by Cindy Stark
He waved at a couple of guys sitting at the bar drinking beer and grinned. “I think you might be right. I know Calvin and Hector from my summers here, and if they say the food’s good, it is.”
A blond waitress, clad in jeans and a white shirt with a bright red lobster and Lobstah Lovah written beneath, approached and greeted them with a smile. “Hey, stranger. It’s been a while.”
Peter answered with a nod. “Hey, Brianne. I didn’t know you worked here, and yeah, it’s been too long, I’d say. I’ve missed this town.”
She glanced at Hazel, and he introduced his new wife.
Brianne gave them a heartfelt congratulations, then gestured toward the dining room. “Just the two of you?”
They both nodded, and she led them to a table next to a wall of windows that faced the water. Beyond the glass, a large sailboat with a crisp white sail glided past, likely coming into the harbor to safely wait out the storm.
“Our best table for you,” Brianne said.
They ordered drinks, and the waitress left them to look over the menu. Hazel scanned the list of tempting options. “This all looks so good,” she muttered.
“I’m glad you think so,” a deep male voice answered.
Surprised by the intrusion, Hazel lifted her gaze to find a tall man with dark hair dusted by silver at the temples, standing next to their table. He smiled, showing off a set of perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. “Welcome to my bistro. I’m Alberto.”
Hazel flashed a smile at him and then toward Peter, while Alberto placed their drinks on the table. She liked the man already.
Peter held out a hand, and Alberto shook it. “Thanks, man,” Peter said. “I haven’t been to Sandpiper Bay in a while, but I’ve heard great things about your place.”
Alberto nodded, a friendly gleam in his dark brown eyes. “That’s what I like to hear. Just so you know, we use the freshest locally sourced ingredients around, and I do my best to put my heart and soul in every dish.”
Hazel glanced across the room and back to him. “Seems to be working.”
Peter lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “What do you suggest for us?”
Alberto pointed to a spot on the menu. “Scallops and haddock are my most popular dishes. I’d start there.”
Hazel turned to her husband with questioning eyes, and he nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
Alberto dipped his head in appreciation and headed toward the kitchen.
While they waited for food, Hazel caught sight of a lone man in a blue sweater, sitting in the corner at a small table. A dark cloud of emotion hovered around him, and her heart went out to the man.
She nudged her husband’s elbow. When he turned her way, she gestured with her chin toward the sad man. “Do you know who he is?”
Peter shifted in his chair to look. For a second, her husband seemed on high alert, and then he slumped his shoulders. “Ah, man. That’s Spencer Evans, the victim’s boyfriend.”
The happiness Hazel had experienced upon entering Alberto’s fizzled at Peter’s news. “The poor man. What is he doing out? I mean, of course, it’s good that he’s around people, but...how sad.”
Peter nodded. “A man’s gotta eat, I suppose. Not all single people know how to cook.”
“I wonder if he has friends and family in the area to help him.”
Her husband shook his head. “Not that I recall. From what I remember, his family didn’t care for Olive, and he distanced himself from them. Tracy was right when she said no one liked her. Except Spencer, that is.”
“This must be doubly hard on him.”
Peter lifted his beer and took a drink. “Sandpiper Bay has likely claimed him as their own. He’ll have support here.”
That made Hazel feel a little better. “I’m beginning to see the attraction of living in this quaint town. Why did you stay in Stonebridge instead of coming back here when you were old enough to be on your own?”
He shifted and focused on her. “Stonebridge was still my home, even if I struggled with my parents. They moved away while I was in college, and I still had a lot of friends there. When the police chief position came open, it seemed like a no-brainer.”
She supposed that made sense.
Brianne approached with steaming plates of food, and all thoughts of solving a murder faded into the background. Eager to dig in, Hazel reached for her fork before the scallops and haddock were on the table. “Oh my. This looks amazing.”
“Sure does,” Peter agreed.
Brianne grinned. “Enjoy, and make sure to save room for Alberto’s cheesecake. You don’t want to miss it.”
Hazel agreed wholeheartedly.
They finished most of their dinner before Alberto appeared again. He wiped his hands on his white apron as he walked. When he reached them, he raised thick, expectant brows. “Well? What do you think?”
Peter patted his stomach. “If I wasn’t so full, I’d have another plate of those scallops.”
“Very fresh and flavorful,” Hazel agreed.
Alberto grinned, flashing white teeth. “Good, good. That’s what I like to hear.”
He glanced toward Peter. “You mentioned you hadn’t been here in a while. Sounds like you’ve visited Sandpiper Bay more than once.”
Peter wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Oh, yeah. I spent most of my summers here as a kid.”
Alberto nodded encouragingly. “That so? Where at?”
“My aunt Madeline lives on Oceanside Lane. My parents would ship me out here every year when I was a kid, so they didn’t have to deal with me.”
Color disappeared from Alberto’s cheeks. “Oh, Madeline. Yeah, she’s a nice lady.”
He cast a quick, awkward glance over his shoulder. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice to meet you.”
Alberto didn’t wait for their responses. Instead, he turned and strode toward the employees-only doors faster than Hazel had seen him move since they’d arrived.
She cocked her head toward Peter. “I wonder what’s up with him?”
Peter grabbed his glass of beer but didn’t drink. “What do you mean?”
She snorted. “The second you mentioned your aunt, his whole demeanor changed. Energy dimmed, and he practically ran from the table.”
Peter narrowed his gaze. “No, he didn’t. He had to get back to work.”
She released a soft chuckle. “You need to pay more attention, Chief Parrish.”
He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “I paid plenty of attention, Mrs. Parrish.”
She scooted closer to the table and lowered her voice. “I think he’s hiding something. Maybe Gerald sent us here to talk to him. We should ask him some more questions about your aunt and how he knows her. That was the trigger.”
Peter shook his head. “I think Gerald knew Spencer was here.”
“Spencer? Why would he send us to talk to a grieving man?”
He gave her a baffled grin. “Gerald didn’t send us to interrogate anyone. He and his men will conduct their investigation how they see fit. That’s their job and not ours.”
She shook her head. “Just because it’s their job doesn’t mean we can’t interview people ourselves.”
“Hazel, the chief in this town knows what he’s doing, just like I do in Stonebridge. I can’t disrespect that.”
She disagreed. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful. I think we’re helping him and your aunt, too. Don’t forget about her.”
Peter’s eyes darkened. “I haven’t forgotten her, and I’m not going to let her go down if she didn’t do it.”
Hazel straightened. “If? Peter, you can’t seriously think she might have.”
He hesitated and sighed. “Of course, I don’t. I just wish I had an explanation for the cyanide in her greenhouse.”
She lifted her pointer finger. “And that is why we’re going to ask questions.”
“Is this what you say to Cora back home when you drag her into dangerous situations?”
Brianne returned with the requested plate of cherry cheesecake. Bright cherries sat plump on top, and red juice dripped down the sides, making Hazel’s mouth water. “Here you are. One cheesecake and two forks.”
Hazel shot Peter a quick look before turning to the waitress. “Can I ask you a question, Brianne?”
She shrugged and nodded. “Of course.”
Hazel drew her brows in a concerned look. “Is everything okay with Alberto? He seems a little off.”
Not that Hazel would know Alberto’s usual behavior since she’d just met him, but Brianne didn’t know that.
The waitress glanced toward the kitchen and then back to them. “He’s trying very hard not to let things bother him.”
“Things?” Hazel asked.
Brianne bent closer. “You know, with Olive’s death and all.”
“Was he close with Olive?” Peter asked.
So much for minding his own business. Hazel refrained from smirking at him, but she reserved the right to remind him of it later.
Brianne shook her head, her expression confused. “No. It was the coffee.”
Peter hesitated and then widened his eyes in surprise. “The coffee came from here. Right.”
She nodded quickly, looking guilty, and then pulled an order pad from a pocket in her apron. “Here’s your check, Peter. Please don’t tell Alberto that I said anything, okay?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. Thanks, Brianne.”
Hazel waited until they’d finished dessert before she brought up the case again. “Told you so,” she said without explanation.
He snorted and gave her a sassy look. “Don’t rub it in.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “Okay, but you have to admit, it didn’t hurt a thing to ask Brianne, didn’t mess up the investigation, and now we know for sure Alberto provided the coffee in the mug.”
Peter stared across the table, looking mildly annoyed at her declaration. “I’ll give you that,” he finally said.
Her thoughts turned to considering Alberto’s involvement. She exhaled her brief bout of excitement and glanced out the window. Rain spattered the glass, and she knew they’d get soaked on their walk back home. “Do you think Alberto could have done it? According to the mayor’s terms, he’d be a suspect, too, right? Especially if Madeline is.”
Peter speared a juicy cherry. “I would say so. I’m not sure what Alberto’s motive could be, but maybe my aunt or Tracy can provide some insight.”
Hazel nodded. “We’ll ask them in the morning.”
Peter frowned.
“What?”
He sighed. “I don’t like my aunt involved in this, Hazel. It gives me a very bad feeling.”
She searched her psyche, wondering if she’d missed something and should be feeling the same. Nothing jumped out at her. “I know, but we’ll figure this out.”
She hoped. Because they had to. She couldn’t let Peter’s mother-figure go to jail for a crime she hadn’t committed.
Nine
By the time Hazel and Peter emerged from Alberto’s, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle. The water would wreak havoc on her barely manageable hair, but the atmosphere was full of calm, pure energy now that the worst of the storm had passed. She’d gladly pay the price of crazy hair for a chance to renew her spirit.
By the time they reached the bungalow, they were soaked and laughing. Nothing like fresh rain from Mother Earth to cleanse the soul and lighten the heart. Peter unlocked the door, and they stepped inside to the small, tiled foyer.
Hazel shrugged out of her coat and toed off her shoes so that they wouldn’t track a wet mess through the house. Peter did the same, and then lifted the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. She caught his eye and lifted an interested brow.
He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “It is our honeymoon, after all.”
He captured her mouth with his and kissed her until she struggled to breathe. She inhaled and pressed against his chest so that he would release her. “Pre-honeymoon, I believe. Not the official one.”
Peter laughed again and took her by the hand. “Nothing wrong with a little practice.”
He flipped on the lights in their bedroom, and there, square in the middle of their bed, rested a big ball of orange fur. Mr. Kitty lifted his head and regarded them with annoyance.
Yes, Hazel knew that they’d probably been gone longer than expected.
My food?
Her cat was demanding, if nothing else. “Have you been good and stayed inside?” she asked.
Mr. Kitty gave her a long, slow blink. Yes.
She was about to ask Peter for the scallops he’d had boxed up but had likely left in the foyer with their jackets. But an odd feeling crept over her. Something in her cat’s eyes caught her attention, and she realized he wasn’t being truthful.
She dropped her mouth open in shock. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
Mr. Kitty stared intently this time, and then he shifted his gaze to Peter. He stood, stretched, and jumped off the bed. Then he sauntered close to Peter and rubbed against his legs.
Peter chuckled. “He likes me.”
Hazel narrowed her gaze. “Or he smells the treat we brought him.”
“Maybe so.”
Peter retrieved the box and opened it, but Hazel stopped him. “No. Not until he confesses.”
Her husband looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Last time I checked, cats can’t talk.”
She stared down at her familiar. Mr. Kitty might not verbally talk to her, but she understood him the same. “They don’t use words, but I guarantee you that Mr. Kitty understands every word. Don’t you?”
He let out a long meow and rubbed against her.
“Is that an apology?”
He meowed and circled around her calves.
She sighed. “I’d ask where you went, but I know you won’t tell me. If you stayed out of the big house, I suppose I’ll forgive you.”
His purrs echoed around them. Peter knelt and fed her cat each morsel, earning adoration from the centuries-old being. “Say what you want. I think he likes me better than you.”
Hazel snorted and headed to the bathroom to remove the rest of her wet clothes and try to tame her hair. “He probably does.”
When she returned to the bedroom, Peter had lit a fire in the fireplace and turned off the lights, creating a romantic glow. He stood in front of the fire with Mr. Kitty laying not far from him. Flames flickered while the wood popped, a destruction of energy, turning the wood to ash so that it could be reborn into something new. Mother Earth’s powers enchanted and amazed her every time.
Mr. Kitty stretched and then curled into a ball.
She made her way to Peter and snuggled into his arms. “I can’t stop thinking about Alberto and how he plays into this.”
“He could be an innocent bystander. For all we know, the coffee wasn’t spiked when it left his bistro,” Peter said.
That wasn’t a good option. “Yes, but then that means Madeline did it, which isn’t an acceptable alternative, or someone else came into Olive’s office and spiked the coffee there. Your aunt didn’t mention anyone else being around.”
Peter drew his brows together. “No, she didn’t, but there could have been. Also, my aunt said Olive’s sister had brought the mug. The poison could have already been in there, before the coffee.”
Hazel allowed Peter to lead her to bed where they cuddled beneath the covers. She placed her head on his chest and listened to the strong heartbeat.
“Do you know her sister?”
“Not well. Name is Vera. Sandpiper Bay’s librarian. Don’t know that she ever married.”
Ideas circled her mind. “Hmm...what’s she like?”
He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I can’t remember much about her. She started working at the library during my last summer here. Straight, white-blond hair. Very quiet and reserved. Nice, I think. I don’t remember interacting with her, really.”
She secretly smiled. “Sounds like a trip to the library is in order.”
“Not for more interrogation,” he countered.
“I don’t consider a friendly chat to be an interrogation, do you, Mr. Parrish?”
A laugh rumbled from inside his chest. “Always spinning things your way, aren’t you?”
She tilted her head and kissed him on the lips. “We all have our tactics. Mine seem to work for me.”
He rolled over and pinned her beneath him. “Keep it up, and we’ll both find ourselves in trouble.”
“Meowrrr...”
Hazel widened her eyes and slowly turned her head toward her pillow.
Mr. Kitty stared at her with large green eyes.
“Seriously?” she asked her cat.
He turned several times and then laid down squarely on her pillow. Peter tried to nudge him off the bed, but Mr. Kitty resisted.
Hazel rolled her eyes, and Peter released an annoyed sigh. He turned over to lay flat on the mattress and pulled Hazel into his embrace. “So much for a honeymoon.”
She cast a glance at her cat. “I could hex him and lock him in a closet for a while.”
Mr. Kitty jerked his head upward and met her gaze in a challenge as if to say, try it.
She scratched his head instead of hexing him and then turned her back to him. “Next time, he’s definitely staying home.”
Ten
Hazel emerged from the bathroom the next morning, freshly showered and dressed. She stopped short when she found her husband still lounging in bed with his laptop resting on his thighs. Her cat was snuggled against his feet. “Hello, sleepyhead. Shouldn’t you be up already? We’re supposed to go to the big house for breakfast in just a few minutes.”
Mr. Kitty lifted his head, realized she wasn’t talking to him, and went back to sleep.
Peter kept his gaze on the screen. “You’ll have to go without me. I had some unexpected work come up.”
A heavy feeling of deception filled the room, and she narrowed her gaze. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I could have slept longer.”