by Sarah Fox
“I definitely remember Demetra going on about how she planned to become a supermodel,” Chloe said as she speared a piece of pancake with her fork. “But I don’t know if that bugged Chrissy any more than the rest of us.”
“I think it did,” Hope said.
“How come?” I asked.
“Chrissy wanted to be a model too. I remember her saying so way back when we were about twelve. The summer before senior year, she stayed with her aunt in Seattle and did a bit of modeling. Shopping mall fashion shows, that sort of thing. She boasted about it when she was back here in town, and then suddenly Demetra decided she was going to be a model. But she made it clear she’d be far above modeling at a mall.”
“I can see how that might have rubbed Chrissy the wrong way,” I said.
“They both always wanted to be the best. That’s what caused most of the friction between them over the years. At first it just annoyed Chrissy, I think, but then Amy helped Demetra come up with a portfolio. That really ticked Chrissy off, probably because Demetra was actually taking steps to prove she could be a better model than her.”
“So suddenly it wasn’t just talk.”
“Exactly.” Hope took a bite of her crêpes and sighed happily. “These are amazing, by the way.”
I smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”
Chloe cut into her last pancake. “So you think the whole modeling rivalry could have ended up getting deadly?”
“It’s something I’d like to look into,” I said. “Do you know if Chrissy left the party before or after Demetra?”
“They were both still there when I left,” Chloe replied, “but I think I remember hearing that Chrissy left first.”
I looked to Hope, but she was staring off into space, worry lines creasing her forehead.
“Hope?” I prodded. “Are you okay?”
She snapped out of her daze. “Sorry. I’m just worried about Lonny. What were you saying?”
I repeated my question about Chrissy.
“I think she left before Demetra did, but not by too long.”
I considered that. “So she could have waited in the woods until she had a chance to catch Demetra alone.”
“She definitely could have,” Hope agreed. “Should we be talking to Sheriff Georgeson about this?”
“We don’t really have much to tell him beyond what he likely already knows,” I said. “I think we need more information before we go to him.”
“So you’re going to talk to Chrissy?” Chloe guessed. “You’re good at getting information out of people.”
“I’m not so sure I would be this time. I’ve already asked her some questions, and she didn’t much like me being nosy.”
“Maybe she’d be more willing to talk to me and Chloe,” Hope suggested.
I smiled. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
* * * *
Chloe and Hope hung around and helped me out as I closed up the pancake house and tidied up the dining room. When that was done, we walked into the heart of town, our destination Chrissy’s boutique. I was concerned that the mere sight of me might be enough to make Chrissy clam up, but if she was willing to talk to Hope and Chloe, I wanted to be there to hear what she had to say, so I followed them into the shop.
Chrissy was busy ringing up purchases for a well-dressed, middle-aged woman when we arrived. Hope and Chloe waved to their former classmate, and Chrissy acknowledged them with a quick smile before turning her attention back to her customer. I quietly slipped among the racks of clothing, putting some distance between myself and the sales counter, while Hope and Chloe remained near the displays closest to the door.
When the middle-aged woman left the shop a few minutes later, Hope struck up a conversation with Chrissy.
“How are you doing with everything these days, Chrissy? This can’t be an easy time for you.”
I flipped through the skirts and tops hanging on the rack in front of me, pretending to be interested in them while surreptitiously watching what was happening at the front of the store.
“It’s really not,” Chrissy said. “Everyone’s gossiping and casting Demetra in a bad light. I wish the case would get solved so all the speculation can get put to rest. So Demetra can be put to rest too.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so rough for you,” Chloe said. “Getting questioned about everything that happened so long ago hasn’t been easy for me, and I wasn’t close to Demetra like you were. And now it’s not just the sheriff’s department asking questions. There’s a private investigator, too.”
Chrissy nodded and picked a yellow silk blouse up off the sales counter. “I understand why Mrs. Kozani hired the PI, but I don’t know how helpful he’s going to be. He came in here yesterday and grilled me. I felt like he was trying to pin the crime on me.” She had a frown on her face as she came out from behind the counter, slipping the blouse onto a hanger.
“But why would he suspect you?” Hope said, managing to sound surprised. “You were Demetra’s best friend.”
“Sure, but everyone knows we fought sometimes.” She hung the blouse on a rack fixed to the back wall. “And we weren’t really getting along at the time she disappeared.”
“Because of the modeling thing?” Chloe asked. When Chrissy shot a sharp glance her way, she added apologetically, “I’ve heard some of the gossip that’s going around.”
Fortunately, she didn’t reveal that I was the source of that particular gossip. Or, information, as I preferred to call it.
“It’s such a load of crap,” Chrissy said with vehemence. She straightened out a display of handbags with more force than necessary. “Like I would have killed my best friend over something so ridiculous!”
She dropped her chin, and her shoulders shook. It took a second for the three of us to realize she was crying. We all hurried her way. I couldn’t bring myself to stay lurking in the background when she was in tears.
Hope put an arm around her. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Chrissy.”
“We all are,” I said, and Chloe murmured her agreement.
Chrissy wiped at her tears. “It was so stupid. If we both wanted to model, we could have. There was no point in fighting about it. But we did. And we didn’t have a chance to patch things up before she disappeared.”
She broke down into full-out sobs.
Hope kept her arm around her, and Chloe patted her back. I grabbed a box of tissues that was sitting on the sales counter and brought it over to Chrissy. She pulled a tissue from the box, giving me a tremulous smile of thanks. It took a couple of minutes and another two tissues to get her crying under control.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a shaky voice as she dabbed the last of her tears off her cheeks. “It’s been so difficult. Ten years later and I still have the same regrets. And I still miss her. I couldn’t bear to pursue modeling after she was gone. We fought from time to time and we were competitive with each other, but Demetra was my best friend and I loved her. It hurts to know some people suspect me of killing her. I never would have. Never!”
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She grabbed another tissue from the box I held and wiped them away quickly. She sniffled and closed her eyes briefly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to break down like this.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Hope assured her, giving her a hug.
“Is there anything we can do for you, Chrissy?” I asked, feeling terrible that my quest for information had triggered her meltdown.
“No, I’ll be okay.” She moved behind the sales counter and produced a small compact from somewhere out of sight, checking her makeup in the small mirror. She must have been wearing waterproof mascara because her tears hadn’t made it run. “Work is what’s helping me cope.”
She snapped the compact shut and squared her sh
oulders, as if ready to bravely face an onslaught of customers.
“Then we should leave you to it,” Hope said.
Chloe held up a brightly colored top. “I’d love to buy this before we go.”
That seemed to cheer Chrissy up, if only slightly. She rang up the purchase, and when we left the store she even managed a small smile and a wave.
“So, what do you think?” Chloe asked once we were walking along the street, leaving the boutique behind us.
“I don’t know her as well as you two do, of course,” I said, “but I thought she was genuinely upset. I might be wrong, but I don’t think she’s the killer.”
“I don’t think so either,” Chloe said with confidence. “I feel so bad for her.”
We both focused on Hope, who’d remained quiet since we left the boutique.
“What are your thoughts?” Chloe asked her.
“I guess I believe her,” Hope said after a moment.
“You don’t sound too sure,” I said.
She gave her head a curt shake, as if trying to jolt herself out of a daze. “You two are probably right. I think I’m just disappointed that we’re no closer to finding the killer.”
I thought I knew the true source of her disappointment. “I’m sure Lonny’s situation will get sorted out soon. I doubt he’s the only suspect on the sheriff’s radar. Everything will be okay in the end.”
Hope forced a smile. “You’re right,” she said, her voice more certain this time. “Everything will be okay.”
Chapter 25
I’d hoped to spend Monday with Brett, but he left home shortly after breakfast to get some work done. He usually took Sundays and Mondays off each week, but he’d been spending so much time at the Wildwood Inn lately that he needed an extra day to catch up on work for his other clients. I worried that he was working too hard and would wear himself out, but the Wildwood Inn project would slow down once the garden party was over, and he’d assured me he was considering hiring someone to help him in the near future, at least on a part-time basis.
For now, though, he was doing everything himself, and that meant I didn’t get to enjoy his company on my day off. I lazed around during the morning, reading a book on the couch between loads of laundry, and I took care of some housework after lunch, but by midafternoon I’d grown restless. Bentley had too, so I decided we could both use some exercise. He wholeheartedly supported that idea, if his excited barks and wagging tail were anything to go by.
With Bentley on his leash and trotting at my side, I jogged along Wildwood Road, heading away from town, until we reached the eastern end of the cove. Slowing to a walk, we left the road and followed the narrow path between two private properties until we reached the beach. I unhooked Bentley’s leash, and he charged across a wet sandbar to the water’s edge.
I followed more slowly, pausing to remove my shoes and socks before leaving the soft dry sand. My bare feet sank into the wet sand as I headed for the water, leaving a trail of footprints behind me. The sun shone brightly from a gorgeous blue sky, and the beautifully fresh breeze had enough of a cool touch to feel good against my warm skin.
When I caught up to Bentley, I paused and let the waves break over my feet. I winced at the cold bite of the water. It definitely wasn’t quite as pleasant as the breeze. Bentley didn’t seem to mind, but I retreated to the higher ground of the sandbar so my feet wouldn’t go numb. It would be several weeks yet before the ocean would be warm enough for swimming without getting uncomfortably cold. In the meantime, though, I could still make the most of the nice weather by enjoying strolls on the beach.
We slowly made our way back up the beach at an angle, aiming for home. When we reached dry sand at the high-water mark, I spotted two familiar figures approaching the beach from the Driftwood Bed-and-Breakfast. Bentley saw them too. He didn’t know Ellie Shaw, but he knew and loved Sienna and raced across the sand to greet her.
“Hi, Bentley.” Sienna dropped to her knees to give him a hug and to accept kisses in return.
Ellie patted his head, smoothing back his curly fur. “You’re so cute.”
Bentley gave them a big doggie grin, lapping up the attention.
“Just home from school?” I asked as I approached the girls.
“Yes.” Sienna got to her feet, brushing sand from her jeans. “Freedom, finally.”
I smiled at that. “How are you feeling, Ellie?”
“Much better, thanks. I didn’t feel sick for too long.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry you missed out on the last round of competition.”
“Me too, but it’s okay.”
“Except that someone might have made you sick,” Sienna said to her friend.
“That’s what my mom thinks.”
“And Marley thinks it could be true. Right, Marley?”
“I do,” I agreed. “Any idea who might have been behind it, Ellie?”
The teen shook her head and tugged at her braid. “I can’t believe anyone would do that.”
“That’s because you’re nice,” Sienna told her. “Not everyone is.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true,” I said.
“Ellie remembers more about what was happening at the refreshments table than I do,” Sienna said. “I was going to text you about it, but now Ellie can tell you herself.”
I wasn’t surprised that Sienna had pursued the matter on her own. Sometimes her enthusiasm for amateur sleuthing worried me, but this time it seemed harmless.
Sienna gave her friend a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Tell Marley what you told me.”
Ellie tugged on her braid again. “I didn’t see anyone putting anything in the drinks, but there were several people hanging around the table. I went over there to get some tea, and Sienna came with me. Cynthia was already there—she was competing in the adult division.”
I nodded. “She got sick too.”
“She’d made herself a cup of tea and was going to get some coffee for Mikey Soldado,” Ellie continued. “But when I got there she made tea for me instead. Then while it was steeping she poured a cup of coffee for Mikey.”
“Were you watching the mugs the whole time?” I asked.
“No,” Ellie replied. “I was talking to Cynthia and Sienna. Oh, and then that photographer lady came by and took a picture of us.”
“So there was a distraction,” I said. “Maybe someone slipped something into the mugs while you were all focused on the photographer.”
Ellie shrugged. “Maybe.”
I glanced at Sienna, but she shrugged too. “I forgot all about the photographer. Ellie’s memory is better than mine.”
“And you thought the tea tasted strange?” I said to Ellie.
“Yes, so I didn’t finish it. I thought maybe it was some weird herbal stuff.”
“Who else was near the table at that time?” I asked.
Ellie thought for a moment. “That older woman who was in the competition.”
“Dorothy Kerwin,” I supplied.
“And her husband,” Sienna added.
“Right,” Ellie said. “My mom wasn’t far away. She was talking to that coach guy. The MC.”
“Coach Hannigan,” I said. That all matched what Sienna had told me on the weekend. “Do you remember anything else?” I directed the question at both girls, but they shook their heads.
“So who do you think did it?” Sienna asked me.
“I really don’t know. It seems like there were several people who had the opportunity to slip something into the drinks. And a motive. Apart from Coach Hannigan, anyway. I don’t know why he’d care who won the competition.”
“Then how do we figure out who’s guilty?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “But I’ll think it over.”
Sienna gave Bentley another pat. “We’re on our way to Logan
’s place. Text me if you figure it out?”
“I will,” I said.
They headed up the beach to Logan’s house, next door to my own. Before leaving the beach myself, I turned around and gazed out at the ocean, taking a moment to soak in the beautiful view that never got old. I spotted a heron perched on one of the rocks at Myler’s Point, and closer to me a group of four kids ran across the sand to the water’s edge, their happy shouts and laughter ringing out through the spring air.
I was about to turn around when I paused, catching sight of a woman perched on a log, snapping a photo of the ocean view with her phone. An idea took shape in my head and by the time I reached home, I knew how I might be able to find out who had sabotaged the amateur chef competition.
Chapter 26
I had to wait until the next day to visit Amy Strudwick’s photography studio in Port Townsend. By the time I’d looked up her website, her studio was about to close, and I wouldn’t have had time to drive there before she shut her door to the public. Since Amy had been snapping pictures during the amateur chef competition and even when the contestants were milling about waiting for the cooking to get under way, I was hoping she might have caught the saboteur in action in one of her photographs.
After I’d had breakfast, I checked my phone and found a series of text messages from Patricia. Ray had seized the tea and coffee urns as well as the mugs used at the cooking competition. He was having all of those items tested for substances that might have caused the bouts of vomiting, but it would be a few days before the results would be in. That meant there was still no proof someone had slipped something into the coffee and tea, but that seemed to be the most likely scenario, and my gut told me that was what had happened.
No matter what the results of the tests would turn out to be, they wouldn’t necessarily narrow the field of suspects, so I still wanted to carry out my plan to visit Amy at her studio. I didn’t set out for Port Townsend as early as I would have liked, though. I first had to pick up some groceries and a few other things in Wildwood Cove, and I took Bentley for a walk on the beach. But by late morning I was on the road, and soon after I was pulling into a parking spot in picturesque Port Townsend.