by Emma Belmont
“Almost everything was catered by Chef Fournier,” Cookie said, standing. “But I’ll go get the leftovers now. I’m afraid all the dishes have already been washed.” She headed to the kitchen.
“I’ll get the wine bottles,” Maris said, standing. “The other glasses have been washed as well.”
“Do you have any idea where the other guests have gone?”
Maris pointed toward the bay. “Pammy and Felix are out kayaking.” Then she pointed inland. “BJ was going to hike in the redwoods.”
“I don’t suppose they said when they’d be returning?”
Maris shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Honestly, you just never know with guests. They might change their plans and stay out all day.”
“Okay,” Mac said, taking out his phone. “While we’re waiting for the coroner and forensics, I’ll call Plateau 7.”
“I’ll get those wine bottles.”
7
As Cookie gathered together the few leftovers, mostly carrots and greens, Maris fetched what remained of the bottles of wine. But even as she did, she suspected there would be no evidence of poisoning in them. Everyone, including her, had sipped at least a little wine for the sake of the game. She could, of course, recall their movements during the evening, but the game had required them all to split up into different rooms at various points. All of the wine glasses had been left unattended at some point during the evening.
As Maris set the two bottles on the large butcher block in the kitchen along with the food, she heard a car pull up and the front door open. She peeked into the hallway and saw the forensics team arrive. Mac directed them upstairs and she went back into the kitchen. But then, not a minute later, the front door opened again.
“Are you a guest here?” she heard Mac ask.
Maris exited the kitchen to find that BJ had returned early from his day.
“Yes,” BJ replied, frowning. He looked between them.
“Sheriff McKenna,” Maris said, “this is BJ Ridder. BJ this is the sheriff of Medio County.”
“What’s going on?” the game developer asked.
“BJ,” Maris said, gesturing to the living room. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Though he looked unsure, he followed her inside, followed by Mac. BJ took a seat as Maris did, while Mac stood near the door.
“BJ is staying here with the other Whiz Kid Games employees,” she said.
Mac nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” he said. “Reginald Atkinson was found dead in his bed this afternoon.”
BJ tilted his head sideways. “Reginald Atkinson?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Are you talking about Reggie?” He looked at Maris, who gave him a slow nod as she grimaced. “Wait. What are you saying? Reggie is…” He gaped at Mac. “Dead?”
“Yes,” the sheriff replied calmly. “His body was found earlier this afternoon by Maris.”
“But…but,” BJ stammered. His already pale skin seemed to go a shade lighter. “But how could that be?” His voice was a bit strident. “We were all together just last night.” He was almost wailing now. “No.” He shook his head. “It has to be a mistake.”
Maris shook her head. “I’m so sorry, BJ, but there is no mistake. I’m afraid Reggie is dead.”
The sound of a vehicle pulling up on the gravel drive outside the front window drew Mac’s attention. “The coroner is here,” he said. “I’ll just be a moment.”
BJ stared at the coroner’s van, his mouth slightly open. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. He turned back to Maris, his eyes misty. “What happened?”
She slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid we don’t know.” Although Mac had mentioned poison, she decided to let him break that news, if indeed he would be sharing it. “More than likely we’ll have to wait for an autopsy.”
“So he never got up?” BJ asked.
“No, he didn’t,” Maris said. “When I realized how late it had gotten, I went to check on him.”
It was only when she’d spoken those words that a thought occurred to her. If she’d checked earlier, would Reggie still be alive? She pushed the thought from her mind. Before she started second guessing herself, she’d wait to see what the coroner said about the time of death.
BJ seemed to be recovering a bit of his color but his lips looked like they were sticking to his teeth.
“I’m going to get a glass of water,” she said, not bothering to ask if he wanted one. When she returned, she brought two.
“Thanks,” he said as he took it from her. “I came back early because I thought maybe we could go do something together.” He took a long drink of water, and was setting down his glass when Mac returned.
“BJ,” he said, opening his notepad. “Could you give me your full name?”
“Barney Jaeger Ridder,” he said. “It’s Danish. But everyone’s called me BJ since I was born.”
“And how long have you known Reggie?” the sheriff asked.
“Since freshman year in college,” BJ said. “We were gaming buddies. Actually, we still game…or gamed.”
“What is it that you do at…” He checked his notes. “Whiz Kid Games?”
“I’m a game developer,” he said. When Mac raised his brows, he added, “I invent the games, write them, come up with the rules, create the world.”
“How long have you been at the company?” Mac asked.
BJ shrugged. “Since the beginning really. It was my game that got us our first big hit.”
“How many years?” Mac asked.
BJ thought for a moment. “Over twenty…I’d say twenty-three or twenty-four years.”
“I understand there was some disagreement over a game last night,” the sheriff said.
BJ grimaced. “Oh that. It wasn’t over the game itself.” He glanced at Maris and then back to Mac. “It was more that we all thought we were having a company off-site just to kind of relax. We’d been pushing super hard on the game.”
“But Reggie wanted you to work?”
BJ shook his head. “Not exactly. It was a play test, sort of a last minute quality check. The game itself is done.”
Mac finished jotting down a note and closed the pad. “After the play test ended, where were you last night?”
“Where was I?” he asked, blinking at the sheriff. His gaze flicked to the ceiling. “In my room. We all went to our rooms.” Then his eyes widened and he stared at Mac. “Wait. Why does it matter where I was?”
“Reggie Atkinson died under suspicious circumstances.” He paused for a moment, watching BJ. “I’ll be questioning everyone who was in the house.”
“But…but,” BJ sputtered again. “I thought he died in his sleep.”
Mac put away his notepad. “We won’t know until the autopsy report is back.”
At that moment, the coroner appeared in the door, and Mac turned to him. They moved into the hallway out of earshot.
“Do the others know yet?” BJ asked.
“No,” Maris said. “It’s probably best to tell them when they return. It’s going to come as a bit of a shock.” While that was true, seeing their reactions might be important too.
BJ nodded. “Right, right,” he said quietly.
Just then Maris heard the metal ratchet of the coroner’s gurney. She stood. “Let’s wait on the back porch,” she told BJ. She’d seen in similar circumstances how the removal of the body could be a difficult moment to see.
“Okay, sure,” he said.
They moved out onto the back porch just in time. As BJ shielded his eyes to look up at the lighthouse, the coroner’s team moved the gurney—laden with its large black body bag—through the hallway. By the time BJ turned around, the body was gone and Mac was joining them out on the porch.
“Mr. Ridder?” he said.
“Yes?”
Maris heard the coroner’s van start up.
“I’d like you to stay in town,” the sheriff said, “in case I need to ask you more questions.” He handed the game dev
eloper a business card. “If you remember anything else, anything that seems even remotely relevant, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
BJ stared down at the card. “Okay,” he said quietly. “We’re staying the weekend anyway, I guess.”
Mac turned to Maris. “Forensics is done, so the room is yours. I’m heading over to Plateau 7. When the other guests return, could you let me know?”
“I’ll do that,” she said, nodding, and watched him go.
BJ sank onto one of the deck chairs and stared out to sea, though Maris had the distinct impression he wasn’t seeing it. Earlier, she had sat on the front porch with much the same expression. He might need a few moments alone.
“I’m going to see if Cookie can whip up one of her famous restorative teas,” Maris said to him, and headed to the kitchen.
8
By the time Bear arrived to work on the new greenhouse, BJ had gone upstairs to lie down—helped by Cookie’s tea. You could rest assured that when she brewed something for you, it was precisely what you needed, even if that was simply some rest.
Maris spent her time changing all the sheets and towels in Reggie’s room. It helped to stay busy and she didn’t want the others to have to see an unmade bed where he had died. The forensics team had taken his possessions and luggage. She presumed that Mac would find a way to contact the next of kin.
When she was done, she threw open the window to the warm afternoon breeze before going downstairs. Cookie had decided to cope with the stress of their guest’s death in her own way: making a late lunch for them all. She gathered everyone on the back porch where the table was already set.
“Cookie,” Maris said taking a seat. “What in the world have you wrought?”
“Fillet of cod sandwiches,” the chef said. “Dig in.”
As usual, Bear Orsino had two sandwiches entirely for himself, and wasted not a moment tucking a napkin into the front of his t-shirt. Their mountain of a handyman had an appetite that matched his outsized form. Though his blue bib overalls stretched a bit over his burgeoning middle, it was his strong legs and big arms that gave him his larger than life look. He wore his thick brown hair closely cropped but his beard was thick and full.
“Thank you, Cookie,” the big man said. He picked up a sandwich and took a big bite. His eyes widened as he chewed and nodded.
Though she wasn’t particularly hungry, Maris picked up her sandwich and at least enjoyed its presentation. Two halves of a French baguette where filled with a grilled white fillet of cod, accompanied by thin wedges of avocado, a slice of heirloom tomato, and a leaf of butterhead lettuce. Though the morning’s stress had unsettled her stomach, she also didn’t want to disappoint Cookie.
As Maris bit into the crunch of the baguette and lettuce, the first sensation was its perfect temperature. Both the bread and cod fillet were warm, contrasting with the cool of the tomato. The tender fish melted in her mouth, and the avocado lent a contrasting smooth texture that was lovely. When she could speak again, she said to Cookie, “Salt, pepper, and a little something extra.”
Cookie winked at her, setting her own sandwich down. “A little paprika.”
“Ah,” Maris said nodding. “Yes, that’s it.”
Cookie gazed at the patch of ground just beyond the large herb garden. “You’re making an amazing amount of progress over there.”
From her vantage point, Maris could see that Bear had used hexagonal cement paving stones in crimson, gray, and a light buff to lay a pretty, patterned floor for the small building.
He nodded as he swallowed, then wiped his mouth and beard with the napkin. “The floor is done.”
“Done?” Cookie said, grinning.
Bear nodded. “The frame comes next. Then the glass. Everything is in the truck.”
Cookie exchanged a surprised look with Maris, before turning back to Bear.
“You, my friend,” the chef said, “are amazing.”
Pink rose in his cheeks and he ducked his head a little, but he said nothing as he got back to work on his lunch.
Despite her stomach—or maybe because of it—Maris had already gone through half of her sandwich as well. Not only had lunch been late and the sandwich delicious but she had always been a stress eater. Unfortunately, it’d taken her years to figure it out. Though she’d been good about avoiding chocolate since returning to Pixie Point Bay, it hadn’t been that hard. The diminutive chef rarely cooked with it, and Maris had managed to stop buying it. But it was times like these that made her wish she still had a secret stash. She ought to save half her sandwich for later, but she already knew she wouldn’t.
“I can speak with Pammy and Felix when they return,” Cookie said to her.
Without realizing it, Maris had stopped eating and had been looking out at the ocean. “No that’s all right,” she said, giving Cookie a little smile. “But thank you. I think it might come better from me, because…well, you know.”
Though Bear was still munching through his first baguette, his big brown eyes flicked back and forth between her and Cookie. Maris realized he didn’t know about Reggie.
“One of our guests died last night,” she said. Bear stopped eating in mid-chew, and his bushy eyebrows arched high. “Reggie Atkinson. He booked the B&B for himself and his three employees, one of whom is resting upstairs, but the other two have yet to return.”
Bear set his sandwich down, as he gulped his last mouthful. “I’m sorry,” he said, his shoulders hunching as he stared at the table.
“What did the sheriff say?” Cookie asked.
Maris sighed and sat back. “He suspects poison, which is why we had to gather everything up, but he won’t know anything until the remains in the wine glass are analyzed and the autopsy results come back.”
“I assume that the employees are suspects?” the chef asked. “They seemed pretty unhappy last night.”
“Honestly,” Maris said, “I imagine we all are, including Chef Fournier. But since none of us would have had a motive, Mac won’t waste time with us, beyond a few questions to fill in the facts.”
Cookie snorted and nodded to the bay, in the direction of Plateau 7. “Be prepared for fireworks from a certain French chef when he’s questioned.” She looked at the sandwiches that Bear and Maris hadn’t finished. “Come on you two.” She indicated their plates. “Keep up your strength.”
Though Maris and Bear both picked up their baguettes, they both ate with less gusto.
“Have I told you about the first plantings that I have planned for our new Victorian greenhouse?” Cookie asked no one in particular. “Basil seedlings. I’ve always wanted to grow my own seedlings.”
As Cookie chatted about the different plants, the care they needed, and how she would use them, Bear listened intently and ate his second sandwich, while Maris completely finished her first. The B&B’s chef had obviously changed the topic of conversation to lighten the mood, but Maris didn’t care. It had worked. She found herself picturing the new plants, and how cute the seedlings would be in tiny pots. As the meal concluded, Cookie pointed to the paving stones.
“Show me what you’ve done, young man,” she said to Bear.
Nimble for such a big man, Bear quickly got out of his seat and helped Cookie out of hers.
As Maris collected the plates, she said, “Thank you, Cookie—for everything.”
The chef gave her a wink before following Bear to the herb garden.
9
In the late afternoon, as Maris was vacuuming the library, Pammy and Felix came in from the back porch. In their t-shirts, shorts, and sun hats, they were laughing and sporting new tans. It looked like the kayaks had been a hit. As Maris turned off the vacuum, the pair stopped.
“Thanks for recommending the kayaks,” Pammy said. “We had a wonderful time.”
“Exhausting,” Felix said, “but really fun.”
“We made it all the way past the pier–” she began.
“And then on to the tidal pools,” he finished. “They were
so cool. We saw these little…” He glanced at Pammy. “I don’t know what you’d call them. Maybe little guppies or something?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Who knows, but they were super cute.”
Felix laughed. “If you like swimming baby worms.”
Though Maris hated to bring them down from their outing high, there wasn’t going to be any good way to break the news.
“I’m glad I caught you both,” she said, moving the vacuum aside. “Would you mind taking a seat for a minute?” For a moment the two of them just looked at her, as though she’d spoken a foreign language. When neither of them moved, she said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“What?” Felix said, frowning. “Has Reggie decided to cancel the weekend?”
“Oh, geez,” Pammy said, her brow furrowing as she let her arms flop down to her sides.
“No,” Maris said, “nothing like that.” She sat down in one of the high back chairs to encourage them. “Please.” She indicated the couch across from her.
“Okay,” Felix said cautiously, but he went to a chair.
“I feel like we broke some rule or something,” Pammy muttered, but she sat down as well.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news about Reggie,” Maris said, swallowing in a suddenly dry throat. “I found him earlier this afternoon.” She looked at them both. “He died in his bed sometime last night or this morning.”
Felix sat bolt upright. “What?”
Pammy shook her head as though to clear it. “Wait. What?”
Footsteps in the hallway made them all look to the doorway, where BJ appeared. His grim and beleaguered expression said it all.
“Oh no,” Pammy whispered, and covered her mouth with both hands.
“What happened?” Felix said, gaping at BJ, who only shrugged his shoulders and then took the nearest seat, on an ottoman.
“The authorities are investigating,” Maris told him. “There’s going to be some forensics results, as well as an autopsy.”
