by Linda Wiken
CHAPTER 22
J.J. made a quick stop at Book Titles on her way in to work the next morning. She’d stopped by for a book she’d read a review about, Pret-a-Party by Lela Rose. She thought it might add some inspiration to her planning events. She couldn’t resist a quick look in the cookbook section and thumbed through the new Food52 Genius Recipes cookbook displayed on a table of new arrivals. She left with two purchases.
Back at the office, she placed the books on her desk, planning to go through each of them after checking her e-mail. She groaned at the number of new ones and had just clicked on the first one when Detective Hastings walked in.
“Miss Tanner, do you have a few minutes? I have a few more questions.” He looked over at Skye and nodded in her direction.
Skye looked from one to the other and then grabbed her jacket and purse. “I think I’ll go get some coffee. You two can have the run of the office.” She threw J.J. an inquiring look as she made her way behind Hastings, to the door.
“What’s on your mind, Detective?” J.J. asked, pleased her voice had just the right amount of curiosity and none of the anxiety she felt.
“I have some more questions about the timetable for the casino event. I just wanted to double-check that what you gave me was the final copy, that nothing had been added or changed.” He pulled over a chair and sat at the side of her desk.
“You came all the way here just for that?” She wondered what else was on his mind.
“No. I came to Half Moon Bay to visit Zane Anderson at his restaurant, the Harry’s Haven, but it seems to be closed.” He stared at her. She tried to keep her face neutral. How did he find out about it? “So I thought I’d visit you, too.”
Hastings looked around the room and then back at J.J., stating in a casual tone, “He’s Connor Mac’s former business partner, you know.”
“Well, I do now. I knew that Connor had been a partner in a restaurant venture but he talked about it only once, and he’d never mentioned the other person’s name.”
“And you didn’t think to bring up the matter of the restaurant when we were asking about Mr. Mac?” His voice had hardened.
She shrugged, trying not to look too flustered. “The restaurant venture happened several years ago. It didn’t even come to mind.”
He glanced at the cookbook she’d left on the desk. “That’s got some great recipes,” he said, picking it up.
“So I’m told. I get their daily digests on the internet.” What is he doing? Trying to throw me off-balance?
“Some nice photos, too.” Hastings glanced up at her and smiled, the first really friendly smile she’d seen. Had he heard about her cookbook addiction? Had everyone heard?
“I’m always on the lookout for a cookbook to use for our monthly dinner club meetings. I’ve mentioned the Culinary Capers before, haven’t I?”
He nodded. “And that sounds like my kind of group. I’ve been looking for a book club and I sure do enjoy cooking.”
J.J. felt her mouth hanging open. Is he asking to join?
“What? Police officers aren’t supposed to read or cook?” His blue eyes twinkled as he asked his question.
She swallowed hard. “I, well, sure. After all, Alison Manovich is a member and a cop. I guess I picture you as solving murders all the time.”
He leaned toward her. “I do have a bit of a private life, now and then.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that.
He sat back and flipped through the book. “This looks interesting. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Good. Now, about the Harry’s Haven and the partnership. You’re absolutely certain there’s nothing additional you’re not telling me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well then, about this timetable. It’s definitely the final copy?”
She nodded.
“And, as far as you know, it all happened as laid out? Everyone was where they were supposed to be at any given moment?”
“That’s asking a lot. I have no way of knowing the last part, because I couldn’t be everywhere at once.” She heard the edge in her tone and dialed it back. “As far as I know, they were, and everything went according to plan.”
“Except for the murder.”
“There is that.”
He stood abruptly. “Thanks for your time. Good luck with the cooking.”
Skye must have passed him in the hall. “So he was a cheery boy in leaving. What happened?”
“We actually got to talking about books and cooking,” she admitted.
“Let me get this right. The cop detective who you’ve had run-ins with for many moons now, came all the way here to question you, and you end up comparing plots and recipes?” She deposited a latte on J.J.’s desk on the way to her own. “The plot thickens, as they say.”
“It did seem a bit unusual, that’s for sure. Maybe a technique he’s developing to throw the unsuspecting off guard. But I’m also sure he’ll be back to his old snarky self the next time I see him.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think he does snarky very well, too. That British accent sends goose bumps up and down my spine, and he’s really quite good-looking, when he smiles.”
“Am I wrong or are you not hoping for a ring on your finger?”
“A woman can still look and appreciate, maybe even daydream a bit.”
Of course he would be back to snarky. Or maybe it was a tactic, trying to be friendly so she’d divulge what she knew. And, she had. Well, as much as she knew about the restaurant partnership, which really was nothing. She hadn’t even added the fact that Connor and Miranda had spent some weekends at Zane Anderson’s cottage. There was a limit, after all.
“Hey, J.J.,” Evan said, leaning around the door and waving at Skye.
“What’s up, Evan?”
“I just saw our fine detective leaving. What did he want?” Evan glanced behind himself before walking into the room.
“More questions. What else?” She heard Skye snicker but didn’t look over at her.
“Well, he should have asked me, because I just remembered something about the cottage that Connor and Miranda used to slip away to.”
“He knows about Zane Anderson, the ex-partner, and had wanted to talk to him, but his restaurant is closed, for now.”
“Huh. Well, the cottage actually was owned by Anderson’s grandmother, at that time anyway. She’s a Redding, as in the Redding family of local fame.”
“The Reddings who own the Redding Winery?”
“You got it. And the Redding Resort and Redding Center. Anyway, the last time I saw her was at a Christmas party that a client threw to show off her new décor, and, of course, she’d invited me. Mrs. Wallis Redding may be in her eighties, but she’s a real go-getter and a smart businesswoman. She still runs the family business, although she allows her sons to do the day-to-day stuff.”
“You are a wealth of information. What made you remember?”
“Funnily enough, a new client who wants a makeover in time for Christmas. I was showing her some of my work, and there was the Redding house, and that reminded me of meeting the grande dame. Did I mention that Zane Anderson was along with her? She introduced him and mentioned the restaurant. We did all that ‘small world’ talk, and then they did the requisite oohing and aahing. All very friendly-like.”
“Sounds delightful, and thank gosh for your memory. I guess we can check the land registry office for the information now that we have the right name.”
“We, as in your PI?”
“He’s not my anything, but, yes, he’s the one to do it. Unless you and I pay a visit to Mrs. Redding and ask her some questions about maybe where her grandson is, like, perhaps at her cottage—and its location?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Evan looked puzzled for a moment.
“Ah, now the ‘we’ is you and me. Correct?”
“You’re my man, Evan. How about it?”
He looked over at Skye. “This sounds like a bad
idea to me. What do you think?”
Skye shrugged. “I think all of her investigating is a bad idea, but if it works, why not?”
“Okay. You’re on. I think I’d better call first for an appointment. We don’t want to go barging in and maybe ruin chances of getting some information.”
“Now you’re in the spirit,” J.J. said eagerly.
“She probably won’t remember me, I hate to admit, but I’ll give it a try. What do I say if she asks for a reason?”
“The truth. Say it’s a matter of utmost personal importance, and if she still wants more, tell her we’re trying to get in touch with her grandson or Connor Mac or both and want to talk to her in person.”
“All right. I’ll call from my office in case she has caller ID. Hopefully she’ll recognize the business name. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He pulled the door shut behind him, and J.J. looked over at Skye.
“Really? You think my investigating is a bad idea?”
“Of course I do. I know the police don’t appreciate it, Devine is usually furious at you because of it, and most importantly, it’s dangerous. But I also know you do what you think is best, so good luck. I’ll be there to bail you out or choose the casket.”
“Ouch.”
“Well, you did ask and you are my dear friend. And I worry about you. But I suppose it’s not so bad if you have a sidekick along at all times. My money is on the PI.”
“He should be so lucky,” J.J. muttered as she went back to her computer. She checked her e-mail and answered the most pressing, which took all of ten minutes, and at that point, Evan popped back into the office.
“She’s cool. In fact, she said we could come over right now. I hope that works, because I really don’t want to call her back.”
“Why not? What happened?”
“Her assistant happened. I’d forgotten about the old battle-ax. Oh, did I say that? I meant to say, her personal assistant.” He made a face and waited while J.J. shut down her computer and grabbed her things.
“Have fun, kiddies,” Skye called out.
J.J. wiggled her fingers as they left.
• • •
“Multi dollars involved in all this real estate,” J.J. muttered as they drove farther into the ultraexclusive historic area of Burlington. “Thanks for driving, Evan. I would have us off the road by now with all this eye candy.”
Evan chuckled. “This is where it happens, J.J. If I could get even a couple of more contracts around here, I’d be set for life.” He sighed. “Always a dream.”
“I’ll bet they throw some dynamite parties, too.”
“Oh yeah. It’s a good place to get some contacts in your line of work, too.” He slowed the car. “This should be it, coming up on the right.”
J.J. stared and realized she’d better close her mouth before getting out of the car. She should be getting used to opulence, with the number of prestigious houses she’d visited lately. But this won by a rooftop. It was taller, larger, and more of a surprise. Three stories, at least, with maybe a room or two in the attic, judging by the windows. A wraparound porch that added about half a room of outdoor living. And its white clapboard exterior punctuated by bright blue and black trim. The property seemed to go on forever, as did the driveway they’d just driven up, which continued in through the forest behind the house.
“Do you think they have video surveillance?” she asked under her breath as they approached the house.
“Guaranteed.” Evan reached out to knock on the door, but it was opened by a butler before his knuckles touched wood.
“Evan Thornton and J.J. Tanner to see Mrs. Redding.”
They followed the silent butler to the right, down a hallway immediately off the large foyer. J.J. was getting used to the idea of butlers by now. However, this one didn’t fit the stereotype. Nothing Downton Abbey about him. The collar and cuffs of a white dress shirt peaked out from underneath a navy V-neck pullover sweater, complete with some sort of crest on the left side of his chest. His navy trousers sported a razor-sharp crease. And his black leather loafers barely sounded along the tiled hallway. The hunter green walls displayed a variety of contemporary art, nothing recognizable to J.J., but certainly a couple of different artists with a penchant for colors.
The butler wordlessly directed them into a small office at the end of the hall. J.J. glanced around the office, admiring the clean lines and blend of shades of gray. Her eyes came to rest on the personal assistant, she assumed, who was busily reading her computer screen. After what she must consider an appropriate amount of time, she looked up at them.
“I’m Natasha, Mrs. Redding’s personal secretary. Mrs. Redding will be with you in a few minutes.” She pointed to two chairs in the far corner. They looked comfortable but uninviting.
J.J. sat and watched the assistant, who continued to ignore them. She looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, with dark hair pulled back in a knot. She wore a long-sleeved navy cardigan over a white blouse. After ten minutes, the woman stood, revealing she wore a pair of pants similar to the butler’s, and gestured to them to follow her. She knocked lightly on the door behind her desk and opened it, staying in her own office.
J.J. followed Evan, who, hand extended, walked over to Mrs. Redding, who was sitting in a chair facing the door. A cane leaned against one arm.
“Thank you so much for seeing us on such short notice.”
Wallis Redding nodded and gave them both a close inspection while J.J. did the same. Her name suited her. The short white hair hinted at blonde highlights, she hadn’t tried to hide her age with any major surgery, and she wore a plain dark red dress with short sleeves, barely revealed under the dark, multicolored pashmina draped around her shoulders.
When they had passed muster, they were invited to have a seat. This time there were four wing chairs, upholstered in what J.J. thought must be real velvet, grouped around a coffee table.
“Now, tell me what this urgent business is about,” she said, directing her request to Evan.
J.J. could see her better in that lighting and noticed the delicate lines around her eyes and mouth, pegging her age in the high seventies.
“We’re friends of Connor Mac and we’re trying to find him,” Evan said, and then nodded to J.J. “Actually, J.J. can better explain it all.”
Thanks. “That’s basically it. Connor went missing last week and hasn’t contacted any of his friends. His car was spotted on South Hero Island, though, and we wondered if he might be using your cottage. I understand he’s used it before. We wanted to ask your grandson, but it appears he’s on holiday, too.”
“And you wonder if they’re holed up together at my place.”
Clever lady. “We’re hoping that’s what’s happened. Connor was in pretty rough shape last time we saw him, and it would be good if he’s with a friend.”
“Yes. The Miranda Myers death. Such a tragedy.” Mrs. Anderson sat up a bit straighter. “She was such a pretty young thing, but she was hard on men.”
“You knew her?”
“Of course I did. She was engaged to my grandson, Zane, for a while.”
“She was?” J.J. felt her jaw drop. Again.
“Oh yes. They met when Connor and Zane had the restaurant together. She, of course, was engaged to Connor at that time but when she met Zane, well, it was the proverbial sparks flying.”
“Did Connor know? Is that what broke them up?”
Wallis Redding gave her an odd look. “Of course he knew. When your fiancée leaves you for another, and it turns out to be your business partner, there’s no way to keep your head in the sand.”
J.J. let the information settle. She looked at Evan, who looked as shocked as she felt. “Is that what broke up the partnership?”
“Of course.” Now J.J. felt she was being addressed like a nitwit. “Connor was furious. Zane did the honorable thing and bought him out and kept the restaurant going. I felt sure there’d be a wedding very shortly, but then she went and broke it o
ff.”
“She dumped your grandson after dumping Connor?” Evan sounded truly amazed. “Had she met someone else?”
Wallis shrugged. “I don’t really know. Zane was very upset, as you can imagine, and wouldn’t talk much about it. He threw himself into work and continues to do so. She did break his heart, and I think it’s still not mended.”
“How did he take the news of her death?” And do the police consider him a suspect?
“How would you expect he’d handle it? He was tormented all over again.”
“Do you know if he had contact with Connor?”
“You mean, after the death or after the dissolving of their partnership? The answer to the second is, after a time they started to have contact again. Connor had insisted that a stipulation in the dissolution was that he be entitled to free dinners in perpetuity. I doubt he’d intended to do so, but it was a bit of a dig at Zane. I had heard, though, that he was making use of that clause on occasion.” She allowed a slight smile.
“Could they both be at your cottage?”
“I don’t know who, if anyone, is at the place. I don’t go there anymore. It belongs to Zane, as far as I’m concerned. But I do know that he is in Turks and Caicos. We have a house there and he needed to get away. I spoke to him yesterday. He should be coming home next week sometime.”
“Is it possible Connor could access your cottage on his own?”
“I have no idea. I would highly doubt it, but perhaps the two were in contact with each other and in their sorrow, have put aside their feud. It happens.”
“Could you please tell us where it is?”
She took a few moments before answering, and J.J. felt her hopes plummet. What if she didn’t want them poking around her place or in Zane’s affairs?
“I’ll have Natasha give you a map. It’s on North Hero but well off the main road. Now, if there’s nothing else?” She reached for her cane, effectively dismissing them.
They had to wait several more minutes while Natasha located the map and printed a copy for them. She handed it over, and the butler appeared magically, leading them back to the front door. Again, no words were spoken.
