by Sarah Fox
“I need to ask him something,” I said quickly. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s staying at Demetra’s mom’s place.” A phone rang somewhere inside the house, and Tyrone turned his head toward the sound.
“Where’s that?” I asked.
“Hyacinth Road.”
“What’s the PI’s name?”
“Jake Fellmen.” He started shutting the door. “I gotta go.”
The door slammed before I could say anything more. I stood there staring at it for a second before Tommy and I descended the front steps.
“So there’s a private investigator looking into the case,” Tommy said. “I guess that’s a good thing. The more people working on it, the more chance there is of it getting solved.”
“That’s probably true,” I said, hoping the PI didn’t intend to obstruct the sheriff’s investigation in any way.
“Plus, you’re working on it too.”
“Sort of,” I said. “I haven’t done much.”
“You tracked down the PI.”
“Yes, but to be honest, that was to satisfy my own curiosity. I didn’t know for sure if he had anything to do with Demetra’s case.”
As we walked slowly along Wildwood Road, I filled Tommy in on the fact that Jake Fellmen looked like my late father and how I’d wondered if he could be related to me. “He was vague when I asked him where he was from, and he told me his name was Joe. I thought at the time he might have been lying, and it turns out I was right.”
“So you want to know why he didn’t want to give you any straight answers,” Tommy said, amusement in his eyes.
“I can’t help being curious.”
“Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Your curiosity has helped solve murders before.”
“I don’t know that it’ll help this time,” I said.
We came to a stop on the corner of Wildwood Road and Main Street.
“You’re not going looking for the PI right now, are you?” Tommy asked.
“No, I’m heading home for dinner. Thanks for coming with me to see Tyrone.”
“No problem.” Tommy set his skateboard on the ground and rested one foot on it. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you.”
He pushed off and went sailing along the sidewalk, heading south along Main Street. I continued on along Wildwood Road, arriving home a short while later. Brett was already there, and as soon as I turned into the long driveway, I saw him working on one of the raised beds, turning the soil with far more ease than I had done.
Bentley charged along the driveway to greet me, bringing a tennis ball with him. I gave the dog a quick pat and then threw the ball for him.
I greeted Brett next, leaning into him as I surveyed his work. Two of the raised beds were now ready for planting, and he was partway through the third. I could see he’d mixed some compost into the soil.
“Thank you for this. You must have been at it for a while.”
“Not too long.” He sank the spade into the soil and left it there as he put an arm around me. “How was the cooking competition?”
I thought about how to answer that question and settled on saying, “Eventful.”
Brett eyed me. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”
I found Flapjack snoozing on the front porch and gave him a quick cuddle before we headed indoors. We fed the animals and put together a quick dinner for ourselves. As we got everything ready and settled at the kitchen table, I told Brett about the results of the competition and how Ellie and Cynthia had suddenly fallen ill, the same way Quaid had the weekend before.
“Ellie’s mom believes someone was trying to sabotage the competition, and I’m thinking she could be right, but I’m not sure yet who might be behind it.”
Brett grinned. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Because I’m nosy?”
“I prefer curious and persistent.”
I smiled. “So do I. But that’s not the only interesting thing that happened today.” I told him about my visit to Tyrone—first assuring him that I hadn’t gone alone—and the fact that “Joe” was really Jake Fellmen, a private investigator.
“And let me guess,” Brett said once I’d finished the story. “You want to go talk to him.”
“You know me well,” I said, spearing some pasta salad with my fork. “Care to join me for an evening stroll to Hyacinth Road?”
* * * *
The sun was on its way down when we set out for our walk, but there was still some warmth to the evening air and the light breeze was scented with the saltiness of the ocean and the sweetness of spring blooms. Before leaving the house I’d texted Chloe, and she’d told me that Mrs. Kozani’s house was third from the corner of Hyacinth Road and Pacific Street. It didn’t take long for me and Brett to reach the white-and-blue bungalow, but I didn’t follow the path to the front door right away, instead remaining on the sidewalk while I took in the sight of the property.
The paint on the house was peeling in places, and the windows showed no signs of life behind the glass. The grass was in need of cutting, though it wasn’t overly long or wild. Mrs. Kozani must have hired someone to look after the property in her absence. Still, the house seemed to radiate sadness. Maybe that was my imagination working on overdrive, influenced by the knowledge that Mrs. Kozani had lost her only child far too young.
“Ready?” Brett asked after we’d been standing there for a moment.
By way of response, I started along the pathway, holding his hand. We climbed the three steps to the small front porch, and I rapped on the door, wondering if the PI would be there. I heard movement from within, and a second later Jake Fellmen opened the door.
His expression didn’t give too much away, but I thought I caught a glimpse of surprise in his dark gray eyes that quickly shifted to wariness.
“Yes?” he said, not giving any indication that we’d met before.
“I was hoping we could chat for a minute,” I said.
“About what?”
“Why you lied to me, for starters.”
He frowned at me. “Listen, we’re not related, okay? Whatever you said your last name is, I don’t have any of those on my family tree.”
“McKinney,” I reminded him. “But you told me your name is Joe. I know that’s not true. It’s Jake Fellmen, and you’re a private investigator.”
“Who told you that?”
“Tyrone Phillips.”
The PI swore under his breath and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I knew that guy wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Then why did you tell him you’re a PI?” Brett asked.
“I didn’t. My client did.”
“Mrs. Kozani?” I asked. “She’s the one who hired you, right?”
“I’m not sure why you’re here if you already know all this.” Impatience gave his words a rough edge.
“I was curious about why you gave me a false name. Why not be up front about who you are and why you’re in Wildwood Cove?”
“Because this is a small town, and I didn’t want my investigation to be the source of gossip. But Mrs. Kozani talked to Tyrone Phillips on the phone and told him she’d hired me.”
“Why would Mrs. Kozani talk to Tyrone? Isn’t he a suspect? I would have thought she’d want nothing to do with him.”
“Mrs. Kozani believes Tyrone’s innocent.”
“Do you think he’s innocent?”
“And why would I share that with you?”
“I guess you’ve got no reason to,” I conceded.
“Exactly. And plenty of reasons not to.”
He stepped back and made a move to shut the door.
“Are you sure we aren’t related?” I blurted out before he could get it clos
ed. “Even distantly?”
He let out a heavy sigh and pressed a fist to his forehead for a second. “I’m positive. And even if we were, what would it matter? I’ve already got plenty of cousins and other relatives causing me headaches.”
“I don’t,” I said. I reached into the pocket of my jeans for the photograph I’d tucked away before leaving home. “This is a picture of my dad a few months before he died about thirty-five years ago.” I handed Fellmen the photo. “Can you at least see why I wondered if we could be related?”
The PI studied the picture. “I guess there’s some resemblance,” he admitted, not without reluctance. “But it’s not like I’m his doppelgänger.” He handed the photo back to me.
“I guess not.” I looked from the picture to the PI. Now that I was able to make a close comparison, I could see that Fellmen’s nose was a bit different from my dad’s, his forehead higher.
“Look,” Fellmen said, his voice losing some of its edge, “I’m sorry if you’re short on family, but I’ve done some genealogy work, and there are no McKinneys in my family. Not even back several generations. I’m in Wildwood Cove to do a job, to figure out who killed Mrs. Kozani’s daughter. I’d like to get on with that job without any distractions.”
“Fair enough,” I said. I couldn’t keep myself from asking one more question. “Are you making any progress?”
“That’s something I’ll only discuss with my client.”
That was fair too, although I wasn’t without disappointment.
Fellmen turned his head sharply. He swore and lunged out of sight. I took the opportunity to slip inside the house, Brett following. The small living room to the right of the door opened onto an outdated kitchen with yellow countertops and brown cupboards.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
The PI jerked a pot off the stove. The water in the pot had started boiling over, but it didn’t look like there was too much of a mess. An unopened box of Kraft Mac & Cheese sat on the counter next to the stove.
“No big deal.” Fellmen turned down the heat and returned the pot to the element. “I’m just getting myself some dinner.”
While he tore open the box of Kraft Mac & Cheese and dumped the pasta into the boiling water, I glanced around the kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink and half a pot of coffee on the counter. On a small table near the window, Fellmen had left papers scattered across the top of a closed laptop.
I shifted closer to the table and took a look at the top paper. It appeared to be a list of potential suspects. Chloe’s name jumped out at me. At first I was dismayed, but then I saw that Fellmen had added a note next to her name, stating that she had an alibi for the time when Demetra was likely killed. I was in the midst of scanning through the other names on the list when Fellmen grabbed the papers and stuffed them inside a file folder.
“I’ve told you everything I can tell you,” he said. “It might not be fine cuisine, but I’d like to eat my dinner in peace.”
Brett put an arm around me and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I knew he was encouraging me to leave, and I couldn’t think of a reason to stay any longer. If Fellmen wasn’t going to tell us anything more, there was nothing left to be gained from sticking around and pestering him.
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “And good luck with your investigation.”
Fellmen acknowledged that with a brief nod and followed us to the door. He shut it behind us, almost catching my heels in the process.
Brett and I didn’t speak until we were back on the sidewalk, holding hands and heading for home.
“Did you get what you were hoping to out of that visit?” he asked.
“I think so. I would have liked it if he’d shared more about his investigation, of course, but I’m not surprised he didn’t. And I can accept that he’s not related to me now. It’s just a coincidence that he resembles my dad.”
Brett gave my hand a squeeze. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I am.” As I answered, I realized that was the truth. “But I think maybe it was a good thing for me to wonder for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fellmen said he was sorry that I’m short on family. And when I first started trying to find out if he was related to me, that’s how I felt. But after talking with you the other day and having time to let everything percolate in my mind, I know that’s not the case. There are people I miss, and I might not have any siblings or close cousins or living grandparents, but I’ve got my mom and Grant, I’ve got you, I’ve got your family, and Lisa, and everyone at The Flip Side. That doesn’t make me short on family. That makes me lucky.”
Brett halted at the end of Hyacinth Road and pulled me in close for a kiss. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
I smiled and laced my fingers through his again as we resumed walking. “I also got something else out of that visit.”
“What’s that?” Brett asked as we crossed a quiet street.
“Another reason to suspect Demetra’s best friend of killing her.”
Chapter 24
I asked Chloe if we could meet up to chat, and she agreed to come by The Flip Side the next day. Since I told her I wanted to know more about Chrissy Mazurek, she said she’d see if Hope would be willing to come to the pancake house with her. She explained that Hope had spent more time with Chrissy and Demetra than she had during their school days, so it was possible the inn owner would have more insights to share.
Chloe showed up at The Flip Side in the early afternoon, just as the lunch rush was petering out.
“Thanks for coming,” I said when I stopped to greet her on my way to the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes. “Is Hope coming?”
“She should be here any minute.”
As if Chloe’s words had summoned the other woman, the front door opened and Hope stepped into the pancake house. She glanced around and then smiled when she saw me and Chloe.
“We can go in the office or sit in a quiet corner out here,” I said, my arms starting to protest against my heavy load of dishes. “I’ll be right back.”
I hurried into the kitchen and returned to the dining room a moment later, free of dirty dishes. With both Leigh and Sienna working that day, I didn’t need to worry about taking some time to chat with friends, especially since closing time was approaching and the pancake house was quickly emptying out.
Chloe and Hope had claimed a table in the far corner, well away from any other remaining diners. Before sitting down to join them, I took their orders for food and drink. I relayed their requests to the kitchen and returned with sodas for Chloe and Hope and a glass of sweet tea for myself.
“Chloe tells me you have some questions about Chrissy,” Hope said once I’d settled into a chair. “Do you really think she could be the one who killed Demetra?”
Hope had kept her voice quiet, and I did the same.
“It’s possible.”
“You said you found some new information that made you more suspicious of her,” Chloe prompted, referring to the text message conversation we’d had the night before.
I took a sip of sweet tea. “First of all, I discovered that Demetra’s mom hired a private investigator, Jake Fellmen.”
“Why?” Chloe asked with surprise. “Ray and his deputies have hardly had a chance to solve the case.”
“Mrs. Kozani probably didn’t mean it as a slight against your uncle,” Hope said. “She’s waited a decade to find out what happened to her daughter. She probably wants as many people on the case as possible so she can finally get some answers.”
“I guess I can understand that,” Chloe conceded. “So did you learn anything from this private investigator? I’m assuming you’ve talked to him.”
“I spoke to him last night. He wasn’t willing to share much with me, but I did manage a quick glance at some notes he had lying around.�
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I told them about the list of names I’d seen, some with notations next to them.
“A list of suspects?” Hope asked.
“That or witnesses he wanted to interview.”
“Was my name on the list?” Chloe asked with apprehension.
“It was, but he’d noted that you have an alibi.”
“Good,” she said with relief.
“I take it Fellmen hasn’t approached you.”
Chloe shook her head. “Not yet, anyway.”
We both looked to Hope.
“He hasn’t talked to me either.”
“He’s spoken to Tyrone,” I said. “Not that it did him much good. The notes next to Tyrone’s name said ‘temper, confrontational, unforthcoming.’”
“That sounds like Tyrone, all right,” Hope said. “He can be a nice guy sometimes, but he’s always had a major chip on his shoulder.”
“But was he unforthcoming because he’s got something to hide or because he’s just being a jerk?” Chloe asked.
“That’s the question,” I said.
“One I can’t answer.”
“Neither can I,” Hope said.
“What I’m hoping you can tell me about is Chrissy.” I paused as Leigh arrived at our table with meals for all three of us.
“Afternoon, ladies,” she greeted before setting the plates on the table.
She brought marzipan pancakes for Chloe, mocha mascarpone crêpes for Hope, and banoffee crêpes for me. My crêpes were topped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate, and the mere sight of them made my mouth water in anticipation.
We all thanked Leigh before she headed off to accept payment from a couple ready to leave the pancake house. Chloe and Hope dug into their food, and I did the same, savoring the delicious blend of dulce de leche, banana, and cream.
“So what is it you want to know about Chrissy?” Hope asked once we’d all had a chance to sample our meals.
“I already knew she and Demetra were more like frenemies than besties, at least some of the time. But according to Fellmen’s notes there was a more specific rivalry going on between them. Something to do with Demetra wanting to become a model. Unfortunately, the notes were sparse, and I didn’t have more than a few seconds to read them.”