by Sarah Fox
Fortunately, it seemed like Amy would be okay. Not so fortunate was the fact that I’d be leaving Port Townsend with more questions than answers. That was frustrating, to say the least, considering that I’d made the trip with the hope of solving one of the two cases that had recently plagued Wildwood Cove.
When I reached my car, I paused with one hand on the driver’s door. My stomach gave a loud grumble, and I realized I was hungry, too hungry to want to wait until I got home to eat lunch. I’d passed a fish-and-chips shop while walking around the town earlier, and I decided to head back that way. Maybe getting some food in my stomach would help me sort out my jumbled thoughts.
Doubtful, but it was worth a shot.
I’d made it halfway to the fish-and-chips restaurant when I stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk. The white cube van Brett used for work was parked across the street, unmistakable thanks to the name of his business written in large letters on the side of the vehicle.
If his van was in Port Townsend, then Brett was too. Somewhere.
I was about to set off in search of him when I spotted him walking toward his van on the opposite side of the street. I called his name and waved. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me, but then he smiled and waved back.
I waited for a couple of cars to pass by and then crossed the street. When I reached Brett’s van, he had the passenger door open and was setting a couple of bags on the seat.
He shut the door when I reached him.
“I thought you’d be back in Wildwood Cove by now,” he said.
“I thought I would be too. But I didn’t start out as early as I thought, and things didn’t quite go as planned. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I came to pick up a few things before heading off to my next job.”
I raised myself up on tiptoes to peer through the passenger window at the bags holding his purchases.
“Hey.” Brett took my hand and tugged me closer to him.
“Hey, what?” I asked, but I barely got the words out before his lips touched mine.
He kissed me in that way of his that always left me feeling like I was floating in the air, like he’d stolen all the air out of my lungs.
“Um, wow,” I managed to say when he rested his forehead against mine. “What was that for?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“No,” I said, so quickly that Brett grinned. “That’s definitely not required.”
He kissed me again, and it was with great reluctance that I pulled back a moment later.
“We’re on a public street,” I reminded him.
“Unfortunately,” Brett said with a grin.
I took half a step back but held his hands in mine. “Do you have to head back to work now?”
“Not right away. I could take another half hour.”
“Good,” I said with a smile.
“Why?” he asked with the lopsided grin that always made my stomach flip-flop. “You want to make out in the van?”
I poked him in the shoulder. “I was thinking about lunch.”
“I must not have kissed you well enough if you’re able to think about anything.”
“You’re welcome to try again later,” I said. “When we’re home.”
His grin widened. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“For now, how about some fish-and-chips?”
“I’ll take you up on that too.”
* * * *
We ate our fish-and-chips outdoors, claiming a small table and two chairs in the sunshine. I had to keep my hoodie on to stay warm with the breeze coming off the ocean, but it was still a nice day for eating outside.
A seagull perched nearby and eyed our lunch but fortunately kept its distance. Eventually it gave up on us and went in search of another food source. While I enjoyed my battered cod and munched on fries, I told Brett about my visit to Amy’s studio.
“Is she going to be all right?” Brett asked when I described how Amy had been hit on the head.
“I hope so. She was really groggy when I found her, but she seemed wide awake by the time she was put in the ambulance.”
I filled Brett in on what Amy said about her attacker, and my theory about the saboteur.
“But if Tyrone was the one who trashed the studio and hit Amy, the saboteur must not have been involved, right?”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I agreed. “I don’t know why Tyrone would sabotage the competition.”
Brett eyed me, a French fry halfway to his mouth. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to confront Tyrone.”
“Of course not. I’ll leave that to the cops.”
Brett relaxed and resumed eating.
“I don’t really know what I’m going to do next,” I said after enjoying a big bite of fish. “Amy still could have photos of the saboteur in action, but with her in the hospital I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to look at them.”
“I think you should tell Ray and let him deal with it.”
“I guess you’re right,” I admitted. “I mentioned my theory to the deputy who responded to the situation at the studio, but I’ll tell Ray too.”
Since Port Townsend was in a different county than Wildwood Cove, there were two different sheriff’s offices. I figured they probably shared information, but contacting Ray directly might speed things up.
“Hopefully he won’t think I’m snooping too much by giving him the information.”
Brett squeezed my hand. “At least you’re not tangling with a murderer this time. Well,” he revised, “not at the moment.”
“Oh, speaking of which…”
“I take my words back,” Brett said with a shake of his head, but I could tell he was fighting a smile.
I recounted my conversation with Quaid and Fellmen.
Any hint of a smile disappeared from Brett’s face. “I don’t like Quaid, and I really don’t like you being around him.”
“I wasn’t alone with him.”
“I’m not sure I like that private investigator much more.”
“He’s not as bad as Quaid, but I wouldn’t say he’s my favorite person.” I finished off the last of my fish. “I hope Ray knows more than I do, because I feel like there’s a whole lot of suspects in the murder case and not much in the way of concrete clues.”
“I don’t think it’ll be an easy case for anyone to solve now that ten years have passed since Demetra died, but Ray probably does know more than he’s letting on.”
I pushed my remaining fries toward Brett. He’d already polished off his lunch, and I didn’t have room in my stomach for anything more.
“I’ll call Ray later.”
“Good idea.” Brett got to work on demolishing the last of the fries. “Then what will you do?”
I shrugged. “Relax?”
He laughed.
“What?” I asked. “I know how to relax.”
“When there’s a mystery to be solved?”
I crumpled up our food wrappers. “Don’t you need to get back to work?” I was pretending to be miffed, but he wasn’t buying it.
“I do,” he said as we got up from the table and tossed our garbage in a trashcan. He took my hand. “But first I’m going to walk you to your car.”
* * * *
The unexpected chance to have lunch with Brett left a smile on my face as I drove along the highway toward home. Not even thoughts about Demetra’s murder or the attack on Amy managed to dampen my spirits. I was so content that I didn’t spare much thought to those unsolved mysteries until I neared the turnoff for Wildwood Cove.
Two sheriff’s department cruisers driving on the opposite side of the highway reached the turnoff ahead of me, catching my attention before they disappeared onto the quieter road. When I left the highway and rounded a bend, I spotted the t
wo cars up ahead of me. I couldn’t help but wonder why two patrol cars were heading toward town. They didn’t have their lights or sirens activated, but clearly more than one officer was required for some reason.
I was nearing home when I glanced at my rearview mirror and spotted a third patrol car behind me on Wildwood Road. I turned into my driveway, and a few seconds later the third car drove by. Coming to a quick decision, I turned my car around. If Ray was in one of the cruisers, he wouldn’t be pleased to know I’d decided to follow them to their destination, but my curiosity pushed me to keep the three patrol cars in sight.
After passing by Main Street, the cruisers turned off Wildwood Road and into a quiet residential neighborhood. When I saw them pull to a stop on Saratoga Street, I steered my car over to the curb and parked, deciding it would be a good idea to stay back. I didn’t want to get in the way of whatever might happen next.
Four officers emerged from the three vehicles. I recognized Ray easily, but I didn’t get a good look at the deputies with him. Staying in my car, I watched as Ray approached the front of Tyrone’s mother’s house with one deputy by his side. The two other deputies circled around toward the back of the house.
Maybe they were about to arrest Tyrone. For the murder, or for trashing Amy’s studio and assaulting her?
My hands gripped the steering wheel as Ray knocked on the front door. He didn’t get an immediate response.
Movement off to the side redirected my attention. I leaned forward for a better look out my windshield. Someone was creeping along the roof of the house.
It was Tyrone, I realized a second later. He carefully made his way along the overhang at the side of the house.
I gasped when he jumped from the roof and grabbed a thick tree branch several feet away. I thought for sure he’d fall, but he made the jump easily. He’d probably done it dozens of times as a teenager sneaking out of the house.
I glanced toward the front porch. Ray knocked on the door again, but still no one answered. I wondered if I should somehow alert him to the fact that Tyrone was now shimmying down the tree at the side of the house. He reached a lower branch and then swung down and let go, landing easily on the grass.
He glanced toward the front of the house, but the sheriff and deputies still had no idea he was there. I opened the car door as Tyrone vaulted over the fence and disappeared into the neighbor’s yard. A deputy came around the corner from the back of the house and broke into a run. He must have seen Tyrone before he got out of sight.
I settled back into my seat and shut the car door, deciding to stay put. Two deputies climbed up over the fence to give chase. They must have alerted Ray by radio, because he and the third deputy ran back toward the cruisers. Two of the patrol cars roared off seconds later, leaving me wondering if they were in pursuit of a burglar or a killer.
Chapter 29
I sat in my car for another ten minutes, waiting to see if anyone would return. No one did. A woman walked by my car, pushing a baby in a stroller and casting a curious but wary glance my way. I decided I should probably leave before someone reported me for suspicious loitering.
As I drove home, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of Tyrone or the deputies, but I didn’t see them anywhere. I had a sinking feeling that Tyrone had managed to get away. Where he would go, I didn’t know, but maybe he’d somehow manage to catch a ride back to Seattle without getting caught.
When I got home, I tried to relax on the back porch with a book, Bentley napping near my feet. But it turned out Brett was right—I was too caught up in the two unsolved mysteries to shut my mind off and enjoy some downtime. I gave it a good effort, but after reading the same page four times, I had to admit defeat.
Setting the book aside, I got up and moved over to the railing where Flapjack was enjoying the afternoon sun, his front paws tucked under him, his orange tail twitching occasionally when a bird flew by. I gave him a scratch on the head, and he rewarded me with a purr.
“I wonder which crime Ray was trying to arrest Tyrone for. Killing Demetra? Assaulting Amy? If he was trying to arrest him. But since he showed up with three deputies, you’d think that would be why.”
Flapjack closed his eyes to mere slits, and I could have sworn there was a contented smile on his furry face.
“I know,” I said to him. “Human problems are of no consequence to you, right?”
Flapjack twitched his tail, but that probably had more to do with the chickadee that fluttered past than anything I’d said.
My curiosity was making me restless, so I grabbed my phone and sent a text message to Chloe, thinking she might hear rumors about Tyrone since she knew more people who knew him. I couldn’t expect a response right away, though. She’d still be busy with her students for another hour or so.
As I set my phone aside, Bentley woke up from his nap and stretched before sitting at my feet, gazing up at me expectantly.
“Want to get some exercise?” I asked.
I interpreted the enthusiastic wagging of his tail as a yes.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
I took Bentley for a short run, returning home along the beach as we often did. The fresh air and exercise helped make me feel less restless, but my head was still filled with racing thoughts. Bentley seemed content, however. He took a long drink of water from his bowl in the kitchen and then flopped down on his bed in the family room, ready for another snooze.
After a quick shower, I checked my phone, my hopes rising when I saw that Chloe had responded to my text message.
Let me see what I can find out, her response read.
She’d sent another text since then.
Hope hasn’t heard anything. I’ll call Ray and see what he’ll tell me.
I hoped her uncle would be more forthcoming with her than he would with me. She had what was probably a more legitimate interest in Demetra’s case than I did. She also wasn’t in the habit of annoying him by sticking her nose in every murder investigation that came across his desk.
After calling her uncle, Chloe phoned me.
“I talked to Ray,” she said after we’d exchanged greetings. “He wants to question Tyrone again about his movements on the night of the party.”
I wondered if that was because of the information Quaid had recently provided.
“But the arrest warrant is for assaulting Amy,” Chloe went on. “I had no idea that had even happened!”
“It was only a few hours ago,” I said.
“That’s what Ray said. So of course I didn’t know, since I’ve been working. But still, I was shocked. I mean, it’s no secret that Tyrone has anger issues, but Amy?”
“She thinks she interrupted him while he was robbing her studio. Does that sound possible to you?”
“Maybe? I guess it could be true. I don’t think Tyrone has a criminal record, but it’s not like his past is squeaky clean either. And who knows what he’s been up to since he dropped out of college? He’s mostly been living in Seattle since then.”
“Do you know if Ray and his deputies ever did arrest Tyrone?”
“They didn’t. Tyrone gave them the slip, and they haven’t been able to find him. Ray talked to Coach Hannigan, thinking Tyrone might have turned to him for help, but he hasn’t heard from him. If we know anything we’re supposed to tell Ray right away. He didn’t beat around the bush about that.”
“Do you know anything? Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“I figure he probably hightailed it back to Seattle. Ray said his truck’s still at his mom’s place, but he could have hitchhiked. Ray said the Jefferson County sheriff has some people watching the ferries, but maybe Tyrone managed to slip past them.”
“Or he’s still in Wildwood Cove,” I said. “Does he have any close friends here anymore? Anyone he might turn to for help, aside from Coach Hannigan?”
“Um, hold
on one second.” Chloe’s voice grew more distant as she talked to someone at her end.
I poured myself a glass of sweet tea while I waited, downing half the glass in two gulps. Carrying the rest of my drink with me, I wandered out onto the back porch. Flapjack was now snoozing on the windowsill in the kitchen, but Bentley followed me outside to flop down in the sunshine.
As I leaned against the railing, Chloe came back on the line.
“Sorry about that. I’m on my way out of the school and had to talk to a colleague for a second. I don’t think Tyrone’s all that close to anyone in Wildwood Cove anymore, except his mom, of course.” I heard the beep of a car lock from Chloe’s end of the line and a second later a car door shut. “Aside from Coach Hannigan and Mrs. Phillips, I’d say Chrissy is probably the person who knows Tyrone best. Do you want to meet me at her shop? She might not have anything to tell us, but we can always ask.”
I was already heading inside to grab my car keys. “I’ll definitely meet you there.”
* * * *
Chrissy wasn’t exactly happy to see us.
“I don’t want to talk about Demetra anymore,” she said before we could even say hello to her.
A frown had appeared on her face as soon as she saw us coming into the store, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with us.
“It’s too difficult and I don’t want to cry. I can’t be scaring my customers away.”
Aside from the three of us, the store was empty at the moment, but the shop wasn’t due to close for another half hour, and even as she spoke to us, two women stopped outside the front window to admire a sleek satin dress displayed on a mannequin.
“We don’t want to upset you,” Chloe told her. “We just want to know if you have any idea where Tyrone might be hiding.”
Chrissy set down the skirt she was about to clip to a hanger. “Hiding? Why is he hiding?” Her eyes widened. “Are the cops going to arrest him for killing Demetra?”
“Not for that, no,” I said. “Not yet, anyway.”