—Can you guys ask your parents if they’ve heard anything about Mr. Grayson or Mr. Malone?
—Hi Alex, thanks for the text. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Will you be able to make sure Marquetta doesn’t go near the dining room? Thanks, Devon.
Whoa! That was fast. And he’s kinda formal, but that’s cool. I can act all grown-up, too.
—Hey Mr. Van Horn, I can totally do that. Thanks! Alex
I’m all the way down the stairs when Sasha texts me back.
—On the way home from the party my mom told me Wimpy was trying to force Mr. Grayson to sell the restaurant. What u wanted?
—Totally. Gonna ask Marquetta if she knows about it.
Marquetta’s got the mixing bowls and bread pans out on the counter. The fridge is open and she’s pulling stuff out. Awesome. We’re baking. This is totally gonna work.
“Can I ask you a question, Marquetta? It’s about Mr. Grayson.”
She stops what she’s doing and looks at me. “That didn’t take long. I guess I set myself up for this. What’s your question, Sweetie?”
“Was Mr. Waldorf forcing Mr. Grayson to sell The Crooked Mast?”
Marquetta puts one hand to her forehead and looks down at the floor. “You know, Alex, you’re asking some very difficult questions. Before I answer, I want you to tell me how you heard about it.”
Uh oh. I didn’t want to tell her that secret. Now what do I do?
CHAPTER 26
RICK
“There’s no way Dennis was working on inventory Friday night,” Rick said after they were in Deputy Cunningham’s 4x4.
“I know.” The deputy licked his lips and started the engine. “And I mean ‘know for sure’ because I drove by the shop at around ten and it was dark as could be.”
“So Dennis is lying. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Not yet. I’d like to know where he was before I give him the chance to lie to me again.”
“I’m good with that,” Rick said. “I’d also like to find out why he’s lying.”
“Exactly.”
“What if he’s not the only one, Adam? Have you noticed how all three of our sweater recipients have had an almost identical story about why they got their sweater? It’s almost like it was rehearsed.”
“Are you thinking there was a let’s-kill-Thorne club?”
“I don’t know. It just seems too coincidental to me.”
Deputy Cunningham stared straight ahead for a few seconds, then said, “Let’s go back to the office. There’s still a lot of evidence we need to sift through before we go any further.”
Ten minutes later, Rick sat at one of the gray metal desks while Adam retrieved boxes from the evidence room. With its overall lack of decoration, the office felt sterile and cold. This was not a place Rick would want to work for long. Yet, Adam seemed content in this environment. When the deputy set the first box on the table, Rick smiled. One of the last boxes he’d handled was the one with the train set in the attic.
“First time I’ve ever seen someone get a goofy grin on their face over a box of papers.” Deputy Cunningham eyed Rick and winked. “You want to tell me what’s so funny about evidence from Thorne Waldorf’s desk?”
Rick bit the corner of his lip and shifted in his chair. Adam was the one man in town he’d really grown close to. Sadly, it all had to do with police work. “Do you consider us friends?”
“Absolutely. And I’m not just saying that because we’ve done a lot of work together. I respect you, and I like you. Those are good qualities to have in a friend. I’m not saying we’d ever go bowling on Friday nights or anything like that, but I do consider us to be friends.”
“We don’t have a bowling alley in Seaside Cove.”
“Exactly. That’s why it works so well. We’ll never argue over whether we should stay here or drive an hour on a mountain road to San Ladron for a couple hours of torture.”
Rick glanced at the box again. He didn’t feel the same sense of euphoria he’d felt when he first saw it, but he felt like telling Adam why he’d been grinning. “Have you heard what happened Friday night at the B&B?”
Adam chuckled and nodded. “Who hasn’t?”
“Right. Well, Marquetta showed me a box in the attic. It contained an old model train Captain Jack got when he was a child. We’ve set it up for the holidays.”
“And when you saw this box, you had a little flashback to that one.” Adam laid a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “I’m no expert in this whole relationship business, but I can tell you this. You two are really good for each other.”
The phone on the desk began bleating. Rick stood and grimaced at the mass of papers and folders. “Why don’t you answer the phone while I start on this?”
The item at the top of the stack was Thorne’s desk calendar, which Rick opened to Friday. Thorne had listed three events for that day, but the notations made no sense. The times were obvious—nothing in the morning, one appointment at two-thirty, and another at three. The final entry was at six-thirty with an entry labeled “71 - 313.” Thorne used similar numeric codes for the other appointments.
Rick made a note of the entries and codes on a lined yellow pad. Over at the other desk, Deputy Cunningham was on his second phone call.
“Yes, Mrs. Chambers, we’re working on it…No, we don’t yet have the killer…In fact I’m trying to work on it right now…I understand this could impact the opening of your business… No, I don’t think you need to…hello? Mrs. Chambers?”
The deputy hung up the phone and shook his head. “Your new competition. She thinks it’s extremely inconvenient for Thorne Waldorf to have been murdered in the house next to hers so close to her opening. She also thinks she needs to talk to the mayor about getting this mess cleaned up.”
“I’m sure Thorne feels the same way,” Rick said as he turned his notes so the deputy could read them. “Does this make sense to you?”
“Nope. I saw that when I was collecting all this stuff. It appears our victim was quite secretive.”
“Never trust anyone,” Rick muttered. “He didn’t have an assistant, did he?”
“I don’t think he ever found anyone he trusted. Especially after he started working with Miss Potok.”
Rick thumbed through the calendar and found similar entries for other days in the week. Overall, though, Thorne had seen very few clients. “Do you think Beth Lee could shed some light on these entries? She has a perfect view of Thorne’s office. If she can tell us who came and went we might be able to make sense of this little coding system.”
Adam nodded and reached for the phone. “I’ll call her and see when we can talk.” But before he could pick up the handset, it rang again.
“Right after you answer the phone—again,” Rick said.
“Yeah, right after that.”
While Adam dealt with what sounded like a tip about the murder, Rick went back to the box. There was a folder labeled “Exploration International.” Finally they had something that was not in code. The contents of the folder were disappointing. It was a contract signed by Reese Potok between Thorne and the company.
The deputy finished with the call, buried his face in his hands, and shook his head. “Somehow the word got out about the redhead Ken told us about. It seems she’s a spy who’s lurking around Seaside Cove. Ken must have told somebody about our conversation this morning.”
“Based on the reception we got from Dennis Malone at Ocean Surf, I’d guess they were talking when we walked in.”
“Probably.”
Rick snickered. “A spy, huh? And here I thought maybe she was just a one-night stand he was trying to impress by taking her to the classiest restaurant in town.”
“It’s not hard to be the best when you’re the only one in town.” The deputy raised his eyebrows and pointed at the document. “Do you suppose she could be the six-thirty appointment he had on his calendar?”
“That’s what makes the most sense.”
Deputy Cunni
ngham pointed at the folder in front of Rick “Anything helpful in there?”
“I doubt it. Rick opened the folder and grimaced. We’d need another attorney to look this over, but it appears to be nothing more than a straightforward contract for legal services. Thorne billed based on hours worked, but I don’t see anything to tell us how many hours he was billing for. We might find that information in his computer. Assuming we can get access to the computer.”
“Which brings us back to Laurel Harris.”
“And she refused to help you?”
The deputy nodded. “Yup. Pulled the plug right in front of me.”
“Then we work around it until you can get a warrant.” Rick went back to thumbing through papers. There were the usual bills—electric, phone, water, and cable. He also came across the announcement for the Ugly Sweater Contest.
“Look at this.” Rick held up the flyer. “He made a note, talk to 1816. That sounds like 1816 is a person.”
While Adam read the announcement, Rick picked up the next document. His jaw tightened as he read the heading. “Adam, here’s the packing slip you found. You’re right. There were six sweaters. Thorne even made a note of the date they were received. December 15.”
“We know Ken, Dennis, and Laurel had them. So there are three others.”
“If his plan was to make it look like those people were working with him, he’d have had one, too.”
Deputy Cunningham nodded eagerly and his words came rushing out. “Sure, of course. He’d have to—which means we’ve accounted for four of the six. I wonder who got the other two?”
Rick pointed at the flyer the deputy still had in his hand. “I’m guessing it’s this 1816 person.”
“Even if we figure out who this is, we’ve still got one sweater not accounted for.”
“We’ll get there…right after you answer the phone again.”
CHAPTER 27
RICK
Rick inspected the packing slip more closely while he tried to ignore Adam’s latest phone call, which sounded like it had something to do with Ray Villari and the Seaside Cove Inn. As he dug deeper into the box, the sound of fingers snapping caught Rick’s attention. The deputy was nodding and motioning for him to approach.
After listening for a couple of seconds, Deputy Cunningham said, “Let me put you on speaker, Ray. I want Rick to hear this, too.” A moment later, he rolled his eyes and rotated his hand in small circles as though he wanted to speed things up.
“Yes, Ray. I understand that Rick is not a sworn officer, but the mayor herself asked him to consult for cases like this…yes, the mayor.” A moment later, he jabbed the speaker button on the phone. “You’re on speaker, Ray.”
“How you doing, Rick?” The voice of Ray Villari was gruff and certainly didn’t bear any semblance of friendship.
“I’m good. How’s business?”
“Can barely keep up. I’m sure it’s the same for you. Now, what about this woman, Adam? Are you coming over or what?”
“Tell Rick what you told me first.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. I understand you guys are looking for a redhead who had dinner with Thorne on Friday night. I think she’s staying here.”
“How’d you hear we were looking for her?” Rick asked.
“You know how things happen in this town. Word just gets out.”
“I know,” Deputy Cunningham said. “But what I’d like to know is exactly how the word got out.”
“I don’t recall. Anyway, she checked out yesterday morning, but didn’t turn in her key. Since her reservation was for another couple of days, we ignored the checkout. She came back last night and then started making a lot of noise this morning.”
Deputy Cunningham hooked his thumbs in his belt buckle. “This doesn’t sound like much of an urgent police matter, Ray. You haven’t told me why you think this is the woman we’re looking for.”
“You coming over here to check on her, or do I need to call Francine?”
“There’s no need to get Madame Mayor involved, Ray. I’d like to have a reason to talk to this woman. Has she done anything?”
“Yeah, she’s playing loud music.”
Deputy Cunningham raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Are you saying she’s disturbing the peace?”
“Look, Adam, don’t put this on me. Just come on out and talk to her.”
“I need a reason, Ray. You said something about her checking out yesterday morning. Did she check back in?”
“Technically, she never really checked out. She called down yesterday morning around quarter to eleven, but never came down to close out her bill. She must have left for a while, and I don’t know when she came back. It must have been sometime last night. Anyway, this morning she starts playing music and when we tried to tell her to turn it down, she ignored us.”
“So maybe we need to see if she’s okay,” Rick said. “Adam, you could say you’re checking on her welfare. That way it’s not anything that could be construed negatively. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” Deputy Cunningham said.
“Works for me if you want to handle it that way. Whatever you do, just get her to quiet down. The other guests are getting pretty snotty about the whole thing.”
When Deputy Cunningham hung up from the conversation, he rolled his eyes. “Everything’s an emergency with him. Once a week or so he calls in and complains about one of his guests. You’d think the guy had never rented out a room before.”
Rick leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “We seldom have any problems. I’m surprised he’s got so many.”
“Ray’s best known as Mr. Smarmy. His goal is volume, and because he’s got such low prices, his rooms are very popular with…a wide variety of people.”
“Got it,” Rick said. “He gets a lot of riff-raff.”
“One step up. Riff-raff can’t afford even his prices.” Adam winked and cocked his head toward the front door. “Why don’t you come with me? If this is the woman who was with Thorne on Friday night, I’m sure we’ll both have lots of questions for her.”
Rick surveyed the stacks of papers he’d been arranging on the desk. He had separate piles for day-to-day business, questionable activities warranting further inspection, and a third for items probably related to the murder. So far, the only thing in that third pile was the packing receipt. The agreement with Exploration International had gone into the “questionable” stack. Everything else seemed mundane.
“I’ve got a system going, Adam, and I don’t want to have to start over. Do you have a way to keep all this separated?”
“Gotcha covered. Be right back.”
Rick chuckled as Adam went to a door with a handwritten sign reading, “Evidence Room.” It was no more than a hall closet with a locking door. The deputy returned with three large manilla envelopes, into which Rick placed the papers. When he was done, they secured the envelopes in the closet.
“So uptown,” Rick said with a smile.
Adam pocketed the key and fixed Rick with a mock glare. “Button it, buddy. I know you’re just jealous because you don’t have one of these at the B&B.”
“What? A locking closet? Maybe I’ll ask Santa for one.” Rick’s phone rang, and he checked the display. It was Marquetta. “Looks like it’s my turn.” He tapped the green button to answer and said, “Hey. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you, Rick, but Alex and I heard from one of the guests about someone who was peeking into the B&B Friday night.”
“Peeking in? You mean like through the windows? Are you sure they’re not imagining things? It was kind of windy. Maybe it was a bush waving around or something.”
“I don’t think so. This was on the front porch. I suppose it could have been someone thinking about checking in.”
“Very strange. Did they get a description of this person?”
“A woman. Or, at least he thinks it was. The person had long hair that blew in the wind…or maybe it was a scarf.”
; “Why’d he wait so long to say something?”
“He didn’t. He talked to Alex during breakfast on Saturday morning, but she didn’t realize it might be important. We were just talking and…”
“I get it,” Rick said. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Right now Adam and I are going to the Seaside Cove Inn because Ray Villari has a guest who’s gotten a little rowdy.”
Marquetta snickered. “Sounds like Ray. You do realize he complains about his guests at least once a week.”
Rick’s jaw dropped. He’d never thought of Adam as someone who would share police business with others. “You know about that?”
“It’s Ray’s claim to fame. He likes being the center of attention at Crusty Buns, so he brags about how many guests he reported each week.”
“How’s the guy stay in business?” Rick realized how foolish his question sounded the second he asked it. Both of their businesses catered to travelers. But unlike the B&B, the Seaside Cove Inn probably had little repeat business. “No, never mind. I get it. He’s got cheap rooms.”
Adam stood to the side, his arms crossed in front of him, smiling. When Rick ended the call, the deputy said, “Told you so.”
“Ray Villari’s reputation precedes him,” Rick said. “And I apologize for my momentary lapse.”
“I don’t follow.”
“When Marquetta told me how she knew about Ray’s calls here, I thought…”
“It’s okay, Rick.” Adam waved away the rest of Rick’s comment. “This can be a lonely job because we can’t really talk about it much. The nice thing about this town is everybody tells everybody else their business. Every now and again I like to correct the ones who get it completely wrong, but for the most part I just sit back, smile, and listen.”
“Like Marquetta.”
“She’s my hero. That lady knows how to get people to talk and is tighter than Fort Knox with a secret. Now, can we go visit Ray Villari and get that monkey off my back?”
They found an empty parking space for the police 4x4 on the street in front of the Seaside Cove Inn. The sign advertised “clean, affordable lodging.” Stately trees, some tall and green, others bare skeletons for the winter, lined both sides of the street. The inn itself was nondescript thanks to a color scheme reminiscent of pureed carrots and peas. Wooden stairs painted brown led up to the lobby entrance, which was also done in earth tones.
The Killer Christmas Sweater Club Page 10
