The last thing I wanted to do was pry into the misdeeds of my grandmother’s youth. Seriously. So I changed the subject slightly. “Speaking of which, I saw Ted Perkins today. Twice. He grows pot on his back forty, right?”
By the way Grammie pursed her lips, I knew she wouldn’t answer that question. “Where did you run into Ted?” she asked instead. She slid my mug onto the counter in front of me.
As I added milk and stirred, I told her about our two encounters and my plan to go over to his place soon and see if I wanted to buy his linens. Then I returned to what truly interested me. “I didn’t know Elliot and Ted were in business together.”
“Me neither,” Grammie said while looking inside the refrigerator. She changed the subject. “I’m thinking meat loaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. How does that sound?” She pulled out a package of hamburger.
“Perfect.” I could use a big plate of comfort food about now. “You should let me cook.” I made this offer often but she usually turned me down, claiming that cooking was a creative outlet. The meals she turned out were works of art so who was I to stand in the way of genius?
She shook her head at my offer while thumping the meat into a glass bowl and began to add spices. “I can’t say I’m surprised about Elliot and Ted,” she said, returning to the topic. “Elliot has a good nose for money and he’s always looking for partners. Spreads the risk, you see.”
“Well, I don’t know what happened, but Ted sounded angry. Threatened to call his attorney.”
Grammie whistled. “Sounds like Elliot pushed the envelope a bit too far. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She cracked an egg into the bowl. “By the way, there’s a Lobster Festival committee meeting tomorrow morning at the Bean. I thought we could go. They’re giving us breakfast. Then I have a hair appointment.” Held each July, the Lobster Festival was one of Blueberry Cove’s biggest events. This year, as downtown merchants, we would have a role in promoting the festival, which drew thousands of visitors to town.
I checked my calendar. “I can be there. Ian is coming in the afternoon to work on the shop. And Madison and I are looking at ad proofs for the grand opening in the A.M.” We could do that after the meeting. I sent Madison a text, and she replied that she was on the committee so would see me then.
While Grammie made dinner, I spent some time in the garden, weeding the flower beds and checking on the progress of the perennials. One of our chief pleasures was seeing the land come to life again after a long, hard winter. Tonight peepers sang in the small pond behind the barn. I loved their shrill, insistent racket.
Quincy came by, rubbing his body against my knees. I patted his head, and we sat and listened to the sounds of spring, watching the half moon rise over the bay.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, I woke to Grammie shaking my shoulder. “Iris.” She shook me again. “Are you going to the breakfast? Or do you want to stay here?”
Breakfast meeting at the Bean. Oh yeah. I struggled to an upright position, smacking dry lips. “I’m coming.” I glanced at my alarm clock. “I just barely got to sleep.” Speculations about Star’s murder had circled in my mind all night, either keeping me awake or giving me bad dreams.
Grammie was already at the bedroom door. “I didn’t get much sleep either. But coffee’s on. Take a quick shower and I’ll see you downstairs.”
The shower helped, and then I chose a pretty pale blue dress with white polka dots. A white half apron edged with blue piping went over this, and on my feet, I wore blue T-strap pumps.
I looked better than I felt. But that would have to do.
A quick cup of coffee later, we were off to the Bean in separate vehicles. We parked beside each other in the public lot and walked to the restaurant together.
Sophie was unloading a dishwasher tray of mugs onto a shelf behind the counter when we entered. “Morning, Iris, Anne,” she said with a smile. “Here for the meeting?” When we nodded, she said, “They’re in the back room. Help yourself to the buffet.”
Beyond the restrooms, the hallway opened into what was once an old screened porch overlooking the harbor. Sophie had closed it in with windows but still only used it in the warmer months. It could be chilly out here. Today, several tables had been pulled together in the middle, and the committee attendees were milling about and chatting or filling plates and mugs at the buffet.
“Hey, lady.” Madison appeared at my side. “Love that dress.”
“Thanks.” I smoothed my skirt. “Made it myself.” I checked out her outfit, black leggings with slouchy gray suede boots and a long, ribbed sweater, also gray. Simple but stunning. “You look great.”
Madison smiled an acknowledgment as she tugged the sweater into place. “I still can’t believe I got roped into this committee,” she whispered in my ear. “But at least there’s always great food.”
“Always a plus.” And sometimes the only thing that made such meetings bearable. Stifling a yawn, I moved toward the buffet, where several waffle makers steamed. I glanced around at the attendees. Jake Adams, Sophie’s lobsterman boyfriend, was scooping scrambled eggs from a chafing dish. Ian’s parents, Angus and Fiona, were already seated. Both were tall and lanky, and I saw Ian’s craggy features in his dad, although he had his mother’s green eyes and level gaze.
A covered easel stood at the head of the table, where Charlotte Ramsey, the artist, was talking to Elliot and Nancy Parker, who both held green smoothies. Nancy was polished and groomed even at this hour, her expertly dyed blond hair in a perfect helmet and pearls at her ears and around her neck. Circling this little group like a puppy begging for attention was Kevin Lee, the code officer. What was he doing here? Oh yeah, no doubt the town required forms in triplicate for any event.
I was pouring batter into a waffle maker when the door opened and another attendee slipped in. Lars Lavely, cub reporter. I averted my eyes a little too late.
“Iris Buckley.” He hovered right at my elbow. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you.” He jerked his head toward my grandmother, who was sliding into a chair next to Ted Perkins. “And Anne.”
“No comment.” Wasn’t that what you were supposed to say? I flipped the waffle maker over and watched as the timer began to count down. Maybe the reporter would disappear by the time the waffle was cooked.
“I’ll save you a seat,” Madison said, walking by with a plate of eggs and bacon. Out of the reporter’s view, she rolled her eyes.
Lars pushed his glasses up with his thumb. “Don’t be that way, Iris. We’re on the same side here. Maybe what your grandmother and you tell me will help identify the poor woman.” He leaned closer. “No way Star Moonshine is her real name, right?”
I hated to admit it, but he had a point. Maybe we could use the power of the press for good in this instance. “I’ll think about it, Lars. We’re pretty busy today.” Then I remembered the email that I was pretty sure he hadn’t sent. I thought of a way to double-check. “Hey, do you have a card? I might have time later this week.”
He dug around in the pocket of his baggy corduroys and finally extracted a crumpled business card. “Thanks, Iris. Really appreciate it.” He moved on, loading a plate with sausage and bacon plus toast, before sitting at a table along the wall, the better to observe the meeting, I supposed. That was his real assignment today, I was sure. In a small town like Blueberry Cove, committee meetings are often fraught with drama and intrigue. We take our entertainment where we can get it.
The group ate for a few minutes, conversing about this and that. I was sitting between Jake and Madison, so I took the opportunity to catch up with the lobsterman. He was such a cutie, with brush-cut red hair, tons of freckles under his tan, and a teasing expression in his hazel eyes. Working the ocean year-round meant he was buff too.
“If you need any help moving into the store, let me know,” he said between bites of his eggs. “I’m usually in from hauling by noon.”
I poured maple syrup over my butter-saturated waffle. “Thanks, Jak
e. I’m grateful for the offer.”
“Just shoot me a text whenever you need me.” Jake turned his attention to the head of the table where Nancy was now clinking a spoon on a water glass.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said with a brief and icy smile. “Welcome to the May meeting of this year’s Lobster Festival planning committee.” She glanced around the room. “We’ve got the supply side with Jake Adams, marketing and promotion with Madison Morris, lodging represented by the Stewarts, and new to the committee, a brand-new downtown store. Iris and Anne will be our retail liaisons.”
As each person was mentioned, they smiled and nodded. I hated this part of meetings but at least I didn’t have to introduce myself. That had been traumatic ever since second grade, when I’d moved to Blueberry Cove after my parents’ accident. I still remember the teacher saying, while all the kids stared, “Be kind to Iris. She just lost both her parents.” Gag.
Nancy brushed at her lapel with a self-satisfied smile. “As you know, Elliot and I are sponsors, as is Ted. We’ll be approaching banks and other businesses to chip in this week. This year we have chosen two charities that will benefit from funds raised. The children’s playground at the park and the keeper’s cottage museum at the lighthouse.”
A burst of applause and approving nods met Nancy’s announcement, as she fully expected. But their generosity was unquestionable and both causes were good. I’d heard the historical society had taken on the cottage as a project, which was great. The Coast Guard still used the light but the society had purchased the buildings when the government divested ownership.
“Now,” Nancy said with gritted teeth, “last but not least. Our wonderful local artist Charlotte Ramsey is here to reveal the new graphic for the festival.” She stepped aside. “Take it away, Charlotte.” Perhaps only someone who knew the backstory would notice, but I could tell Nancy disliked Elliot’s tenant.
Charlotte got up and moved to the covered easel, but before she could speak, Kevin Lee waved his hand. “You didn’t forget about me, did you, Nancy? The forms this year for event permits have changed—”
Nancy put up a hand. “We’ll get to that later, Kevin. I’m sure that with all the visitors and money the festival brings into Blueberry Cove the town government will want to smooth the path. Am I right?” Her bared-teeth smile directed at the hapless code officer was downright scary. Kevin subsided back into his seat with a mutter.
Charlotte stepped closer to the easel. “I’m thrilled to be chosen as the festival’s official artist,” she said. Nancy winced. “I wanted to create something eye-catching, whimsical, and fun, something that people everywhere would recognize as Blueberry Cove’s famous Lobster Festival.” That last was a stretch but everyone lapped up the compliment with eager expressions.
“After all this buildup, I can’t wait to see it,” Madison whispered to me.
The artist whipped off the cover, revealing a brightly colored painting of a mermaid, viewed in profile, holding up a lobster, like Anita Eckberg’s pose with a kitten in La Dolce Vita. The mermaid even resembled the blond and beautiful actress.
“That is really good,” Madison said into the silence. “It’s going to look great on posters, on the Web, in ads. Even on T-shirts.”
Charlotte beamed. “Thank you, Madison. I appreciate that, from a marketing professional such as yourself.” Did I imagine the look of sly satisfaction she gave Nancy? I know I didn’t imagine her sitting down and whispering with Elliot, like conspirators.
The crowd broke into chatter about the logo, but then Nancy reined everyone in to begin the tedious work of committee assignments. A list of committed booth vendors, children’s activities, and music acts and an event schedule were passed out and endlessly discussed. Another cup of coffee kept me awake until the meeting finally broke up, the attendees gradually sifting out of the room.
“Why am I doing this again?” I asked Madison in an echo of her earlier question.
“Because it will be good for business.” Madison bustled toward a table in the corner. “Why don’t we go ahead and meet in here?” She pulled a couple of manila folders and a laptop out of her tote.
Grammie came up to us. “I’m heading out to my hair appointment. See you later?”
I pulled a chair out from the table and sat. “We’ll be working here for a while. Then I’ll be at the store after, helping Ian with renovations.”
“By the way, Kevin Lee cornered me,” Grammie said, glancing over her shoulder. “He wants to inspect the place, now that it’s been released by the police.”
“When?” I asked with a sigh. But Kevin was already gone. In fact, we three were the only people in the room besides the surly redheaded employee, who was cleaning up.
“Put it this way,” I said. “I’m not going out of my way to call him. I’m way too busy.” I straightened my apron and then groaned. “You know what? I keep forgetting to take my favorite apron home. Remember how it got ripped that day?” I didn’t need to specify which day I was referring to.
“Where is it?” Grammie asked. “Still at the store?”
“Yep. In the storage room.” I shook my head. “Anyway, that’s only one of my millions of tasks.” I smiled at my grandmother. “See you later.”
We worked for over an hour, looking at ad proofs for the newspaper and making some tweaks to the Web site. “You’re looking good,” Madison said. “We should go live next week with a countdown until opening. Build the buzz.”
I pictured throngs of eager customers marking the days until they could step inside the shop. I could dream, right? My phone buzzed and I glanced at the caller. Grammie. “Hey, what’s up?”
At first I heard only a sobbing breath. Cold fear trickled down my spine. “Grammie. What’s the matter?” Had she gotten into an accident? Madison sent me a concerned look across the table, her attention caught by my words.
“Iris.” A gulp. “I found your apron. It’s tied around Elliot’s … Elliot’s neck.”
CHAPTER 14
A comical image of Elliot wearing my apron like a bib flashed into my mind. But then the implications sank in. I didn’t understand what was going on but I sensed it was bad. I jumped to my feet. “Where are you?”
“At the store. The police and EMTs are on their way.” As if on cue, sirens wailed, both through the phone and outside on Main Street.
“I’ll be right there.” I slung my handbag strap over my shoulder. Madison was stuffing her laptop and files into her tote. “Leave that with Sophie and let’s go.”
“What’s going on?” Madison asked, trailing behind as I trotted into the front room.
“Something happened to Elliot at the store.” That was all I had time to say. Vaguely aware that she was handing her tote to Sophie, I pushed through the restaurant, ignoring the curious faces watching, and burst out onto the sidewalk.
Ruffles & Bows was located down the block, on the other side of the street. Lights flashing, the sirens still blaring, the police SUV wheeled off Main Street and into the alley. The ambulance was right behind the cruiser. I waited for a couple of cars to pass before bolting across the street, Madison right behind me.
“They’re around back,” I called over my shoulder. We went past the building and down the alley, where the SUV and ambulance sat, lights flashing. Grammie stood outside the back door, arms wrapped around her midsection, next to Kevin Lee, who was toeing his loafer into the dirt and frowning.
Grammie’s worried expression cleared when she saw me. “Iris. Thank God.” She pushed a shaking hand through her freshly cut bob. “I … I can’t believe it.”
I scooped her into a hug. “What happened?” I glanced at the back door of the store, which stood open. “I take it the officers are inside?”
“Yes, they are.” Grammie pulled back slightly and gave Madison a wan smile of greeting. “I stopped by to pick up your apron. I was going to fix it for you as a surprise. But when I went inside, I found Elliot on the floor of the storeroom.” A shudder rip
pled through her body and she pressed a fist to her mouth. “He was dead.”
Heart attack, maybe? But— “How does my apron fit in?” I glanced over at Kevin, who was staring at the ground. “And what’s he doing here?”
“He showed up right after I did,” Grammie said. She threw a look over her shoulder at the open door then lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “The apron strings were around Elliot’s neck, as if someone strangled him with them.” Madison gasped.
I recoiled, literally taking a step back. “Someone used my apron to kill him?” My arms went over my stomach protectively, as if I’d been punched. Learning of Elliot’s sudden death was horrible enough but it didn’t take long for the implications to sink in. Someone was trying to shift suspicion to us.
Officer Rhonda Davis emerged from the store, followed by another officer. Rhonda’s expression was grim as she spoke into her chest microphone, no doubt calling for the crime team. The paramedics followed the officers outside.
“Hang on,” Rhonda told them. “The coroner is on his way.” Her gaze swiveled to us. “Mrs. Buckley, we’ll need an official statement from you. And you too, Mr. Lee.” Kevin nodded. “Iris. When did you get here?”
“Just a minute ago,” I said. “I was at the Bean with Madison working on the store Web site. We were at the Lobster Fest committee meeting earlier. Elliot was there too.” My belly hollowed. What would happen to the store now? Would we be able to open on time—or ever? Then I shook off these self-serving thoughts. A man was dead, leaving a grieving widow. And maybe he had friends, people who cared about him.
“I’ll need you and Madison to give us statements at the station,” Rhonda said. “We’ll call first. Until then, don’t talk to anyone about this.” Her eyes flashed with warning. “I mean no … one. Get it?”
“We get it,” I said. Madison chimed agreement.
Hems & Homicide Page 10