Claws for Alarm

by Cate Conte

  Adele whistled. “How about that. Any idea who did it? Or are they insinuating Mish and Stevie had a motive?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured, skimming the article, which had nothing new to report than what I’d told Ellory yesterday. Jenna’s story, however, was chock-full of Warner family history. I needed to sit down and read this. “Can I keep this?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “It’s yours. So what are you gonna do? The party is off, I guess?”

  “No. We’re having it here on Saturday. I’ll explain later.” I turned as Lucas stuck his head in to say good morning. “Perfect timing. Are you going to work? Or do you want to run an errand with me?” I asked.

  “I can go with you,” he said. “Caro can take this morning’s first appointment. Let me call her.”

  “I’ll grab you some coffee to go.” I went out to the coffeepot, filled two cups and took our coffees and the paper into the car to wait for him, reading through Jenna’s story while I did. She was thorough, I had to give her that. Her story was part history lesson, part family drama, part modern-day scandal. Though apparently she hadn’t sniffed out anything new—yet.

  Lucas opened the door and climbed in. I handed him his coffee.

  “Thanks,” he said. “So where are we going?”

  “To the courthouse. I want to see Stevie’s grandmother’s will. But I need to make a quick stop at the Paradise first.”

  Lucas frowned. “You can do that? See someone’s will?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. In Massachusetts wills become public record after probate.”

  “So why do you want to see it?”

  “Because I wanted to see what the details were about this property, since it seemed to be such a contentious thing between Stevie and Jillian. And it feels like that’s the motive du jour.” I slowed at the light near the ferry dock. I watched early-bird vacationers crossing the street, eager to start their day on our picturesque island. Although there were a lot of people streaming from this boat. I leaned forward, squinting a little. I saw a lot of people hauling equipment. Equipment that looked a lot like cameras. Then it dawned on me.

  The media circus had arrived.

  “Look at that,” I said, pointing.

  “What’s going on?” Lucas asked.

  “The media. Peyton’s been linked to Jillian and the fundraiser.”

  I turned toward the waterfront when the light turned green, and we reached the Paradise five minutes later. I felt my heart kick up a couple of notches even just driving into the parking lot and hoped I could handle this visit. I parked and looked at Lucas. He too looked doubtful about this trip.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  “I want to find out where she’d put all the stuff for the event. You coming?”

  “Of course.”

  We got out and headed into the lobby. I scanned the check-in area. No Purple Hair. She was probably traumatized too and had to take some time off. I waited until one of the people working the desk was free and went up.

  “Checking in?” the middle-aged, pleasant-faced man inquired.

  “No, thank you. I actually was hoping to talk to Marianna. My name is Maddie James. We had an appointment yesterday.”

  A cloud passed over his face. “Ah, yes. One moment, I’ll see if she’s available.” He picked up the phone, murmured something into it, and then hung up. “If you care to wait for a few minutes, she can come down shortly.”

  I thanked him. Lucas and I went over to the sitting area to wait. I had my eyes open for Chad, but didn’t see him.

  Marianna didn’t keep us waiting long. “Ms. James,” she said, hurrying over, heels clicking efficiently on the marble floor. “Marianna Huston. I’m so terribly sorry about everything that happened.”

  I nodded gravely. “Yes, it’s awful. Thank you.”

  “Did I know you were coming back today?”

  “No. Sorry. I wanted to find out if the giveaway items were here?”

  “The boxes? Sure they are. Jillian had them couriered over Saturday. We stored them in one of our event war rooms.”

  “War room?” Lucas asked.

  She smiled. “Event-planner terminology. We have small rooms near all our event spaces where the teams can set up computers, have meetings, troubleshoot.”

  “I see. Are those rooms open?” I asked. “Meaning can anyone access them?”

  “The police asked the same question,” she said with a small smile. “No. I mean, the hotel staff can. But the general public cannot.”

  “Is someone picking them up?” I asked. “If not, I can take them.”

  “Another League staffer is picking them up. I’m afraid I can’t release them to anyone else.”

  “I see. Did you happen to see Jillian yesterday morning?” I asked.

  “Me? No. We were supposed to have our meeting, as you know. I didn’t get in until about nine thirty and went straight to my office. When I got called to come down, the … incident had already occurred.” She glanced at her watch. “Anything else?”

  “Is the woman who was working the front desk here? She had purple hair?”

  Marianna shook her head. “Yolanda? She has a few days off. She was terribly traumatized by this whole thing.”

  I thanked her and turned to go, but she called me back. “Shall we continue to hold that date? I didn’t want to assume not.”

  “I think you can let the date go,” I said. “We’ll definitely look to do another event here, though.”

  We got back in the car and drove to the courthouse downtown, right near city hall. The one thing I liked about it was that it had its own parking lot, so there was no wasting time circling streets looking for a spot. After we got through security, the guards directed us to the probate court.

  The man behind the desk had bushy, curly hair and thick glasses. He squinted at us when we walked in. “Mornin’,” he said. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I’m looking for a will,” I said, flashing him my best smile.

  “Name?” He pushed his glasses up on his nose with his middle finger.

  “Marcella Cox.”

  He let out a little laugh. “Popular lady, that one.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re the third person to come in here today looking for that will.” He disappeared into the stacks behind him.

  I glanced at Lucas. “Third person?” I murmured.

  The clerk returned with a folder. “Forty-five dollars,” he said. “It includes photocopies. Sign here.” He pushed a clipboard at me.

  I pulled out my wallet, handed him the money and signed the form. He handed me a receipt. “You can go right there.” He pointed to a small desk. “Photocopier is over there.”

  Lucas and I went over to the desk with the file. I sat. Lucas leaned against it.

  “Third person today to request this will,” I said in a low voice. “I bet Jenna is one of them. But who else?”

  “The cops?” Lucas suggested.

  “Maybe.” I flipped through the pages, scanning the words for anything that jumped out. Finally, after three pages of miscellany, we got to the meat of the will—the estate.

  With regards to the Cox estate, all properties on Allegheny Lane West, I hereby bequeath my grandchildren, Steven Quincy Warner and Jillian Marcella Allen, the opportunity to retain full ownership.

  The opportunity? What the heck did that mean? I kept reading.

  If either of my grandchildren proves to me that they will use the property as it was meant, to remain in the Cox family, perpetuate the lineage, and continue to be a benefactor of Daybreak Island before my death, that individual shall inherit. In the event of my death before the decision is made, I hereby appoint Leopold Mancini to have final say. If a decision isn’t made within four weeks after my death, the property shall immediately revert to the Daybreak Island Land Trust and become the property of the Town.

  I had to read that twice, sure that my eyes were deceiving me. It had to be the stress of the past fe
w days. Phrases swam in my head—perpetuate the lineage, benefactor, Leopold Mancini to have final say. This document named Grandpa as the executor? And he failed to mention that?

  “What’s wrong?” Lucas asked, alarmed by the look on my face. When I didn’t answer, he peered over my shoulder at the paper. It took him a minute to get to that part, but eventually his eyes widened. “Does that say…”

  “Grandpa? Yeah. Sure looks like it. Unless there’s another Leopold Mancini on the island.” I grabbed the papers and went to the copier. I needed to bring the proof home when I confronted him about why he hadn’t told me the whole truth about any of this.

  Chapter 28

  I let Lucas drive home and read the words from my photocopied sheet three more times on the way. I didn’t really know what to say or how to approach Grandpa about this. Why hadn’t he mentioned any of this to me? And how could he be working for Stevie but also be the executor of Stevie’s grandmother’s will? And why had she chosen Grandpa? I know he’d told me she and Grandma were friendly, but were they really that close? Was it because he was the former police chief and she considered him trustworthy? It made no sense at all.

  But now it meant that I had to stick my nose in and figure this out. Not only were my friends involved, but now my grandfather was too. I couldn’t just sit back and plan a party.

  “You had no idea?” Lucas asked, when the silence got too loud for the car.

  I shook my head. “It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell me Stevie had hired him. But I don’t get it. How could he be both?”

  “I guess you’re just gonna have to ask him, babe.” Lucas reached over and squeezed my hand as we pulled into the driveway. “Want me to come with?”

  “No. It will be better if I talk to him on my own. But thanks.” I leaned over and kissed him.

  “I have to go to the shop for a bit. Do you want to keep Ollie here?”

  “Yes. I could use some Ollie today. Thanks.” I kissed him again and stepped out of the car.

  A flash went off in my face. Instinctively I put my hands up to shield myself as Lucas jumped out of the car. Another flash went off.

  “What the…” Once the silver dots cleared, I realized there were four photographers in our yard. They must have been lurking out of sight and sprang on us when we arrived.

  “It’s not them,” one of them said.

  “Not who? This is my house!” I yelled.

  A woman stepped forward, her eyes glinting in anticipation. “Can you confirm the cat rumor?”

  I stared at her. “What cat rumor?”

  “Peyton and her cat,” the woman said. “What do you know?”

  I had no clue what she was talking about, and of course Grandpa chose that moment to fling the front door open.

  “Private property,” he yelled, jerking his thumb toward the street. “Off, now.”

  A couple of them tried to slink back toward the bushes, but Lucas redirected them. They grumbled a little but went out to the road. For the first time I noticed a couple of vans parked along the street. Nondescript, of course. The tabloids didn’t want to announce their presence, but Becky was right. They were here.

  “Jeez.” Lucas shook his head. “Ballsy, aren’t they?”

  “They sure are,” I murmured, but my mind was on the woman who’d asked me about Peyton and her cat. What was she talking about? Part of me wanted to go talk to her, but I had a feeling it would be like feeding a shark.

  “You’ll be okay?” Lucas looked doubtfully at where they had clustered like a pack of wolves, waiting for their opportunity to pounce again.

  “Fine. I’ll sic Grandpa on them again if they try anything.” I looked back at the front door. Grandpa stood there, arms crossed over this chest, daring them to come back. “Go. Let me take care of yelling at Grandpa Leo.”

  Lucas backed away. “I don’t want to be anywhere near here while that’s occurring.”

  Once he’d backed out of the driveway, I took a breath and headed inside. Grandpa had left the doorway and was nowhere in sight. Val had AirPods in her ears, pacing around the living room talking on the phone. Ollie, thinking they were playing some sort of game, followed on her heels, tail wagging. JJ watched the whole thing from the couch with a bit of disdain.

  “I’m so pleased you’re able to help,” Val was saying. When she caught sight of me, she flashed me two thumbs up. “Yes, I’ll see you first thing in the morning. Thank you so much!” She hit the red button to disconnect the call and danced over to me. “We got the coolest caterer on the Cape to come over and do your party. How much do you love me, huh?” She leaned over and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek.

  “I love you lots,” I assured her. “Now where’s Grandpa? He was just here.”

  “Don’t you even want to know who it is?” Val demanded. “This is a huge get, especially on, like, four days’ notice!”

  “I do. Sorry. Who is it?” I pushed my hair out of my face and waited, trying not to show my impatience.

  “Enchanted Dishes. I think it’s a sign,” she said. “Get it? Enchanted, Stevie Nicks theme?”

  “Right. Yes. That’s amazing, Val. Great job.”

  Val sighed. “You’ll be happy when you taste their food. I’ve been researching and—”

  “I’m super happy already. Swear to God. Listen, I really need to find Grandpa, okay?” I left her midsentence and hurried toward the basement door. He’d probably headed straight back down there, maybe to work on Stevie’s case.

  I pounded down the stairs and skidded around the game room corner to Grandpa’s office door, pushing it open without knocking. He glanced up from his desk, barely arching an eyebrow at my dramatic entrance.

  “Are you kidding?” I demanded, without preamble.

  “About?” He pushed aside the papers he was reading and folded his hands over them.

  “You’re the executor of Marcella Cox’s will! You had to pick between Stevie and Jillian.”

  Grandpa sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “Yes, well. It’s unfortunate that Marcella did that. I had no idea.”

  “You what?” This story was getting more outlandish by the minute. All this drama—and possibly someone’s life—over some stupid pieces of property and an old woman’s unexplained thought process.

  “I didn’t know, Madalyn. Not until Marcella passed and her attorney called me.”

  “Ugh.” I sank down in one of his guest chairs. “But why you? And is that normal?”

  He shrugged. “People do all kinds of things with their wills, Maddie. You have no idea. And Marcella and your grandmother were good friends. Don’t you remember?”

  “You guys had a lot of good friends. Why was this one so special?” My grandparents knew everyone, partly because of Grandpa’s job and partly because Grandma was involved in so many things on the island it was hard to keep track. They had always been a very social couple. I had never kept much track of who was who and what their relationships were.

  That said, I did remember Marcella being around a lot when I’d lived on the island. She’d been an eccentric woman who wore hats and fancy outfits, like, every single day for no good reason. I remembered her as stiff, New England old money. “I guess,” I said. “So you were already working for Stevie when you found out?”

  Grandpa gave me a look. “You are relentless.”

  “Grandpa. People are wondering if Stevie killed Jillian over this stupid property! And your granddaughters had to find her body. Are you forgetting all of this?”

  Now his eyes darkened to downright stormy. “No, I most certainly am not.”

  “So what happened when they found out?”

  He shrugged. “They weren’t happy, of course. But it was hardly my fault. And I didn’t meet Jillian actually until, well, until she showed up here.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What about the will reading?”

  “She didn’t come in person. She was on the phone.”

  “And what was her reaction?” />
  “I’m sure it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she kept her opinions to herself.”

  “But then she showed up here looking to raise all this money for our café.” Jillian’s motives for helping us were starting to smell fishy. Exactly what Mish and Stevie had insinuated. “So how were you going to make this decision, then?”

  Grandpa sighed. “I hadn’t really figured that part out yet.”

  “So does it automatically go to Stevie because she’s dead?” That would definitely not look good for Stevie. Or Mish.

  “No,” Grandpa said. “The lawyer explained that I will still be able to make a decision based on what I feel Stevie’s intent for the property is.”

  This sounded really complicated to me. “I would think his intent would be to live there, right? That’s what he’s been doing.”

  Grandpa didn’t comment.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Maddie. And I can’t really talk about this now because as you can imagine, this whole thing could be halted until her murder is solved.” He left the rest of it hanging, unspoken: In case Stevie is convicted of killing her.

  “What a mess.” I stood to go, then turned back. “Did Jillian come to the café because she was trying to impress you so you’d give her the property?”

  “We’ll never know that for sure, Doll,” Grandpa said. “But I have a sneaking suspicion the answer would be yes.”

  Chapter 29

  I needed to get out of this house for a few minutes. My conversation with Grandpa had left me antsy and I had to think. I called JJ, slipped on his harness, and headed down the street toward Damian’s. JJ would get some treats, I could get some fries, and if Damian wasn’t too busy, I could run this whole mess by him and try to get some perspective.

  A conversation didn’t look promising when I arrived, though. Damian’s place had a pretty big crowd for this time of day—meaning, between lunch and dinner. The ferries were starting to make more trips over as the summer schedule kicked into gear, and more and more tourists were catching those ferries to experience island life, even if it was just for an afternoon. Admittedly, this was all the better for local businesses. When people came out here, especially if it was for a short time, they tried to cram as much as possible into the visit. That meant eating all the food they could fit in, having ice cream, buying souvenirs—it became almost manic for some people, who wanted to say they’d gotten the lay of the land and brag about it to their friends back home.