She was going to have to teach him a thing or two about island living—starting with the fact he needed to loosen up.
She slid into the booth across from him and instructed Mocha to sit at her feet. She wasn’t sure if dogs were allowed inside or not, but it was better to be ignorant than ask for permission. In her estimation, at least.
“Serena.” Webster glanced up and down, soaking in her outfit. “You look . . . different today.”
“Do I?” She decided to mess with his head just a little bit more. It was so much fun.
“And you brought Sprinkles with you. Inside the restaurant.”
“It’s Mocha,” she corrected.
“But I thought you said yesterday—”
“It’s Mocha,” she repeated.
Webster stared at her for another moment before offering a brief nod and clearing his throat. “So, what’s good here?” He lifted up a laminated menu.
“Everything. Lisa Dillinger—she’s the owner—is a great chef. She always puts her own unique twist on all the food. I think you’ll like whatever you get.”
“Great. Because I was thinking about trying the shrimp and grits with . . . mango?”
“That’s always a favorite. I, for one, am going to get the avocado toast topped with strawberries and balsamic vinegar, bacon on the side.”
He lowered his menu. “That sounds . . . interesting. And like something you’ve gotten before, if I had to guess.”
“I suppose it is.” Sometimes that fact even surprised Serena. She liked to keep things mixed up in so many areas of her life. But when it came to what she ate? She pretty much stuck to what she knew she liked.
“So, what did you find out?” Webster asked after they ordered their food.
“You do like to get right to the point, don’t you?” He didn’t waste any time transforming into his alter ego, Serena noted.
“Well, time is money, right?”
Serena pulled in a deep breath. “I was able to talk to my friend Kai who works for the vacation management company. She told me Richard and Junita Jones, the family who was staying at that house, were from New Jersey. Approximately fifteen people were supposed to be there. No pets.”
“Good work.”
Before they could continue, a couple people came over to chat and meet Webster. By the time Serena finished introducing him to some locals, their food had come. The spicy scent of Webster’s meal mixed with the fresh scent of orange juice and the savory smell of bacon.
Serena muttered a quick prayer before digging in. “What about you? Did you learn anything new?”
“As a matter of fact, I did learn a few things.” Webster held up his phone. “The police department put out a press release.”
Her pulse spiked. “And?”
“It turns out the man who died is named Paul Witherspoon, from upstate New York. He was thirty-six years old, and he died from a stab wound to the chest, just like you suspected.” Webster showed her a picture of the man on his phone. “The man’s wallet was still on him, but I suspect that only his driver’s license and some cash was inside. In other words, no clues to his murder, at least from what I can surmise.”
Surmise? Serena wasn’t sure she’d ever heard anyone use that word. She kind of liked it.
Serena’s pulse spiked. “Was this Paul guy staying with the Jones family?”
“From what I can tell, no, he wasn’t. But I haven’t been able to ascertain where he was staying here on the island.” He lifted his fork and tried the first bite of his breakfast. “This is good.”
“Told you. Lisa never lets me down.” Serena smiled before turning the conversation back to the case. “Nobody has come forward as a friend or relative, I take it?”
“My understanding is no, no one has come forward. The information on the man is vague. But now that you have a name and number of the family who was staying there, I plan on giving them a call to see if they recognize him.”
“I’m sure that Cassidy’s already done that.”
Webster shrugged. “She may have, but that doesn’t mean she’ll share the information with me.”
“Smart thinking, because she probably won’t.” Serena took another bite of her toast.
“Okay, so we have the guy’s name, age, and hometown. We know how and where he died. It still seems like there are a lot of missing pieces, though.”
“So how are we going to find those missing pieces? I mean, I have to do my ice cream route, of course. But I’m assuming we’re going to keep investigating.”
“You assumed correctly. I’d like for you to talk to Cassidy and see if she’ll share anything with you.”
Serena raised her brow and sneaked a piece of her toast crust to Mocha beneath the table. “After the way you talked to her yesterday, I doubt that she will.”
“I was just being direct and professional.” He pushed his glasses up.
“You can call it that if you want, but it seemed a little rude to me.” And that said a lot coming from Serena. She wasn’t always known for her tact.
Webster stared at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “I was just being a reporter. It’s what we do. You have to be direct.”
“Maybe that’s what you did in New York and then in Washington and then in Richmond. But here in Lantern Beach, we’re all kind of a family. You should probably keep that in mind.”
Webster stared at her for another moment before offering a curt nod. “Good to know.”
Serena sneaked another piece of her crust to Mocha before continuing. “I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll also see if I can learn anything while I’m on my ice cream patrol.”
“Ice cream patrol?” He stared at Serena like she’d lost her mind.
Maybe she had. But she liked it that way.
“I mean, what better person to keep an eye on the neighborhood? I go up and down all of the streets every day. I talk to people around town. And nobody thinks anything about me because I’m the friendly neighborhood ice cream lady. But I can secretly monitor everyone’s lives without them thinking a single thing about it.”
“Friendly neighborhood ice cream lady? I like that.” He slowly nodded as if trying to understand her statement. “Good points . . . I suppose. How about if we regroup tonight after you’re done with your route? Would that work?”
“That sounds great. I can come by the newspaper office.”
He took another sip of his coffee before nodding. “Perfect. I’ll see you then. And by the way, breakfast is on me today.”
Serena wouldn’t argue with that.
She stood, ready to head home.
She needed to jump on this case.
Especially if she wanted to prove to Ernestine that she was the one for this job instead of Webster.
Chapter Seven
Serena had just enough time to walk home, pick up her ice cream truck, and start her route. She couldn’t start too early because people didn’t want to buy ice cream in the morning. Yet, she was surprised at just how many people did like to buy ice cream early.
For that reason, she tried to hit all of the streets on the island at least twice during the day, sometimes three times. The later hours were more popular, but the morning wasn’t usually a total waste.
She ran her route once. On the second time through, she slowed as she approached the police station. Serena supposed that now was as good a time as any to talk to Cassidy.
She didn’t usually feel so nervous before she spoke with Cassidy, but today a touch of dread filled her. She wasn’t sure how Cassidy would react to seeing her after Webster’s confrontational conversation yesterday.
With Mocha by her side, she stepped into the police station. Paige Henderson, the dispatcher and receptionist, wasn’t sitting at the front desk as usual. Instead, Serena went straight toward Cassidy’s office. She paused outside the open door and heard the police chief’s voice drifting out.
“So you’re telling me that there were drugs found in the man’s s
ystem?” Cassidy said.
Serena’s breath caught. Part of her felt like she shouldn’t be listening, but the other part couldn’t seem to stop. Cassidy must be talking on the phone to someone, probably either Clemson or the state lab.
“Thanks for that information. It’s good to know. It seems as if our victim was wrapped up in some unsavory things around town.”
It sounded like Cassidy was about to end her call. Before that happened, Serena crept back toward the front door. With any luck, maybe Cassidy wouldn’t even know she’d been there. Serena hadn’t had to say a word, yet she’d learned so much.
Webster would be pleased. Not that Serena cared what Webster thought. But if he was going to be her editor, then they needed to have a mutual respect for each other. Maybe this would help her earn that.
Armed with her new knowledge, she climbed back into her ice cream truck, grateful that Elsa hadn’t decided at that moment to begin playing any music. It would be Serena’s luck that the truck would give away her presence at this crucial time.
As she cranked the engine and pulled away, Elsa remained silent. For now, at least.
But Serena was not done investigating yet.
As Serena got closer to the scene of the crime fifteen minutes later, her excitement grew. If there was any place she might find answers, it was here.
First, she hit the road where she’d found Mocha. She scanned everything around her, looking for any kind of clues that she might have missed yesterday.
She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Mocha, on the other hand, hung his head out the window, his tongue flopping down as if as happy as could be.
Serena smiled.
Did Mocha even miss his owner? The dog just seemed so content with Serena, like they belonged together. It was a little strange, but Serena wasn’t complaining. She just wanted to know what this dog’s history was.
He was obviously taken care of, well-groomed, and he didn’t even have any fleas. She’d noticed that when she gave him a bath last night. She’d also made him rice and gravy, which he’d gobbled up. If he stayed with her longer, she’d need to buy some dog food. Until then, she’d share whatever food she had with her furry friend.
At the end of the lane, Serena turned and made another right. Her next stop was Seashell Lane, the street where the dead body had been found. No one was outside there today.
The next street over had lots of people out, including one family that was grilling. They flagged her down as soon as they saw her, and Serena pulled over.
After she got everybody their treats, she decided to broach the subject of what happened yesterday. The woman at the window seemed chatty, with her sun-kissed cheeks and ponytailed blonde hair.
“I heard about what happened one street over . . .” Serena started.
“I know. We’re trying not to let the kids find out about it because we don’t want to scare them and ruin their vacation.”
“I know. It’s so unnerving to think that something would happen like that here in Lantern Beach. But don’t worry. It’s a fluke. You guys should be safe.” Serena decided not to mention all the other crimes that happened on the island, including a deadly cult that tried to take over and a group of terrorists with an EMP.
And that was just the start.
“Do you know who the man is who passed away?” The woman crossed her arms as she waited for Serena to answer. “Was he a tourist or local?”
“Rumor is that he was from out of town—upstate New York. I saw a picture. He was in his mid-thirties with dark hair, skinny build, and about medium height. He had a Roman nose, and kind of looked like Adrien Brody, the actor. He didn’t appear to have been traveling with any family or friends.”
The woman drew in a sharp breath and snapped her fingers. “You know, I did see somebody who vaguely matches that description. We’re actually nonresident property owners, so we’ve been here for the past five days. We reserve the house for ourselves for a couple weeks a year.”
Maybe Serena was onto something—her first real lead. She couldn’t mess up this opportunity. “Where did you see him?”
She pointed toward the entrance of the lane. “Standing at the end of the street. It was late at night, but I had decided to go for a walk on the beach. He was talking to another man. As soon as they saw me, they quieted down.”
Serena’s heartbeat quickened even more. “Do you have any idea what they were talking about? Did you overhear anything?”
Her lips twisted together in a frown. “It’s hard to say, but it did look a little bit heated.”
“What about the guy that he was talking to? Was there anything distinct about him?”
The woman tilted her head, obviously trying to think this through. “The only thing distinct that I remember about him was that he had a scar across his cheek. It was dark so it was hard to see much but as he turned his face, the full moon hit. That’s when I saw the scar.”
“What kind of scar exactly?”
“It was almost like he had a cut right across his left cheek at one time.”
As soon as she said the words, Serena knew exactly who she was talking about.
Carl Linton.
That was the second mention of the man.
He was the island dogcatcher, and Serena needed to talk to him ASAP.
Chapter Eight
Serena thanked the woman for her help before continuing down the street.
Finally, she had a suspect—a vague one, but that was okay. Serena could flesh this out more. What if their local dogcatcher was also dealing drugs?
He didn’t seem like the type. Then again, maybe that would make him the perfect one to be involved in an illegal activity like that.
As she reached the end of the lane and pulled into a driveway to turn around, Mocha began to growl.
She glanced around and saw nothing except some woods and another vacation house.
What could Mocha be growling about? It didn’t make sense.
Maybe he’d just caught a whiff of another dog in the area. Didn’t dogs do that? They got all territorial when they smelled another animal in their space, right? From Serena’s recollection, that seemed correct.
It didn’t matter. Right now, Serena had learned something valuable. She had a suspect.
The dogcatcher.
She glanced back over at Mocha again and frowned. But if the dogcatcher was somehow involved, did that mean that Mocha was also somehow involved? That thought didn’t sit well with her. She already felt protective of the little furball.
She needed to talk to Carl. It wasn’t unusual to see the man driving around town looking for stray animals while Serena was on her route. Could she even hope to be as lucky today to run across him? Could she somehow use this dogcatcher outfit to her advantage? How exactly could she find out what this man had been up to lately?
She let the questions turn over in her head for a few minutes. Did she and Carl have any of the same connections? On an island of this size, it seemed certain that they would. Serena just had to figure out what those links were.
That’s when she realized that Kai actually had a connection to the family. Kai was friends with Carl’s wife, Janine. But would Kai open up to her again? Maybe for another free Bomb Pop?
It was worth a try. Especially if it meant justice for the dead man . . . and if it meant keeping precious little Mocha safe.
As Serena headed out of this area, she bypassed several streets she’d normally hit. She was practically salivating as she tried to find answers to this murder. If she was honest with herself, she might even admit that part of her wanted to find answers before Webster did.
Which was ridiculous.
This wasn’t a competition—this was an investigation for an article. Someone had died, so there were no games involved here. Yet that didn’t stop the urgency she felt inside.
She needed to talk to someone—someone who might have some answers for her.
Kai.
Serena knew
the woman wouldn’t be cleaning today. She only did that on the weekends in-between guests at the vacation homes. During the week, she actually worked at Serena’s aunt’s fruit and vegetable stand.
That’s where Serena headed.
She pulled up to The Happy Hippie and parked. The converted vintage Chevy van was located in the corner of a parking lot by a bait and tackle store. It had been painted a bright turquoise, and one side had been removed to make room for a makeshift wood pergola. Under the wooden arms were rows of baskets filled with local produce.
The line was three people deep with customers waiting to pay, each holding bamboo baskets filled with fresh food. Skye was behind the checkout counter as well as Kai.
Her aunt looked up and smiled as Serena approached, placing a cantaloupe from the basket on the counter to ring it up. “Hey, Serena. What brings you by?”
“Can’t a girl just stop by to chat?”
“You can. You just don’t usually.” Skye continued unloading more produce, some tomatoes and cucumbers this time. Her gaze traveled down to Mocha. “Who is this? Certainly, you didn’t adopt a dog just to use him as a prop for your dogcatcher persona?”
“No,” she snorted. “Of course not. I’m . . . dog-sitting until his owner is found.”
Mocha wagged his tail until Skye tossed a carrot down to him. The dog ate it up, acting like it tasted just as good as a bone.
“Is everything okay?” Skye continued.
“I actually have a question for Kai once she’s free.”
Kai’s eyes widened with a touch of amusement. “But you asked me your questions last night. Second time, my costs will be a double. A Bomb Pop and a screwball.”
“It’s a deal.”
Kai paused from restocking some jars of homemade firecracker pickles, almost looking surprised. “Aren’t you just an inquisitive girl?”
Skye looked over at Kai. “Believe me, yes, she is. Go ahead. Take a little break. I’ll be fine here, and I’ll call you if it gets too busy.”
“Thanks, Skye,” Serena called.
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