“I’ve got an idea.” Izzie snapped her fingers. “Why don’t we go to Jamestown for the afternoon? Do a little shopping and visit some sights. Now’s a good time for a distraction, right? What do you guys say?”
Megan shook her head. “Sorry. I need to open up the store and sell candles to pay the bills.”
The shop, Light Your Scent, had only been in business for a year. Megan’s parents had owned the building, but then offered to transfer the deed to Megan, if she promised to make a serious commitment to running her candle business. Friends knew Megan had been wild during her teen years and all through college. She never stuck to one plan or interest for long. The candle shop was her chance at a do-over, and she was determined to prove herself to her parents and friends.
Izzie shifted her gaze my way.
I gave a thumbs-up sign. “Give me ten minutes to change and find my comfortable shoes.” I headed out of the kitchen. “See you later, Megan.”
Max followed close behind me, his nails clicking on the floorboards.
“Sorry, little guy. I can’t bring you along this time.” I gathered him in my arms and rubbed my nose in his fur. “You guard the house while we’re gone. Okay? That’s a good boy.”
Once inside my bedroom, I pulled a sleeveless top and shorts out of my suitcase. With all the chaos in the past couple of days, I hadn’t taken a moment to unpack. Slipping my feet into sandals, I skipped down the stairs where Izzie was waiting.
“Okay, we’re off.” Izzie led the way outside. “Your car or mine?”
“I filled up the tank right before I got to town.” I stared at the powdery layer of dust covering my car. “Plus, we can hit the carwash on the way back.”
The trip to Jamestown took less than a half hour, yet I couldn’t stop those disturbing details of murder from worming their way into my head. Like a broken record, images punctuated with dramatic captions repeated, again and again. Maybe my brain was trying to tell me I’d missed something about that evening. An important detail that might help solve the case of whodunnit. What I did know was that plenty of people had both opportunity and motive to kill Fiona, and the authorities wouldn’t stop until they got their man or woman. I glimpsed Izzie for a second. My heart ached for her. The feeling of having a dream crushed or broken was familiar. At least her dream of a successful business could be mended and put back on track. A temporary setback wasn’t fatal. All we needed to do was find the killer. I gripped the steering wheel, thinking how in the blink of an eye life could derail and become something you never expected. In this case? Something scary and dangerous.
Chapter Five
While Izzie slept in, Max and I took a morning walk along the lakeshore to get some fresh air and watch the sunrise. Sailboats and fishing boats glided along the scenic view, manned by those, including Mom and Dad, who took to the water at the crack of dawn. I grew more relaxed watching the slow-moving action that became commonplace for those who lived and breathed the lake life. After taking a Sunday break from all tasks involving the shop and thoughts about murder, I was refreshed and energized for the start of a new week.
Max bounced on his hind legs, barking at the flock of purple-headed grackles overhead. They flew farther inland, probably on their way to some field where they’d nibble on sprouts and ripening corn.
Hearing someone shout my name, I turned. Izzie was standing on the front porch, waving her arms.
“Come on, Max. Time for breakfast.” I tugged at the leash and jogged with him to the house.
“We’re going shopping.” Izzie pulled me inside.
My brow arched, and I tapped my watch. “At seven in the morning? Even the most ambitious retailers won’t open that early.” I unhooked Max’s leash.
“We’ll eat breakfast, sit on the back porch to drink coffee, and chat. Two hours will fly by. You’ll see.” She skipped down the hall, and Max trotted close behind her.
“Slow and easy lifestyle. Gotta get used to it.” I shrugged.
The noisy hustle and bustle of New York City was quite the contrast.
“Scrambled or poached?” Izzie held up her arms, an egg in each hand.
I grinned at the unkempt hair piled on top of her head, with curls fighting to stick out here and there. She pulled off her own style of chic, wearing a faded T-shirt with an NYC logo and ragged-edged cutoffs.
“Scrambled is quicker, but then again, we’re in no hurry.” I pulled juice out of the fridge.
“Poached it is.” She hummed a tune while working. Her phone rang, then dinged a couple of times, but she ignored whoever called.
“You’re not going to answer that?” I poured juice into glasses and set them on the table.
“Nope. He can wait. Besides, I won’t be able to tell him anything yet. So what’s the point?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Him who?” Just then, my phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen. A short message appeared. “Ah, I see. Our detective on the case wants to speak to you. You know avoiding him won’t work. He might even show up at the house.”
“I’ll call him, but not yet. Maybe tomorrow.” She set a plate in front of me and piled on eggs and toast. “Stop worrying about it.”
“I’m not worrying. I’m stating the obvious.” I shoveled eggs into my mouth to keep from saying more. When to talk to Detective Barrett was her decision, not mine.
As our breakfast and coffee time passed, I almost forgot there was a world outside, where horrible things could happen.
After finishing her third cup of coffee, Izzie checked her watch. “I have time to take a quick shower before we leave.”
“Now, what exactly are we shopping for?”
“Maybe some artsy deco for my store shelves? Pottery would be nice.”
“Sammy’s Quaint Décor.” I squinted at her in a pointed stare. “You have an ulterior motive in mind, don’t you?”
“Not exactly.” Izzie shuffled her bare feet before a smile eased across her face. “Well, maybe I do.”
I heaved a sigh. “I hope you have a plan on what to say … or ask. When put on the defensive, you know Sammy is like an F-five tornado. You’ll need to tread softly.”
Izzie pointed to her head as she turned to walk away. “Plan’s all in here, word for word. I’ve got this.”
* * *
Quaint Décor sat halfway between the string of shops along Artisan Alley and next to Penny Swenson’s aromatherapy shop, The Healing Touch. The wood exterior needed a fresh coat of paint, but the shale roof held up well against the beating it received from sun, water, and inclement weather. Many of the businesses in Whisper Cove were run by family, handed down from one generation to the next. That was how Sammy had come by hers. A favorite aunt, who never married, decided to make Sammy her heir, which pleased her parents. After all, they already owned a screen print T-shirt business in Mayville, passed down by Sammy’s maternal grandparents. On the other hand, Izzie was the rare local merchant who was starting from scratch. Of course, Izzie’s paint party event shop was a fairly new concept in the craft world. Focusing on younger generations who looked for entertaining venues, paint parties allowed customers to create their own art rather than buy someone else’s.
The chimes hooked to the door jingled as we entered. I gazed at the shop from one end to the other. Sammy had added some new touches to the place since I’d last been inside, more than a year ago. A section devoted to Native American art sat near the front. I lifted a clay pot decorated with red and turquoise paint from the shelf. The quality was exceptional, and the product was authentic, with the craftsman’s signature scrawled across the bottom. During my stay in Paris, I’d worked part-time for an art collector and learned quite a lot about that part of the art world, especially how to recognize fakes and the seedier side of sellers and buyers.
“Hi, Sammy. How’s business?” Izzie greeted.
“I’m not complaining.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t help if I did, right?”
She skirted Izzie to give me a hug. “Nice to see you
again. I want to apologize for hogging the conversation the other night. We should catch up sometime soon. You plan to stay awhile, I hope?”
“I’m here to help Izzie with the shop. So yes. At least until something comes along to pull me back to New York.” I gave myself a mental slap for even suggesting New York, which had already taken a nosedive as far as my plans went.
“Great! What brings you two here today?” Her eyes brightened with anticipation as she clasped her hands.
Izzie tapped her lip and turned side to side. “I was hoping to buy something decorative to place on the shelves or walls of my shop. You know, to give it a more artsy feel?”
“Let’s see.” Sammy hesitated then pointed to the back corner. “I unpacked a collection of figurines and wall art shipped in from Milan this morning. Why don’t we start there?” She led the way to the rear of the shop.
“I absolutely love wall art. Are those made out of brass? Would you look at that detail.” Izzie rambled excitedly while she fingered a piece molded into the shape of a beach scene with the ocean waves, the sun, and birds flying over the water.
I left Izzie to gush over the Milan collection and browsed the aisles. Sammy had a variety of items that, from the price tags, provided something for anyone’s pocketbook, big or small. I gasped as my attention landed on a Swarovski crystal figurine of a swan. They could range in price from hundreds to over a thousand dollars. This item was worth at least five hundred or more, and I guessed not many customers who shopped here could afford such a purchase. I couldn’t guess why she’d carry pricey items with almost no chance of selling them. I tapped the shelf with my fingernail, then, after a second, I lifted the figurine to peek underneath. The Swarovski swan logo was printed on the bottom, and next to it was a price sticker. My eyes widened. “How in the world?”
“Those are beautiful, aren’t they?”
I gasped and clutched my throat at the sound of Sammy’s voice. “Oh! You scared me. Yes, they certainly live up to the Swarovski name.” I carefully set the swan on the shelf.
“Hmm. You know your crystal.” She smiled.
I tipped my head at the display. “A year working for an art collector in Paris will teach you a few things, especially about what items cost on the market.” My eyes narrowed.
“I’m all set.” Izzie approached, carrying a basket filled with her choices of wall art.
Sammy smiled and led the way to the cash register to ring up the purchase. “If you aren’t done shopping, I can have these delivered.”
“Thank you. That will help. We still need to make a stop at the Gazette.” Izzie nibbled on the tip of her thumb while Sammy finished the sale. “Unfortunately, I’m taking a hit on the ad I bought for my shop’s grand opening. You know, since we’re now considered a crime scene.”
I rolled my eyes at Izzie’s poor attempt at subtlety, bulldozing her way into the topic. However, the bait worked.
“Yeah, no matter how despised Fiona was, she didn’t deserve to end like that.” Sammy shook her head.
“Such a shame.” Izzie clucked her tongue in the same way our great aunt Mimi used to.
I snorted but quickly covered the sound with a cough. “Sorry.” I pointed to my throat. “Tickle got to me.”
Izzie glared at me, then turned back to Sammy. “That detective told us he plans to speak with all the merchants because of Fiona’s column and her scathing comments.” She scribbled her name on the credit slip, then looked up. “Has he spoken to you yet? I mean, Chloe told him about those vicious words Fiona had to say about you at our paint event that evening.”
I groaned. Nothing like being snagged into Izzie’s attack without a warning. “He insisted on a blow-by-blow account of the evening. I had to tell him.”
Sammy slammed the register drawer shut. “Why? What did she say? Probably nothing I haven’t already heard.” She scowled.
The deepening red tint in her face made me stiffen.
“I … ah … probably like you said. Nothing you haven’t heard before.”
“She said you were lazy and would never make it in business.” Izzie stabbed the counter.
“Oh, boy,” I mumbled under my breath. Besides lack of subtlety, my sister had no filter.
Sammy stared unblinking for an uncomfortable minute. “Well, I’m not the only one. Did you know your friend Megan is barely hanging on to her candle shop? I heard from someone at the bank she’s gone in three times to beg for extensions on her loans. Maybe her parents deeded Megan the building without charging her a penny, but how about that pricey car she drives? Why, that lakeshore condo she lives in must cost more than she can manage on her own. Who pays for all that?” Sammy’s voice grew louder with each word.
Izzie grabbed her bag and my arm. “I think we overdid it,” she whispered in my ear and hustled out of the shop, dragging me along.
“We?” I pulled my arm free and stopped as we reached the sidewalk.
Izzie waved an arm. “Don’t worry. Sammy’s temper is like a boiling teakettle. Once the stopper pops, all the steam lets out. She’ll be fine in an hour.”
“Let’s hope.” I worried about more than Sammy blowing a fuse.
That price sticker bugged me. The swan figurine would retail for at least five hundred U.S. dollars or more through a legal dealer. Sammy’s item was marked at one hundred dollars. There was no way she’d make a profit off that amount. Unless she wanted a quick sale or … she was doing something illegal. What if Fiona had stumbled on a story? Could she have confronted Sammy with her discovery? I had to think this through, whether or not to discuss the issue with the Quaint Décor owner. I wasn’t a legal authority or an agent for the IRS. Plus, she might be totally legit. Maybe the item was damaged and I just hadn’t noticed. However, if what Sammy was doing was somehow connected, even loosely, with Fiona and her murder, I couldn’t look away.
“I think she’s spreading wild rumors,” Izzie said.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” I snapped out of my rambling thoughts.
“About Megan. No way would Megan take on more than she can handle. She knows this is her last chance to prove she’s responsible and not that flaky girl from college. The idea she’s a suspect is ridiculous.” Izzie puffed out her cheeks. “I’m telling you this. Sammy wants to point fingers so she looks less like the guilty one.”
I clenched the strap of my bag and couldn’t help picturing the scratches on Megan’s arms. When Izzie questioned the idea of her gardening because of allergies, she’d seemed defensive.
“Aren’t you forgetting? You said Fiona’s vicious columns aren’t enough of a motive to kill the poor woman.”
Izzie threw up her arms. “Then I shouldn’t be a suspect either. You, even less. So why are we worried?”
I pressed my lips together. “Back to time, place, and physical evidence, I guess. Wait until Detective Barrett’s crime team manages to find all of that. Then we’ll see if we have something to worry about.” I glanced sideways.
The lines of worry deepened on her face. “Watch out!” Izzie’s eyes popped as she called out.
“Oh!” I slammed face first into someone’s chest. I extended my arms and splayed my hands against a firm torso to keep from falling. “Sorry, I …” Lifting my gaze, I stared at blue eyes and a smile that stretched across a handsome face. I swallowed and shuffled my feet backward. “Sorry.”
He had to be nearly six and a half feet tall. With that full head of blond curls, he looked like one of those Greek gods.
“My fault, entirely. I was reading a message on my phone and not paying attention. I would never purposely run into such a lovely woman as yourself.” He winked.
“Oh, please.” Izzie mumbled under her breath.
I cleared my throat and managed a speedy recovery. “What my sister means is please don’t apologize. I was just as much at fault.”
“How about we start over?” He extended a hand. “My name’s Grayson Stone.”
I wiggled my fingers, then shoved my hand
in his to shake. “Glad to meet you. I’m Chloe Abbington.”
We both shifted our attention to Izzie, who shrugged. “Izzie Abbington, and right now my sister and I should get going. Lots to do this morning.” She tugged at my sleeve and jerked her head sideways.
“Well, have a great day, Abbington sisters.” He tipped his hand. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, and soon.”
“That was rude.” I hurried to keep up with Izzie.
“I’ve seen him around town a couple of times, like he was lurking.”
“Lurking?”
“People watching, I guess. Megan thinks he’s creepy.”
“Oh, well, if Megan thinks so, then it must be true.” I couldn’t help the sarcastic tone but got the classic Izzie eye-glaring stare.
“She also said he acted squirrely when he came into her shop.”
“So, he’s creepy and squirrely, according to Megan. Anything else?” I shook my head. When had she become such a fan of local gossip?
“All right. You made your point. I don’t know anything about him. He might be a great guy. A real prince charming.” She tapped her watch. “Do you think we can stop talking about him and finish what we started? I want to stop by the Gazette and settle my bill with Theo before the day is over and wasted.”
I scrunched my nose and pointed at the sky. “It’s barely ten. Plenty of daylight left.”
“Oh, for—you can be so annoying.” She threw back her head and laughed, then squeezed my arm. “I’ve missed this, you know? You and me spending time together.”
“Yeah, me too.” I leaned my head against her shoulder.
“Great girl talk.” She stepped away. “Now, let’s go.”
We practically jogged for the next three blocks to reach the far end of town and the entrance to the Whisper Cove Gazette. I bent over to grab my knees, gasping for as much oxygen as I could get. In New York, we didn’t drive or walk. We took taxis, Ubers, or the subway, even if the destination was close. That was my routine anyway. First thing tomorrow, I’d check into finding a reasonably priced fitness center to join. At least I’d think about it.
A Brush with Murder Page 6