Murder Drama With Your Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries Book 1)

by Erin McCarthy

  He nodded again, and I shut the door.

  I stood on the sidewalk, watching as he pulled away. After his taillights turned the corner, I debated if I should have just given him the straight truth. I wasn’t ready to get romantic, but I did want his friendship. This was all about creating a life I could love, not finding a man to love.

  Feeling confident it was the right move for me, I headed up the lawn to go check on Jack. I’m sure the llama was sound asleep and probably didn’t even want my attention, but checking on him always made me feel good. I loved caring for my new and unique pet.

  I flipped on the light as I entered the shed.

  “Hey, sleepy Mister Jack,” I called as I walked up to his stall. As expected, the big guy was nestled in amongst his straw on his folded legs, eyes closed. He reminded me of some zen, meditating guru.

  I smiled and turned to leave, when I spotted something against the far wall of the shed. An object covered with a gray canvas tarp. Hmm, I’d never noticed that before. I walked over and tugged at the heavy cloth. It slid to the ground and revealed a bicycle. It was mint green with a basket and a bell. Then I realized behind that was another one, this bike powder blue with a light perched on the top of the front fender. They both looked like something from an old movie, vintage and cool.

  Good to see I had wheels, even if it wasn’t a car. I really was going to need to return to L.A. and drive my car back to Friendship Harbor. The car was currently parked in my parents’ driveway, which I’m sure was not thrilling my mother. She would interpret that as clutter.

  Having a bike would allow me to explore easier, and would give me some exercise.

  Closing up the shed, I went into the apartment.

  Oliver was lying on his back on the sofa with a book held up over his head, reading. “Why are you home so early?” he asked. “Did the date suck?”

  “No. But it was just dinner. I didn’t want to give him any false impressions.”

  “Or let him see you’re hot for your pub manager?”

  I couldn’t argue with that, though I had zero intention of acting on it. “There is that. But listen, I have to update you on the current situation.”

  Patting his legs so he would move them, I sat down next to him and prepared to update him on all things June and the tangled web of Friendship Harbor romances.

  Twelve

  “While this house isn’t large, it does have some really amazing amenities,” the real estate agent said as she opened the front door to Cliff’s house.

  Okay, so I definitely wasn’t following Justin’s advice and staying out of Cliff’s murder. However, how dangerous could it possibly be to look at his house when it was on the market? It was noon and I wasn’t trespassing. Nothing I was doing could technically be considered interfering with a murder investigation.

  “I don’t need a lot of square footage.”

  “Are you two planning to have children?” she asked.

  Oliver made a choking sound. I had to give the agent props. She smelled blood in the water. A “couple” from California might mean a quick sale for her. Unlike me, she had an amazing poker face. There was no doubt she had to have an opinion about us, but her face didn’t reveal a thing.

  Patricia was in her fifties, polished, pleasant.

  “No,” Oliver said firmly.

  That was certainly true.

  “Then this will be a great fit for you. Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, one floor for easy living. Just look at these gorgeous bamboo floors.” She led us into Cliff’s house.

  “Do you think Cliff was dating her too?” Oliver murmured under his breath. “Definitely his type.”

  “Shh.” I waved my hand wildly at him.

  Patricia’s phone rang, the ringtone a hair metal band from the eighties.

  “Oh, sorry about that.” She silenced it, then pointed to the fireplace. “Gas, which is a rarity here. Everyone loves their woodburners, but I think you can agree flipping a switch is much better than chopping wood.”

  Oliver opened his mouth and I could have guaranteed he was going to make a joke about wood, so I cut him off before he could speak.

  “I totally agree, Patricia.”

  Her phone rang again.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute? I’m so sorry. Feel free to look around.”

  “Of course,” I said, secretly delighted.

  I instantly went down the hallway, searching out a home office. That’s where I had found information at June’s and where most people kept their paperwork. When Oliver tried to follow me, I whispered, “Keep a lookout for Patricia for me.”

  “Am I supposed to cough or fake sneeze when she’s coming?”

  “Just call me.”

  He rolled his eyes but he went back into the living room.

  Cliff’s house was not what I was expecting at all. It wasn’t a lodge look, or a seventies style, both of which somehow came to mind when I envisioned Cliff’s tastes. It was very traditional. Fussy, almost, but attractive. Either Cliff had a love for antiques or a woman in his life had decorated the house for him.

  Knowing I had very little time to search, I tucked my head into a bedroom. It had nothing but a treadmill in it. I guess Cliff needed to stay in shape to chase women. There might be something of interest in the closet, but I didn’t really have time for that. I needed the paper pile.

  I found what I was looking for in the second bedroom. It had a desk, a TV mounted on the wall, and a lot of sports memorabilia. The desk was piled high with stacks and stacks of papers and magazines. Shifting through it quickly, keeping an eye on the door, I marveled that Cliff seemed to have kept every piece of snail mail sent to him in the last six months. Who needed this many pizza fliers?

  But then I spotted something interesting when I lifted his closed laptop. Sitting on the keyboard was a marriage license. Dated two weeks earlier.

  Cliff had been planning to marry Millie.

  Well, my, my, my. Who would have thought?

  I took a picture with my phone, slammed the lid of the laptop back down and turned to take a peek in the closet. Right as I was sliding the door open I sensed movement behind me. I started to turn, caught a glimpse of a person around my size, then had no time to react before I was hit so hard I fell to my knees.

  As I clung to the doorframe, stunned, Oliver came rushing into the room.

  “What the hell happened?” he said, sounding frantic. “I heard you moan. Are you okay?”

  Gingerly, I touched the back of my head. Patricia the real estate agent was behind him. “I’m okay. But I think maybe we need to cut this showing short.”

  “Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Patricia asked. “You don’t look well.”

  I didn’t want to admit to her that there was an intruder because I didn’t want to freak her out or have her think I was nuts. I also didn’t want to explain to the sheriff why I was pretending to be a buyer for Cliff’s house the day after he had told me it was for sale.

  “Can I at least offer you a ride home?” Patricia said. “I know you rode over here on bikes and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be on a bike going home.”

  “That would be wonderful, Patricia, thank you.”

  Oliver helped me to my feet and despite feeling woozy I put on a brave face. Fortunately, it was an easy ride home. Oliver followed on one of the bikes. We could go retrieve the second one later. I was already lying down on the sofa drinking water when he got there.

  “Did you pass out?” he asked. “Maybe you should call the doctor.”

  “I did not pass out. Someone hit me on the back of the head.”

  Oliver’s jaw jumped. “What? How was that even possible?”

  “Where were you?” I asked. “Were you in the living room?”

  “No, I was being an amazing friend, as usual. I asked Patricia to show me the backyard to give you more time. We were outside.”

  “That makes total sense. We must have interrupted the killer looking for something
at Cliff’s.”

  “You seriously need to go to the doctor and tell the cops. Did you get a look at the person?”

  “What is the doctor going to do? I’m not even bleeding.” I dismissed the idea. “I got a quick glimpse from the side. I feel like it was a woman, though I’m not sure why.” Had I smelled perfume? It was hard to remember, but my gut was saying female.

  “I really think you need to report this to Justin. Whoever hit you could have really hurt you,” Oliver said, clearly irritated with my cavalier attitude, which quite honestly wasn’t as cavalier as I was making it seem. It was darned scary to be attacked. But it also told me I was getting close to finding out something that someone didn’t want me to know.

  “Honestly, I’m fine. Just a little bump on the head. Nothing major.” Not to mention, I really didn’t want to go to Justin right after he asked me to leave the investigation to him.

  “Yeah, well, Cliff got a little bump on the head too,” Oliver said flatly.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, even though my head was pounding a little, but nothing a couple ibuprofen and uncovering more clues couldn’t fix. “I think we shouldn’t lose any time with this. I feel like we are close.”

  Oliver sighed, realizing I wasn’t going to listen. “You really need a better hobby. Okay, so what do you want to do next, Super Sleuth?”

  “Time to go talk to Millie.”

  Millie’s house was just as I imagined it. A quaint Victorian with a front porch and gingerbread trim around the eaves.

  “Why, hello,” Millie said as she opened her door, the floral wreath tacked to it swinging close to her newly set, white hair. She smiled, but I could see she was surprised to see us there.

  “I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment. About Cliff.”

  Millie looked hesitant, then nodded. She stood back to allow us inside. As soon as I stepped into her foyer, I could see that Millie’s touches were in Cliff’s home. She had clearly decorated it for him. I wondered how she got out from under her mother’s thumb long enough to be over there.

  “Your house is beautiful,” I said.

  “Oh, thank you. I love decorating.”

  I smiled, feeling more confident it had been her touches I’d seen all around Cliff’s house.

  “Would you care for some iced tea? I think I have some soda, too.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” I said.

  “I’m fine as well,” Oliver said, politely.

  “Well, please come in.” She gestured for us to enter a cream-colored, formal living room with a marble fireplace surrounded by an ornately carved and painted mantel. Over that was an oil painting of wild roses in a vase. The muted pinks and rose colors suited the style of the room.

  I sat down on the sofa, suddenly glad I didn’t accept the offer for a drink. This room looked pristine. I didn’t want the stress of potentially messing up the sea of cream. Especially since my head was still throbbing and I had moments of feeling a little dizzy, but I determinedly ignored it. Oliver sat down beside me looking far more relaxed about the perfect decor.

  “So what did you want to ask me about Cliff?”

  I’d pondered in a subtle and believable way how to reveal that I knew that she was going to marry Cliff, deciding to go with a lie that I hoped would be believable. Even though I wasn’t totally sure the timeline would work.

  “I found a letter in my grandmother’s house,” I told her. “It was from Cliff, and he told her he’d fallen in love and he planned to marry. He said he planned to marry you.”

  I held my breath, hoping my gamble worked and that my grandmother had still been alive during the time when Millie and Cliff decided to get married.

  Millie stared at me for a moment. Crap, the gamble failed. Maybe Grammy didn’t even know about their relationship at all. Then the old woman’s face crumbled and tears slowly rolled down her pale cheeks.

  “Your grandmother was such a wonderful friend to us both. She agreed to have a private ceremony for us in her beautiful garden. Then she passed. And now Cliff has passed.” She hung her head, and I could feel her despair. I glanced at Oliver helplessly. He shook his head, not sure what to do either.

  Millie’s shoulders bobbed slightly as she cried silent tears and I had to reach out to her. I leaned forward on the sofa and took her hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely. I feel like there was no way this woman could have killed Cliff. He’d been her only chance at escape. To my surprise, she squeezed my fingers in thanks, then straightened.

  Materializing a tissue out of her cardigan pocket, she dabbed her eyes and nose. Then she pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. It has been such a terrible time. We were going to marry the day he died. I waited at the courthouse for him, and he never showed up.”

  The meeting he had said he couldn’t miss after giving me the house tour. My heart broke for this poor woman. She finally found her Prince Charming and then he never arrived to sweep her off her feet.

  “We planned to marry and then spend our honeymoon in Florida. We were going to look for condos there. It was going to be my wedding present to him.”

  Some of my sorrow changed to disbelief. Oh, Cliff, you were setting up another patsy. Another wealthy woman to fund your old-age lifestyle. Wow, a total dog to the very end. But I managed to suppress my outrage for poor Millie with another sympathetic smile.

  “Did you put the wedding band into the casket with him?” I asked gently.

  She blinked up at me. “You saw it?”

  I nodded.

  “Since I didn’t get to exchange rings with him like we planned, I at least wanted him to have it with him.” She sniffed again, looking down at her own ringless hand. “He told me he had the most beautiful ring purchased for me. A halo setting with a pear-shaped diamond. I’ve always been partial to a pear.”

  Oliver coughed and I knew what he was thinking. Millie herself resembled a pear. “That sounds beautiful.” And vaguely familiar. I didn’t see a lot of pear-shaped engagement rings in California and yet, I felt like I’d seen one recently.

  “I wish I had the ring.” She quickly looked up as we heard the front door open. She blotted her eyes again and rose.

  “Millie,” Eleanor called.

  The elderly woman tottered toward the living room door. Jessica Grace was behind her, looking less than thrilled to have been in the crotchety woman’s company, although the expression quickly changed as she realized we were all in what I suspected was a rarely used room. I suspected most people had that same look after any amount of time in Eleanor Hall’s company.

  “Miss Eleanor had a great time at her book club,” Jessica said with a bright smile. Like at the festival, Jessica was dressed down, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was jewelry-free. Without her accessories, she actually looked younger, but there was still a hardness to her.

  “I hated the book,” Eleanor informed us.

  Of course, that could just be a side effect of being with this old bat.

  “But you enjoyed the cookies,” Jessica said cheerfully, and I didn’t miss the subtle criticism in her words.

  Eleanor glowered at the pretty blonde. She might be ancient, but clearly she didn’t miss it either. Then she turned to her daughter, “You said you had work around the house to do today. What are they doing here?”

  “We stopped by to look at Millie’s beautiful quilts,” I said quickly, feeling the need to get poor Millie out of the hot seat. “Oliver leaves for L.A. this Wednesday and he wanted to get one to take back with him.”

  Millie shot me a surprised and then thankful look.

  Eleanor, on the other hand, shot Oliver a critical look, then snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Oliver glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes as if to say, “what the heck does that mean?” It’s not like gay men from California were known to be heavily into quilting.

  “Millie, is there anything else I can do to help you
before I leave?” Jessica said, clearly wanting out of there was much as we did.

  “No, I’ll just have you come over tomorrow to check on Mom, while I’m at my women’s group.”

  “No problem.” She waved and I envied her for her easy escape. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Eleanor.” The door shut behind her before she even got an answer.

  “I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap,” Eleanor muttered and shuffled out of the room, but not before her cane lurched slightly, nearly causing her to lose her balance. She caught herself on the doorframe, regaining her balance. So much for the four legs at the bottom keeping her more stable. Millie rushed to her.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I keep telling you I need a new cane,” Eleanor said gruffly.

  I studied the cane closer, noticing it was seated crookedly on the floor, one of the rubber feet missing.

  “I know. I’ll definitely get you one at the pharmacy tomorrow.” She continued to hold her mother’s arm, and tossed a look over her shoulder. “Will you excuse me for a minute? I'm going to get my mother settled in her room.”

  “Please, go ahead,” I said. “Oliver and I have to go anyway. We can let ourselves out.”

  Millie nodded and helped her mother down the hallway.

  Oliver pulled in a deep breath as soon as we stepped back outside into the sunlight. “Oh my sweet baby James, thank God we are out of there. How does that poor woman live with that nasty witch every day?”

  “I have no idea,” I said as I started down the walkway to where we’d left our bikes. “But I do not believe for a moment Millie killed Cliff. He was her chance to escape. I bet she would have married him even if she suspected he was using her for her money.”

  Oliver pushed up the kickstand and got onto his bike. “I would too. And frankly, I’m starting to believe cranky, old Eleanor could have killed Cliff.”

  It did seem more likely than sweet, albeit pathetic, Millie.

  “So I guess that rules out Millie,” Oliver said as he allowed his bike to coast down the sidewalk.

  It did. And although Eleanor was mean enough, she could barely walk down a hallway without breaking her neck with her lopsided cane. I hit my brakes as a realization came to me.