‘I didn’t break in.’ Tony gestured toward the door. ‘I was knocking on the door but nobody answered. It was unlocked so I just came in. It was dark in here and I was standing, getting my bearings, when you came out and tried to attack me.’
I looked at the door. Had I left it unlocked? I couldn’t remember, but surely I would’ve heard him knocking? Then again, I’d had my head inside the cabinet and barely heard the thunder.
Nero and Marlowe were pacing around Tony with their tails high in the air. Now, what exactly did that mean? I was sure they were trying to tell me something, but was it that Tony was the killer or that he was not the killer? Either way, I wasn’t safe with him in here. I dug in my pocket for my cell phone and quickly realized I’d left it in the kitchen. Now what? Maybe one of the guests would come down and help distract him, and I could clonk him over the head with the rolling pin.
My arm was getting really tired, but I raised the rolling pin higher. ‘You can’t talk your way out of this. I know that you snuck over the other night and killed Charles. Maybe you broke in the same way you did tonight. And you went out the window afterwards.’
‘Charles? Who is Charles and why would I kill him?’
‘Charles Prescott. The Laughing Gourmet. He wrote a bad review on your restaurant last year and when you found out he was staying here, you took your revenge.’
‘Bad review? You mean that review on my lemon meringue pie?’ Tony laughed, the sinister sound echoing along the hallway. ‘Why would I kill him over that? That review was good for business.’
‘You expect me to believe a bad review is good for business?’
‘Sure, that review is just sour grapes and it hasn’t hurt me none. In fact, it’s brought more people to my restaurant asking for the sour lemon meringue pie. Turns out there’s a whole bunch of people who like their pie sour.’ Tony said. ‘So you see I wouldn’t want to kill him. I want to thank him.’
I gnawed my bottom lip. It seemed like Tony might be telling the truth about that. Maybe my mom had been right about the love triangle. ‘All right, maybe that review was not the reason why you killed him. Maybe you killed Charles Prescott because of the love triangle!’
The stairs creaked and we looked up to see Tina standing there, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Tony. ‘You killed Charles?’
Tony’s brow furrowed. ‘What? No. I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t mad about that review.’
‘Not the review,’ I said. ‘You were jealous because you had to share Tina with him!’
Tina gasped. Tony’s gaze jerked to Tina’s face. He looked like he was ready to cry. ‘You were having an affair with this Charles guy?’
Tina’s eyes were about as big as Floras. ‘No. I swear!’ She rushed down the stairs to Tony’s side. ‘You’re the only one I’m having an affair with.’
Tony looked dubious. He turned to me. ‘What do you know about this affair?’
I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly because my right arm was aching from holding up the rolling pin. ‘One of our other guests saw Tina sneaking out of Charles’s room.’
Tony looked at Tina, crestfallen. ‘Is that true? You were cheating on me?’
Tina glared at me. ‘No, it is not true. Well it’s partly true. I was in Charles’s room.’
‘Aha!’ I said.
Meow. The cats obviously agreed.
‘But not because I was having an affair with him,’ Tina added.
Tony still looked dubious. ‘Why were you in there then?’
Now that his attention was on Tina, I thought it might be a good time to do something to detain him for the police. I needed to know what he had for a weapon first. I tried to peek behind his back, but all I saw was what looked like a plastic bag. Had he brought the cleaver in a bag? I supposed it would raise suspicion if he walked around holding it in his hand.
Tina sighed and looked down at the floor. She shuffled her feet, then she said, ‘I was in his room looking for his recipe book.’
‘Aha!’ I said again. My vocabulary had apparently diminished during the conversation.
‘A recipe book?’ Tony looked like he wanted to believe her but wasn’t sure.
‘Charles was supposed to be writing a book with unique recipes. It was going to be a hit. And… well… my food column isn’t going very well and I just thought if I got a peek at the recipes maybe I could re-create some and write a book too.’ She whipped out a tissue and sniffled, tears welling up in her big blue eyes. I could tell by the look on Tony’s face that the tears had softened him.
‘Wait a minute, so you’re the one who took his cookbook?’ I asked.
Tina nodded, dabbing her eyes with the tissue. ‘It’s in my room. But I swear he wasn’t there. I had seen him that night up on the cliffs and I knew it would be a long time before he could make it back, so I figured that was my chance to get in his room and look for it.’
‘Let me get this straight. You weren’t mad about the lemon meringue pie review, the two of you are having an affair, but Tina wasn’t also having an affair with Charles?’
They both glanced at each other and nodded. That explained why Tony’s wife was acting like he was a cheater. He was. But was he a killer too? If Tina wasn’t having an affair with Charles, then there would be no motive for Tony to kill him. The affair could also explain why Stella had seen Tina out at the Timber Me Motel.
‘Did you guys meet at the Timber Me Motel?’
Tony’s eyes widened. ‘Yeah, how do you know about that?’
‘I have my sources.’ I turned to Tina. ‘But you weren’t having an affair with Charles?’
She shook her head.
‘And you were seen coming out of his room because you stole the cookbook?’
She nodded vigorously. ‘Yeah and I can prove it too. It’s in my room upstairs. I’ll get it.’
Before either of us could answer, she ran up the stairs.
I turned to Tony. There were still unanswered questions, not the least of which was why he’d snuck in here carrying a weapon in a bag. ‘Well then, if you and Tina had your affair at the Timber Me Motel, why did you sneak out the window in the West wing?’
His eyes widened. ‘How did you know I did that? Do you have cameras in this place? Do you have cameras in the rooms? You watching what’s going on?’
‘No. We saw a footprint in the bark mulch outside the very room Charles Prescott was killed in.’ I glanced down at his feet. ‘It was a chef’s clog and the sides had extensive wear on them, as if the owner walked on the sides of his feet.’
Tony backed up. I was a little nervous because he was still holding his left hand behind his back. What did he have back there? ‘I didn’t kill Charles. But I did sneak out that window. I came here one night to meet Tina when she first arrived in town. But then that busybody old lady saw us. I panicked and wanted to get out without being seen. I was afraid word would get back to my wife. Tina knew that section of the guesthouse was closed off so we went down there and I went out the window.’
‘What night was that?’
‘It must’ve been two nights before the guy was offed? Because after getting caught out in the hall here, we decided to lay low the next day and meet at the sleazy motel on Tuesday and that’s where we were the night that guy died.’
I cringed at his coarse language, but that wasn’t the worst thing about what he’d said. If he really was at the sleazy motel the night Charles was killed, then he might have an alibi. And if he did, then who was the killer?
Tina had also been in the breakfast room that morning, so how could he have been at the Timber Me Motel? Then again, I didn’t know if she’d come into the dining room from her room or from outside. It was possible she’d just gotten in from her midnight interlude or had snuck back in the wee hours of the morning. If they were trying to fly under the radar, that would make sense.
Tony must’ve seen the look of doubt on my face because he continued, ‘You can ask that sheriff guy. In fact,
he came to visit me after you got poking your nose into my business. That’s how I know when this Charles guy was killed. That sheriff started spouting off some stuff about me being a suspect and I told him just what I told you. He went down to the sleazy motel to verify my alibi. And that’s why I came here tonight. I knew I had to explain myself and beg you not to tell my wife.’
Before I could answer, Tina came back down the stairs with the cookbook. It was a blue three-ring binder just like Ava had described.
‘See? This is what I got from Charles’ room.’ She looked down at the floor again. ‘I know it was wrong to steal it. And after he died, I tried to put it back, but the police were in there and then you were in there and well I figured since he was dead maybe I could use the recipes…’
I opened the book. It was filled with handwritten recipes. I turned to Tony. ‘If all this is true and you only came here to talk to me then why did you bring the cleaver?’
‘Cleaver?’ Tony looked down at his hand. ‘Oh this?’ He whipped his hand out from behind his back, the white plastic bag dangling menacingly. ‘This isn’t a cleaver.’
I stepped back as he reached into the bag.
‘It’s a ricotta pie. I brought it as a peace offering. I was hoping that if I got in your good graces you and those crazy old ladies would stop coming to the restaurant and wouldn’t tell my wife about the affair with Tina.’
And just like that, my prime suspect evaporated. If what Tony said was true, I could easily verify his alibi with Seth. And why would he lie about it?
I accepted the ricotta pie, grimaced as Tina and Tony gave each other a sickening smooch goodbye and then proceeded to the kitchen. At least I had the ricotta pie to offer my guests for breakfast. I didn’t have time to sort through recipes and put something together for the morning. I needed to come up with a new suspect.
I put the ricotta pie away and went to my suite to settle in with the cats. Okay, I admit I did take a teeny sliver of pie with me, but only because I had to test it out to see if it was good enough for the guests. Tina had gone back to bed and by some miracle the rest of the guesthouse had not been awakened by the argument down in the foyer, so it was nice and quiet.
The owner’s suite wasn't big, but it was comfortable and cozy. It consisted of a small fireplace, living room that had a window overlooking the ocean, complete with blue cushioned window seat, a bedroom that was part of the rounded turret, and a small bath. It was done in neutral shades of gray and mocha.
The trendy colors blended nicely with the antique touches like the carved mantel and hardwood flooring to give it an eclectic feeling. The living room had a microsuede sectional and I settled in, pulling a fleece blanket over me. The cats immediately jumped on the blanket and curled up beside me. The low hum of their purrs was comforting. Maybe I could get used to having cat companions.
I sipped my chamomile tea and dug into the ricotta pie. It was creamy and sweet. If I hadn’t been married to a chef, I would have been grossed out by the idea of ricotta pie. I mean wasn’t that something you put in a lasagna? But I’d had it before and Tony’s was much better than Clive’s.
As I savored the pie, I flipped through the recipe book. Charles was making a book of recipes that included berries. He even had a section of information about each berry. There were berry tarts, berry pies, berry dressings, even berry bread. There were even flockenberries in there. Maybe that was why he’d been on the cliff, to research the flockenberries.
I closed the book and sighed. ‘Well I guess these berries probably didn't have anything to do with Charles's death.’
Meow.
Nero hopped down from the sofa and trotted over to the old mahogany writing desk Millie had left for me, casting a glance back at Marlowe who soon joined him.
‘Yeah, I know. Dead-end right?’ I said. ‘Who would kill someone over berries?’
Nero jumped up on the desk and batted at a pen.
‘Unfortunately now, I'm back to square one.’
Merope. The pen clattered onto the wood floor.
‘Hey, cut that out.’
Nero stared at me with his golden eyes as he pushed another pen off.
‘You’re doing that on purpose!’
Mew. Purr.
He pushed another pen.
‘Okay, now I’m getting angry.’ I disentangled myself from my fuzzy cocoon, picked up the pens and put them back on the desk. Marlowe was sitting in the window seat and I patted the top of his head.
‘At least you’re a good girl, not tossing things off the desk.’ I gave Nero a pointed look.
Nero narrowed his gaze. Mew.
I kept petting Marlowe who was gazing out the window toward the Smugglers Bay Inn. It had stopped raining and the silver light of the moon highlighted the edges of the clouds and bounced of the rolling surf. Marlowe was probably thinking about getting out and catching some midnight mice.
‘Not tonight, my friend.’
Merow.
The tone of her voice indicated he wasn't very happy with that, but I was the boss.
Mreep!
Nero swatted a small pad of note paper off the desk. Was he jealous that I was paying so much attention to Marlowe?
Meow!
Marlowe leapt off the window seat and lunged for the paper, tearing it with her claws.
Meroo!
Nero jumped down and swatted at it, shredding a few pieces off.
Marlowe pounced, Nero swatted, pieces of paper flew.
‘Hey, hey!’ I intercepted the pad as it slid across the floor and picked it up.
Both cats screeched to a stop and looked up, innocent expressions plastered on their furry faces.
I looked down at the paper which was practically shredded into confetti. ‘Boy, you guys have sharp claws.’
It was only a cheap notepad, but I’d written a partial grocery list and now you could only see the last few letters of the words. Now what was the food that ended in ‘ery’ that I’d wanted? Celery? What other words ended in that? This was like the partial note that had been found in Charles’s room that the police had assumed was the review he’d been killed for.
I’d assumed Charles had been killed because of a review too and that turned out to be wrong. If my assumptions about the motive behind Charles’s death were wrong, then maybe that partial piece of paper wasn’t a review after all.
I rushed to my phone to look at the picture of the note that Millie had texted to me.
... ull
... ick
... son
What if ‘ull’ was for gull. The gulls were sick. Was it possible the letter had something to do with the reason for that? That last word ended in ‘son.’ Poison? Gull, sick, poison. Charles had been seen on the cliffs. What if he’d stumbled upon some evidence pertaining to what was happening to the gulls? And what if he knew who was behind it? Ava had mentioned that Charles wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t beyond throwing someone under the bus or lying or cheating. And he needed money.
What if the note was a blackmail note? Someone being blackmailed would have a much deeper motivation to kill Charles than someone he was writing a bad review about.
But if this was a blackmail note and if the note really was the reason Charles was murdered, then who was he blackmailing and what did he have on them?
Fifteen
The next morning, I arranged the slices of ricotta pie on a fancy plate so that no one would realize I’d taken a slice out the night before. With only four people at the guesthouse, there was plenty of pie. I just wanted it to look nice on the buffet. But one can’t have only pie for breakfast, so I also got out some eggs and bacon. I was cracking the eggs when Mom and Millie burst through the kitchen door.
‘Josie! Bad news! Seth Chamberlain informed me that Tony Murano can’t be the killer. He has an alibi.’ Millie pushed me aside and took over egg duty. Fine by me, I didn’t really want to scramble them anyway and besides, I was bursting to tell them about my visit from Tony and my new suspicions
about why Charles was killed.
As if summoned by Millie’s voice, Nero and Marlowe trotted into the kitchen and sat at her feet, gazing up at her.
‘I know. And there’s more.’ I moved to the bacon, which was crackling and sizzling. The cats swerved their gaze in my direction. I removed the fully cooked pieces and put them on a paper towel to drain, then added a few more slabs to the pan.
Millie turned to look at me. ‘Do tell.’
I told them about my visit from Tony and how Tina hadn’t been having an affair with Charles, but had been in his room to take the cookbook.
‘Hmmm, well, that is a bummer,’ Millie opened the spice drawer and started fishing around. ‘Where’s the vanilla? It’s a secret ingredient for the eggs.’
‘Should be in there.’ I peered in and spied it way in the back. ‘There it is.’
‘So now what?’ Mom had helped herself to a piece of ricotta pie and was sitting at the table. ‘Seems like we have to start from square one with the suspects.’
‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘I think we might have been barking up the wrong tree with the review angle anyway.’
Millie poured eggs into the pan and started mixing them around while I told them about my suspicions that the note was really a blackmail note having to do with the gulls.
‘You don’t say?’ Mom glanced toward the cove. ‘Do you think someone is harming the gulls on purpose?’
‘Maybe. Charles was seen on the cliff and that’s where they nest. He might have discovered someone doing something to their nests.’ I lowered my voice. ‘I already have some suspects.’
‘Who?’ Millie rummaged for serving dishes and then started spooning the eggs into a silver bowl with a lid.
‘Well, now let’s think of this logically,’ Mom said, her forkful of ricotta pie hovering near her lips. ‘The partial note was found in Charles’s room, which seems to indicate the killer was in his room. So who visited Charles?’
I thought about that for a second as I layered the crispy bacon onto a white ironstone platter. ‘I don’t think anyone came to visit him. At least no one that I saw.’
A Twist in the Tail: An absolutely purrfect cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 1) Page 13