by Lyndsey Cole
Hannah chuckled. “It looks good on her. You did a great job, Olivia.” Hannah reached in her pocket and was glad to find a dog bone which she gave to Petunia. She shouldn’t have too many of that kind of treat, but once in a while was okay.
Samantha and Ruby were just sitting down with coffee when Hannah and Olivia walked into the house. Olivia ran off with Theodore and the dogs to play in her room.
“Cal’s theory?” Samantha prompted to get back to where they’d left off in Hannah’s cottage. She sat at the edge of the sofa with her coffee resting on her thigh.
“Right. Something happened ten years ago with Rochelle and Mack Lowe, Al, and we don’t know who else. Cal and I heard Rochelle and Al argue about money and someone coming back soon.”
Samantha set her coffee down and rubbed her hands together. “Ahh, so mysterious.”
“Mysterious and scary now that Cal and I are sort of involved. At least on the edges.”
“Why?” Ruby asked.
“We heard the argument and I think Rochelle knows we heard it. But let me get to Cal’s theory. Rochelle has a ton of money, that’s why she had the apartment built in the barn. She wants someone to live there and take care of the horses.”
“That makes sense,” Ruby said. “Who wants to do the dirty work if they don’t have to?”
“Exactly. She doesn’t do the dirty work herself. If she wanted Al out of her life because of whatever happened ten years ago, maybe she hired someone to take care of him for her.”
“Why wait so long? Why now?” Samantha asked.
“Because this other person is coming back.”
“So, that person has been away? Maybe in jail?” Ruby asked.
“That’s it. I never considered jail. Whatever happened ten years ago sent someone to jail and now he’s out and wants to get even,” Hannah thought out loud.
“Even for what?” Samantha asked.
“I don’t know.” But Hannah had every intention of finding out.
She had no idea where to start to unravel the old mystery but there was one person who might be able to supply a few more details.
Eight
Meg’s old rusty truck was parked between Hannah’s Volvo station wagon and Samantha’s blue Mini Cooper. The three vehicles looked lonely in the parking lot that was usually filled to overflowing during the busy summer months.
Hannah found Meg in the kitchen of The Fishy Dish on her hands and knees with her head in the refrigerator. When the back door slammed behind Hannah, Meg jumped.
“You really startled me. I thought it was that stranger coming back.”
“For more chowder?”
“If he wants more chowder he’s out of luck. I gave you the last quart yesterday. Did you remember to give it to Cal?” She stood and pulled off her yellow cleaning gloves.
“Oops. It’s still in my car. Do you think it’s safe to eat or should I dump it?”
“With the temperatures we’ve been having it should be fine. But I wouldn’t keep it for any longer.” She closed the fridge and dumped out her dirty cleaning solution. “I heard about Al Hines. Not a big loss in my opinion.”
“You knew him?” Hannah asked.
“Not well, but he had a reputation for trouble, gambling, and mistreating the women in his life; probably kids and dogs, too.”
“Huh. Gambling? I wonder if that’s what got him killed.”
Meg raised an eyebrow. “I should have known you’d have some information about the murder. Don’t tell me you’re already involved.”
“Not by choice, that’s for sure. Cal and I heard him argue with Rochelle Lowe about money and someone coming back. She told Al to get off her property and he said he’d be back. Oh, and the minor detail that Al’s body was discovered in Cal’s boat.”
Meg’s other eyebrow joined the first one at the top of her forehead. “Say what? How did that happen?”
“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be trying to figure out what he and Rochelle were arguing about. And I wouldn’t be wondering if she knows we heard the argument.”
Meg hung up her apron. “Let’s go. I can finish cleaning this place later. And, I’m driving.”
Great, Hannah said to herself. It wasn’t that Meg was a bad driver, but Hannah hated riding in her truck with the seat springs poking her no matter where she sat. “I’ll put the dogs in the house and be right back.”
Nellie and Patches were happy to go in for a mid-morning nap. They went right to their dog beds. Hannah grabbed her bag and a small blanket and ran back down the hill to Meg’s truck. She yanked on the passenger door and when it finally creaked open, Hannah thought for a minute that the door might fall right off the hinges. It didn’t.
She stepped up, placed the folded blanket on the seat, and carefully sat.
Meg laughed. “Protecting your butt?”
“That’s the idea. Now, if you don’t hit too many potholes, maybe I’ll be able to stay in one piece.”
Meg turned the key. Her rust bucket sputtered and coughed but finally roared to life emitting a cloud of smoke from the tailpipe. They drove through town and turned onto a dirt road that took them to her brother’s secluded shingled cottage with a view of the ocean. Hannah knew exactly where Meg was taking her.
When they got out, Meg handed Hannah a canvas shopping bag full of books and Meg carried another bag loaded with food. They walked around the side of the cottage and Meg opened the front door.
“Do you think anyone wonders why you make so many trips here?” Hannah asked.
Meg shrugged. “It’s my brother’s cottage. I tell people I keep an eye on it for him, so what looks suspicious about that?”
The cottage was small but warm and flooded with the mid-morning light. The perfect spot for someone to live comfortably out of sight of prying eyes.
“What do I owe the pleasure of a visit out of the normal routine?” Hannah’s Great Aunt Caroline asked. “Does it have anything to do with Al Hines’s murder?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Hannah said. She put the bag of books next to Caroline’s chair and hugged her fragile great aunt. It seemed that every time she saw her she was smaller but the shine in her eyes burned as bright as ever.
Caroline patted the spot next to where she sat. “Well, sit down and fill me in. You know I always love to hear the latest happenings in Hooks Harbor. Especially when it’s full of mystery and intrigue.”
“Easy for you to say since you aren’t looking over your shoulder wondering if you’ll be next,” Hannah said.
“Oh, Hannah, since everyone already thinks that I’m dead, who would be looking for me? That’s about the only benefit of my situation.” Caroline patted Hannah’s leg. “So, start at the beginning and give me every single detail.”
Before Hannah could get started, a meow caught her attention. A gray tiger kitty wound around her legs. “And who are you?” Hannah scooped up the cat and set him on her lap.
“Didn’t Meg tell you? This scrawny guy showed up at my door about a week ago and, of course, I let him in.” Caroline’s wrinkled hand stroked the cat’s fur. “He hasn’t asked to go outside since.”
Hannah put her hands under his armpits and picked him up so they were face to face. “Do you have a name?”
“Not yet but I’m open to suggestions. Meg thinks he looks like a Fred.”
“I think Meg might be right. You found a good home so you’re obviously wise. You have an intelligent air around you,” Hannah said to the cat. He flicked the end of his tail and stared at Hannah. “Fred…it rolls off my tongue easily.”
“Okay,” Caroline said. “That important decision is settled.” She placed her hand on the cat’s head. “I christen you Fred.”
Fred looked at each of the women before he kneaded a few times on Hannah’s leg and curled up with a satisfied purr.
“Now, back to your story, Hannah. Why are you looking over your shoulder?” Caroline asked.
Hannah told Caroline about the conversation in the horse
barn between Rochelle and Al. “And Cal went to Al’s house to give him a piece of his mind about his lack of parenting skills.”
Caroline chortled. “If I remember anything about Al Hines, no one was going to tell him what to do.”
“Yeah, Cal figured that out too late. Now he thinks that Al may have gone to his boat to pick a fight. And that’s how Al’s body ended up where it did.”
“Cal has an alibi I assume,” Caroline said, thinking out loud. “So, the question is, who followed Al to Cal’s boat?” Caroline tilted her head back and gazed into space. “Tell me your thoughts, Hannah.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out Caroline’s old cookbook along with the paper with her notes when she and Cal brainstormed ideas. “Cal and I made this list of anyone we could think of that might know something—Rochelle, Mack, Emma, and Joey—they were all in and out of the farm recently. Here’s a note you made on your apple raspberry pie recipe which you brought to a Thanksgiving dinner at the Lowes’ farm ten years ago. I’m hoping it might trigger some more memories of that night.”
Caroline took the cookbook. Her gnarled finger traced over the words she’d written ten years earlier as if she was visiting with an old friend. “This is a great recipe—Jack’s favorite.”
“He told me that and asked me to make two—one to bring to the Lowes’ and one for him.”
“Jack can’t have the whole thing,” Caroline sputtered. “He’d better come here and share it with me. But why are you making one for the Lowes?”
Meg laughed. “Hannah has your cunning instinct, Caroline. Rochelle invited Cal for dinner tonight to thank him for the great job building the barn apartment so Hannah decided—”
“—to bring the same dessert.” Caroline finished Meg’s sentence and smiled at Hannah. “I like how you think.” She turned her attention back to the cookbook and read her note from the recipe out loud. “Brought this apple raspberry pie to a Thanksgiving feast at Rochelle and Mack Lowes’ horse farm. Delicious dessert-tart with just the right amount of sweetness, and a delicate flaky crust. The people left a lot to be desired though—sour, gossipy, and very rough around the edges. The most awkward part was a whispered conversation that made Jack and my ears tingle, but I couldn’t quite hear all the details. But it sure sounded like a secret that several guests didn’t want revealed.”
She raised her head. “This does help me remember that evening but, like I wrote here, it was very secretive.” She looked at Hannah. “You think what happened back then is connected to Al’s murder?”
“I do. Cal and I heard Al tell Rochelle that it had been ten years and he would be back for the money. Al also reminded her that she and Mack were involved, too. Now Al is dead and I think Rochelle had a motive to get him out of her life. What happened back then that involved enough money for someone to kill for it?”
Caroline shook her head. “One thing I remember is that someone else was supposed to be at that dinner. He didn’t show up and Rochelle dismissed him as a loser friend of Al’s who got in trouble with the law.”
Meg shook her finger. “I remember some guy getting arrested for a botched break-in. The homeowner and the guy breaking in were both injured. The police arrived and caught the guy red-handed with lots of jewelry stuffed in all his pockets.”
“What about missing money?”
“I don’t remember money being part of the equation. Anyway, wouldn’t the guy have ratted Al out if he was his partner?” Meg asked. “I certainly wouldn’t go down alone in a situation like that.”
“I’ll do some research around that time—ten years ago Thanksgiving. There has to be articles and we can see how closely the details connect with what Caroline remembers.”
“Whatever happened ten years ago, if it’s connected to now, happened very close to that Thanksgiving. All the whispers between Rochelle, Mack, and Al couldn’t hide the fact that whatever they were whispering about happened very close to the night of the dinner. The tension in the air was so thick I thought I’d choke on it,” Caroline gently rested her hand on her old cookbook.
“I wonder why they didn’t cancel the dinner,” Hannah said.
“To keep everything as normal as possible?” Caroline suggested. “Has she cancelled the dinner for tonight?”
“I don’t know yet but if history repeats itself, I don’t think she will.”
Nine
Meg and Hannah said their goodbyes to Caroline and Fred. Hannah promised to send Jack over with the apple raspberry pie once it was finished. They left with Fred curled up next to Caroline and Caroline with her head resting against the back of the couch. Her eyes were closed. She insisted she didn’t need a nap, just a rest.
“Want help making the pies?” Meg asked as they bounced along the uneven road.
“That’s the least you can do after subjecting me to your truck. If I make it home without any holes through the seat of my pants, I’ll consider myself as lucky as if I’d won the lottery.”
“I love this truck.” Meg patted the dashboard. “Especially when I get to torture you by making you ride with me.”
When Meg pulled into the parking lot at The Fishy Dish, one additional car was parked next to Hannah’s Volvo station wagon. The nondescript—besides its very memorable license plate—dark blue sedan was not what she’d expected to see.
Samantha and the stranger from the day before sat at one of the picnic tables.
“Yes, we’re closed for the season but I’m sure Meg will be able to find something for you to eat,” Hannah heard Samantha say as she and Meg approached. “She can create something delicious out of practically nothing.”
“And nothing is exactly what’s in the kitchen, I’m sorry to say,” Meg said as they came abreast of the table. “You got the last of the clam chowder yesterday. I scrubbed the refrigerator and unplugged it. About all that’s left are a few packages of oyster crackers. Do you want that?” She put her hands on her hips and gave him her best you-better-say-no look.
“Sure. The seagulls look hungry,” the stranger replied. “Anything to drink with that?”
Hannah was furious with Samantha for encouraging this guy. Who was he and what was he really after? She had more important things to do than try to scrounge up a snack and a drink. “Water.”
“Okay.” He kept his eyes on the horizon and made no move to leave.
Hannah grumbled to Meg as they headed inside. “We’ll give him what he wants and hope he leaves when he’s done.”
Hannah handed the water to Meg. “Take the crackers and water out, I’ll meet you at the picnic table after I get Patches and Nellie.”
“Protection?” Meg asked, her eyebrows raised.
“It can’t hurt. Dogs, especially Nellie, have a second sense about figuring out people. If she doesn’t like The Stranger, neither will I.”
When Hannah returned to the picnic table, Samantha was in the middle of telling The Stranger that she was a private investigator. He wasn’t impressed. After one look at Samantha, with her five-foot two-inch, one-hundred-pound frame topped with silver curls and adorned with a bright orange fabric rose, it would be hard for anyone to take her seriously. Maybe that was the point. She was so nonthreatening it would make anyone lower their guard.
Nellie trotted right up to the stranger and sniffed his loafers. The stranger worked his fingers behind Nellie’s ears and, much to Hannah’s disappointment, Nellie leaned into the attention. So much for a good judge of character, Hannah thought begrudgingly since she was convinced that The Stranger was not a good guy. Or maybe he just knew how to throw a spell on a dog.
The Stranger casually tossed an oyster cracker on the sand for a seagull, then snuck one to Nellie before he allowed himself to eat one. “Kind of quiet around here,” he said, not to anyone in particular. “Any chance I could rent one of your cottages?” With that question, he turned and stared at Hannah as if he had figured out that she was the owner.
“I can help you with that,” Samantha said before Hanna
h had a chance to say she was closed for the season. “Come to the office with me and I’ll get you checked in. Technically,” she glanced at Hannah, “we’re closed, but no point in letting the cottage stay empty when there is a guest in need.”
Hannah glared at Samantha. She leaned close to Meg once Samantha and The Stranger were out of ear shot. “What’s she doing?”
“Look at it this way: You want to know more about this guy and now is your chance. I’ll bet Samantha found out something about him while she was chatting his ear off and you’ll be thanking her when she comes back.”
It wasn’t long before Samantha led the stranger out of the office and headed toward the fourth and farthest cottage—Something’s Fishy.
“It looks like he wants privacy, which doesn’t come as a surprise since he’s a man of few words. He walks with a sense confidence, and look how he keeps checking the surroundings,” Hannah said. “It’s as if he’s expecting someone to jump out and tackle him.”
“Speaking of tackling, how about we tackle those apple raspberry pies. I’ll make the crusts and you can peel the apples.”
“You get started,” Hannah said. “I need to take the dogs for a short walk. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“You and your walks.” Meg shook her head. “You always say it’s for the dogs but I think you need it more than they do. Or at least as much.”
“Well, please don’t tell anyone my secret. Somehow, every step helps me keep all the noise in my head organized.” Hannah whistled and both dogs streaked ahead of her.
It was the middle of the day but the temperature had dropped since she’d rolled out of bed. Hannah zipped her fleece up tight around her neck to keep the chill from finding an entry. Having the beach all to herself made enduring the cold air worth it.
As the dogs raced almost out of view, she picked up her pace and buried her hands in her pockets. She tried to ignore how cold her feet were with only her flip-flops on. She didn’t want to prove Jack right by having to store her summer footwear in her closet in exchange for her warm socks and sneakers. She’d tough it out for the remainder of November.
