by Sarah Fox
Sienna sighed with happiness when she put the first bite into her mouth. “Best. Crêpes. Ever.”
Again, I was certain I caught the barest hint of a smile on Ivan’s face before he turned away to check on some frying bacon. As gruff as he was, the burly chef had a big heart and a definite soft spot for my youngest employee.
I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face as I watched Sienna digging into her breakfast. I loved spending time at The Flip Side with my staff. The pancake house was cozy and charming on its own, but the people were the heart of the place. I couldn’t have asked for a better group to work with.
I got my smile under control before anyone noticed me looking goofy. Luckily, Tommy and Ivan were busy preparing orders and Sienna was fully engrossed in her breakfast, savoring every bite.
The Boston cream crêpes were a recent addition to the menu. We had several standard items we offered year-round, but I liked to mix things up a bit by having a few special dishes on the menu for a limited time. Some, like the pumpkin pie crêpes—my personal favorite—were seasonal, while others depended on the results of Ivan’s latest experiments.
As soon as Sienna had tried the Boston cream crêpes for the first time, she’d been hooked. I couldn’t blame her. I’d indulged in my fair share over the past month. The chocolate sauce and custard made for a heavenly combination.
“Do you have any other suspects?” Sienna asked once she’d had a few more bites.
“Demetra’s best friend, Chrissy Mazurek. Apparently they were quite competitive with each other, despite being besties. I think there might have been some jealousy at play.”
“Jealousy is a good motive for murder,” Sienna said before going in for another bite.
“And then there’s Quaid Hendrix.”
Ivan’s sharp gaze cut my way.
“The judge who got sick last weekend?” Sienna asked.
“That’s him,” I confirmed.
“What does he have to do with the girl who got killed?” Tommy asked from across the kitchen.
From the way Ivan opened and then shut his mouth, I guessed that he’d been about to voice the same question.
I explained that Quaid had lived in the cottage near the woods where the party had taken place all those years ago. “And he has a reputation for being a sleaze,” I added.
“But you don’t know for sure that he knew the victim?” Sienna asked.
“No,” I admitted. “So maybe he’s not the strongest suspect.”
“I think you’re right to keep an eye on him, though,” Tommy said as he unloaded the dishwasher. “On the first day of the cooking competition I saw one of the sheriff’s deputies walking along the street. Quaid saw him too and ducked out of sight.”
“Are you sure he was trying to avoid the deputy?” I asked.
“Pretty sure.”
“Interesting.” I mulled over that new information.
The discovery of Demetra’s remains might have made Quaid uneasy. Maybe he was afraid the authorities would turn their attention on him, if they hadn’t already.
Had he been questioned ten years ago when Demetra was reported missing?
That was another question I couldn’t answer.
“You should steer clear of Tyrone and Quaid,” Ivan warned as he delivered two plates of pancakes and bacon to the pass-through window.
Leigh appeared on the other side of the window, swooping in to fetch the plates before disappearing from sight.
“I’m not going to argue with you there,” I said to Ivan. “I’ve heard too much about Tyrone’s temper, and Quaid certainly isn’t someone I want to go near if I can help it.”
I couldn’t bring myself to mention my suspicions about Lonny. Fortunately, Sienna didn’t press me for any further suspects.
“Is Quaid going to be judging the finals?” Sienna asked. “Or will you?”
“Quaid will be,” I said. “Apparently he recovered quickly from whatever made him sick.”
“Oh.” Sienna looked disappointed.
“Why do you ask?”
“Ellie was hoping you’d be judging again. Quaid can be mean, and he kind of scares her.”
“I’m sure it will be okay,” I said. “She got through the first round with him as a judge.”
“That’s true.” Sienna set her knife and fork on her empty plate and slid off her stool with obvious reluctance. “I guess I should go to school now.”
“You should,” Ivan agreed.
I walked her out and stayed at the front of the restaurant to help Leigh with the customers.
Around midmorning I was jotting down an order for churro waffles and banoffee crêpes—featuring toffee made from dulce de leche, bananas, and whipped cream. As I made a note that both dishes were to have a side of crispy bacon, the front door opened and another customer entered the pancake house. I turned for the kitchen and nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw the newcomer standing by the door, scanning the dining area for a free table.
Somehow I managed to continue on my way to the pass-through window, smiling at the man as I went and telling him to choose whichever free table he wanted. He headed for a small two-seater by the window.
My heart thumped away in my chest like I’d run a mile. Now that I had a chance to get a better look at him, I saw that the man really did resemble the photos of my long-dead father. My eyes hadn’t played tricks on me after all.
I grabbed the coffeepot and headed for the man’s table. “Good morning,” I said with a smile. “How are you today?”
“Good, thanks.” His response was somewhat curt, though not quite unfriendly. He glanced at me for a second before returning his attention to the menu he had in front of him.
“Would you like some coffee to start? Or something else to drink?”
“Coffee’s good.”
“Are you from out of town?” I asked as I filled a mug.
“Mm.” His gaze was still fixed on the menu. “Just here for a few days.”
“Whereabouts are you from?”
He hesitated briefly before replying. “Back east.”
“I’m Marley McKinney, the owner of The Flip Side.” I waited, hoping he’d introduce himself.
His gaze flicked my way before returning to the menu once again. “Joe.” The name came out as little more than a mumble.
I was hanging on his every word, even as few as they were, but I knew I needed to stop grilling him before I crossed the line from friendly to nosy, if I hadn’t already.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?”
“Bacon cheddar waffles and sausages.”
“Coming right up.”
On my way to the kitchen, I gathered up some dirty plates from a table where four diners had enjoyed crêpes and coffee before heading out. I tried to contain my disappointment, but I wasn’t very successful. The most recent arrival to the pancake house clearly wasn’t interested in making conversation, and I hadn’t managed to learn much about him. I had a feeling that was intentional. Most people were quite happy to share their name and say where they were from when they came to Wildwood Cove for a visit, but Joe’s answers had been vague and reluctant. I wasn’t even sure if I believed he’d given me his real name. Maybe he was just a private person, but maybe he had another reason for keeping information about himself under wraps.
Like what? I asked myself. Because he’s your father and faked his death decades ago and doesn’t want anyone finding out who he really is?
Okay, when I thought about it like that, it did seem ridiculous.
But could we be related in some other way? My dad was an only child, but maybe this man was a cousin of his.
Unlikely, but not impossible.
On a whim, I grabbed my phone and surreptitiously snapped a photo of the man, just in case it would c
ome in handy later. Maybe with a picture to compare with the ones of my dad, I’d feel more comfortable talking to Brett about Joe.
I didn’t try questioning the man further when I delivered his meal to him, but I couldn’t stop myself from glancing his way every so often. He didn’t spend long over his breakfast, and when he got up and headed for the counter to pay, I made sure I was the one there to meet him.
“How was everything?” I asked him as he dug his wallet out of his pocket.
“Good, thanks.”
I had to smother a flicker of disappointment when he handed over cash to pay for his meal. If he’d used a credit card, I at least could have found out his surname and confirmed his first name. I didn’t let my disappointment show.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Wildwood Cove.”
He acknowledged that with a nod and was out the door seconds later. I stared after him, frustrated that I’d learned next to nothing about the mystery man—and even more frustrated that I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
Chapter 17
After I’d finished work for the day and had gone for a run with Bentley, I set to work making a batch of lentil curry. Once I had all the ingredients in the pot and the curry was simmering away, I gave in to the temptation that had been gnawing away at me all afternoon. I retrieved the photo album I’d had out the other day and settled on the couch with it. Unfortunately, comparing the photos of my dad with the one I’d taken of Joe didn’t help to settle my mind.
Nothing had changed since the last time I’d looked through the album. The picture I’d taken with my phone wasn’t of great quality, but when I studied it, Joe—if that was really his name—still resembled my father and I hadn’t managed to rid myself of the suspicion that there could be a family connection.
When I’d gone through the entire album again, I set it on the coffee table and grabbed my laptop. I didn’t know a whole lot about my dad’s side of the family. His parents hadn’t approved of his relationship with my mom. They’d wanted him to marry a Catholic girl, and my mom wasn’t religious. Then my mom ended up pregnant with me before she and my dad were married, and that had only displeased my paternal grandparents all the more.
After my dad died they’d wanted even less to do with my mom than they had when he was alive. They met me once, shortly after I was born, but then they moved across the country and my mom never saw them again. She’d sent them Christmas cards each year, and they did the same in return, but that was the extent of their relationship.
I knew my dad was an only child, but I didn’t know much else about his family, other than the fact that his grandparents had immigrated to this country from Ireland.
Now I was hoping I could find out more about his family tree. Our family tree.
I signed up for a free trial on a genealogy website and spent some time poking around, getting up now and then to check on the curry. I managed to track down my dad and his parents on the site, and I followed the branches out from there. A short time later, I shifted my laptop to the coffee table, frustration buzzing through me.
Getting up from the couch, I checked the time and gave the curry another stir. Brett would probably be home soon. While I waited, I wandered out onto the back porch, leaving the French doors open behind me. Bentley took advantage of the freedom, rushing down the porch steps and bounding across the yard and back before busying himself with a serious sniffing study of all the logs at the top of the beach.
Flapjack was more sedate about emerging from the house. He padded out through the open doors and stopped for a languid stretch. Then he jumped up onto the porch railing and wandered along it until he reached the spot where I was leaning against it. He bumped his furry cheek against my arm and sat down. I ran a hand over his fur, and his eyes closed to mere slits as he purred with happiness.
“I know it’s silly, Jack, but I wish I could find a connection between Joe and my dad. I was thinking he could be a cousin, but from what I can tell, my dad only had female cousins.”
Flapjack gave his tail a swish and turned his head to look out over the beach. Below us, Bentley found a suitable spot to lift his leg and then came trotting back up to the porch to flop at my feet.
“I’m wasting my time thinking about this, aren’t I? I’m not even sure why I’m so hung up on it.”
Flapjack looked my way and then slowly closed his eyes as his tail swished again. I buried my face in his fur, his purr rumbling in my ear. Bentley whined, jealous of the attention I was giving the tabby.
I could have called my mom and told her about Joe, but I didn’t want to dredge up the past for her. She’d recently married her new husband, Grant, and I didn’t want to spoil her happiness.
“How about some dinner?” I said to the animals, deciding to focus on something else, at least for a while.
Bentley jumped up and ran into the house ahead of me. I left the doors open, and Flapjack came inside when he heard the spoon clink against his dinner dish. A moment later he was tucking into his food in the laundry room while Bentley dug into his dinner in the kitchen. Brett arrived home a minute or two later, and I hoped his presence would distract me from all the thoughts crowding my mind.
After we’d finished our dinner of lentil curry, Brett cleaned up the kitchen while I fetched fabric samples from my tote bag and sat down at the table to study them.
“What are those for?” Brett asked as he loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“The settee and chairs in the living room. I was hoping we could get them reupholstered before long.”
“Seeing anything that catches your eye?” he asked a few minutes later.
By then I’d flipped through all the samples. “I’ve narrowed it down to three that I like.”
Brett finished wiping down the counter and crossed the kitchen to join me by the table. I set out my top choices for him to see. There was a damask fabric in pale and dark gray that I thought was classy and sophisticated, a shiny teal one with a pattern of curlicues in a darker shade of teal, and a bold one with a geometric design in black and white.
“Which one do you like?” I asked as he looked over my shoulder at the samples.
“All of them.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dropped into an armchair. “You like all three of them too.”
“Which is why I was hoping you’d help me narrow it down.”
He tapped at his phone. “Close your eyes and point at one.”
The frustration that had hounded me earlier crept its way back under my skin. I shoved the fabric samples off to the side and left the table.
“What are you doing?” I asked Brett as I dropped down on the couch.
“Checking my email.” He glanced up from his phone. After a couple more taps at the screen, he set the device down on the coffee table. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
I slouched back against the couch cushions. “Fabric samples.”
“Aside from that. You’re not usually so easily frustrated.”
My gaze drifted to the closed photo album I’d left on the coffee table. I was about to tell him about Joe when the doorbell rang.
Bentley had been snoozing on the family room rug, but he was on his feet in a split second and charging toward the front door, barking as he went. Brett followed after him, and I pushed myself up off the couch to trail behind them. By the time I reached the foyer, Brett had already opened the door and let his sister in.
“We’ve already eaten if you’re hoping for free food,” he said.
Chloe glared at him. “I’m not here to mooch.”
“Why else would you be here?”
Chloe punched him in the arm, and my frustration drained away as a smile tugged at my mouth.
�
��Be nice,” I told Brett before turning my attention to Chloe. “What’s up?”
“I’m lonely.” She made a face. “Does that sound pathetic?”
“Of course not,” I replied.
“Yes,” Brett said at the same time.
This time I swatted his arm. “Stop being such a—”
“Big brother?” Chloe interrupted. “He can’t. It’s an incurable condition.”
I tucked my arm through hers and led her toward the back of the house before Brett had a chance to come up with a retort.
“How come you’re lonely?” I asked.
“I can’t stop thinking about Demetra, and doing that on my own makes me feel sad and blah.”
“Have you heard any news about the case?”
“Not today. Have you?”
“No. But I did learn something the other day.” I headed for the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”
Chloe peeked over my shoulder at the fridge’s contents. “Sweet tea, please.”
I grabbed the jug and shut the fridge. “Chrissy didn’t recognize the ring.”
“How did you find that out?” Brett asked.
“That dress I bought? It’s from her store.” I poured sweet tea into a glass and handed it to Chloe. I held up the jug and glanced Brett’s way, but he shook his head. I poured a glass for myself and returned the iced tea to the fridge. “I overheard her talking about the ring when I came out of the changing room.”
“Ooh, a new dress,” Chloe said with interest. “Can I see it?”
“Sure.” Leaving my glass on the kitchen counter, I found the shopping bag I’d left on a chair and pulled out the green dress.
“Wow.” Chloe fingered the fabric. “It’s gorgeous. Are you going to wear it to the garden party?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“You definitely should.”
“I second that,” Brett said.
Smiling, I carefully returned the garment to the bag, making a mental note to hang it up in my closet later. I grabbed my glass of iced tea, and the three of us wandered into the family room.