by Lynn Cahoon
Greg put on a baseball cap with the South Cove seal and then took his bulletproof vest out from behind the door. “What do you think I’m meeting Toby for?”
Walking home, I considered Greg’s side of the situation. I was a private citizen, no matter how much I loved investigating. But still, you’d think that the guy could have said something during the ten minutes I’d sat there and told him everything he’d already known. Sometimes the man could be infuriating.
Instead of running with Emma, I took a frozen pizza out and put extra cheese on top before throwing it in the oven. Then I turned on the deep fryer and cooked some frozen fries for an appetizer. To round out the meal, I’d open a pint of Rocky Road for dessert. I poured a glass of zinfandel and took my fries and wine to the couch. I popped the first Harry Potter movie into the DVR player and settled in to enjoy. Emma stared at me from the corner of the couch. “Let Greg deal with South Cove’s crime. I’m a bookseller, for goodness’ sakes, not a private eye.”
Convinced that I wasn’t going to hand over a fry or two, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. When I finished the Harry Potter movie, I started on my romantic comedy collection. The phone rang during Sleepless in Seattle and woke me.
My eyes watered and blurred as I watched Meg Ryan climb into the closet with her corded phone. I laid my head back down on my pillow when my cell rang again. I didn’t look at the display when I answered, “Hello?”
“Why didn’t you tell me Greg had found Kent’s killer?” a woman’s voice shrilled in my ear. “Didn’t I make it clear you should be reporting your progress back? Or did you even try? Maybe Greg figured the whole thing out without any help from you.”
I sat up stretching my neck, which was kinked from my nap on the couch. “Who is this?” I held out the phone to try to see if the display showed a name, but nope, just a local phone number.
“Your worst nightmare. Now that I’m off the hook for Kent’s murder, I’m going after Greg.”
For a minute, I didn’t understand her threat. This was crazy, why would anyone be telling me their homicidal plans? “You’re going to try to kill Greg?”
“Ha, not unless I can get him so worked up he has a heart attack.” The caller paused. “Are you stupid or something? I said I’m going to get Greg to come back to me.”
Then I realized it was Sherry on the phone. But what she’d said initially kept echoing. “Wait, Greg arrested someone for Kent’s murder? Who?”
“You really are worthless. Check out the local news station.” Then the phone clicked in my ear.
The good news was I didn’t have to help Pat prove Sherry’s innocence any longer. The bad news was the girl didn’t think I’d done squat, so her plans for the total destruction of our relationship was front and center on her mind. I paused the movie because I really wanted to watch the scene where Meg flies to Seattle and spies on Tom Hanks, and turned on the local newscast.
The weatherman—or meteorologist, as he liked to be called—was finishing up his weekend predictions. I held my breath, hoping Sunday would bring torrential rains or hurricane-strength winds. Instead, the day was going to be the first nice day in the entire month. Not what I wanted to hear. When he turned it over to the newscasters, I almost missed the short recap of a rumored drug bust in South Cove. We’d gone through this last year but Conner’s arrest felt more personal. The guy was one of the Business-to-Business members, even though he rarely showed. Now I understood what had kept him away; he had a second business to run.
“Unconfirmed reports from sources who claim to have been close to Kent Paine, who died under suspicious circumstances a few weeks ago, say the arrest may close that case, as well.” The blond newscaster read off the teleprompter, dropping her smile so she wouldn’t appear uncaring.
“Bad business.” Her co-anchor let his own smile drop as he shook his head.
“Very bad business,” I repeated, finishing the last of the nearly melted ice cream. I sent a quick text to Greg, knowing that he couldn’t talk, and went to bed.
CHAPTER 20
Except for a quick return text wishing me sweet dreams, Greg had been silent. I kept myself occupied, running with Emma before work, and then the shop had been busier than normal. Everyone wanted to talk about Conner’s arrest. Had I known him well? He seemed like such a nice boy. And, of course, the ultimate question: Do you think he really killed that banker guy?
By midmorning, I felt overwhelmed. Part of me knew my happy place wasn’t in the front of the house. I enjoyed working my early shift because we didn’t get the crowds. As an introvert, the constant stimulation of people wanting to chat drained me. Maybe someday when the business was doing better financially, I could just have Sasha work the morning shift, then I could just do the office stuff.
I was still daydreaming about it when Toby arrived. He blinked at the almost-full tables and hurried to take off his coat. “Looks like you’ve had a morning.” He chuckled as he washed his hands. Donning a clean apron, he started refilling the coffee cups. “Let me guess, they all want to know if you have insider information on the Conner arrest.”
“I’m sure your shift will be busier, since they assume you’re a better source than I am.” I poured out the last of the strong coffee into a cup and started a new pot. “If Greg and I ever break up, my walk-in traffic is going to die.”
“Not likely, you do realize the caffeine we serve is addicting. They’ll keep coming, just to see how you’re doing with the split. There’s always a mini–soap opera going on in small towns. Didn’t you know that?” Toby eyed the dessert display case and nodded his approval. “You’ve done all my prep work today. What, nothing to read?”
“I couldn’t get settled. I kept hoping Greg would call.” I collapsed on a stool in front of the counter, took a quick glance around the room, and lowered my voice. “Is it true? Did Conner kill Kent?”
Toby didn’t answer right away. Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned over the counter. “Greg says he’s a person of interest. Conner swears he was out of town with some chick that day, but we haven’t been able to find her to support his story. It could all be a lie, but the dude sounds sincere.”
“A sincere drug dealer?” I sipped my coffee. “It would be nice to have this drama over.”
“According to Conner, someone approached him about the same time Craig Morgan was killed last year. The shop had been struggling, so he thought it would be a way to keep his art studio going until he was discovered for his true talent.” The bell rang over the door, and Toby’s attention went to the new customer. “And that’s all you’ll get from me. If you want more, ask your boyfriend.”
“Like I’ll see Greg before next week,” I grumbled. I felt a hand on my back and turned to look into his blue eyes.
“Ask and you shall receive.” He kissed me and then looked up at Toby. “Four large coffees to go. The district attorney’s coming in, and I’m not subjecting him to Esmeralda’s green tea this morning.”
“You could have called. I would have delivered these.” Even after what I knew had been a long night, the guy looked powerful in his jeans and fresh shirt. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
Greg shrugged. “A few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll be fresh as a daisy tomorrow when I pick you up for our adventure.”
“Five, right?” I tried to sound excited, but honestly, I’d thought maybe Conner’s arrest would have put the fishing trip on hold. Like, forever.
Greg chuckled. “Wear layers. It can be pretty cold in the morning, but by midafternoon, we’ll be getting a tan.”
Toby put the last cup into a cardboard holder and grinned. “You want to add something sweet to this, just in case the guy’s in a sour mood getting called out on a weekend?”
Greg took a ten out of his wallet for the coffee. “John can get his own breakfast.” He kissed me again. “See you tomorrow morning.”
I thought about mentioning Sherry’s call, but we’d have time to talk tomorrow. Lots o
f time, if my memories of past fishing trips held true. I put my hand on his arm, squeezed, and lied. “I’m looking forward to it.”
After Greg left, I updated Toby on the few tasks I didn’t complete, then finished my coffee while wandering through the new releases on the shelves. I found a women’s fiction from a favorite author that I hadn’t remembered ordering, and headed home. Time for a few chores, then I’d eat a salad to make up for the junk-food meal I’d had the day before and dive into the author’s world.
True to his word, Greg knocked on my door right at 5 a.m. the next morning. I unlocked the door and motioned to the kitchen. “Coffee’s on and I have cinnamon rolls just coming out of the oven.”
He followed me into the kitchen. “Smells wonderful in here. You didn’t have to make anything. Jim ordered sandwiches and chips from Lille’s. He’s on his way there now and will meet us at the marina.”
“That’s lunch. I’m hungry now.” I poured coffee into a carafe. “Does Jim take cream or sugar?”
“Nope, he’s a simple man, just like me. Real men like their coffee black.” Greg got three travel cups out of the cabinet. “Fill mine up now. Jim can pour his own once we’re on the boat.”
Once the coffee was set, the oven timer went off on the cinnamon rolls. “Sadie brought these over last night with specific instructions on how to bake. I love her to death, but sometimes I think she believes I’ve never turned on my stove before.”
“You can get distracted.” He held up the book I had set on the table when I let him in. “Like when you’re reading.”
I grabbed the book and tucked it into my bag. “Sue me, I love a good story.” I placed the disposable pan into a fabric carrier Sadie had let me borrow to transport the rolls. “Coffee, rolls, napkins.” I checked off my mental list. “What am I forgetting?”
“A hat and sunscreen if you have some.” Greg eyed the rolls. “You think we should try one, just in case they aren’t completely done?”
I slapped his hand as he reached to unzip the cover. “They’re fine. You’re just going to have to wait. And I’ve already packed a hat, sunscreen, and hand wipes.” I nodded to the oversized bag I’d gotten out last night. The thing could carry a laptop, a couple of books, and still have room for a few bottles of water. “Should we bring bottled water?”
“Jim should be getting some, but it might not hurt.” Greg went to the fridge and pulled out six chilled bottles. “You have a small cooler we can take?”
I pulled out a soft-sided cooler painted with a beach scene. “Amy gave me this last summer when she took me out for a surfing lesson.”
“I would have paid to see that.” He packed the water and took ice cubes out of the freezer to keep the bottles cold.
I ignored his comment and took a bone out of the cabinet for Emma. I gave my dog a kiss on the head and herded her outside. “See you tonight.”
When we got to the marina, Jim was already on the boat waiting for us. “Took you long enough.”
“We brought breakfast,” Greg offered, holding up the rolls and coffee.
I could tell when the smell of the rolls reached Greg’s brother because his frown disappeared—for two-point-five seconds. He turned and started untying the boat. “Well, get in and let’s get going.”
The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains as we left the marina. I sat on a bench and watched the beach disappear as we moved out into open water. The gulls were flying overhead, arcing around our wake. Greg sat down next to me and put his arm around me.
“Nice, huh?” He leaned back, stretching his neck. “I needed this break.”
Cuddling closer to break the chill of the wind the boat was creating, I put my head on his chest. “I’m glad you invited me.”
“Made you come with me, you mean.” He stroked my hair. “Sherry hated outings like this, so Jim and I usually went alone.”
“No wonder he wasn’t happy to see me.” The marina lights were almost dots now. “Sherry called me Friday night to warn me she’s taking you back.”
“Typical Sherry.” He pulled his head away and tilted my head up so he could see my face. “You told her to bring it, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Kind of. She woke me up and I didn’t know who had called for a while. I guess that ticked her off. Then when she said she was going after you, I laughed.”
“Well, she visited me at the station yesterday. All dressed up with nowhere to go.”
I pushed aside the bit of worry that hit my stomach. “So what did she say?”
“Oh, some sort of crap about rekindling our friendship even though we weren’t together anymore.” A grin curved his lips. “So I invited her to join us today.”
“You what?” Jim stood over us. I hadn’t noticed the boat slowing, but now we sat still in the water, the engine idling. “She hates anything outdoorsy.”
“You don’t see her here, do you?” Greg laughed. “I knew she wouldn’t come. But the invitation got her out of my office and quick. She claimed she’d promised Pat they would go over the monthly accounts for Vintage Duds today.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s giving up,” I pointed out.
Jim scowled. “Marriage should be forever, but I swear, Sherry makes it hard for me to support her.”
I turned to look at Jim and for the first time, I saw compassion for me in his eyes. Maybe this trip had been a good idea. I felt Greg’s arm tighten around me.
“Don’t worry, I’m a one-woman man.” He laughed. “Jim, do you remember the weekend we took off to camp at Lake Tahoe?”
Jim sat on the bench across from us and poured a cup of coffee. “Yep. We got to the spot where we were pitching our tent and Sherry threw a fit. She tried to call a taxi to take her home.”
“I didn’t know national forests had taxi services.” I smiled at the image.
“They don’t. But she made our weekend miserable.” Jim nodded to the pan of cinnamon rolls. “You mind if I have one?”
“I’ll dish one up for all of us.” I started to stand, but Jim waved me down.
“No need, I’ll get them.” He carefully unzipped the container and served us each a still warm roll. After he sat back down, he paused before he took a bite. “Elizabeth used to bake these every Sunday before we went to church. I haven’t had one since she passed.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Jim shook his head. “It’s a good memory. No use apologizing for something that brings back the good times.”
We ate our breakfast in silence. And when we were done, Jim stood and wiped his eyes. “Thanks for bringing food.”
As he walked toward the cabin, Greg called out, “We fishing here?”
“That’s what we came for,” Jim called back as he brought back three poles.
I watched the men prepare the lines for each pole and thought about the power of food. It could bring back memories and maybe, just maybe, heal a pain. And for once, I didn’t feel like Jim hated me for being the other woman. Maybe Greg’s plan to get his brother used to me by proximity was working. All I had to do was get through the day. And learn to bait my own hook with what smelled like dead, rotten fish.
I put down my cup and went to watch the process, willing to learn.
Eight hours later, we were back at the marina. Jim and Greg, who had ignored my multiple offers of sunscreen, were red as a Maine lobster. My skin felt tight, but I hoped my repeated slathering of the coconut-scented lotion had allowed my winter-white skin to tan rather than burn. The last time I’d tried to douse my arms in the sunscreen, Greg had taken it away from me with the comment, “You smell like a woman working a tiki hut.”
I figured that was a bad thing.
“Well, we weren’t skunked.” Greg kept his voice bright. There was one lone fish in the cooler. A tuna that had somehow landed on my line while the men got a few bites, but nothing sticking. Greg had been supportive, talking me through reeling the catch in, but I could see the looks they gave
each other.
“Beginner’s luck,” Jim grumbled, but his lips had curved into a tiny smile. At least I hoped so. “I’ll take it and get the thing cleaned and packaged up. I can drop it off tomorrow at the shop if you’d like.”
“The store’s closed so I’ll be home. You can come by there.” I dumped the leftover coffee from the mugs into the carafe and threw all of the items into a tote I’d brought.
“I’ll take it to the station. Greg can bring it to you.” Jim nodded at his brother and Greg took my arm, leading me to his truck parked in the marina’s lot.
“He can stop by the store, but not my house?” I put the tote in the bed of the truck and climbed in the passenger side.
Greg started up the engine, turning to look at me. “Don’t press your luck. He’s warming up to you. Jim’s old-fashioned in many ways. He’s respecting our relationship by not visiting you at your home, thereby avoiding any hint of scandal.”
“Wait, he thinks stopping by the house will cause me to throw myself at him?” I rolled down the window, enjoying the last rays of the beautiful day.
As Greg pulled the truck out onto the highway, he responded, “It’s happened before.”
Once he dropped me off, I spent a few minutes with Emma, who thought I smelt wonderful. I smelt my hand and gagged. Coconut-flavored dead fish and sweat. “Time for a shower, then we’ll watch some TV and eat soup? Sound good?”
Emma gave me a short bark, which either meant terrific in dog language or where’s the rotten fish? Either way, I rubbed the top of her head and went upstairs to clean up.
Before I turned the television off that night, I turned on the evening news. Not a word about Kent’s murder investigation or Conner’s arrest or even South Cove. The media had moved on and now a new problem had taken the limelight. A scandal in a local election. I smiled as I turned off the television. “Feels good to be normal again, right, girl?”
I slept the sleep of the dead that night. No dreams, no nightmares, no premonitions surrounding the friend song Esmeralda kept sending me through all-spirit-radio, the only channel her fortune-telling talent tuned in to.
