by Sarah Fox
“What do you think, Jack?” I asked as I set the tabby on the porch railing.
He sat down and gazed out at the ocean, his tail flicking back and forth.
“Is it crazy that I’m tempted to walk around town to see if I can spot the man who looks like my dad?”
Flapjack’s amber gaze turned my way. He blinked before giving his tail another flick and getting up to stalk off along the railing.
“Okay, you’re right,” I conceded. “That would be a little bit crazy.”
Still, the temptation didn’t disappear.
I rested my forearms on the railing, enjoying the way the breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders. Tempted or not, I needed to be realistic. The man couldn’t be my father. If I did get a better look at him, I’d probably see that the resemblance wasn’t nearly as strong as I thought.
“I should focus on something else,” I said out loud.
Flapjack ignored me this time. His attention was focused on a little chickadee perched on the clothesline, out of his reach, fortunately.
I fished my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie and sat down in one of the porch chairs. Chloe had probably arrived at the Port Angeles school where she worked as a second grade teacher, but her class wouldn’t have started yet. I sent her a text message, hoping she might see it before she got busy with her students.
Any more info about the ring? I wrote.
After waiting a couple of minutes without any response, I went indoors to make myself a cup of tea. When I returned to the porch, Flapjack had left the railing to explore the yard. I sat down again and sipped my tea, enjoying the fact that I didn’t have anything pressing to take care of that day. All I wanted to do was enjoy the weather, my tea, and the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. I only managed that for a few minutes, however.
My mind was restless, refusing to stay idle. Thoughts about my father tried to resurface, but I pushed them away. I really needed to focus on something else.
Fortunately, my phone chimed on the arm of the chair, signaling that I’d received a reply from Chloe.
I heard through the grapevine that Kyle showed it to Tyrone but he said he’d never seen it before.
My fingers tapped against the arm of the chair. The case had awakened my curiosity, which wasn’t the least bit surprising. Unsolved mysteries had a way of lodging in my mind, refusing to leave me at peace until I had answers to all the questions that had taken up residence in my head. If Tyrone had lied when he said he’d never seen the ring before, would something in his body language have given him away? No doubt Deputy Rutowski was used to detecting lies.
But it wasn’t as if the deputy would tell me about his conversation with Tyrone, and I definitely didn’t want to approach Tyrone himself. Not on my own, anyway. After hearing the stories about his temper, I figured it was safer to stay away from him. Still, the thought of letting the matter rest, of trying to forget about the investigation into Demetra’s death, almost left me twitchy.
My phone chimed again.
Maybe Chrissy would recognize the ring, Chloe had written. She was closest to Demetra, aside from Tyrone.
In which case, Rutowski had likely paid a visit to her as well.
She lives in town, right? I asked Chloe via another text.
Yes. She owns the clothing boutique on Pacific Street.
A moment later, she sent another message. Are you going to talk to her?
Maybe, I replied. Or will you?
Not today. I have a meeting after work and I don’t have Chrissy’s number. We were never really friends.
She followed that up with, Gotta go. Bell’s about to ring.
I stayed in my chair until I finished my tea, but by then I knew any further relaxation was a lost cause. I needed to pick up a loaf of bread at the bakery at some point, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to stop by Chrissy Mazurek’s clothing boutique on my way. It might turn out to be a pointless detour, but it wouldn’t take much time out of my day.
I found Flapjack sitting in a patch of sunlight on the grass. He didn’t protest when I picked him up and carried him inside. I set him down on the kitchen windowsill—one of his favorite spots to rest—and he hunkered down, his gaze on the world beyond the glass.
I decided to take advantage of the mild weather and walked into town. Although I’d never been inside the clothing boutique, I’d walked past it many times over the past year and knew it was situated between a hair salon and a flower shop. When I left Wildwood Road for Pacific Street, I found myself glancing left and right, searching the faces of the other pedestrians making their way through the heart of town.
Stop it, I chastised myself as soon as I realized what I was doing. Whoever he is, he’s not your dad.
Despite my scolding, I couldn’t stop myself from keeping an eye out for the man I’d seen the other day. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t spot him. Since I’d never seen him before the weekend, he’d probably just been passing through town and was most likely long gone by now.
I stopped outside the flower shop to admire the colorful bouquets on display in the front window. I was tempted to buy some bright gerbera daisies to take home to add color and cheer to the house, but I decided to leave that for another time.
Tearing my attention away from the flowers, I entered the boutique next door. A bell tinkled overhead as I entered the shop, and a woman with plenty of frizzy blond hair smiled at me from behind the counter near the back of the store.
“Good morning,” the woman greeted. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
I thanked her and wandered between two circular clothing racks. The small shop smelled faintly of perfume, a scent that was vaguely flowery but not, I suspected, as nice as the natural flower smell the neighboring store would offer. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant, and the soft lighting and instrumental music playing quietly in the background gave the boutique a calm and classy atmosphere.
I figured it was a safe bet that the woman behind the counter was Chrissy Mazurek. She appeared to be the right age, anyway. I didn’t yet know how to raise the subject of the mysterious ring with her, so I decided to browse through the shop to give myself some time to think.
As I flipped through a selection of flowing, summery dresses, I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place in my worn jeans and hoodie. I glanced over at the woman I assumed was Chrissy. She wore a cashmere sweater and understated gold jewelry, but I noted with relief that she wasn’t looking down her nose at me. She wasn’t paying attention to me at all, her eyes instead focused on the screen of the computer at the checkout counter.
Since I only dressed up on rare occasions, I didn’t expect to have any real interest in the boutique’s stock, so I was surprised when I came across an emerald-green dress that caught my fancy. It was a simple dress, but cute.
I took the hanger off the rack and ran my hand down the fabric. The color was gorgeous. With the garden party at the Wildwood Inn coming up in a few weeks, I’d have a reason to wear it. But did I need it? I already had a couple of nice dresses in my closet that I’d worn only a handful of times.
Maybe the better question was whether I could afford it. I flipped over the price tag, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. I could afford it, but it was definitely pricey.
“Found something you like?” The shopkeeper came out from behind the counter to approach me.
“I’m just admiring this dress,” I said, holding up the garment.
“That color would look great on you. Would you like to try it on?”
“Oh…” I hesitated.
“There’s a change room in the back.”
She was already heading that way, so I followed, still holding the dress.
“Here you go,” she said, opening the door to a cubbyhole of a room with a stool in one corner and a full-length mirror on the wall. “Let me
know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you.” I shut myself in the room and met my own gaze in the mirror. I still hadn’t figured out how to broach the subject of the ring, but maybe I’d have a better chance of getting information if I seemed like a potential buyer rather than just a browser.
I kicked off my sneakers and traded my jeans, hoodie, and T-shirt for the emerald-green dress. It had three-quarter-length sleeves—perfect for spring—and a form-fitting bodice with a jewel neckline. Below the defined waistline was a cute, slightly flared bell skirt. It was short without being too short.
It was definitely different from anything else I owned, and I was already falling in love with it. But was it right for the garden party?
Maybe I needed an opinion from someone else.
I took out my phone and snapped a picture of my reflection in the mirror. I sent it to Brett along with a text message.
For the garden party. What do you think? Yes or no? Be honest.
I sent the same photo and message to Lisa.
Turning in a slow circle, I watched my reflection. It really was a cute dress. But I’d spent money on a dress only a few weeks earlier, one I wore to my mom’s wedding in Seattle. Did I want to fork out more cash on another dress so soon?
My phone chimed. Brett had replied to my message.
Definite yes.
I smiled, but I still wasn’t quite convinced. What if he was just being nice?
Another chime signaled a reply from Lisa.
So cute! Buy it!
Okay, so maybe I could feel my arm twisting.
I allowed myself another few seconds to admire the dress before slipping out of it and getting back into my jeans and hoodie. With the dress over my arm, I left the change room for the main part of the store. I was about to step around a mannequin wearing a bold flower-print dress so I could head for the checkout counter when I heard an unfamiliar female voice.
“Hey, Chrissy. What is it with this ring I’ve been hearing about?”
Instead of continuing on toward the counter, I stayed behind the mannequin and pretended to study the skirts and tops hanging from the racks along the back wall of the store. Maybe I wouldn’t have to find a way to bring up the subject of the ring after all.
“Have you seen it?” Chrissy asked.
“No,” the other woman replied. “But I heard a deputy showed a ruby ring to Tyrone, one they found with Demetra’s remains.”
“He showed it to me too,” Chrissy said. “I don’t get it, though. If Demetra had a ring like that, I would’ve known about it. She only owned costume jewelry.”
“I also heard it might have been an engagement ring.”
“That’s what I thought. But Demetra definitely wasn’t engaged.”
“Everyone would have heard about it if she was.”
“Exactly,” Chrissy agreed.
That fit with what Chloe had said the night before.
I carefully peeked around the mannequin. The woman talking to Chrissy was leaning casually against the checkout counter. She had short, curly brown hair and wore denim capris with a white shirt and a red cotton scarf.
Amy Strudwick, the photographer from the cooking contest, I realized.
“So maybe the ring belonged to whoever killed Demetra,” Amy said.
I saw Chrissy shudder before I resumed my feigned study of the clothing on display.
“It’s still hard to believe she was murdered,” she said. “I hope the killer’s not anyone we know.”
“If it is, my money’s on Tyrone.”
“He always did have a nasty temper. I hear he’s in back in town.”
“And not cooperating with the police.”
“He never was all that bright,” Chrissy said. “Not cooperating makes him seem guilty.”
“The sheriff should have played to Tyrone’s ego if he wanted information. That was always the best way to get past his surliness.”
“I thought you never really had much to do with him.”
“I didn’t,” Amy said. “But that’s what I always heard about him.”
“Well, it’s definitely true.”
“I wonder…” Amy said slowly.
I peeked around the mannequin again, eager to hear Amy’s next words, but before she could say anything more, the hanger from the green dress slipped out of the garment and clattered to the floor.
Chapter 13
I stooped over to pick up the hanger, and when I straightened back up, both women had their eyes on me. Amy regarded me with curiosity, but Chrissy smiled.
“How did it go with the dress?” she asked.
“Great,” I said. “It fits perfectly and I love it.”
“I should go, Chrissy,” Amy cut in. She pulled a business card out of her purse and set it on the counter. “My number’s on the card. Keep me posted?”
“Sure, Amy. It was good to see you.”
“You too.”
With one last glance my way, Amy left the shop.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said as I set the dress on the counter. “You knew Demetra? You must be from the same class as Chloe Collins.”
“That’s right. How do you know Chloe?”
“Her brother’s my boyfriend.”
“Lucky. He’s easy on the eyes,” Chrissy said as she punched buttons on the cash register. She told me the total for the dress, and I pulled out my credit card. As I tapped it against the card machine, I glanced at the business card still sitting on the counter.
Amy Strudwick, Photographer, it read. Below that it listed a Port Townsend address.
“So if you know Chloe, do you know if she’s been questioned by the cops recently?” Chrissy asked.
“She was shown a ring last night and asked if she recognized it, but she didn’t.”
“I was asked about it too.”
“Really?” I didn’t let on that I’d heard that part of her conversation with Amy.
“I didn’t recognize it either. Receipt in the bag?”
“Yes, please.”
She tucked the slip of paper in with the dress and passed me the bag. “Have they asked Chloe anything else?”
“Like what?”
Chrissy shrugged and tapped a long, bright red fingernail against the counter. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but Chloe never liked Demetra. And on the last night Demetra was seen alive, Chloe completely snapped and almost attacked her.”
“But she didn’t.”
Chrissy reached beneath the counter and produced a pack of gum. “Not at the party, but who knows what she did after that?”
I struggled to keep myself from sounding defensive, but didn’t entirely succeed when I said, “She has an alibi. She went straight home.”
Chrissy unwrapped a piece of gum. “Did the cops confirm that?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. I guess that’s lucky for her.” She almost sounded disappointed.
“Do you have an alibi?”
Her eyes took on a hard glint, one that was decidedly unfriendly. “I was Demetra’s best friend,” she said as if that answered my question. She glanced at the bag in my hand. “Enjoy the dress.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Since she’d clearly dismissed me, I left the boutique, armed with my new dress and the knowledge that Chrissy also hadn’t recognized the ruby ring.
* * * *
Instead of heading home, I texted Lisa to ask if she wanted to meet for an early lunch. I wandered toward Main Street as I waited for a response and was nearly at the law office where Lisa worked when my phone chimed.
Sure. Give me five minutes, she’d written back.
I resisted the temptation to cross the street and pass the time by browsing through Timeless Treasures, my favorite antiques sh
op. After spending money on my new dress, I didn’t want to be tempted by any other potential purchases that day. Instead, I stayed on the east side of the street and wandered along the sidewalk, checking out the displays in the other shop windows.
“Marley!”
When I heard Lisa call my name, I turned and saw her waving at me from outside her office.
“Do you mind if we get some takeout and eat it at my place?” she asked once I’d reached her. “I like to go home and check on Orion during my lunch breaks.”
“Of course I don’t mind. I wouldn’t pass up a chance to see the cute little guy.”
A big smile lit up Lisa’s face. “He really is adorable, isn’t he?”
“Extremely.”
Lisa told me tales of Orion’s latest kitten antics as we waited for our food orders at a small Chinese restaurant one street over from her workplace.
“I can’t wait to give him a cuddle,” I said once we’d paid for our food. “And I’m so glad you were able to give him such a good home. He’s one lucky kitten.”
“I’m lucky too. He’s so loving, especially considering that he was probably dumped by his previous human. And he makes me laugh every day. I’ve never had a pet before, and I didn’t realize how much they can change your life for the better.”
“They definitely do that.”
When we reached Lisa’s house and she opened the front door, we didn’t have to wait more than a second or two to see Orion. He came skittering down the hallway as soon as he heard us arrive. I quickly shut the door so he wouldn’t have a chance to escape.
Lisa scooped the kitten up with one hand as she set her container of take-out food on the small foyer table. “Hello, cutie. What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” She held the kitten up so they were nose to nose and then planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Someone’s here to see you.”
She passed me the kitten, and he snuggled up against my shoulder, his purr rumbling away. My heart melted.
“He’s grown since the last time I saw him,” I said as I stroked his sleek black fur. “Haven’t you, little guy?”