“Why, Dean, are you actually concerned for me?” I grinned.
A muscle in his jaw ticked for a moment, then he said gruffly, “I just don’t think we need any more drama around here.”
I nodded, still smiling, and I could tell from another twitch of his jaw that he knew I wasn’t buying his excuse. Maybe there was a nice guy under all those muscles and brooding good looks.
“Well, I think it’s the least I can do,” I said.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to do this for other reasons?” Dean asked, his gaze narrowing. “You aren’t still fixated on Cliff’s death being more than an accident, are you?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I just think it’s a nice idea.”
And it was a perfect opportunity to talk to lots of people who knew Cliff. People who might know why someone would want to kill him. Plus, it really would be a nice gesture.
Dean looked as if he was reading my thoughts and he was unconvinced. “You do realize this is crazy? Just because you played an amateur detective on TV, doesn’t mean you are one in real life.”
His words shocked me. I should have been insulted that he was saying I couldn’t solve a crime but mostly I was flattered. He’d seen my show? I couldn’t contain another cheeky grin. “Dean, if you tell me you are a fan, I swear I don’t think I’ll know what to do. That’s just too much charm for one afternoon.”
I brushed past him to go talk with Frances Robichaud, but not before I heard him grumble something under his breath. Something that sounds suspiciously like a colorful expletive.
The two women had moved from the bar to sit at a table nearby. Dean had given them drinks and menus, and they both looked up as I approached them. Karen glared, which I was beginning to think might be her only facial expression. But her mother smiled and extended her hand. Up close, I could see she was the older, kinder version of her daughter.
“You are most definitely Sunny LaFleur’s granddaughter,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s like seeing a ghost.”
I shook her hand and smiled back. “I’ve heard that before. You knew my grandmother well?”
“Oh yes, I was one of the witnesses at her wedding to your grandfather.”
“Really?” I said, intrigued. “I have to admit, I haven’t heard much about my grandfather.” But of course, I hadn’t heard much about my grandmother either.
Frances nodded, growing suddenly somber. “Well, that was messy business, so I’m not surprised.”
What was messy business? But before I had a chance to ask what she meant, she gestured to one of the empty chairs. “Please sit down.”
I did, still regarding her. Frankly, I was a little nervous to look at Karen. If looks could kill and all that.
“So, I’m sure Dean mentioned to you that I’m interested in having a celebration of life for Cliff here.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Karen shift in her seat, her expression grim.
“Yes, he did.”
“I know it’s short notice,” Frances said, also not looking at her daughter. “But this was one of his favorite places and I think it seems like the appropriate thing to do.”
“Not that he ever did anything appropriate or otherwise for you,” Karen muttered.
“Karen,” Frances warned, shooting her a look only mothers could give. “He was your father.”
Karen’s lips pressed into a thin line. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly resigning herself to her mother’s wishes. But one thing was very clear, Karen was not mourning her father. In fact, she seemed as angry as she had the first time I met her. What was the cause of all her hatred? And was it enough to do the old guy in?
“You’ll have to excuse Karen’s irritation with all of this,” Frances said as if the other woman wasn’t even there. “She and her father weren’t always on the best of terms.”
Clearly.
“And frankly, I wasn’t always on the best of terms with him either, but I still believe he should have a proper memorial.”
Karen’s foot pumped up and down under the table as if she was just dying to give her opinion on all this, but she remained silent.
I nodded, pretending not to notice. “Of course. When is the funeral?”
“It will be on Wednesday evening. As of right now. I will let you know by tomorrow if anything changes.”
I nodded, not sure what might change, but to be honest, I didn’t know much about arranging a funeral. Maybe the funeral home might already be booked for another funeral. Did that happen? My grandmother requested not to have a service. So she was simply cremated.
I paused, a thought occurring to me. Maybe I should find out exactly where Grammy was now.
“Will Wednesday work?” Frances asked and I realized I hadn’t said anything for a moment. Stay focused here, Soph.
“I’m sure we can work with you,” I said, although I wasn’t exactly sure about that either. This was my first day. I was just learning how to ring up food orders correctly. I definitely didn’t know how to book a special event. Or if we normally even did special events.
Deciding my best course of action was to just be upfront, I said, “To be honest, I’m just learning about the pub and I’m not really sure how to go about arranging this.”
Beside me Karen snorted. “You don’t seem too sure about anything.”
Frances shot her a warning look. I ignored her.
“So, let me send Dean back over to get an idea of how many to expect and what you would like served. But yes, we’d be honored to do this for you and for Cliff.”
I excused myself, still not glancing at Karen as I went back to Dean.
“They want the celebration of life on Wednesday. Could you go over what they want with them?”
“Wednesday?” Dean said. “That’s trivia night.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “I think the trivia crowd will understand.”
He looked doubtful, but sighed. “Okay.” He dug around on the shelf under the cash register and found a small notebook and a pen. “Watch the bar.”
I nodded, then saw another large group of about ten or twelve guys stroll in and take over the end of the bar. One of them waved to me and I took a deep breath. I’d never actually tended bar before but how hard could it be?
I was neck-deep in Miller Lites, Budweisers, and Jack and Cokes, when Brandy appeared beside me, already in her apron and ready to work. “Whoa, it looks like happy hour is in full swing today.”
“Oh, thank God.” I could have hugged the smiling blonde. “I lost track of who ordered what about six drinks ago.”
“No problem, I know most of these guys’ drinks by heart anyway. They are regulars.” She took over filling several of the glasses I had lined on the mat in front of the beer taps.
“You can take off if you want,” she said, picking up two pint glasses in each hand. “I’m here for the night, and Dave is here too. He’s in the back, getting his apron. And Janelle is in at five.”
Dave? Janelle? Oh right, I saw their names on the schedule in the office.
“I really appreciate you covering for me today,” she called down the bar over the loud chatter of the patrons and the steady beat of the jukebox in the corner. “Ethan had a recital at the school and I hate leaving Dean on his own.”
I assumed Ethan was her son.
“Of course. Are you sure you got this?”
She waved with a smile. “Absolutely.”
I hesitated for a moment. I hated to leave if they still needed me, but as things were getting busier, I felt like I was more hindrance than a help. At least until I got more comfortable with the place. I started to take off my apron, then stopped. I had a couple tables that needed to be bussed and I’m sure there was some side work I could do to make the next shift easier.
I grabbed a large oval tray and headed to the first table.
“I truly don’t understand why you are doing this, Mom?” I heard Karen mutter to he
r mother. “That man did nothing but humiliate you for years.”
“This isn’t your decision,” Frances replied, her voice quieter, the tone somewhere between determined and resigned. “There are plenty of people in this town who respected your father. Plenty who cared about him. And despite everything, it’s just the right thing to do. We may have been separated for all these years, but legally and truthfully, in my heart, he was still my husband.”
I paused, wiping down the table, listening closer. Frances and Cliff were still married?
“No, you weren’t, Mom. He filed the divorce papers just before he died.”
I shifted around the table, trying not to draw attention to myself. I wanted to hear this. Cliff filed for divorce just before he died. Was Karen talking just days before his death? Or literally just before he died?
I sneaked a quick glance at Frances, curious to see Frances’s reaction to Karen’s words. She didn’t appear surprised by Karen’s comment. Nor did she look pleased. If anything, she looked indifferent.
I focused on wiping the table again.
“Well, I’m still the only one he has to arrange something like this. And I plan to do it, only because it’s the right thing to do. We’re his only family here in town. And since I know you wouldn’t do it, I will.”
Karen leaned back in her seat, giving Frances a clearer view of me. I continued wiping, trying desperately to appear busy.
“Mom, if Dad was ever concerned about doing the right thing, he wouldn’t have cheated on you. More than once.”
My wiping paused. Wow, old Cliff was a dog.
“And,” Karen continued, “he wouldn’t have sued his own business partner and best friend. You and I both know Mac never deserved that lawsuit against him.”
Mac? I needed to find out who Mac was.
“We’ve talked about all of these things before. I know your father has hurt you, angered you, but we still have to do what’s right,” Frances insisted.
“Or what makes us look best,” Karen said sarcastically.
Or maybe what makes them look the least guilty, I added silently.
“Hey.”
I jumped, nearly knocking the dish-ladened tray off the table, but Dean, who’d spoken from beside me, caught it with only one knife hitting the floor with a clatter. I scrambled to snatch it up from the floor and put it back on the tray. From the corner of my eye, I could see both Frances and Karen were now watching me.
“Brandy told me you were heading out for the day,” Dean said, taking the tray from the table before I could make another clumsy move.
“Yeah, I—I was,” I managed, still feeling a little flustered and still feeling the two women’s eyes on me. “I just wanted to finish clearing my tables.”
“I got them,” Dean said, and I wondered if he realized I was eavesdropping on Frances and Karen’s conversation. I just hoped the two women didn’t.
I wiped down the exceedingly clean table one last time, then headed to the back room to take off my apron. I debated introducing myself to Dave, but when I poked my head out into the pub, I saw a tall, twenty-something with a goatee and man-bun in a tie-dye, dark jeans and apron already talking to a large party near the windows.
Not wanting to interrupt him and not wanting to get any more critical looks from Dean, I decided to just leave through the office.
“Whoa,” Oliver said as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. He was seated at the counter, drinking a can of soda and watching a video on his tablet. “It looks like you’ve had a day. Your hair is insane.”
“It was actually pretty good,” I said, although I did self-consciously touch my hair, but his reaction about my looks was quickly dismissed with my news. “But more than being good, it was also quite informative.”
He set the soda down. “Oh yeah, do tell.”
“Karen and her mother came into the pub and I overheard a lot of interesting tidbits from them.” I shared what I’d heard, then waited for his reaction.
“So Cliff was an ass.” Oliver shrugged. “This isn’t really new information.”
I gaped at him. “It also gives them plenty of reasons to want him dead. Karen hated him. Don’t you remember she said something to the effect that I had no idea what I’d done when we were getting Jack? What did she mean?”
He considered from a moment, then shook his head. “I have no idea. What did she mean?”
“Well, I don’t know either,” I admitted, then reached for his soda and took a sip. “But it means something, right? It has to. That isn’t something you randomly say, especially when you’ve just discovered your dad was killed.”
“You do realize there are more sodas in the fridge.” He took his away from me quite indignantly.
I went to retrieve one, still thinking about the women’s conversation. I cracked a can of lemon-lime soda open and took a long sip. “And Frances has plenty of reasons to want Cliff dead. He cheated on her. He embarrassed her. He apparently finally filed for divorce. Why now after they’d been separated for so long?”
“Maybe he was planning to get married,” Oliver suggested absently, his attention returning to the video he was watching.
“Yes,” I said loudly, causing him to start. “That makes total sense.”
He sighed and powered down his tablet, seeing that I wasn’t going to stop my out loud analysis. “Okay, so maybe he was planning to get married. Why would his soon-to-be ex-wife plan his memorial?”
“Well, she said that herself to Karen. It’s what family does.”
“And it does deflect any suspicion. A woman wouldn’t organize a celebration of life for an ex-husband who she hated enough to kill.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“But why kill him now? It sounds like she had years to do that.”
“Maybe she knew she’d no longer inherit anything if the divorce was finalized.”
“That does sound feasible,” Oliver conceded. “Or maybe Karen killed him for the very same reason. She’s clearly close to her mother. Maybe she did it to make sure her mother got what she thought she deserved for having such a terrible husband. Though if Cliff was planning to get remarried, wouldn’t his new girlfriend be planning his funeral?”
“Maybe she is and Frances is just being defiant with this celebration of life.”
“So she’s just a catty cow despite the sweet appearance? I can buy that.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’m going to jump in the shower and then we need to go.”
“Go where?”
I paused in the doorway. “Did you happen to see the local library while you were exploring today?”
His less than thrilled expression was all the answer I needed.
“I’ll be right down and then we are headed there.”
“Wow, this street is beautiful,” I said as we walked in the direction of the library. Pleasant Street ran perpendicular to Main Street where the pub was located. The quiet street was lined with huge old oak trees and large Victorian houses, both of which looked like they’d been there for a hundred years. The sun was low in the sky, casting shadows, but the air was warm. A group of young kids played on the lawn of one of the houses with a Frisbee. A small dog yapped on the front step of the house next door. We walked past another cross street until I spotted the library, a large white, clapboard building that looked as if it might have been a sea captain’s house at one point. There were columns that framed either side of the front entrance and a widow’s walk that adorned the roof. A sunroom made of multiple panes of glass jutted out of one side, and I could see sofas and computers through the windows.
“What a great building.” I hurried up the walkway, afraid we might miss our chance to get in. It was already after five. And a Friday. But I was pleased the hours on the door said they were open until six.
“Maybe we should come back tomorrow. This is a small, older library. It might take us a long time to find whatever we are looking for,” Oliver said, clearly dismayed the library was still open. “Did I m
ention there is a cute, little boardwalk with a couple restaurants right down on the waterfront? We could get lobster and a drink.” He smiled hopefully.
“We are already here. Let’s just take a look.” I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The place was quiet, other than two ladies who worked at the front counter. The conversation stopped as soon as they saw us.
“Hi there,” the one closest to us said with a warm smile. She was in her mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair pulled up into a tight bun. She wore a floral dress with a lace collar that looked like it could be from another time period. The other woman could have been about the same age, but her long, brown and caramel-highlighted hair, glasses with funky frames and fashionable tunic made her seem much younger.
A good reminder that you are only as old as you feel. And clearly the one woman felt very young and very hip. I thought of my grammy, knowing she must have adhered to that philosophy.
“Can I help you?” the less hip lady asked.
“Yes,” I said, “we wanted to look for some local news articles.”
“Do you have a specific date or year?”
“No. Probably in the last ten years. Maybe twenty.” That didn’t exactly narrow things down.
“Well, if it’s within the last twenty or so, we have completed digitizing those issues and you can search them on our database online. Anything before that is still on microfilm. Becky, could you show them to the computers.”
The young fifty-something smiled, revealing deep dimples and an adorable smile. “Sure. Come right this way.”
“So are you two here on vacation?” Becky asked as she led us down the main corridor of the library. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“No, I actually just moved here, but Oliver is visiting. Helping me settle in.” I have to admit I was a little pleased she didn’t somehow already know I was the new person in town who’d let my supposedly deadly llama loose.
Unfortunately that pleasure only lasted for a second as Becky stopped. “Oh,” she said, placing a hand on my arm, “you are Sunny LaFleur’s granddaughter. I heard you had arrived.”
Murder Drama With Your Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries Book 1) Page 7
