“I am happy to know you use organic ingredients. That explains your delicious food.” Other than those words, Jane Clark said little, but Brenda could tell she seemed to relax more as the hours of her stay in Sweetfern Harbor continued. Molly thanked her and then took orders from the rest of them.
Brenda discreetly observed Logan in particular and saw nothing amiss in his mannerisms.
“Where are the two of you from?” Holly asked. She directed her question to the Clarks.
“We’re from New York City,” Logan said.
“We love going to New York, especially during the holiday season,” Lauren said. “When we can convince Josh and Clint to come along, we take in a show once in a while. Have you lived there long?”
“We moved there a few years after our marriage,” Logan said. “So we’ve been there approximately nine or ten years now.” He didn’t explain why in their late forties they were relatively newlyweds. Brenda didn’t question it since she and Mac married in their mid-forties. Sensing the younger women’s curiosity, Logan said, “The marriage is a first one for both of us.” Jane frowned. Obviously she didn’t feel the need to explain their private lives.
The subject moved to highlights of the town. Molly told them of various places of interest. Logan and Jane excused themselves and left the coffee shop. Once outside, Logan mentioned another guest to his wife.
“Do you know of anyone with the last name of Pickard?” Jane told him one of the guests had that name. “I realize that, and I believe I may have heard that name before.”
Jane nudged him. “I’m sure you have, Logan. You’re in the textile business and must meet many people. It wouldn’t be unusual to meet someone in your travels with that last name.”
He agreed with her and changed the subject. Though outwardly he sloughed it off, his mind raced. He knew that last name very well and wondered if Annette Pickard was related. He must find out. He hadn’t missed the unnerved look on her face when he’d asked her name. Treading carefully was in order. He followed his wife into Jenny’s Blossoms. Ahead of them was a man in a police uniform.
“Well, what brings my handsome detective in here?” the owner asked. She accepted his brief kiss and turned to her new customers. A faint tint of red crept into her face when she realized they were strangers. “This is my husband, Detective Bryce Jones,” she said. “I’m Jenny, the owner here.”
The Clarks introduced themselves. Logan stood back, slightly hidden over his wife’s shoulder. Bryce glanced at him only because he appeared to hang back. Jane asked about the source of Jenny’s flowers and was told when in season, all were grown locally in gardens.
“Otherwise, I order them from an organic nursery not far from here.” Jenny and Jane were caught up in a conversation about flowers. The two men waited patiently, not looking at one another.
“Jenny,” Bryce said, “I stopped to say hello but I have a desk piled with several cases that are waiting to be solved. I’ll catch you later.”
“Wait a minute, Bryce. We’re meeting new friends at the Italian restaurant at seven tonight. I hope you won’t have to work late.”
He waved and promised he’d be home in time.
“I’m afraid we interrupted your visit,” Jane said.
“Bryce and I know our jobs are demanding, and I am here for my customers first. I’m happy you dropped in.” She directed Jane to the new shipment of roses. “These were ordered for Sheffield Bed and Breakfast specifically. The owners are my parents, but I delivered the best to Brenda before she married my father.”
Jenny’s melodious laugh was contagious. Jane’s demeanor relaxed. She related well to the young owner of Jenny’s Blossoms. Logan grew tenser. The Sheffield Bed and Breakfast was entwined with the law and he began to regret coming back to the area. It hadn’t been easy to convince Jane to spend a long weekend in a small harbor town. He should be happy she was getting into the spirit of the environment, but now he wished she was hating every minute of the mini vacation.
When Logan saw Jane admiring a pink rose, he decided to buy it for her. She at first protested, telling him she had no way to keep it fresh. Jenny told her the bed and breakfast had plenty of stem vases and they had only to ask.
“Sweetfern Harbor hosts many events throughout the year and Brenda keeps all kinds of extra things around. She will have a vase for you. She entertains often, plus, events usually end at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast.”
Logan paid for the rose and together he and Jane walked back to the inn.
“I’m really surprised, Logan. I had no idea how much this area would grow on me.” She stopped and looked up the drive at the majestic Queen Anne. “I’d love to know the intimate history of this place, wouldn’t you?”
Logan swallowed twice and said, “I like history but I doubt anything unusual happened around here. I mean it’s probably like all Victorian structures with the usual past.”
“I wonder if murders occurred here, or other juicy tidbits of crime.”
Logan looked at his wife and wondered what had brought out this side of her. Ordinarily, Jane was reserved and concentrated on designing unique household items that only the rich and famous could afford. He had never realized she could be so interested in things of the past, much less sinister histories. They continued to the front door.
Annette Pickard began to descend the stairs. Her eyes met Logan’s and she looked away quickly. She heard Allie Williams greet the couple and felt it was safe enough to continue downstairs. Voices floated from the kitchen when she went into the guest snack nook. She poured hot water into a cup and dipped a raspberry tea bag into it and turned to go back to her room. Once she finished the last chapter, she planned to take a walk down to the ocean before the editing process began.
Jane Clark carried on a light conversation with Allie. Logan decided Annette would be more receptive in the friendly environment rather than if he caught her alone. He greeted her in a friendly voice. She mumbled good afternoon and turned toward the stairs.
“Have you written other books, Miss Pickard?” Logan asked her. She shook her head slightly. “Where are they listed? My wife likes to read mysteries.”
Annette told him the sources for her books. When she mentioned several bookstores in the town she came from, his attention perked up. She was from Pennsylvania and, in fact, from the town he knew well. He scrutinized her face briefly and saw no signs of recognition. Jane turned toward them when Allie seemed particularly interested in their conversation.
“It’s true, Miss Pickard, that I read mysteries when I have rare down time.” Annette repeated her book sources, including online stores when Jane asked. “I’ll order one or two while I’m here. Once back home, my life will pick up to the fast pace again.”
When Logan hesitated to accompany her to their room, Jane noticed he wanted to say more to the writer. He smiled at his wife and walked with her to the stairs. Allie watched Annette, who didn’t go upstairs.
“I think I’ll have my tea in the gathering room,” she told Allie. Allie offered to bring fresh cookies for her but Annette declined. Allie made a mental note to relate the interchange to Brenda.
When the Clarks got to their door, Logan hung back as if waiting for something. Jane went inside and once Logan realized Annette hadn’t followed them upstairs, he shrugged his shoulders and followed Jane. She opened her laptop and searched for books by Annette Pickard. Logan stretched out on the bed and fell asleep.
When Jane read more about Annette, she stopped scrolling when she saw the name Hal Pickard. She started to ask Logan what he knew about the man but didn’t when she saw that he had fallen asleep. She recalled that name from years ago, before she met and married Logan, but couldn’t remember any details.
Chapter 4
Guest Conflicts
Mac sat at his office desk and pored over the cold case. His instincts told him he would find information not fully looked in to about the 1982 murders. The fact that it was still a cold case didn’t surprise h
im that much. He hadn’t heard gossip about the event around town and only vaguely recalled an unsolved murder before he took over the department. He sat upright when he read the last name Mackey. He reached for his phone.
“Brenda, if you have a few minutes, you may want to come down to my office. I’ve found some interesting news about an unsolved murder case from 1982.”
“I’m on my way.”
Brenda and Phyllis had just arrived back home. She was in the kitchen with Anna to tell her chef to remove the two young couples’ names from that evening’s dinner list when Mac called. She headed out the back door and got into her car. She felt sure his news had something to do with the metal chest that held the assortment of items.
Mac kissed her lightly and both sat down. Brenda sat on the edge of the chair as Mac shuffled several papers. The metal chest was sitting on the desk next to a box which read “Cold Case Mackey – 1982.”
“Bridgett and Thomas Mackey lived in a very nice home that Thomas inherited from his wealthy deceased mother. She married, then divorced and took her maiden name Mackey back. She made sure Thomas’s last name was a part of his inheritance. The property came from her parents. Everyone seemed to like the couple, according to the notes here. Townspeople were aware that a home like that had valuables in it, but Sweetfern Harbor rarely saw crime. The people were shocked to find out someone had broken into the home to steal priceless items. Even more so when the bodies of both Mackeys were discovered.”
“What leads did they have?”
“The neighbors were all questioned and no one knew of anything amiss. The next-door neighbor, whose home was situated yards from theirs, mentioned a handyman who worked regularly over there. One neighbor who knew Bridgett well said the woman told her that the handyman was asked at times to do minor work inside the home.”
Brenda asked for the name. Mac told her no one seemed to recall the man’s name and said he hadn’t been seen during the two weeks before the break-in and murder.
“It’s hard to believe they couldn’t track him down,” Brenda said.
“They attempted to but failed. Neither Bridgett nor Thomas ever complained about him to anyone. It seems he was a trustworthy person.” Mac pulled the metal box closer and opened it. “The coins are Greek ones. I have an expert in the field coming in today for more information. They could have been collected long ago by someone in the Mackey family. I’m sure they enjoyed their wealth and could easily travel around the world.”
Brenda’s eyes landed on the leather bag that held the small pistol. She regretted there was no way to meet the woman who had fearlessly owned it. “How much is that pistol worth?”
“This small revolver in today’s market is worth in the thousands. Lettie Mackey probably paid around eight or nine dollars for it in her day. That was an expensive one in her time. The silver locket is with the appraiser now but at first glance he felt it was an heirloom and also quite valuable.”
“I would say whoever robbed them knew what they had and where the items were kept.” Brenda frowned. “Unless the robber had reasons to kill them, I’m surprised he broke in when they were home.”
They threw ideas around until Brenda asked to read over the notes taken in 1982 and following years. She saw that Bridgett and Thomas had descendants; two daughters, Lacy and Mae. Both lived in upstate New York. The local Mackey home had remained vacant and intact since the murders. She presumed the daughters had retrieved anything of value. Brenda continued reading until Mac was called to Chief Bob Ingram’s office about another matter. Brenda stayed in his office and read reports. Her eyes caught a sentence that caused her to sit upright.
The name Hal Pickard struck her. The notes mentioned he had been interrogated three times in the early days and had been allowed to leave without being arrested. He had been highly suspected since he knew the handyman well but refused to give the man’s name. Hal also had a history of crime-related activities, though none were as serious as murder. The prison gates had become swinging doors for him.
Brenda didn’t have time to read more. Her phone rang and she was needed at the bed and breakfast. Two employees in the kitchen had suddenly become ill and her chef sent them home. Brenda was always notified when a crisis occurred. Mac returned to his office and told her he hadn’t had time to read through everything on the case yet and he would see her at dinnertime.
The last name Pickard stuck in Brenda’s mind as she drove home. As soon as her day ended, she would get on her laptop and start researching one guest in particular. In the meantime, she donned an apron and pitched in to help Anna. They chattered as they worked like two school girls.
“I really appreciate your help, Brenda,” Anna said. “I hope the two girls have a minor virus and nothing spreads around the bed and breakfast.”
“Check on them again later when things slow down, Anna. So far, I haven’t known of anyone else getting ill. Those two are good friends. They may have eaten something away from here that didn’t settle well.”
The chef shook her head. “I don’t know how they can eat some of the things they do. Tacos down at that new little shack-like café seems to be a favorite with them. They probably picked something up there.”
Dinner was served on time. Phyllis stayed around to help Brenda serve and then they both sat down with the guests until time for dessert. Brenda was anxious to get to her computer. She glanced across the table at Annette and smiled at her. The writer returned a brief smile. As had been her habit, Annette ate very little. Brenda was tempted to ask her if she knew anyone named Hal Pickard but didn’t dare since, if anything embarrassing unfolded, she didn’t want to make her guest uncomfortable. Brenda breathed evenly knowing both Clarks sat at the opposite end of the table, away from Annette. When it was time for dessert, Annette excused herself and went to her room. Logan moved as if to follow her and then changed his mind. Annette may have something to worry about after all, thought Brenda. Allie had reported the exchange earlier and now she wondered what was going on between them.
Annette settled down to her novel and started editing. The narrative would be sold as fiction, but she’d based it on bits and pieces of stories her embittered mother had told her. She had no idea if her mother had recounted facts or made up tales against her father because of the strained and abusive relationship between them.
Annette would get the editing done, but she knew the book wouldn’t be finished until one more task was completed.
Her mother had written piles of notes for Annette. “I’m putting things in writing for you, Annette, so you will never forget how rotten your father is.” Her mother had no idea what Annette had done with the scraggly handwritten notes.
Before she closed her laptop and started for the shower, Logan Clark came to mind. Annette didn’t doubt he desperately wanted to have longer conversations with her, but there was no way she planned to allow that. There was nothing sexual about his approach, but his mannerisms caused her to shiver with aversion. Though she lived well enough, he and his wife were obviously very rich people. She tried to think of just one thing she may have in common with Logan Clark. Her mind went blank. The rushing water that showered her washed away thoughts of either of the Clarks.
The next morning, Mac was up early and went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast in the kitchen. He and the chef talked briefly. Brenda was disappointed to learn he hadn’t gotten much further in the notes on the Mackey murders.
Brenda, Phyllis and Allie all noted that Annette Pickard lingered downstairs longer. She asked them for the shortest pathway to the ocean, and Phyllis directed her.
“Watch your step during the first part because there is some loose rock. After that, you’ll feel the sand.” Phyllis continued to speak of how beautiful the Atlantic Ocean was. The smile Annette gave her was the first full one any of them had noticed.
“She’s really very pretty, especially when she smiles,” Brenda said after the door closed behind the guest.
“I still think there i
s something mysterious about her,” Allie said.
Logan Clark came from the gathering room and appeared to be in a hurry. “Logan, wait and I’ll go with you,” Jane said. She caught up with her husband, who displayed a mild scowl. “I’d like to walk down to the waters with you. Do you have a problem with that?”
“There’s no problem, Jane. I may not be good company since I have some things on my mind about business. But, come along.”
Jane stood back and her face hardened. “I know when you don’t want me with you, Logan. I’ll catch up later.” She turned on her heels and stomped up the stairs.
Brenda and Phyllis exchanged glances when they saw Logan hurry as if to catch up with Annette. William Pendleton came through the front door and into the lobby. He kissed Phyllis on the cheek and greeted Allie and Brenda. He explained he was there to give more information to Rich Turner and started for the back passageway.
“Let’s go down to the ocean first, William,” Phyllis said. She grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him toward the door.
He asked her if she didn’t have the usual morning work to do. He glanced over his shoulder at Brenda, who shrugged her shoulders. She and Allie went into the gathering room and watched until all were out of sight.
“Phyllis will get to the bottom of what Logan wants from Annette,” Allie said.
The bell rang at the desk and both women returned to the front lobby to see Jenny loading roses inside. Hope Williams followed her friend with a large tray of freshly baked scones and bagels.
“The roses are beautiful, but it’s hard to resist the smell of those delicious goodies, Mother,” Allie said. “I see Sweet Treats has arrived.” She took the tray from Hope and carried them to the kitchen, though not before Brenda told her to keep moving with them.
“You know I can’t resist tasting one now.”
Hope went back to Jenny’s van and they brought in the last of the flower order. Jenny proceeded to arrange them around the inn on the first floor. “I thought roses would be something different for a change. I hope you like them, Brenda.”
Chest of Secrets Page 3