Painted-on red lips moved, revealing teeth that were yellow in contrast. “I understand this is where I sign up for the lobster bib contest,” a deep voice said. He—I think—waved a gloved hand at the flyer I’d taped to the front of the counter.
“That’s right. I have a form right here.” I placed an entry form and pen on the counter. “Are you entering as your clown personality?” I asked, to be funny.
“Not this one,” the clown said with disdain, as if I should have known. “I have another identity I’ll be using.”
“I can hardly wait,” I muttered, smiling widely when the clown sent me a sharp look. “Seriously,” I amended. “We are getting some great entries. It’s going to be … um, interesting.”
Pen scratching, the clown filled out the form. “Here you go.” He or she slapped the pen onto the paper and pushed the whole shebang toward me. “See you then. Now I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for the clown parade.” The shoes flapped again as the costumed character clomped away.
As the door shut with a jingle, I reviewed the form. Name? Loko the Lobster Lover. Oh yeah, the contest was going to be interesting all right.
While I was still on Eleanor, I moved on to the Lapland research. Entering the search “Lapland passenger lists” surprisingly brought up a number of sites. The one with the most lists didn’t have any for 1932, which was frustrating. But I sent off an e-mail to the site owner anyway, asking for help in locating the one I wanted.
My phone bleeped with a text and I picked it up, thinking it was Anton. But it was Sophie, asking if Ian and I wanted to have a picnic supper at the lighthouse with her and Lukas. She was bringing the food.
Um, yes. Although I wished Jake was going, not Lukas. But at least I could observe Sophie and Lukas together, get a read on the situation. I checked with Ian then wrote Sophie back, arranging to have them pick me up at the store. Ian was working out on the point, so we’d swing by there after.
Social plans settled, and with the doorway of the store failing to be darkened by customers, I turned to online stalking. Oh, the Internet, what would we do without it? From reading their bios, I gathered Ruben’s focus was biochemistry, and Lukas was regarded as a marine biology expert. They were both all over the web, on university and professional sites and as authors of papers and presentations at conferences. I thought of the card from Château de Rochefort. Had Hailey attended a university conference there, maybe? Or had her stay been personal, perhaps a romantic getaway? I searched the hotel’s site but didn’t find any information on past groups, or even any coming up. They were really discreet about their guests, it seemed.
Neither professor had much presence on social media, with Ruben’s posts consisting mostly of good times on holiday around Europe. Lukas posted about hiking and skiing, with shots of his suntanned face squinting into the sun.
Hailey’s accounts were under lockdown, which was annoying. But I really couldn’t blame her, considering the number of friend requests and followers I got from supposed ex-military officers and oil company executives. So, since there was nothing to be learned there, I moved on to Theo, her fellow teaching assistant.
Theo was much less guarded and, as I’d gathered, he liked to take photographs. His feeds held some really wonderful shots, mostly of landscapes but some of people too. Among the most recent were scenes I recognized from Blueberry Cove.
Including one of Patrick’s boat, moored close to shore. I recognized the slabs of granite in the foreground. They were close to the climbing route we had taken. When we had gotten there, his boat was motoring away, toward Shorehaven.
I checked the date it was posted. The day of Hailey’s death. Anton needed to see this right away.
During my first interview with the police, I’d mentioned seeing Patrick’s boat near the cliffs. But without this photo, they’d probably believed the seaweed farmer when he said he hadn’t seen anything, like he’d told me. I’d also made the assumption that he hadn’t stopped on the way to Shorehaven, either.
I couldn’t help but ask myself: Had Patrick killed Hailey?
* * *
“See you later, Grammie,” I said, heading out the store’s front door. Sophie had just pulled up in front in her Subaru Forester.
“Have fun, dear,” she called. “Quincy and I will be fine. We’re having fresh haddock for dinner.”
Lukas was in the passenger seat so I hopped into the rear. “Hey,” I greeted them, clipping my seat belt. “How are you?”
“We had a great day. Place was packed.” Sophie flicked her turn signal to pull out, glancing over her shoulder at oncoming traffic.
“We did too, this afternoon,” I said as Sophie pulled out onto the street. “This morning was slow but I got caught up on a lot of things.” Like finding Theo’s photo, which I’d sent to Anton, just in case they hadn’t seen it. He said thanks but hadn’t given me an update. “How about you, Lukas? How are things going?”
I could see his profile as he studied the passing scene. “Not so great.” He paused. “In fact I had a really bad day.”
Sophie’s eyes met mine in the rearview, and by her raised brows I guessed she hadn’t heard this. “What’s going on?” I asked, figuring that if he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t have brought it up.
“Well, where do I begin?” Another beat. “I got a call today from the head of my department. He was inquiring about my involvement in Hailey’s death.”
Both Sophie and I gasped. “But you’re not a suspect,” Sophie said. “So where did he get that?”
“I have no idea,” Lukas said. “Someone obviously ran to him and filled his ears with poison. But that’s not the worst thing. The police want me to come in for another interview tomorrow morning.”
We both exclaimed again. “That doesn’t make sense,” I said. The photograph I’d sent Anton implicated Patrick, not Lukas. I almost blurted that out but managed to hold the words back. I trusted Sophie implicitly but although I liked Lukas, it was possible he would tell Patrick what I’d done. Not necessarily out of malice, but because people talk. For example, whoever went to his department head. A rival colleague, maybe?
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Sophie said with a sniff, “I believe you’re innocent.”
He reached over and patted her knee. “You are so sweet.” His hand didn’t linger, I was glad to note. He squared his shoulders. “I plan to cooperate fully. I want the fiend who killed Hailey caught and locked up and the key thrown away.”
“Me too,” I said. Pulling out my phone, I shot Anton another text. What’s up with questioning Lukas???! He didn’t answer and I really didn’t expect him to. He sometimes gave me information, but only when it didn’t jeopardize a case. Even though I couldn’t help but be curious. And I honestly didn’t want him to overstep bounds either. Even if he was my friend. And—“Guess what, Sophie? Anton and Madison are going out to dinner tonight.”
“As in a date, date?” she asked. When I confirmed that, she whooped. “About time.” She threw a glance at Lukas and explained the situation.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I know Madison.” His tone became glum. “And Anton. He’s the one who asked me to come in tomorrow.”
I leaned forward, between the seats. “Anton’s one of the good guys. He won’t railroad you or anything.” Although he didn’t have the final say in cases of murder. The state police had jurisdiction. So as not to spook him further, I didn’t mention that. Lukas hadn’t killed his student despite her difficult personality and underhanded ways, I was pretty sure.
At the intersection of Hemlock Point Road, which looped the entire peninsula, Sophie asked which way to turn. “Right,” I said, checking the directions Ian had sent me. “Out near Madison’s house.” Our destination, the Hemlock Point Lighthouse, was at the very end, where it had stood since the 1800s.
Most of the way, the road had a view of the water, with little lanes and cul-de-sacs on both sides. Madison lived on Cranberry Circle and that was where Ian was working. Wh
en I spotted his truck parked in a wide driveway in front of a faux Colonial, I realized he was right next door to the Morris home. Their house, designed by Zadie, was a modern post and beam with cathedral ceilings and a wonderful multi-level deck perfect for entertaining. This cul-de-sac was on a rise, with enough trees cut for an ocean view, if from a distance.
I sent Ian a text to let him know we were outside. Within a minute, he came around the side of the house with a wave. “I’m almost done cleaning up my tools,” he said, leaning on the edge of my rolled-down window. “Want to come in and see the job?”
“Is it okay with the owners?” I asked, although guessing he wouldn’t invite us in if they didn’t want visitors.
“The Grahams aren’t here. And no, they won’t mind. My parents stopped by last weekend, when they were up.” He opened the car door for me so I could climb out.
He led us around the corner of the house, past neglected flowerbeds and a covered built-in pool. “They just bought the place a few months ago,” he said. “As you can see, the previous owners let things go.”
We crossed a wide deck and entered the kitchen, which featured banks of newly installed white cabinets, shiplap walls, and black soapstone countertops. The look was old-fashioned yet modern with the farmhouse sink and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, rubbing my hand along a silky sandstone countertop. What a nice change from ubiquitous granite and even more ostentatious marble. “Did you design it?”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, a pleased smile on his lips. “Well, me and the owners.” Which meant he’d guided them all the way. “I’m in charge of the overall project. We had the cabinets custom built. I’ve been finishing up the trim and details this week.”
“I’m very impressed,” Lukas said, echoed by Sophie, who was practically drooling, especially over the six-burner gas stove with two ovens.
We were checking out the butler’s pantry with its cupboards and shelves when a rapping sounded on the door. Dr. Horatio Morris stood on the deck, hands tucked in the rear pockets of his shorts.
“Hello, Horatio,” Ian said, opening the door for Madison’s father. “Come on in and join the party.”
The doctor nodded at each of us while taking in the refurbished kitchen. “This has really come along,” he told Ian. “The Grahams must be pleased.” To us, he said, “They’re good friends of mine from Dartmouth. I convinced them to buy this place.” He winked. “Nice to pick your neighbors when you can.”
“You’re right about that,” I said. One thing I loved about our farm is that we couldn’t even see our neighbors, only a couple of rooftops among the trees.
Ian gave Horatio a tour of the kitchen’s features while the three of us looked through the rest of the rooms on the first floor. These had received fresh paint, new built-in bookcases and cabinets, and sanded floors. We were in the double living room with its beamed ceilings and fieldstone fireplace when Horatio and Ian wandered in, still chatting.
Ian joined Lukas and Sophie while Horatio made a beeline to me. “Iris,” he said, lowering his warm honey voice to almost a whisper. “I’ve been hoping to catch up with you.”
My spine stiffened in alarm. Was he going to question me about Anton and Madison? I had no idea what he thought of the pairing and certainly didn’t want to get in the middle of family matters. Especially since I’d encouraged them both. But why wouldn’t he like Anton, anyway? You’d be hard pressed to find a more decent man.
Fiddling with his wristwatch band, Horatio glanced at Lukas, who was listening to Ian over by the fireplace. Lowering his voice yet another notch, he said, “The other night at the clambake, Zadie and I were approached about an investment opportunity. Biofuel.”
“I’ve heard about that,” I said to let him know I knew who and what he was talking about. Biofuel was Ruben’s pet project. “Sounds like a cool idea, sustainable energy and all that.”
He studied me with his large brown eyes, so like his daughter’s. “It does sound promising. Seaweed is so much faster growing than wood, which is also being proposed for biofuel. But of course, I’m doing a little more due diligence before I jump in.”
“That sounds wise,” I said, although I wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investing in start-up companies—except our much more modest apron shop.
“I saw Anne take one of his proposals at the clambake,” Horatio said. He patted my shoulder. “Let her know I’m investigating the opportunity, if she is interested. I’m available to discuss it anytime.”
“Thanks, Horatio,” I said. “I’ll tell her. I appreciate you looking out for her.” My grandmother didn’t have a lot to invest, so getting good advice was crucial, as it was for any investor. But Grammie wasn’t an easy mark, as others who had approached her had learned, assuming her age meant gullibility. She could run rings around most people any day.
Then I thought of someone who was much more vulnerable. Eleanor. We’d overheard Craig talking to Ruben about freeing up cash. Was he referring to Eleanor’s house and other belongings? Did he want to take over her affairs so he could invest in Ruben’s company?
CHAPTER 19
We found a flat granite ledge for our picnic, the lighthouse to our right, and in front of us the never-ceasing surf against the rocks. Golden light touched the rippling waves and glinted off sailboats in the bay. There were a few other visitors to the park but they were wandering around near the lighthouse.
“Let me help.” I took one end of the red-and-white gingham cloth Sophie was spreading on the ground. She really knew how to do a picnic right. Once the cloth was down, we anchored the corners with rocks. The wind was calm right now but it could kick up any time down here at the shore.
“Beer in the cooler, guys,” Sophie said to Lukas and Ian. Without being asked twice, they opened the smaller cooler and retrieved ice-cold cans. For us, she had a chilled bottle of white wine and glasses.
While we lounged on the cloth, enjoying our cocktails, Sophie unpacked the large cooler holding our dinner. There were chicken-and-pesto sandwiches on crusty bread, a grilled-corn and bean salad, potato salad, and a veggie platter. A bag of salty kettle chips too. We all helped ourselves, piling paper plates with food. Then we settled back and ate, enjoying the view and the warm summer evening.
I pushed all my questions and concerns to the back of my mind and tried to focus on relaxing with Ian and my friends. We chatted about the Graham house, the store, and the Bean, avoiding mention of the seaweed project as if it were a landmine.
“I might have a teaching job at the University of Connecticut.” Lukas made an abrupt announcement. “They are building their aquaculture program and are very interested in my work.”
I glanced at Sophie to see how she was taking this announcement that Lukas might be moving to the United States. Connecticut was only few hours away.
She seemed startled at first, followed by trepidation. But then she smiled and said warmly, “That is wonderful news. I mean, I assume you are happy about it?”
Lukas ate a last chip then set his paper plate aside. “I am. They told me I could design the program any way I want, which is huge. I would be able to expand upon what we are doing here this summer.”
“Sounds like a good career move,” I said, to reassure Sophie that he probably wasn’t moving to this country for her. That would be a lot of pressure for anyone.
“It’s an excellent opportunity.” He waved a hand, his gaze pensive as he studied the water. “But in light of what’s going on here, I’m hoping they don’t withdraw the offer before I decide.” No doubt, being suspected of killing a student would be a real deal-breaker for any hiring committee.
Ian gave us a puzzled look. “Did something happen I don’t know about?” And just like that, the subject we’d been trying to avoid was under discussion. While Lukas filled Ian in, Sophie and I packed up the leftovers.
“This was really nice,” I said. “I hope we can do some more picnics t
his summer.” And hopefully with Jake, not Lukas, but I tactfully didn’t say that. “Next time I’ll make the food.”
Sophie snapped a lid on a Pyrex container. “That would be great, but I didn’t mind.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “I was testing new recipes on you three.” She held up the bowl, which was almost empty. “And I’d say they were a success.”
“I’ll be your guinea pig anytime,” I said lightly. “So, are we still heading down to the park?” A great band was playing tonight and we’d talked about going.
“Sure,” Sophie said. “If the guys want to.” As she stowed containers in the cooler, she said in a careless tone that didn’t fool me, “At least I know a certain someone won’t be there tonight. It’s his father’s birthday.”
This mention meant Sophie was still mentally keeping tabs on Jake, and I chose to take that as a good sign. And I was also glad he wouldn’t be there. I didn’t think my nerves could take another tense situation like last night at the clambake. Ian and Lukas were still talking, so I changed the subject. “Guess what? I made some progress on the mystery of Eleanor’s mother. And you’re the first to know. Well, except Grammie.” I hadn’t even told Madison yet. We’d been caught up in the boat situation this morning and after that, talking about her dinner date with Anton.
I filled her in while we sipped a second glass of wine. “I hope someone has the passenger list I need,” I concluded. “When I started this project, I had no idea you could access those.”
“It is amazing, all the information people have gathered and put online.” Sophie shook her head. “And most of the time it’s free.”
“A labor of love.” Sitting with my legs crossed, sipping wine and gazing at the glorious sea, I had an inspiration. “I think I’m going to add an apron-of-the-week feature to my website and social media. Short posts, with pictures. It’s a way to share what I know, plus some really beautiful garments.” I could start with the domestic aprons from Shorehaven. They’d be good for three or four posts. And some of the hostess half aprons I kept finding were too cute not to share.
Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series Page 16