by Eryn Scott
The Rickster exhaled a laugh. “Boy, did I.” He nodded, and excitement built in my chest. “I know you’re not technically an outsider anymore, since you own property here, and everything’s about property, right?”
A funny thing to hear from a man who lived on a houseboat, I mused.
He leaned in close. “There were a few outsiders there that morning.” He blew out a breath as if it were the most scandalous thing ever.
I’d remembered seeing a few people I didn’t recognize, but I’d just chalked it up to the fact that I was still getting to know everyone. Of course, this didn’t help with my Chief Clemenson angle. But it was an interesting point, and I wanted to follow it.
“Outsiders? Did they seem suspicious?” I asked.
The Rickster widened his eyes in a did they ever kinda way. “There were these two men,” he said conspiratorially, “and one of them was carrying an umbrella.” The Rickster said the last part as if the TSA had recently added umbrellas to the list of things banned for air travel.
I tilted my head. “An umbrella?” The flatness of my tone must’ve betrayed my letdown.
“I mean, first of all, it’s the summer, for Josh’s sake.” The Rickster squinted one eye. “Though, come to think of it, I’d probably make just as much fun of them if they’d been carrying one in the winter too.” He barked out a single syllable laugh.
I had seen those people. And even though I’d known they weren’t locals, I hadn’t paid them any real attention. They’d looked like a few people I’d seen in the months since I’d moved here: travelers who thought they were finding a cool, undiscovered little town they could brag about to their friends. Believe me, being from Portland, I knew the trend of being the first one to discover something small, bespoke, and quirky.
Unfortunately, for anyone who ended up stumbling onto Pebble Cove, while the place was adorable, gorgeous, and a small slice of paradise, it was also only that way for locals. Newcomers got the cold shoulder, something I’d definitely witnessed at Jolene’s tea shop that morning. After the multitude of stares and whispers they’d received that day, there was no way they would rave about Pebble Cove to their friends.
“There was that man with all the tattoos too,” the Rickster added.
I frowned. “That could describe most of the fishermen who live in Pebble Cove,” I said flatly.
The town was mostly fishermen, and they all had tattoos, some of which were fairly inappropriate.
“This guy wasn’t from around here,” the Rickster said matter-of-factly.
That line of questioning didn’t seem to pan out, so I went back to my original question. “Do you remember seeing the chief near the order counter at all while you were there?” I asked.
The Rickster screwed up his face into a contemplative scowl. “I can’t remember. You know who has a great memory for that kinda thing?”
I expected him to say someone obscure like, “My urologist, or my first wife, or my tadpole guy.” But instead, he just said, “Jolene.”
I turned to him, surprised.
He nodded as if my motion had been a question. “If you want to know about who was there that morning, ask Jolene.”
I finished my drink, leaving a few dollars on the bar since I didn’t see Jimmy anywhere.
“Thanks, Rick,” I muttered as I left him.
Jolene. Her name spun in my brain.
“Hey,” someone called as the bar door swung shut behind me.
Startled, I turned to see Jimmy standing out by a dumpster in the alley next to the bar.
“Hi.” I jabbed a thumb back toward the bar. “I left money on the counter,” I said, wondering if he thought I’d left without paying.
Jimmy tossed a bag of garbage into the dumpster, then shook his head. “I figured. No, I overheard you asking about anything unusual at the teashop that morning, the morning Murray died.”
My heart stopped for a moment, as if it were worried the sound of it beating would cause me to miss whatever was about to come out of Jimmy’s mouth.
Jimmy sniffed, wrinkling his nose as if he’d gotten a whiff of something unpleasant. “Saw some guy carrying an umbrella.” He snorted.
I felt like groaning. This again?
I was about to turn to leave, when he added, “Nobody but the chief would even talk to the weirdo.” Jimmy laughed.
Wait. The chief? This was just what I needed. I stayed still, like the clue might run away if I moved.
Carefully, I asked, “The chief was there? At Jolene’s that morning?” I tried to make the question sound innocent, like I was just asking about the weather, not whether or not the police might be involved in a crime.
Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s not one for tea, so he was outside, talking on his phone. Probably just stuck his head in to get a muffin or something.” Realizing I wasn’t going to make fun of the umbrella guy along with him, Jimmy was quickly losing interest in this conversation.
An engine revved behind me, making me jump. After almost being run over at my mailbox when I’d first arrived in Pebble Cove, I was still a little jumpy about that noise. I spun around to make sure the car wasn’t heading my way. The heat gathering in my face dissipated as I saw it was just a teenager showing off.
Turning back toward Jimmy, I opened my mouth to ask another question. But the side door to the bar was swinging shut, and Jimmy had disappeared inside before I could get anything out.
It felt like I’d just walked out of a loud concert as I continued down the street. My ears buzzed. The chief had been at Jolene’s that morning, and he’d been on the phone. Tabitha had gotten a phone call right before Murray drank the tea. Could it have been the chief?
I picked up my pace as I walked toward Jolene’s tea shop. Now I needed to talk to her more than ever. The question was: would she talk to me? She’d seemed to despise me that morning. The Rickster had explained her foul mood away because of Tabitha and Murray, but it could be leftover anger toward me for not selling her Grandma’s house and tea business.
As my doubt grew, I thought about Mom whenever she researched a topic. She was relentless, checking all the sources she could, looking in places others might not. That was how she found answers no one else uncovered.
If I wanted answers to my questions, I needed to ask the right people. Jolene might actually be the key here. I needed to find out if the chief had been inside before making that phone call.
I shaded my eyes with my hand against the afternoon sun and caught a glimpse of the tea company’s windows. I wasn’t sure if she kept longer hours all week or if that had just been for her opening day, but I hoped she would still be there.
She was. The door told me she was still open too. Not that I would’ve known it from walking inside. The place was dead, completely empty. A lot like my own tea shop had been earlier today. Jolene leaned on the counter, her face dropping into a frown when she noticed it was me.
I walked forward despite this apparent answer to my question from before. It hadn’t just been Tabby and Murray putting her in a bad mood. She didn’t like me. At all, as the case may be.
All the windows and doors were open, and a lovely breeze whipped through the building. The air smelled of coastal wildflowers and white-capped waves. I thought back to my own tearoom, baking in the heat with all my windows shut tight. I needed to solve this case if I would ever rediscover any semblance of peace of mind.
“Hi,” I said, eyeing her bakery case.
The whole thing was bare, sold out, picked clean. I gulped. Maybe we weren’t the same after all. Had she just sold out of all her stock and couldn’t serve any more customers?
“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding as bare as her pastry shelves. “What can I get you?”
Knowing this wasn’t going to help with her sour mood, I said, “Uh, nothing actually. I have a question, and someone told me you would be the person to ask.”
In her defense, she didn’t roll her eyes. I can’t say as much for the politeness of her t
houghts, but whatever they were, they didn’t translate onto her face. “Hit me,” she said.
“On your opening day …” I started, observing her as I asked, “Did you see the chief come in here at all?” I asked, averting my eyes and hoping I came off nonchalant.
After a moment of silence, I chanced a glance up.
Jolene pressed her lips forward in thought. When she caught me looking, she shook her head.
“No, the only time I saw him that whole day was when he showed up to help with … Murray.” Her voice sank like shoulders after grave news.
My heart hurt for her. I’d only met one killer in my life, but Jolene definitely didn’t seem to fit the bill.
So the chief hadn’t come inside. At least Jolene hadn’t noticed if he had. And neither had the Rickster. Not definitive in any way, but the chief also wasn’t a small man. It would’ve been difficult for him to sneak anywhere, especially in this town.
Maybe he really had been simply walking by. Also, he could’ve been on the phone with anyone, there wasn’t any proof it had been Tabitha on the other end of the call.
“What about Geoff Byer? Did you see him that morning?” I asked, trying out a different lead.
Jolene’s eyes widened. “No. I didn’t see him until later that day. I can tell you, if he’d shown his face in the teahouse, there would’ve been bedlam, for sure. I was sorry to hear what he did to your shed. I’m glad no one was hurt.”
I smiled in thanks.
“But at least he’s paying for it,” she added. “Well, that and everything else.”
“What do you mean, paying for it?” I asked.
Jolene stared at me blankly as if unused to locals who didn’t know everything that went on here. “The chief arrested Geoff.” She glanced down the road, toward the station. “Like, just after lunch.”
Right after he’d paid me a visit, I realized.
“For Murray’s death?” I asked.
Jolene nodded. “And your shed. He came by this morning asking a bunch of questions about the man who had all the tattoos, who was here the day Murray died—was killed. Apparently he’d gotten information that the tattoo guy and Geoff had been prison buddies.”
I raised my eyebrows. The Rickster had been right about the tattooed man being suspicious.
“The chief was almost positive that’s who put the poison in the drinks,” Jolene continued. “Like I said, if Geoff had shown his face in here, no one would’ve let that slip by unnoticed.”
The words swirled around me, making me a little dizzy. But I realized I shouldn’t be. I should be happy they had caught the killer. It made sense.
“Are you hungry?” Jolene asked me, her gaze narrowing.
It was an odd question, so odd I almost checked my watch to see if it was close to dinnertime.
“It’s just, you keep looking at the bakery case, that’s all,” Jolene added, seeing her query took me by surprise.
I suppose my gaze had wandered that way a few times as we’d been speaking. “Sorry, I just spent way too much time trying to be a baker in the last few days.” I waved a hand. “I was trying to find something to entice people to come out my way other than tea. But it was kinda a flop.” I felt whiny and pouty, so I straightened my posture. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you with that. I’m glad you’re doing so well. It looks like you sold out.”
Jolene’s mouth dropped open a little. She let out a dry laugh before saying, “I sold out of my baked goods, yes, but I didn’t sell a single drop of tea.” Plopping down on the stool behind the counter, she rubbed her forehead. “I might as well just open a bakery at this point.”
I remembered back to the oversteeped Earl Grey I’d had here the other day. Paired with the fact that she’d tried to buy my grandma’s tea recipes earlier this year, it made sense.
“Why don’t you?” I asked, realizing too late that it was a rude thing to say and possibly sounded like I was trying to get rid of my competition. “You’re obviously very good at it,” I added, hoping it would sound better.
Jolene wrung her hands in front of her. “My sister and I always dreamed about opening a tea shop. She was the tea, I was the baked goods. A few years ago, we got into a huge fight about money, and she hasn’t talked to me since.”
I remembered hearing about her family issues when I’d first moved to town. “I’m so sorry.”
As someone who didn’t have siblings, I couldn’t sympathize with what missing that relationship would mean. But I thought about my mom, and the idea of not talking to her for years—even a week—sounded awful.
Mom’s advice about sticking to one thing at a time and focusing on what I was good at popped into my mind. Along with it came an idea.
“Jolene,” I said, my lips pulling up into a hopeful smile, “I have a proposition for you.”
15
A couple days after my meeting with Jolene, Tea by the Sea was bustling. I hummed a cheerful song as I loaded another glass serving tray with beautiful, perfectly browned scones and placed the clear glass cover over the top.
As if the day wasn’t wonderful enough already, Asher appeared just as I set the fresh batch of scones on the tea bar. He looked a little fuzzier than normal, but he was here. His smile grew into a cheerful question as he looked around.
I wanted to say hello and talk his ear off, but the place was so crowded that I had Merle sitting at the bar near me.
Just because I couldn’t talk didn’t mean Asher had to stay quiet. He walked over, hands open. “The place is busy. That’s awesome, Rosie.” His eyes lighted on the scones and the three different varieties of cookies sitting on display along the bar. “Wait, how long was I gone? Did you learn to bake?”
I shot Merle a sidelong glance and even though he sat there in silence, I said, “What was that, Merle? Did you ask where the baked items came from?”
The fisherman frowned, about to shake his head, but I interrupted him.
“Well, it’s a funny story, but Jolene from the Pebble Cove Tea Company and I decided to collaborate. She’ll now be selling my tea blends, and I’ll be selling her baked items.”
Even though I was supposed to be telling Merle, I looked at Asher to get his reaction. He applauded to show me he was impressed.
“Also, Merle,” I said, looking over to him, “each location will feature a special tea blend and a unique bakery item that will be unavailable at the other, so you’ll want to make sure and visit both locations.”
That had been Jolene’s idea. As my mom had suggested, we were both focusing on our strengths. And now, I didn’t have to worry about her downtown location or baked items taking away my business, nor did she need to stress over the draw my beachfront views or specialized tea might have on her customers.
Asher beamed. Merle looked like he wished he’d chosen a different seat.
For the next few hours, I stayed busy with the customers while Asher caught up on his news, reading the paper over the shoulders of the handful of customers who brought one with them. I realized I should probably just get a newspaper subscription myself. Asher could read it, and then we’d have one more hanging around in case someone forgot theirs.
When the last customer left, and I closed the shop for the day, he sat by our puzzle, waiting for me.
“I’m so proud of you. This was an outstanding idea.” Asher’s blue eyes sparkled as they followed me.
I sat across from him, happy to be off my feet after the long day. “Thanks, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”
Asher’s smile faded. “You didn’t think of it before because she hated you before. And you suspected her of being a murderer.” His face contorted with worry. “Are you worried about how this might go down if she was the one to kill Murray?”
I sucked in a quick breath. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know. Geoff was the man’s name you couldn’t remember when you were telling me the story of Murray’s local rival. And he just got out of prison. After you disappeared, I learned that G
eoff’s arson calling card was green flames. Apparently, he puts some sort of cleaning solution in the flame, and it turns it green like that. That, added to the fact, Grandma testified against him and put him at the scene where Tabby’s first husband was killed on their boat.” I paused here for effect.
Asher’s eyes widened with interest.
Continuing, I said, “Geoff’s prison buddy was at the tearoom the morning Murray was killed, so the chief believes he paid him to poison Murray and Tabby’s drinks. The chief arrested him the other day, both for Murray’s murder and the arson that took down my shed.” I shrugged. “Nothing left to do until they find the prison buddy, I guess.”
“Oh …” Asher’s face was an open book, and it had to be some sort of advanced-level text because it was filled with questions I knew would not be easy to answer. “That doesn’t seem too easy to you?"
Hard question number one. I ran my finger along the tabletop, to wipe a rogue crumb onto the floor. “Everyone seems satisfied. Carl even admitted that it made more sense than Tabby killing Murray.”
Asher’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “The man got out of prison after twenty years, and he immediately uses the very calling card that got him put away in the first place? It seems kinda dumb.”
I snorted. “I know you don’t watch a lot of television, but they have an entire show devoted to dumb criminals.”
Asher bobbed his head in acceptance. “Okay, you’re right.” He tapped his fingers on the table even though they made no noise. “Did you ever find out what poison killed Murray?” he asked.
My shoulders drooped. “I was close, but … no.”
“Did Lois end up helping you? Did she come back?” He leaned forward.
I frowned. “She’s still gone. Max is upset, and we’re looking everywhere. I even invited myself into Doc’s house the other day, telling him I wanted to make tea for him. But I only got into the kitchen before he kicked me out, threatening to call the chief. I didn’t see her anywhere inside.”
