The Tell Tail Heart

by Cate Conte

  I cleared my throat to make sure my voice was steady. “Did he see something?” I pressed. “Is he afraid to talk to the cops?”

  Grandpa said nothing.

  “Do they have any suspects?”

  Still nothing.

  Frustration flared up. Grandpa was basically telling me he was a suspect, though in my heart I still couldn’t believe the quirky man I’d known since I was a child could be capable of something like what Grandpa was talking about. But then again, how well did any of us really know anyone else?

  I watched his bushy white eyebrows draw together so they were almost one straight line—a sure sign that he was not happy. When he spoke, his voice had dropped a few octaves, which I knew from experience was worse than him shouting. “Madalyn. Let it go. I mean it.”

  My desire to not make him angrier warred with my desire to understand. The latter won out. “Well, why did you tell me Jason Holt was murdered if you didn’t want me to ask any questions?”

  More silence.

  These were the times when I wondered how my grandmother had stayed married. Frustrated, I rose from my chair. “Fine. Shut me out. So much for the partnership I thought we had.” The tears were back. I blinked them away and turned to the door. “I have to go.”

  I was halfway out the kitchen door when he called me back. I paused but didn’t turn.

  “I hope you know,” he said softly, “that I would never put anyone in my family in danger. All of you are the most important things to me.”

  Translation: I wouldn’t bring him here if I had even a fleeting suspicion he was dangerous and would cause anyone harm of any kind. Even if he is a suspect. Well, that last part I added.

  I looked back at him over my shoulder. “Fine,” I said. I didn’t feel like there was much else I could say.

  Grandpa didn’t seem to expect anything else. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, his eyes lingering on me for a minute, then went back to the paper. Conversation over.

  I went upstairs and disturbed JJ’s perpetual nap to dress him in his little leather coat—a gift from Lucas—and his harness, pulled on my coat and boots, grabbed my purse, and hurried out the door. I took Grandma’s car this time. I assumed Grandpa would be busy today.

  Chapter 16

  I settled JJ on his fluffy blanket in my passenger seat, then took off. As I drove into town, I tried to shake off the dread Grandpa’s revelation had brought. Murdered. Who had killed a best-selling, famous author who’d come here for peace and quiet, a chance to work uninterrupted?

  That’s what I’d assumed, anyway. And what Val had assumed. And probably what everyone assumed when they saw someone famous, and likely pretty rich, effectively hiding out on an island that’s only real appeal was in the summer months. But an expensive, prestigious island nonetheless.

  But what if he’d only wanted people to think that? What if he’d been here for another reason?

  I thought about that. What could the other reason be? Was someone after him? Had he done something wrong? Was he hiding from someone? Cops or bad guys? Was he a gambler who owed the wrong person money? Or maybe he had a stalker. Those things happened when you got rich and famous. Especially when you wrote about twisted family dynamics and the dark sides of relationships like Holt did. I’m sure that kind of stuff attracted a certain following. Or maybe it was like in Stephen King’s Misery. Someone wanted him to write a certain book a certain way. Maybe he hadn’t and they’d tracked him down and killed him. Made it look like a tragic accident.

  Jeez, why wasn’t I a mystery author? I was pretty darn good at inventing stories.

  My cell rang. I glanced at the screen. Speaking of inventing mysteries. My mother.

  “Did you see the news?” she demanded when I answered.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said.

  “Madalyn. How could this happen? I was supposed to get to meet Jason Holt and talk books! This is terrible!” She sounded genuinely upset.

  “Mom. You’re acting like this is my fault.” I put my blinker on to turn right into town, then changed my mind and cut across the lane to go left. Out of curiosity, I wanted to drive past the marina.

  “Did you know about this?”

  “I found out when you did.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Why does everyone think I know this stuff?” I asked.

  “Because you usually do,” my mother said. “Or at least you try to find out. So what do you know?”

  “I don’t know anything! But you’ll be the first one I call if I find anything out.” I let out a sound of dismay when I saw the road to the marina was still blocked off. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

  I hung up and called Val.

  “Yeah,” she answered, sounding distracted.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “At the yacht club,” she said. “Why?”

  “How’d you get in? The road is blocked off.”

  “Ava-Rose let them know we were coming. Why? Are you coming here for something?”

  “No, I was just taking a ride by and was curious,” I said.

  “Oh. Well, did you need something? I have to get back to work.” She sounded cranky.

  I opened my mouth to ask her why, then changed my mind. “No. Just curious. I’ll see you at home later.”

  She grunted something at me and hung up. I wrinkled my nose at the phone, then did a three-point turn and headed back into town. My first stop was the Chronicle office. I parked outside and called Becky.

  “I’m downstairs. You free?”

  “I can take a break. Come on up.”

  I scooped up JJ and went to the side door reserved for the reporters, grabbing it when the buzzer sounded, and hurried up to the newsroom, which was buzzing with activity. Not abnormal for a Thursday morning, but a bit abnormal for a Thursday morning in November. Unless there’d been a murder and an impending nor’easter hung over the island.

  She met me at the front desk. “Want to get a coffee?” she asked. “Hey, J. Fancy jacket.” She reached over and scratched his chin. He squeaked, preening a little.

  I hesitated. The newsroom coffee was stereotypically bad.

  “Not here. From Bean,” she said, reading my mind.

  “Oh. Then yes, for sure,” I said, relieved.

  She grinned. “I’ll grab my coat. Can we walk?”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” It was cold out, but it would be more trouble to drive the quarter mile around the corner to the coffee shop.

  “Good. I need some air. I’ve been here since six thirty.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” I said. “I figured you’d slept here.”

  “I probably should have,” Becky muttered. “Between the nonsensical coverage of asking people how they feel about the storm and trying to stay on top of the Holt story, it’s crazy. You want to give me a quote, by the way? On how you’re preparing for the storm? Buying milk and bread? Tuning up your generator?” She rolled her eyes.

  I laughed. “Your boss still making you guys man-on-the-street everything?”

  She nodded. “Devin is nuts about that sort of crap. I get it, but I never liked it, either. The reporters mostly don’t love it.”

  She didn’t say anything else until we got outside. Once we hit the street, we looked at each other. “You heard?” we both asked simultaneously. I burst out laughing, despite the seriousness of the subject matter. Becky and I had always been on the same wavelength, since we were first graders who raided our mothers’ makeup stash and set up a glam stand on the sidewalk near the ferry dock to make some extra cash from the tourists. I’d wanted to make money. She had brought along a notebook, a crayon, and a pasta spoon she used as a microphone and tried to get interviews from the people coming here and find out their stories.

  I guess both our careers were set in stone at an early age.

  “How’d you hear? Leo?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Murder. Hard to believe. Although I wasn’t able to coax a
nything more out of him. Like, if it was murder murder or accidental murder.”

  She stared at me. “There’s a difference?” But before I could try to explain, she shook her head. “Never mind. I’m not sure, either. Ellory gave me a courtesy call this morning, on the condition I didn’t sic any of the reporters on him yet.”

  “Ellory?” I was surprised.

  “Yeah. He’s not a bad guy. He’s actually been a pretty good partner to us,” Becky said. She shivered and jammed her hands into her pockets. “I can’t believe it’s so freakin’ cold already. That storm is definitely coming. Yeah, Ellory knows we treat the PD fairly, as long as they’re square with us. And he’s smart enough to know this is going to be national news pretty quickly. Don’t get me wrong, he figures if he keeps me apprised there’s a better chance he can control the situation. But it’s good to know his allegiance is with the locals, whatever the reason.”

  “Do they have any suspects?” I asked. “Grandpa stopped talking after he gave me the basics.”

  Becky kept her gaze straight ahead and didn’t say anything for a long minute.

  “Beck?”

  We’d reached Bean, but I grabbed her arm before we got to the door. “What are you not telling me?”

  “I don’t know if he’s a suspect, but they’re looking for Leopard Man,” she said slowly. “They asked me to keep my ears open for anything relating to him. Apparently no one’s seen him since last night.”

  Chapter 17

  It wasn’t exactly true. I’d seen him. And this news twisted in my gut. I hugged JJ closer. “Why are they looking for him?” I asked. “Did they tell you?”

  She gave me a look. “We aren’t that friendly, but I can venture a guess.”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t make sense, Becky. If it was a hit-and-run, how could it be him? He doesn’t have a car!” Or did he? Just because I’d never seen him drive didn’t mean he didn’t have one. Just another question to add to the ever-growing list since last night.

  And how had no one seen a larger-than-life man running around in a giant fuzzy leopard coat? He must’ve taken stealth lessons from his favorite species.

  Becky shook her head. “I have no idea. And no details. I only know what Ellory told me and I’m guessing you’d hear about it from Leo anyway.”

  It was my turn not to respond. I couldn’t say anything to Becky about our secret houseguest last night, though I wished I could confide in her. But I was really struggling to figure out why they were eyeing Leopard Man.

  A guy came up behind us and gave us a nasty look for blocking the door. Becky, small and mighty that she was, returned his stare with one twice as lethal, then opened the door and sauntered inside, taking her sweet time. Hiding a grin, I followed her. With her American Girl doll blond curls and big blue eyes, Becky looked tiny and innocent, but she could be as ruthless as they come. Hence the job she held. The guy slunk away to stare at the menu.

  Bean was busy. I was glad to see this because, as a young entrepreneur on the island, I rooted for new businesses and new ways of doing things in a place that was in danger of keeping itself stagnant in a lot of ways. The other part of me recognized that its success was in large part due to the recent demise of another local business that I remembered fondly from my childhood, one of Grandpa’s and my favorite places. The coffee at Daybreak Donuts had been old-fashioned, but the doughnuts were one of a kind. It was sad to know a piece of my history was gone.

  But a definite plus for Bean was that they didn’t blink an eye when an island celeb like JJ came in. They even offered me a bowl of milk for him, which I politely declined, as milk wasn’t actually good for cats. We ordered—a chai tea latte for Becky, a mocha with an extra shot for me—and found a table in the back.

  “So what’s next?” I asked. “When are they planning to announce this news?”

  “After they contact next of kin,” Becky said. “Apparently they’re having trouble figuring out who that is. Holt was in the middle of a divorce, and they’re trying to figure out if they should contact his soon-to-be ex-wife or someone in his family if they can find anyone. Sounded like he didn’t have a lot of family left. My guys haven’t been able to track anyone down, either. His father died a while ago. No idea about his mother.”

  A broken marriage. I pondered that. Maybe Holt’s reasons for seeking solitude weren’t work related or crime related. Maybe he was simply nursing a broken heart. It seemed like incredibly bad luck to get run over and tossed into the ocean during a vacation on top of all of that.

  “This whole thing is just weird, though. Don’t you think?” I asked. “I mean, why was he out in the street anyway? The marina isn’t exactly hopping this time of year. The yacht club is closed except for private events.” It was a tourist attraction during the summer season, of course, especially given that a large percentage of our visitors were wealthy enough that they had boats to dock there, and the ones who didn’t liked to go down and look at them all. Seeing how the other half lived, I guess. But now? There was nothing to see. All the fancy boats had been stored for winter or sailed back down the coast to warmer waters. I thought of my sister, out there with Ava-Rose planning a Thanksgiving dinner in that big, empty club. “Why would he have been down there walking around anyway?”

  “That’s a good question,” Becky said.

  I wondered if my sister had any thoughts on that, given her recent experiences there. I made a mental note to ask her. “Does anyone know where he was staying?”

  “I’ve been trying to find that out. There’s only one hotel open in town. But you know how they are about privacy. The police will find that out before we will.”

  “That’s if he was staying in Daybreak Harbor,” I said. “Everyone probably just assumes he was because it’s the spot, right? But it’s only the spot in the summer. There’s not really a spot in the winter, per se.”

  “Good point,” Becky said thoughtfully. “But he was in Daybreak Harbor. He was at your cafe. That’s the last place he’s reported being seen alive.”

  “So, he liked my cafe,” I said. “He could’ve come from one of the other towns. It’s not like there are other cat cafes on the island. That cute hotel in Turtle Point is open. He’s got plenty of money—well, he had plenty of money—I would guess, so that town might be more up his alley.”

  “Did he drive a car to your cafe?” Becky asked.

  “I didn’t notice.” I thought back to that day. It had been so calm in the cafe that day. At least until that crazy woman had shown up and messed with our zen.

  And then I remembered the look that had passed between her and our deceased writer friend. I sat straight up. I’d forgotten to tell Becky about her.

  “What?” Becky asked.

  “That woman,” I said. “The crazy woman who came into the cafe yesterday.”

  “Wait. What crazy woman?”

  “I didn’t get to tell you. This woman showed up at the cafe, and when she saw JJ she started saying he was her cat.” I shivered thinking about how insistent she was. “She wouldn’t stop, either. Grandpa finally had to … ask her to leave.”

  “Really? That’s kind of weird.” Becky studied me, tilting her cup and tapping it against the table. “But what does that have to do with the dead writer?”

  “Because I think they knew each other,” I said.

  Becky cocked her head, interested now. “How do you know? Did they talk to each other?”

  “No. But they looked at each other. Don’t say it,” I warned. “You know how people look at each other and you know it’s not just sizing each other up?”

  “I guess. Who’s the lady? She live on-island?”

  “No. But she supposedly vacations here a lot. Which is how she allegedly lost this cat. I’ve never seen her before,” I said. “But I really have no idea. And it was right in the middle of her meltdown that he got up and left. I don’t know if he was just annoyed that his quiet place had been disturbed, or if he was trying to get out while she was di
stracted.”

  “Was she hot? You think they were, like, looking looking at each other?” Becky asked.

  I wrinkled my nose. “She is definitely not hot. She looked like a few miles of bad road, actually. And a lot older than him. Although some guys like that, I guess.”

  “You tell the cops this?” Becky asked.

  “The cops didn’t talk to me,” I said. “They wanted to talk to Grandpa alone. I didn’t mention it to Grandpa, so he couldn’t have told them.” I didn’t mention seeing Leopard Man and that same woman talking on the street in the dark last night, when Lucas and I were going out.

  “Well, are you going to tell them?” she asked.

  I debated this in my head. I probably should. If it came to anything, at least it would be getting that crazy woman out of my—and JJ’s—life. But I was worried about any potential connections to Leopard Man. He was Grandpa’s friend, and I didn’t want to be responsible for throwing him under the proverbial bus. “I guess if I have the occasion to,” I said slowly.

  She tilted her head, inquisitive at my choice of words. “You could have the occasion if you picked up the phone and called them,” she pointed out. “Look. If she’s crazy and running around, I don’t know why you wouldn’t. Especially if she’s not a resident. She could vanish at any time. Then again, you could just be projecting that she’s crazy because she honed in on your cat. What was that about, anyway?”

  “I don’t know.” I twirled my cup around on the table, watching Bean’s logo spin. “Swears JJ was hers. Pointed out a spot on his nose.” I studied said spot. It could’ve been something he had from kittenhood, or it could be something that had developed over time. Who knew?

  Becky made a face that said she thought the whole thing was silly. “No offense, but lots of cats look alike, don’t they? And if you lost a cat as a kitten, would you really recognize him years later?”