A Fowl Feast

by Lyndsey Cole

  She slipped her feet into her flip-flops, knowing they wouldn’t protect her from the cold but she wasn’t able to give up her favorite footwear. Yet. The two dogs dashed through the open door, making a beeline for the beach. The quiet in November was a welcome change from the hectic summer pace at her cottages and snack bar. Samantha’s cottage was still dark and silent.

  As they walked past the closed snack bar, Hannah remembered the strange customer from the day before. She dismissed the thought as being slightly too paranoid. He was just someone passing through town, off the beaten path, looking for a bite to eat.

  Or was he?

  Hannah looped her arm through Cal’s and increased her stride to match his. She sucked in a lungful of the salty sea air, hoping it would work its magic and calm her nerves. With her flip-flops dangling from her fingers, the dry sand buried her toes with each step.

  “Aren’t your feet cold?” Cal asked.

  “Yes. But I like the feel of the sand more than I hate cold feet. I’m hoping to make it to the end of the month before I have to dig my warm socks and sneakers out of my closet.”

  Cal shook his head and clamped his arm close to his side with Hannah’s arm trapped in between.

  “What?” She turned her head up to look at his profile. “You think I’m crazy?”

  He smiled down at her. “Of course, but in the best possible way.”

  Nellie flew across the beach in pursuit of anything that moved, but Patches kept his nose to the sand following a trail that only he seemed to be interested in. Hannah stopped. “The dogs won’t go too far. Look at this ocean. It goes on forever.”

  “You really love it here, don’t you?”

  Hannah nodded. “I do.

  Seagulls yelled at them for disturbing their beach. Waves gently lapped higher on the sand with each in and out. It all appeared peaceful, but just as in life, something sinister could be hiding underneath.

  Hannah whistled and turned toward the path through the boulders, knowing the dogs would catch up.

  Deputy Pam Larson’s cruiser was parked at Jack’s house. This didn’t surprise Hannah. Pam stopped at her father’s place most mornings for his strong, rich coffee and with the events of the day before, she probably needed that dose of caffeine more than ever.

  “Should we still go in?” Cal asked.

  Before she could weigh the pros and cons, the door opened and Pam appeared in the doorway. Her shoulders sagged. Her clothes were wrinkled. Everything about her shouted exhausted. But she still managed to glare at Hannah and Cal.

  “I see you found a place to stay last night. Your boat will be off limits to you for a few more days at best.”

  Cal nodded. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “So tell me, Cal, where did you go in the time after you left the Lowes’ farm and when I spoke to you?”

  Hannah stepped forward. “What’s your point, Pam?”

  Pam stepped right up to Hannah. “It’s Deputy Larson to you.” With her eyes burning into Hannah, she repeated her question. “Where did you go, Cal?”

  “I went to talk to Al Hines.”

  Hannah’s stomach lurched.

  Pam’s face broke into a smile. “That wasn’t so hard.” She continued to her car without another word.

  “Cal?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Cal said. “If that’s okay with Jack.”

  Jack nodded. He waited for Hannah and Cal to enter behind the two dogs before he pulled the door closed.

  Hannah was numb . . . with fear . . . with worry . . . with dread.

  Why did Cal want to talk to Al?

  There had to be a logical explanation, she told herself.

  A logical explanation that had nothing to do with murder.

  Six

  The smoke detector on Jack’s living room wall hung disconnected from the battery. Smoke and burnt toast odor still hung in the room like a cloud.

  Hannah sniffed the air and chuckled. “I’m glad to smell that you haven’t changed your menu.”

  “Nope. I only have one style of cooking, but I’m afraid breakfast is room temperature. I expected you earlier. Are you two even hungry?” Jack turned and faced Hannah and Cal.

  Cal shook his head.

  Hannah nodded. She wasn’t really hungry but Jack had two breakfast plates ready and she didn’t want the food to go to waste. Eating would make the day feel normal even when her world was spinning out of control.

  “Are you sure, Cal?” she asked. “I can split mine with you if Jack wants the other plate.”

  “No. I’ll have some of Jack’s intense coffee, though, if there’s enough.” He sat next to Hannah.

  Jack carried his coffee pot to the table and filled three mugs. “This is the second pot. Pam drank the first one. I told her she should go home and sleep but she said she has too much work to do.”

  Pam—what had she discovered already?

  Jack put a plate of creamy scrambled eggs and toast in front of Hannah and sat across from her with the other breakfast.

  The silence that filled the room made it quieter than a tomb.

  “I guess you’re wondering about my visit to Al,” Cal said, acknowledging the elephant in the room.

  Hannah and Jack continued to shovel food into their mouths.

  “I wasn’t a big fan of his son, Joey, but I was less of a fan of how Al treated him.” Cal sighed, rested his elbows on the table, and sank his head on his upturned hands. “I know it wasn’t any of my business but after Rochelle fired the kid, I couldn’t help but give Al a piece of my mind. After you left, Hannah, I went to Al’s house.”

  “And how did that go, Cal?” Jack asked, not in a snide tone, but as encouragement for more of the story to come out.

  “Not well. I should have known that Al wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to hear anyone else’s opinion, especially if it was critical of him. So, I left.”

  “Did you see anyone when you left?”

  “I was distracted. I passed a few cars, nothing that stood out, though. No bright red or yellow sports car that would stick in my memory. Just run-of-the-mill nondescript cars. Then I stopped at the hardware store to buy a few things and chatted with the owner. We’ve known each other for years.”

  “So, there you go.” Hannah mopped up the last bits of the egg on her plate with the remainder of her toast. “You have an alibi.”

  “Unless Pam thinks I had enough time to kill Al at his house, bring the body to my boat, then go to the hardware store.”

  “That’s ridiculous. First of all, if you killed Al, you wouldn’t bring his body to your boat.” She rolled her eyes with total ridiculousness. “And, second, if you did bring the body to your boat, someone would see you. There’s no way you could carry a body all the way down the dock without someone noticing. Even at this time of year,” she added.

  Cal slammed his hand on the table. “That’s it. Someone must have seen Al go to my boat along with whoever killed him. Not much happens at the marina without an eyewitness.”

  Jack finished his coffee. “Why would Al go to your boat in the first place?”

  “He was furious after I criticized his parenting,” Cal said. “It’s not out of the question that he might have decided to look for me to pick a fight or at least give me his own brand of advice and get in the last word. Everyone around here knows I live on my boat at the marina so it’s a no-brainer to start there to find me.”

  Hannah pushed herself away from the table. “At least we have that figured out. You confronted Al and he went looking for you. Now we have to figure out who followed him to your boat.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that Thanksgiving dinner ten years ago,” Jack said. “It was a small group of people so I’ve wracked my brain to remember who was there. Rochelle and Mack Lowe, of course, since it was at their house. Al was there, too. He was quiet and sullen but he was always that kind of guy. A friend of Mack’s, Emily or—”

  “Emma?” Hannah asked.

  “Yes. He
r name was Emma. I didn’t know her but she was friendly enough. Plus Caroline and me, so six of us. I think Al was supposed to bring a friend but he didn’t. I don’t know what happened about that.” Jack paused.

  “And now Al is dead.” Hannah sat in thought for a minute before she made a decision. “Someone came to The Fishy Dish yesterday.”

  “I thought you were closed for the season,” Jack said.

  “We are, but I forgot to put the closed sign up. Meg and I were in the kitchen finishing up the end of the season cleaning when this guy came in. I can’t get him out of my head—quiet to the point of it being impossible to get him into a conversation. Even Meg tried. He ate a bowl of clam chowder like he hadn’t eaten for days, got a phone message, and left.”

  “And you think he’s connected to the murder?” Jack asked. His eyes were squinted so that his bushy white eyebrows almost blocked his vision.

  “Probably not, but there was something about him that didn’t seem right. I don’t know if he was in town for any particular purpose but if I see him again, then I’ll worry.”

  The dogs got up, sensing it was time to move on, or at least hoping it was time. They hadn’t had breakfast yet.

  “I’m going home to make my apple raspberry pie for dinner at the Lowes’ tonight,” Hannah said.

  “Is that dinner still on?” Jack asked.

  “We don’t know but I’m making the pie anyway. I want to make sure Caroline’s notes are accurate about how delicious it is.”

  “Trust me, it was delicious. My all-time favorite so save me a piece, okay?” Jack asked. “Or, better yet, make two.”

  As Hannah and Cal headed back to her cottage, she asked, “What’s next?”

  “I’m going to the Lowes’ farm to offer my services until she finds a replacement for Joey.” He looked at Hannah. “Do you think it looks too obvious?”

  “Probably not. We’re looking at the offer from our perspective of wanting to find out more information. She’s not. Rochelle will be happy for the help. I don’t see her mucking out all those stalls by herself.”

  Cal laughed which sounded like music to Hannah’s ears after all the tension. “No. She’s more the type that prefers to pay someone to do the dirty work.” Cal grabbed Hannah’s arm and spun her to face him. “That just gave me an idea. If Rochelle wanted Al out of her life, would she pay someone to take care of the dirty deed?”

  “You could be on to something. This is getting complicated.” The stranger from the day before popped into the back of her mind again. There was something about him that made Hannah suspect more and more that he was connected to the murder. His demeanor? His slow yet determined manner? His scar?

  If he was a paid killer, he’d be long gone after finishing his job.

  If not? He might have his own motive to want Al dead.

  Seven

  Hannah needed a break from thinking about the why and how of Al’s murder. Cal left to talk to Rochelle and Hannah continued to her cottage.

  Fortunately, that distraction arrived in the form of Hannah’s sister, Ruby, and her six-year old daughter, Olivia. They lived a few houses away from Hannah with a sweet Maltese-Poodle cross—a Moodle—named Maisy, and a potbelly pig named Petunia.

  “Where have you been?” Ruby asked when Hannah entered her cottage.

  Olivia danced around Hannah’s legs. “I’ve got a surprise, Aunt Hannah.”

  Hannah laughed. A deep, from-the-belly laugh. How could she not with her adorable niece’s excitement filling the room? “A surprise?” Hannah bent down and picked up Olivia so they could converse at eye level. “I love a surprise.” Well, that wasn’t actually true. Some surprises were terrible, but a surprise connected with Olivia would be great.

  “Yes. And I’ll need your help.”

  “My help? Should we discuss it while I make you breakfast?” Hannah asked Olivia and Ruby.

  Olivia squirmed and slid out of Hannah’s arms. “Pancakes? With blueberries?”

  “I can manage that, but only if you help. How about you feed the dogs while I get all the ingredients out?”

  Olivia went right to the big plastic tub and scooped out a big portion for Nellie, a medium portion for Patches, and a tiny bit for Maisy. “Maisy already ate but she’ll feel left out so I gave her four,” Olivia held up her right hand with all her fingers extended, “pieces.”

  “That’s five fingers for five pieces, honey,” Ruby corrected.

  Hannah felt most of her tension seep away as she got out her bowl, eggs, milk, flour, baking powder, blueberries, butter, and syrup. She pulled a chair next to the counter and handed Olivia her whisk. “What’s first?”

  “Eggs.”

  “Then?”

  “Milk.”

  Hannah followed Olivia’s instructions and waited for Olivia to whisk the ingredients. She added the flour and baking powder, gave a few stirs with a big spoon, then let Olivia finish with her whisk.

  “What a good helper you are. Now go help your mom get out the plates and silverware while I heat the pan. I’ve already had breakfast at Jack’s house so don’t set a place for me.”

  Olivia carefully set two plates, two forks, and two knives on the table and sat at her chair with her stuffed teddy bear, Theodore, sitting next to her plate. “I’m ready, Aunt Hannah.”

  Hannah flipped the pancakes. “Just another minute. The second side always cooks quicker. Tell me your surprise while you wait.”

  “Well,” Olivia began, “Petunia’s going to be a—” She looked at her mom with her eyes scrunched in thought. “What’s the word?”

  “Therapy,” Ruby answered.

  “A therapy pig. Will you take me to the classes to teach her, Aunt Hannah?”

  “What a fantastic idea. Of course. Now that I have a little more time during the winter, I can definitely help you.”

  “Good, because I want Petunia to cheer up other kids like she cheers me up. And maybe old people, too. That was Samantha’s suggestion.”

  Hannah chuckled. She carried a plate of steaming hot, mouth-watering, perfectly round pancakes with blueberries ready to burst with each bite to the table.

  Olivia didn’t wait to be told to help herself, she put two pancakes on her plate and asked for help with the maple syrup. “Your pancakes are the best, Aunt Hannah.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “Someone has learned how to flatter her way to get what she wants.”

  Hannah pulled the plate away just as Ruby’s fork was about to spear the next pancake in the pile. “None for you, then.”

  “What? Oh.” Ruby, with an over-the-top sweet voice said, “Hannah, my dearest, most wonderful sister, your pancakes are out of this world delicious.”

  “In that case,” Hannah said between laughter, “you can have two.”

  Breakfast continued at a pleasant pace of forks clattering on plates, Olivia chattering about Petunia between each mouthful of pancakes, and Maisy trying her hardest to get Nellie to play with her.

  The front door opened. “I thought I smelled your blueberry pancakes,” Samantha said. She got herself a plate from the cupboard and a fork from the drawer. “Can I have one before Miss Olivia eats them all?”

  “You can have one, Samantha. Maybe even two, because I’m getting full.” Olivia used her finger to wipe up the last of the maple syrup on her plate, licked her finger, and climbed off her chair.

  “Wash your hands before you get Hannah’s furniture all sticky, Olivia,” Ruby reminded her daughter.

  Olivia pushed the chair from where she’d helped Hannah to the sink and rinsed her fingers. She joined Nellie and Maisy on the floor, with Theodore in her lap, and told Nellie all about her plans with Petunia.

  Samantha dug into her pancakes with gusto. After half of her pile was gone, she slowed down. “So, any more information about . . . you know?” She glanced at Olivia.

  “Cal came up with a theory about why the, um, problem ended up in his boat,” Hannah said.

  Ruby held up her hands. “Wait
a minute. What are you two talking in code about?”

  Hannah looked at Olivia sitting on the floor. This talk about murder wasn’t something she needed to hear. “Let’s walk to your house. There’s a little more room there.”

  At the word walk, Nellie got up and wagged her tail. She looked at Hannah, then the door. “So, walk it is, right Nellie?”

  Samantha wolfed down the rest of her breakfast. “I guess I can wait for coffee until we get to Ruby’s house.”

  As they walked, with Olivia running ahead with the dogs, Hannah told Ruby what she knew about the murder so far.

  “The body was found in Cal’s boat? So, where did he sleep last night?” Ruby’s eyes twinkled even though she managed a serious expression on the rest of her face.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, Ruby,” Hannah said, pretending to be upset with the question, “but he’s planning to stay in the apartment he just finished at the Lowes’ farm.” She never did say where Cal stayed the previous night, not that Samantha or Ruby had any real doubt where he was. “Rochelle just fired the kid that was going to stay there and take care of the horses—the dead guy’s son.”

  Ruby opened her door to let everyone in.

  “Aunt Hannah,” Olivia said, “come see Petunia before we go inside. She wanted me to paint her nails.”

  “She did, did she? She sat still for you?”

  “Uh-huh.” Olivia took Hannah’s hand and led her around to the back of Ruby’s house. Petunia had a fenced in area with a cozy shelter, a sunny corner, and her tubs for water and food. The pig came to the gate as soon as she heard voices. Maisy jumped on the gate and tried to open the latch to let Petunia escape, but it was well-secured.

  Petunia lifted her head as high as possible so Hannah could scratch her behind the ears.

  “She wants to go for a walk,” Olivia said.

  “Maybe after I get done talking to your mom.” Hannah looked over the gate at Petunia’s feet. “I see her nails. Did she ask for red polish?”

  “Uh-huh. Red is her most favorite color in the whole world. She told me.”