Ocean Blues

by Glen Ebisch

  Ricardo lowered his voice. “A couple of days before he was killed, he asked me if it was ever right to squeal on somebody who had done something wrong.”

  “What did you say?” Clarissa asked.

  “I said that it depended on how bad it was.”

  “What did Sam say to that?”

  “Nothing. He just walked away. We never talked about it again.”

  After thanking Ricardo, they walked back to the front of the kitchen. Joshua was talking to a tall blond waitress about an order. They called out their thanks, but he pretended not to hear them.

  “Do you think Chef Joshua studied at Cordon Bleu?” Clarissa whispered.

  “More likely he learned his trade at the state prison in Trenton.” Andrew smiled. “That’s no reflection on his skills. He probably fits in really well here.”

  “Just like eating at mom’s.”

  “Depends on whether your mom was a felon.”

  They went out and got in the car.

  “So Sam knew something,” Clarissa said, when they had been riding in silence for a while.

  “Something potentially incriminating about someone. Unless he was just talking about another kid at school who cheated or something like that.”

  “I think it was probably more important than that for it to bother him so much. Do you think we should tell the police?”

  “They probably already know. I’m sure they questioned the kitchen staff in the first day or two. They’re probably figuring that Sam knew something about Tyler. He called Tyler that night to say he was going to turn him in, and Tyler talked him into a meeting before he did anything. Then he killed the boy.”

  “But what could Tyler have done that would make him so desperate?”

  “You don’t know of anything?”

  “Of course not! Do you think I’d be going out with a guy who was hiding some major crime?”

  “You’d be the last person he’d tell anyway. I’m sure he cares about your opinion of him over that of anyone else.”

  “How can we check to see if he’s hiding something?”

  Andrew frowned. “We don’t have to. The police are already digging into it. If there is anything serious in his past that he’d want to conceal, they’ll find it. So I hope Tyler has lived with the purity of a saint.”

  Clarissa sat silently for a moment. “What if it wasn’t Tyler that Sam was referring to?”

  “Are there any other candidates?”

  “Not that I know about right now. But we have to keep looking. Maybe Chef Joshua and Restover are up to something.”

  “No doubt they are. Guys like that always have some scheme going. But how would Sam know about it?”

  “He may have overheard them talking in the kitchen.”

  “Let’s say that’s true, and they found out he knew something. Wouldn’t they pick a different location for the murder than the alley next to the restaurant?”

  “I suppose so,” Clarissa said, disappointed.

  They pulled into the church parking lot and before she could say any more about the case, Andrew leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. He leaned back and smiled at her.

  “I hope this is all over soon, so we can start moving ahead as a couple.”

  “I hope this is over soon as well,” Clarissa replied carefully. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she hopped out of the car and said good night.

  She was aware of Andrew sitting in the parking lot watching her until she was safely inside the parsonage, and not for the first time, she thought about what a basically decent guy he was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Clarissa got ready the next morning, she felt discouraged that more hadn’t been accomplished toward identifying Sam’s killer. She realized that she had been harboring a secret hope that she and Andrew would discover some important piece of information by questioning the employees of the Slipped Anchor. Looking back, she didn’t feel that very much had come of it. They knew that Sam was probably debating whether to turn someone in for doing something, but they didn’t know who or for what. Unless they filled in those missing pieces, Tyler was going to remain the prime suspect.

  She went down to breakfast and managed to convince Mrs. Gunn that she only wanted a bowl of cereal, although the housekeeper finally persuaded her to have a banana with it. Clarissa was quietly eating and reading the newspaper when Mrs. Gunn loudly cleared her throat. Clarissa looked up.

  “Joe has agreed to compromise on his wedding plans.” She smiled. “He really is an easy-going man, and nothing ever seems to bother him for very long. He liked your plan for narrowing down the number of wedding guests, and we’ve pretty much got it sorted out.”

  “Good. It’s wonderful that he’s got such an even disposition.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  Clarissa thought of the differences between Andrew and Tyler. Whereas Tyler could be stubborn and quick to argue, Andrew was logical and willing to see both sides. Not a drama queen herself, she wondered why she had been so attracted to the moody and mercurial Tyler since they met during their first semester at seminary. There was a spark, an immediate appeal, and it was more than his brooding good looks. There was also a passion to make something of his life no matter what the risk that set him apart from the other male seminary students, who were almost uniformly nice but careful and deliberate in their ways.

  There was something in Tyler’s passion to realize his dream that called to her passion to do the same. They both embraced their futures with intensity. But, thought Clarissa, maybe a couple can only have one person with that fire if they are going to survive in the long run. Otherwise, contrary sparks lead to an explosion. She liked to think that she had more control over her emotions than Tyler, but maybe deep down their similar motivations made it impossible for them to live together. That left kind, sweet Andrew. In many ways, the perfect man for her. His cool calmness would balance her passion. But somehow . . .

  “How are you doing with Tyler’s case?” Mrs. Gunn interrupted her thoughts.

  “Not very well. We know that Sam was upset with someone, but we don’t know who it could be.”

  “Boys are rebellious. They’re always upset with someone or other. Usually a parent or a teacher.”

  “I suppose, but I can’t get it out of my head that it had something to do with the Slipped Anchor Bar.”

  “Oh, that place, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit. That den of iniquity has been a blight on Shore Side for years.”

  “It seems to have changed, however. Last night it seemed positively wholesome when Andrew and I went there to speak with the employees.”

  “Well,” Mrs. Gunn said, making that one word drip with doubt, “I don’t believe it. The history of that place is too dark.”

  “Ed Schyler owns it now, and he seems to have made a pretty clean sweep.”

  “I’ve heard of him. He owns a lot of real estate around town. How long has he had it?”

  “About three months.”

  Mrs. Gunn shrugged. “Give it a year and see what the place is like. I guarantee it will revert to its old ways.”

  “So your wedding is good to go?” Clarissa asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “Yep, now that we’ve pared the guest list down. I’ve even got a nice room reserved at the Shore Side Inn for our reception.”

  “Great!”

  Mrs. Gunn stared across the kitchen. “I know it makes me sound like a foolish young girl, but I wish we’d skipped the big wedding and just gotten married right away. I can’t wait for us to begin living together.”

  “I think that sounds perfectly normal. I haven’t counseled a lot of young couples, but those I know have often talked the same way. Once the decision to get married is made, they want to get on with it.”

  “Plus we have to move. Neither one of us wants to live in the other one’s house. There are too many memories. So we’re looking for a place to move into, while at the same time selling our places.”

 
; “Moving is even worse than planning a wedding.”

  Mrs. Gunn sighed. “Fortunately, Joe doesn’t have a lot of stuff, so he’s going to sell his house first and move in with me.”

  “When is this going to happen?”

  “Hopefully before the wedding.” Mrs. Gunn gave Clarissa a sharp look. “Of course we’ll have separate rooms until the event.”

  “Of course,” Clarissa said, managing to keep a straight face.

  As she walked over to her office after breakfast, Clarissa smiled to herself as she considered how challenging relationships were no matter the time of your life. When she entered the office, Ashley was just hanging up the phone.

  “Bad news, Boss. Captain Boudreau put in another appearance last night.”

  Clarissa felt her gut tighten. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, just frightened. It was Leslie Harmon this time. From what Sylvia told me, the woman saw the ghost at the far end of the hall. He turned toward her and began walking very quickly. She managed to get in her room before he reached her. He banged on her door a couple of times, but when she got up the nerve to open the door a few minutes later, he was gone.” Ashley frowned. “I thought ghosts could sort of dematerialize and come through doors.”

  “Only real ones.”

  “I guess.”

  “Where was her husband during all this?”

  “He had stayed downstairs to read the newspaper. Sylvia would like you to come over as soon as you can. The police have already been called.”

  “I guess I’ll head over there right now. I have a feeling that Officer Rudinski will need my support for a proposal he wants to make to Lieutenant Baker.”

  “What sort of proposal?”

  “He thinks we should put an undercover agent in the inn posing as a guest.”

  “And the police will be watching, so when the ghost attacks your agent, bingo it’s all over.”

  “That’s the idea. But it has to be a woman, and there are no policewomen available. And it has to be someone who isn’t known around the inn.”

  “I can do it,” Ashley said quickly. Her eyes were wide and sparkled with excitement.

  “You aren’t very big.”

  “That just makes it more likely I’ll get attacked, and pound for pound I’m a tiger.”

  “Are you absolutely sure you want to volunteer for this?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything. There’s no reason why you should get to have all the fun.”

  “Okay. If Lieutenant Baker goes along with the plan, I’ll put in your name.”

  “Thanks, Boss. I’ll be sitting here working out—mentally, that is.”

  *****

  Clarissa went up the steps and onto the porch of the Shipwreck Inn, and knocked on the door. Sylvia opened it and gave her a wan smile. Clarissa was shocked to see how much of Sylvia’s natural exuberance had disappeared. She seemed to have shrunken into herself, and instead of her usual sturdy hug, she simply patted Clarissa on the shoulder.

  “I guess all my talk of selling the place hasn’t fooled him. Whoever it is seems determined to put me out of business.”

  “Don’t worry, Sylvia, it won’t come to that.”

  Sylvia shrugged, unconvinced.

  “Where’s Leslie Harmon?” Clarissa asked.

  “She’s sitting in the parlor with her husband. I’ve managed to talk the two of them into not leaving. Actually, it didn’t take a lot of effort. They both seem determined, for some reason, to remain until the end of their stay.”

  Clarissa went into the parlor. Joe and Leslie Harmon were sitting on the love seat in the corner reading.

  “How are you?” Clarissa asked, taking a seat across from Leslie.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I was frightened but nothing really happened. I saw this figure at the end of the hall who was dressed like a sea captain. All of a sudden he began walking up the hall toward me. I just stood there for a minute, like an idiot. Finally, I ran inside my room and shut the door. He knocked on the door, but then went away.”

  Clarissa could tell that although the woman was scared, she was also excited.

  “You know how it is,” Leslie went on, “the most boring people in the world are the ones who go on and on about their vacations. So usually if anyone asks, I just give a quick two-minute summary. But now I’ve got a real story to tell. I just hope the police solve this in the four days we have left in our stay here. A mystery without a good ending is no fun at all.”

  Clarissa smiled. “I’m sure the police will do their best.” She turned to Joe Harmon. “You weren’t here at the time?”

  “Unfortunately, I was in the parlor reading the paper. I didn’t know anything had happened until Leslie came running downstairs and told me.”

  The woman blushed. “It took me a while to work up enough courage to leave my room.”

  “I’m sure,” Clarissa said. “I think you were very brave to come out of your room at all.”

  “Did anyone else see or hear anything?’ Clarissa asked.

  Leslie shook her head. “Sylvia and her granddaughter were up on the third floor. Denise Lambson said she was already sound asleep.”

  “And you didn’t recognize this person?”

  “To be honest, my distance vision isn’t the best, and from the end of the hall, I really couldn’t see him very well. Once he started walking toward me, I sort of panicked. He could have had two heads, and I wouldn’t have noticed. I just wanted to get back inside my room.”

  Lieutenant Baker and Officer Rudinski walked into the parlor.

  “So we meet again,” the Lieutenant said to Clarissa with a small smile.

  “Yes, a habit I wish we could put an end to.”

  “Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, turning to the Harmons.

  Rudinski took out his notebook, but signaled with his eyes that Clarissa shouldn’t leave just yet. Figuring that he wanted her to hang around until he broached his plan to insert a decoy in the inn, Clarissa went out into the lobby to talk with Sylvia.

  “How’s it going, Sylvia?” Clarissa asked the woman who was slouched on a Victorian love seat in the lobby.

  She sighed. “I guess I have to get serious about selling the inn. Denise Lambson and the Harmons are being very nice to stay on in spite of everything, but word has gotten out. Before long people aren’t going to feel safe staying here. I’m only just getting by as it is, so if I lose any more customers, I’ll have to close.”

  “Some people will find it more appealing to stay here because of the risk,” Clarissa pointed out.

  Sylvia shook her head. “I can’t be responsible for anyone getting injured. As long as this ghost is around, I wouldn’t be comfortable having people stay. I’ll have to cancel all the reservations.”

  “There might be a way to catch this ghost.”

  “How?”

  Clarissa told her about Officer Rudinski’s plan.

  “Do you think it will work?” she asked Clarissa.

  “It’s worth a try. Whoever is behind all of this will probably find it hard to resist frightening a new victim.”

  Lieutenant Baker and Officer Rudinski came into the lobby.

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Harmon wasn’t able to give us much in the way of a detailed description of her attacker. Since it’s already well into September, the best thing to do might be to close the inn for this year. When you reopen next spring, whoever is doing this may have moved on,” the Lieutenant suggested.

  “I can’t afford it. And my granddaughter and I live here year round. Will we be safe?”

  Baker sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if you found another place to stay for the winter.”

  Sylvia cast a despairing look at Clarissa, who knew that the woman certainly couldn’t afford to close the inn and pay rent elsewhere. Clarissa stared hard at Officer Rudinski, who finally stepped forward.

  “Sir, I did have another plan that might help smoke out the attacker. I mentioned the plan to Pastor Abbot, and she thou
ght it might work.”

  “I think it’s a good idea as well,” Sylvia added.

  Baker raised an eyebrow and looked at Rudinski. “Well, since everyone else knows about this secret plan except for me, why don’t you fill me in?”

  After a somewhat halting start, Officer Rudinski clearly and meticulously explained his idea. When he was through, Lieutenant Baker turned to Sylvia. “And you have no objections to our using your premises this way?”

  “Not if it will catch this ghost.”

  “We need the right woman for the job, and as you mentioned, our only female officer is away on training. And it has to be someone who hasn’t been seen parading around the inn,” he added, glancing at Clarissa. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Rudinski shrugged.

  “What about my administrative assistant, Ashley?” Clarissa said.

  Baker shook his head. “The Goth! She’d frighten away an attacker. It has to be someone harmless and vulnerable.”

  “Maybe she’d be willing to wear a disguise,” Rudinski suggested.

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Clarissa said, concealing her doubts that Ashley would be willing to change her image.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Baker said. “I haven’t signed off on this whole idea yet. If we’re going to use a civilian as a decoy, I’m going to have to run it by the Chief. He may not approve.”

  Sylvia suddenly stood up straight and tall. “You’d better get this plan in place soon or else I’m going to lose my inn. And I have enough friends in town that we’ll have some influence when the next election for police chief takes place. So remind your boss of that.”

  Baker stared at her for a moment, then he turned and left, followed by Rudinski.

  “Authority,” Sylvia exclaimed. “I hated it back in the sixties, and I haven’t got any more use for it now. Give people a little power, and they think they get to decide everything.”

  “He’s in a tough spot,” said Clarissa.

  “I’m not exactly taking a walk in the park here. He should be willing to listen to reason. That young officer has a good plan. We need to act on it right away.”