“Visiting your Aunt Constance in Mayville.” Mom dabbed her lips with a napkin.
“She invited us to have lunch at her fancy club.” Dad twisted his mouth into a frown.
“Joe. Not nice. She’s your sister-in-law.” Mom tapped his arm. “Family is important.”
“You’re right. Remember that, Shortcake. Even if one of your family members turns out to be an obnoxious, opportunistic snob who marries your brother to—”
“Joseph Abbington.” Mom narrowed her eyes then smiled at me. “Would you like some quinoa? I made this batch with blueberries, strawberries, and walnuts. It will give you that pick-me-up when you need it this afternoon.”
“I’m good. You have a nice lunch and give Aunt Constance my love.” I hurried out of the kitchen before Dad tossed out another insult about family. I doubted Mom could keep her cool for long if he did. I didn’t blame him. His older brother, David, passed away last year, but Aunt Constance insisted we all stay in touch. Of course, everyone mourned the death of a loved one in their own way, but Dad thought his sister-in-law should’ve grieved longer. As it was, she kept busy with her social agenda and spent money, mostly from the Abbington inheritance, like there was no end to it. Dad didn’t like that behavior either.
As I reached the foyer, Max trotted out of the living room and into the hall with a slipper in his mouth.
I pointed. “Dad won’t be happy if he catches you. That’s his favorite slipper. Why don’t we put it back before he notices?”
Max let the slipper drop and barked, his tail wagging.
“You already chewed the other one, didn’t you?” I blew air out of my mouth. “All right then. Let’s do some damage control. Where is it? Lead the way, pooch. I have lots to do this morning and little time for hunting slippers.”
It took less than a minute, and Max pulled the damaged goods from behind Dad’s chair. I examined the torn heel and sighed. “Guess I know what we’ll be getting Dad for an early Christmas gift.” I gathered Max in my arms, along with the slippers, and marched up the stairs to my bedroom. I planned to do a bit of web surfing and see what I could find out about Tressa Finch.
I was prepared to find the surname might be common enough to turn up dozens, maybe hundreds, even with a less common first name like Tressa. If I included a few filters, like location, approximate age, and marital status, that would narrow the list.
“Positivity.” I flexed my fingers, then tapped the keyboard. Within minutes, I found three people with the name Tressa Finch within a fifty-mile radius. Sinclair was the closest to Whisper Cove, and the address belonged to a nursing home. If Tressa was ill, maybe she resided in one. I checked the addresses of the other two. One lived in Buffalo, and the other was a thirty-year-old from Belmont. I picked up my phone and dialed the nursing home.
“It’s showtime, Max.” I smiled at him and nodded.
“Sinclair Point Nursing Home. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello. I was calling to inquire how Tressa Finch was doing today.”
“There’s no change. Is this her sister-in-law, Gwen?”
I chewed on my lower lip, thinking fast. “Ah, yes. I hoped she’d be feeling better since my last visit.”
“Pretty much the same. Nonresponsive, but at least there have been no other outbursts. Your visits seem to help. Would you like to speak with her nurse?”
“No. That’s okay. I just wanted to see if she’d improved since I was there a couple of weeks ago. I think it was on a Thursday, wasn’t it?” I gripped the phone tighter.
“I wish I could tell you when. Our records are a mess right now. Computer glitches have wreaked havoc.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for the information. Tell Tressa I’ll be visiting again soon.”
I punched the end call button and stared at Max. “Well, that got us nowhere.”
Max placed his paw on my arm and barked.
“Yeah, you’re right. Might as well try another lead, but where do I start?”
I hoped Gwen told the truth, that she was far away in Sinclair the evening of Fiona’s murder and not hiding behind Paint with a View with a knife, but so far, I couldn’t prove it. My rational side told me I shouldn’t interfere in a murder case. On the other hand, my heart convinced me I must. With Izzie and me as suspects, the threat to the Abbington name and the unstable future of Paint with a View pushed me to investigate whoever and whatever led to the real killer. I shivered. Even if the search was dangerous.
My phone buzzed and vibrated in my lap. Ross’s name appeared on the screen. I cleared my throat. “Hi, Ross. What’s going on with you?”
“Oh, not much. That’s why I called. You want to come and have lunch with me? Or dinner. We could do dinner. Or even just meet for coffee and—”
“Would you stop sounding so needy?” I laughed. “Yes, I can meet you for lunch. How about the Blue Whale? Today’s special is crab cakes with roasted veggies.”
“How about I pick you up at twelve thirty?”
“How about I meet you there at one?” One lead that might be worthwhile involved driving to Sammy’s neighborhood and having a talk with the neighbor, Nell, about her story of the mystery woman who looked a lot like me. After ending the call, I made a quick change into a skinny-strapped sundress, then sat on the bed next to Max. I scratched his mop of fur. “No worries. It’s lunch and nothing more. No way am I getting back together with Ross. We’ve been there, and it didn’t go well.”
“Woof.” Max laid his front paw on my arm.
“Exactly. Now, you hang out here, take a nap, beg Mom and Dad for treats, but don’t destroy any more slippers. Deal?”
He answered with a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
I skipped downstairs to the front door and scribbled a note, explaining my lunch date and plan to meet Izzie at the shop afterward, then left it on the foyer table. “Going out!”
I hurried to my car and started the engine. The inside was like a sauna without the steam. I powered down all four windows and opened the sunroof while cursing the failed AC and how I had put off getting it fixed. I needed transportation, and tying up my vehicle in a repair shop for several days wasn’t an option right now. I patted the dashboard. “Maybe next week.”
I reached the east end of town and Sammy’s neighborhood in five minutes. Boxwood hedges lined the front yards of brick homes built after the Second World War. You couldn’t tell them apart, other than the personal touches added to some yards, like planters with colorful flowers or cute little gnome figures.
I pulled into Sammy’s drive and spotted Nell working in her flower beds. According to Sammy, Nell kept to herself, limiting their conversations to an occasional hello or goodbye, except for the few times she peered out her window as if she were spying. Of course, Sammy thought it was funny and not creepy at all.
I exited my car and walked across the yard. “Hello.”
At that moment, Nell stood and turned to face me. A frown creased her brow, then her eyes narrowed. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.” She gathered her gardening tools and placed them in a basket.
“I’m Sammy’s friend. Chloe Abbington.” I smiled and held out my hand.
Ignoring my gesture, she clutched her basket in both arms. “You’re the one who was with her the day she left.”
“No. You’re mistaken. Maybe it was someone who looked a lot like me, though. Can you describe what you saw that day? Anything you might have heard Sammy or the woman with her say? I’m really worried about my friend. She could be in trouble. Really serious trouble.” Maybe I was laying it on a bit thick, but the part about being in serious trouble was more than likely true.
“I already talked to that detective.” She took a couple of steps back toward the porch. “Seems to me if he wanted you to know anything about Miss Peele, he’d have told you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” She turned away and hurried toward the porch steps.
“Please!” I called out and held my breath as Nell
stopped. I’d already told enough people about Sammy’s troubles, but I was desperate. “Sammy is in serious trouble with some really bad men. They threatened her, and I’m worried she’s hurt.” I stepped forward. “Nell, think about it. You could help save her life by telling me what you know.”
Nell chewed on her lip. “But I told the detective.”
I took another step and now stood a few inches from her. “That’s just it. I don’t know if she’d trust any authority figure who confronted her. She might run and end up in even worse trouble,” I whispered.
She stared without blinking. I felt as if she was trying to see inside me, to find out if I was telling the truth. “Maybe you’ve remembered something new since you spoke with the detective? Even a tiny detail might help me figure out where she’s gone.”
A long moment of silence passed. Nell set down her basket and tapped the side of her jaw with her finger. “You know, there was one thing I noticed the past few nights and found it odd.” She nodded.
“Yes? What was it?” My breath hitched.
“No lights. Not one lamp on, not even the front porch lights. She programs lights to turn on in the house and on the porch anytime she’s away on a trip. I notice these things. Not this time, though. It’s like she didn’t plan this trip. Must’ve been in an awful big hurry.” Nell picked up the basket once more, then leaned in closer to me and squinted. “Now that I get a better look at you, maybe you aren’t the one who was with her. You’re much too skinny.” With that, she turned and marched to her front door.
“Huh.” I shrugged. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” Popping open the door, I climbed back inside the car and pulled out of the drive. Sammy had left town in a hurry, which meant either she was running scared or there had been some kind of an emergency. I knew she had family spread across towns in western New York. Perhaps someone, like her sister or her mom, had called for help. On the flip side, leaving town because she was scared could only be for one of two reasons. Either men from Infinity were after her or—and I prayed this couldn’t be true—she had something to do with Fiona’s murder. No other explanation came to mind.
I pulled along the curb to park in front of the Blue Whale. The lunch crowd would be heavy today, I suspected. Crab cakes were popular, and customers loved to take advantage of the special giving them three dollars off the regular price. I spotted Ross as he approached the front entrance. After stepping out onto the sidewalk, I shouted and waved. “Hey you. Over here!”
He turned and smiled. “You’re on time.”
I scowled. “As if I’m ever late. Tardiness is your habit.”
“I’m teasing. Lighten up, will you?” His eyes shifted up and down. “You look great. I love the sundress. Brings out the color of your eyes.”
“Would you stop? I’ll turn around and get back in my car so fast, your head will spin.” I pointed first at him then me. “You, me. Friends. Got it?”
He chuckled. “Just an innocent compliment, Chloe. Now, how’s your day been? Mine’s fantastic so far. I had the most delicious frittata for breakfast at a nice place right outside of town, and then I took a walk along the lake. Gotta tell you, I love this vacation gig. I should do it more often. We should.” He wrapped his arm around mine. “Together. Maybe a cruise or a tour through Europe. That would be fun.”
“Ross.”
He patted my arm. “As friends, of course.”
“You never stop.” I sighed and stepped inside the restaurant ahead of him, but turned my head slightly to call over my shoulder. “Let’s enjoy lunch and not talk about vacations together, okay?”
We were told we had a fifteen-minute wait for a table, which I expected. The place was packed and the chatter of guests and the tinkling of silverware filled the room. The delectable aroma of seafood wafted throughout the restaurant. My stomach growled.
“Since we have time, I’m running to the restroom.” I wove through customers waiting to be seated. As I headed down the narrow hall leading to the restrooms, the sound of raised voices, one female, one male, came from near the back. I slowed my pace and paused in front of the ladies’ room door.
All at once, steps pounded and someone rushed around the corner. A startled gasp escaped my lips as Megan appeared. She dabbed at her teary eyes with a tissue. “Megan?”
Her head jerked up. “Oh! I’m—I need to go.” She passed by me in a rush.
Growing concerned, I turned to follow her, but she had already disappeared into the crowd of customers. I could think of many reasons why she was in such an emotional state lately. But because of Izzie and her belief in Megan’s innocence, I wouldn’t pursue those thoughts. Instead, I hurried to reach the end of the hall in time to see a tall man with blond curly hair push open the exit door and storm outside. “Grayson Stone,” I mumbled under my breath.
Within seconds, I returned to the waiting room and Ross. I shifted my gaze from one side of the waiting room to the other. No sign of Megan.
“The hostess says we’re up next.” Ross frowned. “Hey, are you all right? You look worried.”
I let go of a nervous laugh. “Leave it to you not to miss a detail. I’ll tell you during lunch. The hostess is waving to us now.”
While following her to our table, I deliberated over what to tell Ross. I trusted him. Even if he hadn’t been a great boyfriend, he was the perfect confidant.
Ross pulled out my chair, then took his seat. “Now, what’s the problem?”
* * *
I turned at the next stoplight onto Whisper Lane, thinking about Sammy and Megan. The one thing I had to face was that chances were someone we knew had committed Fiona’s murder. And when Hunter caught the killer, we could likely lose a friend.
During lunch, I had explained to Ross the emotional scene between Megan and Grayson. I had no clue what they had argued about. In a typical male response, Ross had suggested they were having an affair. If that were true then why would Megan have called him creepy? Unless she was trying to hide the relationship from Izzie. I refused to judge him. Not yet. Not until I had proof. Even if it was a lovers’ quarrel, that didn’t make him a creep or someone I shouldn’t trust. In the meantime, I wouldn’t mention any of this to Izzie, who’d flip and probably hunt down Grayson to give him a verbal thrashing for making her best friend cry.
I walked around the corner to Artisan Alley. The shop was veiled in darkness and a closed sign hung on the door. I pushed sunglasses to the top of my head, then checked my phone. No calls or messages from Izzie. I tried her number, which went straight to voice mail. “Okay, Izzie. What’s going on?” A call to Willow met with the same response.
Hopping back in my car, I sped home. Maybe Izzie had decided to wait for me before going to work. Not her usual behavior, but I couldn’t think of another reason for her not to be at the shop. We had lots to do before tomorrow’s event. I’d promised to finish the decorations we’d planned for the fireworks theme, hanging colorful streamers from the ceiling and shiny appliqués on the walls.
Pulling alongside Izzie’s jeep, I killed the engine and climbed out of my seat. Taking wide steps, I sprinted to the front door. Once inside, I tossed my gear on the floor. “Izzie! Where are you?” I kicked off my shoes. At the silence, I headed down the hall. “Izzie, answer me.” The kitchen was empty, as well as the screened porch. I circled around and checked the dining room, living room, and then entered Dad’s study.
Izzie was hunched over at the desktop computer. Her one hand clicked the mouse while the other dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Without turning, she spoke. “My life is ruined. First, it’s the murder, then my shop is considered a crime scene and closed for days so I have to cancel the first event. Now? Oh, you’ll love this.” She swiveled the chair to face me. “Everyone, and I mean every single registered guest, canceled for the beach fireworks event tomorrow evening. You want to know why?” Her voice elevated to the ear-piercing screech of nails on a chalkboard.
For the second time today, I felt helpless t
o stop the train wreck coming at me.
“Someone—I can’t imagine who—spread the rumor that Willow has some kind of contagious virus and our shop is closed until we have the premises fumigated. Can you believe it? Fumigated.” She paced the room. “If I find out who started this nonsense …”
“You’ll do nothing because, like all small towns, rumors happen. Somebody comments on seeing Willow at the doctor and the next person says she was taken to the hospital by ambulance. Before you know it, she’s got a disease like Ebola, which everyone knows is highly contagious and fatal. See what I mean?” I shrugged and then approached her with caution, hoping she wouldn’t jump or punch me in the face.
“Oh, Chloe.” She sobbed and hiccupped as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so frustrated. This is not how I pictured my beautiful and wonderful business plan.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.” I patted and rubbed her back while thinking that the day had somehow managed to get worse, after all. The scary part? We had more than twelve hours to go before it was over.
Chapter Thirteen
“Paint with a View is open and ready for business! We have Paint Your Pet night later this week and Light the Night is rescheduled for Saturday afternoon to finish the lighthouse paintings. Beach Fireworks, Lego My Ego, Trick Your Pumpkin, and Glitter Autumn are just a few of the events to come. Something for everyone. Sign up online or stop by the shop.” I distributed flyers to outstretched hands of passersby and kept a smile pasted on my face. After more than an hour standing on the street corner, all I wanted to do was to sit, on the ground if necessary. No chair required. My feet and back ached.
After sulking the rest of the day yesterday about having to cancel the beach fireworks event, Izzie had awoken with renewed determination. Her plan to do damage control involved handing out flyers with a detailed schedule of events. She would’ve included more, but we ran out of room on the page. Theo had agreed to print a huge and predictably expensive ad in the Gazette, but only after Izzie pleaded for an hour on the phone. Nothing got results like a persistent Abbington chewing your ear off. At least no costumes were involved this time.
A Brush with Murder Page 16