Two Bites Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  She couldn’t believe the view from where they stood on a wide dock, complete with chairs and a propane-powered grill, connected to a dock with two slips. Being more level with the water emphasized the power of the current and its speed as it flowed. She shifted her gaze from the water and trees to Cliff’s water toys.

  A pontoon boat was tied off in one slip while she could see a motor boat had been winched up and secured above the other. A flat-bottom boat was pulled high onto the shore next to a small shed. Cliff went directly to the shed and opened it. From where she stood, she could see extra life jackets, tubes, and water-skiing toys neatly hanging on one wall. There was a Jet Ski parked in the far corner. While she wasn’t sure if the Jet Ski was operational, there was no question the boats were.

  Cliff handed her a life jacket. “When I was out earlier, the water was like glass.”

  Sarah settled into her seat on the pontoon boat while Cliff cast off. He started the motor and carefully guided the boat out of the slip. As he eased it out, she couldn’t help but notice how the lines of his face and the angle of his shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized how much tension he carried. She glanced back as his boathouse became smaller in the distance and then looked up toward the bluff. From the water, his house wasn’t visible. Considering his toys, the property, and his house, Sarah wondered if he was overextended or if Lance and Bailey made a mistake denying his refinancing application.

  Sarah leaned back, enjoying her cushioned seat. Although she’d been out on this river often in motorboats, this was her first time cruising on a pontoon. It definitely was a smoother ride and she liked the idea of room in the center of the boat for passengers to move around. Sarah took in the scenery, but her focus was on her skipper.

  Cliff sat in the captain’s chair, with a cap perched on his head. Whistling softly, he pushed forward on the throttle and drove the pontoon boat into open water. While the boat picked up speed, he concentrated on the river and his instruments, seemingly oblivious to her staring at him. Sarah couldn’t believe this was the same person who had menacingly threatened Thomas Howell. Reconciling his volatile and good sides was difficult, but there was no question today’s Cliff was the good guy everyone talked about.

  A bird squawking overhead caught her attention. As she looked up, Cliff slowed the boat and pointed to a high tree near the shoreline. “Can you see the nest near the top? I think she’s got some babies up there. For awhile, the male bird brought food to her, but the last few days, she’s ventured from the nest.”

  Sarah followed the line of his gaze and finger. For a moment, all she saw were the leaves of the tree, but a faint movement caught her attention. She strained her eyes and caught the mother bird perched on the edge of the nest. The bird bent forward, her beak aimed into the nest. Sarah wished she had binoculars. “Cliff, how did you spot the nest? I can barely see it.”

  “The past few weeks when I cruised the river, whenever I got near this area, the birds screeched and screamed. I didn’t know why. Finally, I brought a pair of field glasses out with me, idled the boat, and watched and waited. Eventually, the birds got used to me because they hushed and went back to building their nest. I check on them whenever I come in this direction.”

  Sarah kept her eyes trained on the birds and the nest. “I’m jealous of you.”

  “Why?”

  “For finding the time to enjoy things like this. I always seem to be running from one thing to another or putting out some type of crisis.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh, my. I didn’t realize how long we’ve been out here. I’ve got to get back or I’m going to be late.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sarah ran into the animal shelter, almost knocking Phyllis Peters down.

  “Whoa! Where’s the fire, Sarah?”

  “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  Seeing the grin on Phyllis’s face, Sarah knew she’d done no damage. She apologized again. “Normally, I’m very punctual, but I lost track of time and then I ran into traffic.”

  “Sarah, it’s not a big deal. You’re only fifteen minutes late. Harlan has already started walking and playing with the dogs.”

  Even as she said, “That’s great,” Sarah inwardly groaned that on the one day she went to the lake and was late, Harlan was on time. Usually, she was the one who arrived first and spent the afternoon teasing him about how he could be on time for everything Monday through Friday, but never on Saturday. “I guess I better join him.”

  “Wait a moment. I want to talk to you about YipYeow Day.”

  “Is there a problem?” The last thing Sarah needed was to have to deal with another headache.

  “None that I know of. I thought it would be a good idea to review the schedule of events. I want to make sure we have the animals in place and everything ready for the different speakers.”

  Sarah ran through the planned day, including who was assigned to do what. When she finished to Phyllis’s satisfaction, she realized another fifteen minutes had elapsed. “I really need to go help Harlan. He’s going to be wondering where I am.”

  Without giving Phyllis time to come up with another question, she fled in the direction of the animal runs used for big dogs near the rear of the shelter. As she expected, Harlan was walking two of the larger dogs.

  He relinquished one of the leashes to her. “I didn’t think you were going to make it today, so I doubled up to make sure no dog missed a walk. I guess you got tied up with YipYeow stuff.”

  Deciding a fib was better than giving him more to be annoyed about, she crossed her fingers. “I actually was here, a few minutes late because of traffic, but Phyllis stopped me to review the plans for YipYeow Day. She felt certain you could handle things while she and I talked.”

  “I did.”

  “See, she was right about you.” Sarah hoped her teasing would wipe the look of displeasure off his face, but it didn’t. “Harlan, is something wrong?”

  “Yes. Remember what I told you about how I thought Dwayne would react even if we handed him Cliff as a suspect on a silver platter?”

  Sarah nodded, afraid to speak.

  “Well, it went as well as I expected.”

  “You said you weren’t going to talk to him about Cliff.”

  “No. I specifically remember what I said. I told you ‘no matter how we paint it, Dwayne’s not going to believe, even for a moment, Cliff murdered Lance,’ but that I could use it to raise reasonable doubt if we went to trial.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I decided to try your idea of prompting Dwayne to look at other suspects, but, as I feared, he’s got blinders on about Cliff. He said he’s investigated some of the other possibilities I raised but he still believes your mother is the best suspect. And, well, he’s gone so far as to talk to the city prosecutor. They’re going to bring their case against her before the grand jury when it meets in ten days to see if they can get an indictment.”

  “But what kind of a case can the prosecutor present? Everyplace I look, there’s a hole.”

  “He doesn’t need to prove her guilt. Only enough for the grand jury to decide if criminal charges should be brought. The prosecutor will show your mother was alone with him in his office, she deliberately didn’t use the public lobby entrance, and the only fingerprints found on the murder weapon are hers. He’s got the elements covered. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry yet, Harlan. We still have a few more days to prove her innocence.” This time he didn’t tell her to leave it to the professionals.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Throughout the rest of the weekend and Monday, try as she might, Sarah couldn’t think of a way to get her mother off the hook. She racked her brain and tried out her ideas on Harlan about everyone who might have had an opportunity to kill Lance. Although they both agreed Amanda and Bailey had opportunity, financial motives, and got promotions out of Lance’s death, they also were faced with the fact that both ran into Lance’s office from the lobby after Maybelle screamed.


  Harlan questioned the veracity of Eloise’s time line and unconfirmed reporting of the voices she heard, noting that she had opportunity when she allegedly went for the copier paper, but Sarah pointed out that they knew she’d heard at least Cliff’s voice and that Eloise, too, responded to the scream from within the lobby. In the end, they were no further along in coming up with a new suspect than they were on Saturday. All they had concluded was that there were time periods everyone could have been outside the bank long enough to have gone in and out of Lance’s office through the alley before returning to the interior of the bank.

  Consequently, this morning, Sarah couldn’t concentrate on work. Her ringing desk phone made her think of the dinging bell signaling a round break for a boxer during a fight. “Endicott and Associates.”

  “One of these days, you have to explain to me who the associates are.”

  It amused Sarah that sometimes her sister’s mind worked in the same way as hers, but it wasn’t enough to make her crack a smile today. “Emily, what’s up?”

  “Can’t a person simply call to tell her sister what a wonderful day it is?”

  “She could, if her name wasn’t Emily Johnson, who hasn’t made that kind of telephone call even once in the almost thirty years she’d been on earth. I repeat, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “Good news.”

  “About Mom?”

  “I only wish. More about us. Mr. Bailey called first thing this morning to apologize for the error and tell me he signed the paperwork approving our loan application.”

  “Did he mention why he had a change of heart during his apology?”

  “He said something about Mom’s guarantee not being associated with the paperwork when he reviewed it but that Mr. Knowlton, before his death, recognized it was missing and made a note on the file. Once Mr. Bailey found the note, he immediately had his assistant locate the documents and he corrected his error. I blocked out the rest of what he said about how he hoped this was the beginning of a long and satisfactory relationship between Southwind and the bank. Whatever really happened doesn’t matter. We’ve got the financing.”

  “Congratulations.” Sarah didn’t mention what Eloise had told her about Lance having the new paperwork drafted prior to last week’s meeting. “Marcus must be happy.”

  “He’s over the moon. Not only did the loan come through, but Cliff finished the venting, the stove arrived and was installed, and because Cliff was able to catch the building inspector, who happened to be in the building today, everything was signed off. Isn’t it wonderful, Sarah? We’ll be able to open the pub in time for soft openings before this weekend’s YipYeow events and then we can plan a grand opening.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Sarah thought about the Saturday-night reception Marcus planned for the YipYeow volunteers. Now it could go off without a hitch. That was, unless you considered the fact that one half of the Southwind ownership team would be preparing the food at the Howellian.

  “What did Marcus say about you not being there for the Saturday-night reception?”

  There was a pause before Emily responded. “He’s not thrilled, but he’s come around to realizing my six months of work will make us far more solvent. Besides, we’ll start soft openings at Southwind tomorrow and I’ll be in and out for those first services. Sarah, I called because I need to ask another favor of you.”

  “What?”

  “Because Southwind is opening and having its reception on Saturday night, I can’t use Marcus’s staff, except for Grace, at the Howellian. I called in all my chits, and I pretty much covered my kitchen-staff needs, but I’m short a few servers. I know you’re going to be out in the sun most of the day with the YipYeow parade and the pet adoptions, but would you please help me out Saturday night?”

  Sarah didn’t have to think twice. Of course she would be there for Emily. It seemed ironic to Sarah that her cool, collected sister needed her help twice within two weeks. Considering, since childhood, Emily was the careful planner while Sarah stretched out on the couch watching Perry Mason reruns, their role reversal felt strange to her.

  “What do you need me to do and how do you want me to dress?”

  “Typical passing of hors d’oeuvres, replenishing serving tables, clearing away cups and plates people put down, and other duties as assigned. As for your other question, black pants and either a comfortable T-shirt or thin blouse works. Thomas provides a white jacket with the Howellian insignia for each server.”

  Sarah bit her tongue to avoid making a crack about the jacket. “You can count on me to be there. You might want to tell Thomas he’ll need to have an extra jacket for me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure I can keep it white all night.”

  Sarah was still chuckling at the thought of the different things she could accidentally spill on the server’s jacket when Harlan came out of his office. “Guess what, Harlan?” She didn’t wait for her boss to venture a guess. “Emily called. Their loan was approved. That takes care of any financial issues involved with the pub and the house, if you get it rezoned at today’s meeting.”

  “That’s what I came to talk to you about. Hopefully, the rezoning issue is going to be pulled from this week’s agenda and not addressed until next week.”

  “Why? Is it that feasibility study Anne was telling Marcus about?”

  “Yes, but a study hasn’t been ordered yet. It’s still only a request at this point. That’s why I want the topic pulled from this week’s agenda. There’s a chance we can get enough votes for an up-and-down vote next week rather than the issue being stopped indefinitely for a study.”

  “Why would a study take so long?”

  “Because they’ll include environmental impact and a million other things to be considered.”

  “Do you think delaying for a vote will really be to our advantage?”

  “It’s our best shot. The council is split four to four on rezoning. We won’t know which way it will go until we know who fills Lance’s seat.”

  “Have they scheduled an election?”

  “Filling his slot isn’t done by public election. The council appoints someone to fill out the remainder of his term. That person will have to run again in the next general election.”

  “What’s the delay appointing someone? Can’t they do it today?”

  “Coulda, woulda, shoulda, but the council is split.”

  “I know, you said, four to four.”

  “They’re even more splintered on a possible replacement for Lance. Behind the scenes, Anne hasn’t stated her preference, but two council members are advocating Jane.”

  “Jane? Why?”

  “They think she would have been Bill’s choice. They’re hoping because of her desire to start a new business, she’ll vote for an entertainment district.”

  “What about the other councilmen?”

  “Two are advancing their own candidates, and now there is a new dark horse being backed by three members of the council.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Bailey. This faction thinks he will give them the same edge Lance did—a joining of the council and the bank at the hip. They claim Lance’s dual role made things go smoother when the city was looking for financing or needed answers on bond issues and other money-related situations unique to Wheaton.”

  “I’m surprised Anne isn’t backing Bailey. My understanding is she is an investor in the bank. Surely she’d be able to influence him. I would think he’d provide her with more value than Jane or anyone else.”

  Harlan threw his hands up in a gesture of futility. “I’d have thought that way, too, but who’s to know what goes on in Anne’s brain? Maybe she’s afraid she can’t control him as much as she wants? Perhaps she believes there should be an arm’s-length relationship between the bank and the city council? Or she may think he’ll sell out for rezoning because new businesses mean more deals for the bank? Who knows?”

  “Whatever it is, you can bet she’l
l cast her vote for whatever way benefits the Hightowers.”

  “That’s a little snide, but I don’t disagree with you. Anyway, let’s hope I can get our motion withdrawn or tabled for today’s meeting.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  On Saturday, with four hours to go until YipYeow Day officially began, Sarah paced the park pavilion. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She checked the forecast on her phone—no hint of rain in the forecast until midweek. That was a relief !

  Volunteers were prepping the area around the speakers’ stage Cliff had built. To the right of the stage, in the open area where he’d constructed a raised platform, lined-up cages already sat in anticipation of when the adoptable animals arrived from the shelter. On the other side of the stage, vendors and volunteers mingled arranging tablecloths, goods, and signs for prizes and services. Food would be put out closer to the event.

  Everything was going too smoothly.

  Sarah anticipated the proverbial other shoe dropping at any moment. Her nerves were on edge because the week had gone too well. Harlan obtained a one-week reprieve before the rezoning question or the feasibility study was considered. No new council member was appointed, but Harlan was hopeful a compromise candidate, on the side of the white hats, would be appointed soon.

  The week had also gone well because Marcus, with limited help from Emily, but plenty from Jacob, held three successful Southwind Pub soft opening nights. Almost as good, nothing blew up at the office, and her mother was still a free woman, at least until the grand jury met next week. More important, she’d personally collected and turned over to Bailey YipYeow corporate sponsorship checks in the amount of fourteen thousand dollars.

  The fourteen thousand dollars included Harlan’s five-thousand-dollar matching contribution, but the rest were smaller contributions from most of the downtown merchants and two anonymous givers. She felt like she should pump her fist in the air or take a little bow for having met her secret goal before the first animal strutted forward in the parade. By her calculations, her fourteen thousand dollars, plus the bank’s seed money and its five thousand matching funds, equaled the twenty thousand dollars she’d dreamed of raising. Anything made from registrations, parade-related contributions, adoptions, and tonight’s Howellian Catapalooza affair was gravy.