by Dana Moss
Taffy didn’t think she should get too excited just yet.
“It might have been him, or it might have been someone else. But we will find out who the real murderer is, and then we’ll get you both on a plane back to New York.”
Macy grabbed Taffy’s hand. “We’re not leaving without you!”
Taffy wasn’t going to argue about that right now. She just smiled. Until something small and dark caught her eye.
Midnight was slinking through the tall grass at the edge of the backyard. He’d reached the corner of the house and jumped up on the porch railing.
Cher squealed in surprise and knocked over an open bottle of nail polish. “He scared me!”
Midnight yawned and looked somewhat pleased with himself.
“Is he yours?” asked Macy, leaning forward to pet him.
Midnight hopped off the railing and slowly walked over to sniff Macy’s fingers. His tail was straight and alert.
Cher gathered up the fallen bottle and rubbed the bright orange varnish into the wood plank. Then she sneezed.
“Don’t let him come near me. I’m allergic.”
Macy turned to her. “But you had Valentino for years.”
“I’m only allergic to cats, not Pomeranians.” She eyed Midnight. “Does he come inside?”
Taffy nodded. “Usually. He has his own door.”
Cher shook her head. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to go back to the resort.”
“We can’t afford it now,” Macy said quickly. “Not without Blake.” She got teary again.
“It’s okay,” Taffy said. “Midnight can stay outside.”
He seemed to understand her. He lifted his nose in the air, flicked his tail, and walked straight over to Cher. With a paw, he tapped her still-wet big toe. Cher recoiled. “Tell him to leave me alone.”
Why did cats always seem to have a sixth sense about who didn’t want them around and make a point of getting as close to that person as possible? Taffy gathered him up, to keep him away from Cher but also to give him a little love, but he wanted none of it. He climbed over Taffy’s shoulder, across the back of the wicker chair, and over to the far side of the porch.
Macy said, “I think he’s adorable.”
“Keep him away from me,” grumbled Cher, sniffing.
Poor Midnight, thought Taffy.
Cher’s phone pinged with a text. She glanced at it. “It’s Kyla.’
Taffy was reminded of the social-media leak. “Cher, you really can’t go telling people about what’s going on here. Kyla can’t post stuff about the murder.”
Cher gave her a funny look. “She says she just ran into Luke and he was asking about you.”
Taffy felt a blush start to warm her cheeks. “So what?” She busied herself removing the snack tray. She had more important things to think about than ex-boyfriends. Things such as tracking down a murderer.
Macy handed over her empty iced-tea glass. “He’s never gotten over you, you know.”
Taffy stiffened for a second. “Well, I’m over him. That should be obvious to both of you.”
They shared a glance.
Cher said, “You’re not really serious about that scruffy-faced ranger dude, are you? You mean all this is all for real? This small-town life?”
“It can’t be,” said Macy. “You’re a city girl at heart, Taff. This is all well and good for ‘widening your horizons’ and all that, but come on, you belong in New York. With us. When all this blows over, we’re going home together.”
Taffy stared down at the tray in her hands. She didn’t want to betray any of her lingering doubts about Ethan. And the “all this” wasn’t going to blow over without some serious, concentrated effort.
“Listen, right now, we’re a long way from New York. We just need to focus on getting you out of this situation and back home.”
“Amen to that,” Macy said.
Taffy headed for the kitchen, saying over her shoulder. “Besides, Ethan is good for me.”
But she couldn’t help overhearing Macy mutter, “But Luke would be better.”
Cher added, “Amen to that.”
CHAPTER TEN
Standing in front of the nearly empty fridge, Taffy assessed her situation: Frustrated friend struggling to convince airheaded new roommates that staying out of prison was more important than nail colors and old boyfriends.
She had to face the fact that this whole situation was going to be harder than she thought. On the one hand, she was really happy to be with her old friends again; on the other, she was beginning to see how they clashed with her “small-town life.”
She’d changed since she’d left New York. Not entirely but significantly. She didn’t share the same preoccupations as Macy and Cher, but she felt loyal to them. And now that they were embroiled in a murder case that wasn’t going to be easy to solve, she couldn’t let them down. What if Macy ended up in jail? It was one thing to get your hand slapped for exposing your breasts in Times Square and quite another to get locked up for killing your boyfriend—your almost fiancée—yet they didn’t seem to really register the magnitude of the situation. Was it a self-protective glitch? This denial that anything truly bad could happen to them? Macy should be trying to find a high-priced lawyer to help get her out of this, but then again, she’d just said her parents were dealing with their own crises and couldn’t afford anything. Macy had mentioned that her parents were living with her uncle temporarily. But they must still have influential friends?
While Taffy was mulling this all over, Ethan called.
“How’s it going over there?”
What exactly could she say? “It’s… interesting.”
“Are they adjusting to small-town life?”
“They sort of act like they’re visiting a movie set.”
“And how are they dealing with their roles as murder suspects?”
“Oblivious.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Ethan said, “Are you okay?”
Taffy sighed.
Ethan added. “You’ll get through this. Then things can go back to normal.”
But Taffy didn’t know what normal was anymore.
“We’ve got a small problem with Midnight. Can he come stay with you for a while?”
“Sure. Bring him over.”
* * *
Taffy left the girls with a few home-design magazines and a radio set to the pop-music station and then went in search of Midnight’s traveling case. She packed him up with one of her T-shirts, some catnip, and the remains of a nearly empty bag of cat food—she’d have to pick up more in the next couple of days—and then drove him over to Ethan’s.
Ethan was on the phone when she pushed through the kitchen door. He was nodding and saying, “Okay. That sounds fine,” and writing things down on a notepad. He waved his pencil toward Taffy as a “hello,” and Taffy kneeled down to open Midnight’s carry-case door. His nose twitched, but he didn’t come out right away. He seemed to be glaring at her. The few flecks of catnip caught in his whiskers hadn’t appeased him the way that she’d hoped.
Ethan hung up. “Looks like I’ll be having some company myself.” He tapped at the notepad.
Taffy got up off her knees and left Midnight to his own devices. Ethan seemed to be lost in thought. The notepad contained flight information.
“Who’s coming?”
Without looking up, Ethan said, “A cousin of mine. From Michigan.”
“I didn’t know you had a cousin in Michigan.”
“He’s coming out to the coast and wants to stay for a few days.”
“Like a holiday?”
Ethan shrugged. “He just said he needs a place to crash while he’s here.”
Putting an arm around his shoulder, she slid onto his lap. “And, of course, you said ‘okay’ because that’s what we do for friends—and cousins—right?”
Ethan smiled. He put down his pencil and wrapped one arm around her waist.
“Your friends
don’t like me much, do they?”
Taffy sighed. “They don’t know you is all. They’ve got particular ways of looking at the world.”
“Reminds me of someone I used to know.” He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Was I really so obnoxious?’
Ethan’s smile drew wider. “Worse.”
“I guess we won’t be seeing too much of each other for a little while.”
Ethan frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Midnight had ventured out of his case by now and was sniffing around the base of Ethan’s kitchen table.
“You’ll be busy with your cousin—what’s his name?”
“Uh, Mitch. Short for Mitchell.”
“Mom’s side or dad’s side?”
“Does it matter?”
“Just curious.”
“Dad’s side.”
Taffy rubbed a finger across Ethan’s three-day-growth beard. “Do you ever think of shaving sometimes?”
“Not really. Do you want me to?”
She leaned back to look at him more squarely. “Only if you want to.”
Midnight was now sitting at their feet looking up at them. Ethan glanced at him. “You got the boot, too, did ya?”
“It’s only temporary,” Taffy said, getting to her feet. “When does Mitch arrive?”
“Tomorrow.”
Taffy nodded. She wasn’t too happy about being parted from Ethan or Midnight. She bent down to pet Midnight, but he slinked out of her reach. He seemed to be holding this slight inconvenience against her.
“I just have to get Macy off the hook for this murder, and then they’ll both go back to New York.”
Midnight rubbed up against Ethan’s leg. He bent down to pick him up. To Taffy’s surprise, Midnight let him.
“They’re going to want to take you back with them, you know.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m going to go.” She stared at Ethan holding Midnight. She was standing in the same room, but she felt about a mile away. “I guess I should get back and make sure they aren’t redecorating my living room.”
“I’ll take good care of Midnight.”
By now he was purring in Ethan’s arms. He hardly ever did that with Taffy.
She turned to go, wondering how she was going to get through the next few days. It wasn’t until she was in her car and halfway home that she realized she’d forgotten to give Ethan a kiss goodbye.
* * *
When Taffy returned to her house, she found that the music had been turned up to max and Macy and Cher were in the living room holding her grandmother’s tiara between them.
When Taffy walked in, Macy said, “Isn’t this the tiara you’ve coveted since grade school?”
Taffy nodded, turning down the music a notch. “Nana gave it to Maria for the wedding.”
“Gave it?”
“Maria asked me to keep it safe until the wedding.”
“Instead of keeping it safe, why not just keep it? She doesn’t deserve it. Wasn’t she your maid’s daughter or something?”
“She’s my friend now, Macy. And on top that, she’s investigating the murder you’re wrapped up in.”
Taffy took the tiara and put it back in the velvet box.
The wedding planner book was open on the table in front of Cher. “You haven’t filled anything in yet.”
“I haven’t had time.”
“I’d been looking forward to getting one of those,” Macy said wistfully.
Cher said, “Has she picked out a dress yet?”
“When we were in New York, I took her to a few shops to try some, but she hasn’t decided on one.”
Macy leaned forward. “Do you have pictures?”
Taffy showed them the images on her cell phone. They narrowed the dresses down to the best two.
“You should call and order it.”
“It’s really up to Maria.”
“Those ones will sell out, if they’re not gone already. No harm in calling.”
“I’m sure they’re closed by now.”
Cher pulled out her phone. “What’s the number?”
“You’re her maid of honor,” Macy said. “It’s up to you to make sure everything works out.”
Cher called and found out, in fact, that one of the dresses was no longer available. In the other style, only one was left in Maria’s size.
“You should order it, just case,” Macy said.
Cher nodded in agreement. To the woman on the phone, she said, “Can you ship it to Oregon?”
The two of them convinced Taffy it was better to be safe than sorry and within minutes, the order was complete.
“Now let’s celebrate! Who’s down for cocktails?”
It was only four in the afternoon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Besides stale crackers and iced tea, Taffy had little to offer her guests. She needed to get groceries, and now that Macy and Cher were keen on a complete overhaul of Taffy’s closet, she left them to it and headed out on her own again.
The extra errand gave her an opportunity to check in with Maria. Taffy dialed her number.
“Any luck finding Einer?”
“Not yet.”
His ongoing absence was making him look guiltier by the hour.
Maria said, “How are your friends doing?”
Taffy sighed. “I think they’re in denial. Is that one of the stages of shock?”
“They’re the most spaced-out girls I’ve ever met.”
“Please don’t tell me they remind you of me.”
Maria chuckled. “A little, but you’ve changed a lot since then.”
It seemed so, but sometimes Taffy wondered. “Maybe it’s just their coping strategy.”
“Coping involves facing problems, not avoiding them.”
“I’ll work on it. I’ll get them take it all more seriously.”
“I can call Tessa, our on-call psychologist. They might need some outside help.”
“But all this behavior points to innocence, doesn’t it? They’re not acting guilty or secretive or anxious—”
“You mean they’re not acting like murderers? The thing is, it’s awfully hard to tell. The reasons for murder can be complex or simple, and the reactions and behaviors of those who commit them aren’t always predictable. Off the cuff I would tend to agree that your two friends probably don’t have the combined brain power to pull off a murder and get away with it.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“What I mean is, they seem to be caught in the middle of a strange situation. Macy looks guilty but—”
“I think maybe she was framed.”
“But by who?”
“Einer. Or Lorne. He was right there on the boat too. To me, he doesn’t seem all that upset that his supposed best friend just died.”
“Grief behaviors can also be strange. But of course we’re looking closely everyone who was on that boat last night.”
“But no sign of Einer yet?”
“He’ll turn up.”
Taffy hoped it would be an easy solution. They’d find Einer, discover he went on a drunken rampage after finding his boss had been withholding his last six months of paychecks or something, and everything would be wrapped up overnight.
“Want some help looking for him?”
“My team can handle it.” Taffy could hear a touch of exasperation creep in to Maria’s voice.
“Okay, I’ll let you get back to work.”
Maria seemed relieved when she said goodbye. Taffy hung up, feeling slightly dejected. She just wanted to help. And maybe she could…
* * *
Taffy drove by Ted’s Bar and noticed karaoke night was coming up soon. Popping in briefly, she waved to Ted, but a quick glance around revealed only regulars. No Einer. The Sand Bar, off Main Street, was closed, and The Anchor was populated by a table of businessmen conducting some kind of meeting.
So Taffy headed to the grocery store on the far side of town, which would
give the chance to check the joints down on Cannery Street. First, she filled her trunk full of booze, appetizer ingredients, gourmet frozen meals, and a big bag of cat food. And then, continuing her quest—and because now it wasn’t too far out of her way—she drove down the streets leading to the port that served the larger ships bringing supplies from overseas.
The old cannery was down this way, plus a couple of bars, and she thought an old salt like Einer might find the area interesting. Either he was still out wandering, or he really was guilty and had hightailed it out of town, in which case Maria would no doubt alert the necessary authorities by the end of the day, if she hadn’t already.
Taffy’s hunch had its payoff when she noticed a scruffy, wiry-looking man in a New York Mets cap sitting hunched over a bench on Fell Street, which ran perpendicular to Cannery.
She pulled over, parked, and then crossed the street toward him.
“Einer?”
The man looked up. His already squinty eyes squinted harder at Taffy.
“I’ve been looking for you.” He looked at her as if he didn’t recognize her. She reminded him that they’d met the previous night at the Castle Rock Resort.
“Did you hear your boss was murdered last night?”
His squinty eyes widened so that Taffy could see that they were blue as a deep sea.
“I heard nothing of the sort.” He seemed genuinely surprised. His eyes settled back into their sea-weathered squint, the blue disappearing behind folds of skin and bushy eyebrows.
“Where have you been? And where were you last night?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Well, the police for one. And me. Blake was murdered, and you disappeared so—”
He shook his head solemnly.
“I always thought he had the cloud hanging over him.”
“Cloud?”
“I’ve seen men like that before. At sea. The ones who don’t have long to go. Not many ports o’ call in their future.” He nodded his head knowingly and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pouch of tobacco. From within the pouch he produced some papers that he used to roll up the tobacco.
Taffy sat down on the bench beside him. “Are you saying you knew he was going to die?”
He shook his head as he licked the edge of the rolling paper. “Not saying that, no.”