immediately felt comfortable. Maybe it was the cozy decor or the friendly people, or possibly a combination of the two. I didn’t know for sure, but something about the pancake house had put me at ease.
But now Jimmy, the heart of The Flip Side, was gone.
What would happen to the restaurant? To Leigh and Ivan?
My mind stalled, as if too numb to cope with such questions.
“I can make you a cup of tea, if you’d like,” Leigh offered.
“Actually, I think I’d rather go to Jimmy’s house,” I said.
As much as I loved the pancake house, the news of Jimmy’s death would travel quickly through Wildwood Cove and I didn’t like the thought of curious townsfolk showing up to peer in through the windows or knock at the door, hoping for more details about the tragedy.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Leigh asked.
“Thanks, but I’ll be all right. Will you let the others know where I’ve gone?”
“Of course.”
I tried my best to smile but only managed a slight trembling of my lips. “Thanks, Leigh.”
After a quick stop in the back office to grab my tote bag and switch my apron for my favorite blue hoodie, I set off along the promenade in the opposite direction from Myler’s Point, not looking back. Numbness had seeped into my mind, but I couldn’t say the same for the rest of me. The ache deep in my chest remained and tears burned in my eyes. The light wind had an edge to it, and I shivered as it played with my hair and cut through my jeans and hoodie.
When I reached the edge of town, the promenade curved away from the shoreline and came to an end at the nearest road. I continued on in the same direction, leaving the pavement for the sand, the ocean on my left and a grove of Douglas fir trees on my right. As I walked by, a chipmunk darted up a tree trunk, pausing to chatter at me once it was safely off the ground. Overhead, birds chirped and twittered, the sounds familiar and comforting.
Beyond the grove of trees, Jimmy’s house came into view, situated only a stone’s throw from the beach. The sight of it brought me a sense of relief, of sanctuary. I’d always loved Cousin Jimmy’s house. The rambling blue-and-white Victorian had such a quaint and whimsical character, with gingerbread trim, covered porches at the front and back, and a two-story tower situated in one front corner. As a child, I’d spent hours reading on one of the cozy window seats or sifting through dusty treasures in the attic, and the spectacular ocean views never got old.
Memories of summers long past spent with Cousin Jimmy and his late wife, Grace, rushed to the forefront of my mind, vivid and almost overwhelming. I blinked back tears and climbed over a log to approach the house. When I spotted Jimmy’s orange tabby cat, Flapjack, sitting in one of the back windows, my tears spilled out onto my cheeks.
Never again would Jimmy come home to his cat, to his house. Never again would his laughter or irrepressible spirit fill the Victorian.
My tears were about to get the best of me when something moved over by Jimmy’s detached workshop, catching my eye. I stopped and took a closer look. A man was loitering by the workshop, his back to me. I wiped away my tears and struck off in his direction.
“Excuse me,” I called out as I drew closer to him.
He turned in my direction and ambled up to meet me, his hands in the pockets of jeans that needed a good cycle through a washing machine. I guessed him to be in his early twenties. His messy brown hair flopped over his forehead and he regarded me with hooded brown eyes.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked.
He shrugged lazily. “Nah.”
“This is private property.”
“Chill out. I’m not doing any harm.”
I so wasn’t in the mood to deal with a rude trespasser. “Please leave,” I said in a terse voice.
He didn’t move. “You know the owner or something?”
“Yes. I’m related to him. Who are you?”
“Daryl.” He didn’t offer any further information.
I didn’t like the way he stared at me. His eyes were so blank that they were far more chilling than the March sea breeze.
“Do you have a reason for being here, Daryl?” My annoyance was about to bubble over, overshadowing the spike of fear that had troubled me seconds earlier.
He shrugged again. “Just taking a shortcut back to the road.”
That didn’t explain why he was hanging around the workshop rather th
an following the driveway out to Wildwood Road.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
He seemed unmoved by my words. “ ’Kay, sure. Whatever.”
Without a flicker of any emotion on his face, he sauntered off toward the road. I stood and waited, watching until he’d left the property. Only once I was sure he was gone did I turn around and head back to the house.
As I crossed over the sparse grass, I noted the presence of Jimmy’s green truck parked next to my little blue hatchback. It hadn’t moved in the two weeks since I’d arrived. So how had Jimmy managed to get all the way to the opposite end of the cove?
Before I could consider that question any further, I spotted Brett heading up the beach toward me. I paused, waiting for him to approach.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he met me at the steps leading up to the back porch.
“Yes,” I said, although I didn’t know if that was true. The shock of finding Jimmy dead hadn’t yet worn off, and Daryl had only made things worse by creeping me out with his staring. “Do you know a guy named Daryl? Not quite six feet tall, a little on the skinny side, brown hair?”
“Sounds like Daryl Willis. Why?”
I climbed the stairs to the porch. “I found him hanging around Jimmy’s workshop. It was a bit weird.” I sank into a porch chair.
Brett sat in the chair next to me. “Did he say what he was doing?”
“He said he was taking a shortcut to the road, but I’m not sure I believe him.”
“Did he give you any trouble?”
“Not really. But I hope he doesn’t come back.”
“If he causes any problems, let me know and I’ll have a word with him. Or with Michael.”
“Michael?”
“Michael Downes. Do you know him?”
“I met him this morning at The Flip Side,” I said.
“Daryl and his girlfriend, Tina, rent a room from him. Daryl seems to view Michael as an older brother of sorts.”
I nodded, but I was too distracted to fully register his words. I could hear a car approaching the house.
“That’ll be Ray,” Brett said, getting to his feet.
I stood up too and rubbed my arms. Even with my hoodie on, the weather wasn’t quite warm enough for sitting outside. As I heard a car door shut with a thud, I shifted my eyes to Brett. He stared out at the ocean, his face serious.
A sudden rush of gratitude flooded my chest as I watched him. I touched his wrist to get his attention.
When his blue eyes met mine, I offered up a weak smile. “Thank you. For checking on Jimmy, for sticking around. I’m sorry this wasn’t a better reunion.”
His smile, like my own, was tinged with sadness. “Not great circumstances, but I’m still glad I came by when I did.”
“So am I.”
He held my gaze for a moment longer and then nodded at his uncle, who was now climbing the short flight of stairs to the porch. “Ray, this is Marley McKinney.”
“Ms. McKinney,” the sheriff said with a nod in my direction. “Sheriff Ray Georgeson. I understand you’re related to Jimmy?”
“Yes,” I said. “He was my grandmother’s cousin.”
Georgeson removed his hat and ran a hand through his brown hair. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?”
“Yes, of course.” I gestured to the chair Brett had vacated.
“I’ll be on my way.” Brett took a step back toward the stairs but then stopped and addressed his uncle again. “Marley found Daryl Willis hanging around the property a few minutes ago.”
“He didn’t do anything except trespass,” I said, not wanting to make a big deal of it despite the fact that the guy had made me nervous. “It was just a bit odd.”
“Hm.” Georgeson set his hat on the arm of the chair. “If you see any other suspicious behavior, it’s best to report it. There’s been a string of break-ins in the area recently.”
Those break-ins had been the talk of the pancake house since my arrival in Wildwood Cove. A couple of regular customers had fallen victim to the thieves, losing cash, electronics, and other valuables. If Daryl was casing Jimmy’s place, I hoped he’d decided it wasn’t a worthwhile target.
Georgeson changed the subject. “I might need to talk to you later,” he said to his nephew.
Brett nodded. “I need to run a few errands, but you can reach me on my cell.” He shifted his attention to me. “Take care, Marley.”
“Thank you,” I called after him as he jogged down the stairs.
When he’d disappeared around the side of the house, I sank back down into my porch chair. Georgeson angled the other chair toward mine and sat down as well.
“You came to visit Jimmy?” he asked.
“To help him with the pancake house for a few weeks.”
“Because he’d been in the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t realize he was home from the hospital.”
“You know Jimmy?” I caught myself. “Knew him, I mean?”
“Sure,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “We went fishing together from time to time. He was a good man.”
I swallowed as my throat tightened, determined not to cry.
“Do you have any idea what happened?” he asked.
I let out a breath. “No, I don’t.” I explained to him how Jimmy had called The Flip Side that morning to say he was heading home in a taxi. “I have no idea why he would have been up at Myler’s Point or how he managed to get there. He didn’t have all his strength back yet and his truck is here at home. If someone was with him when he fell over the cliff, wouldn’t they have called for help?”
Georgeson tipped his head to one side, as if considering my question, but he didn’t answer it. Instead, he asked another one of his own. “Do you know if Jimmy was having any problems with anyone lately? Any disagreements or conflicts?”
I shook my head, confused by the questions. “He didn’t mention anything like that. Why are you asking me this?”
Georgeson’s gray eyes held mine and their solemnity sent a shiver of worry down my spine.
“Ms. McKinney,” he said, his voice serious, “I’m afraid we’re treating Jimmy Coulson’s death as suspicious.”
Chapter 4
“Suspicious?” My brain didn’t want to process the word. I had to repeat it in my mind before it clicked. “You think someone killed him? Someone pushed him over the cliff?” I tried to rein in my rising distress. “Why? Why would someone want to hurt Jimmy?”
“I hope to find out,” Georgeson said.
I realized that my hands had a tight grip on the arms of my wooden porch chair. Finger by finger, I forced myself to loosen my hold.
“I’ll try to get in touch with the taxi driver who brought him home,” Georgeson continued. “See if I can find out exactly when Jimmy arrived and if he got dropped off here at the house or somewhere else. I’ll talk to the neighbors as well.”
“There’s something about the taxi that doesn’t make sense to me.” I explained how Jimmy didn’t trust taxi drivers and the reason behind his lack of trust.
“Maybe he made an exception,” Georgeson said. “If he wanted to get home badly enough and he knew you’d be busy, it’s possible.”
“I suppose.” The idea still didn’t sit quite right with me. “What’s going to happen to Jimmy?”
“There’ll be an autopsy. At this point, I can’t say when his body will be released.”
My throat burned. I stared hard at the horizon until the threat of tears lessened.
“Brett tells me you’re from Seattle.”
“Yes.”
“How long are you planning to stay in Wildwood Cove?”
“I was planning on staying another week or so, but now…I’m not sure. A few days at least.”
“Do you have a cell number?”
I rattled off my phone number and he copied it down in his n
otebook. He snapped the book shut and handed me a business card. “My contact information.” He got to his feet. “I might need to ask more questions later.”
“That’s fine,” I said as I stood up from my chair and pocketed his card. “I’ll help any way I can.”
Georgeson placed his hat on his head. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
I thanked him and he descended the porch steps. I wandered after him, lingering at the base of the steps as he climbed into his car and drove away. When I turned back toward the porch, I stopped, a dark mark on the bottom stair catching my eye. I crouched down for a closer look.
My stomach turned. Was that blood?
There was only a small splatter of it on the wooden step, but upon closer examination, I discovered more of the dark red-brown substance in the scuffed, sandy dirt at the side of the steps. I told myself that I had no reason to be disturbed. Jimmy had died on Myler’s Point. Even if the dark substance was blood, maybe it was from a nosebleed or a minor injury. Whatever the source, it couldn’t have anything to do with Jimmy’s death.
Even so, I folded my arms over my chest in an attempt to ward off the chill creeping through my skin and into my bones. Tearing my eyes away from the dark stain on the stairs, I made my way down to the beach, not knowing where else to go. It was as if the events of the morning had set me adrift, leaving me lost and out of sorts.
As I walked across the soft sand, my gaze strayed toward Myler’s Point. Although I was too far away to see anything in detail, I was able to pick out a van parked up in the picnic area above the rocks. The medical examiner’s vehicle, maybe?
I hoped the sheriff’s office and medical examiner would uncover vital clues, ones that would lead them to Jimmy’s killer. I still couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to harm Jimmy, but apparently someone had.
My thoughts meandered back to the questions Sheriff Georgeson had asked me. I wished I could have provided him with more helpful information, but maybe it wasn’t too late for that. Even though I didn’t know if Jimmy had problems with any of the locals, I could talk to people who would know. Jimmy worked with Leigh and Ivan five days a week and had known both of them for years. Surely they’d have some idea of what was going on in his life. I needed to find out what had happened to Cousin Jimmy, but first I had to take care of a difficult task.
