I approached Light Your Scent. The shop stood at the far end of Artisan Alley. The view of the lake was more picturesque from here, and her building was next to one of the pricier homes in Whisper Cove. Definitely a plus when it came to the value of your real estate.
Even though we weren’t close friends, I’d known Megan since grade school. I had a hunch the whole detective questioning routine hadn’t worked well, but maybe, given our relationship, I’d have a shot at getting more information out of her. To keep from sinking into a pool of guilt about my motives, which were a bit underhanded to be honest, I convinced myself this visit was to show concern, woman to woman, citizen to citizen, friend to friend.
I clenched my hands. “Who are you fooling, Chloe Abbington?” Izzie’s business and our reputations were in jeopardy. Those issues were my main concern. “You’re pathetic, and a traitor. Don’t forget traitor.” I took a deep breath and marched up to Megan’s front door.
“Hello! Megan? It’s Chloe.” I lifted on my tiptoes to peer over the shelves to spot the blonde head of curls. I wove up and down aisles and around endcap displays to reach her. Getting closer, I slowed my pace. The distinct sound of sniffling in between mumbling became louder. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor, like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz, because that’s how evil I felt right now. I pivoted on my heel, ready to bolt.
“Hey, Chloe. It’s g-good to see you.” Megan dabbed her eyelids with a tissue, and her lips quivered in a smile. “Are you here to buy? Everything is half p-price.” She dissolved into blubbering once more.
I wrapped my arms around her, and she buried her face into my chest. “I heard the bad news and thought I’d stop by to offer my sympathies. This really sucks. Is there anything I can do to help?”
She pulled away and blotted the damp spot on my blouse with her tissue. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin such a pretty b-blouse.” Her chest heaved. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. Mom and Dad are letting me stay with them until I figure out what to do. After all, they should be used to my failures b-by now.” She bit down on her fingers for several seconds. “There. All better.”
I knew I should turn and walk out before saying anything else. Not ask questions, not dig for dirt or stir the pot. “So, what happened? I can’t believe your investor is bailing on you like this. Such a lousy move.” I might as well change my name to Judas.
“Like I told Izzie, the quarterly sales are down, and I have no capital to keep the shop from hemorrhaging.” She shrugged. “I guess my investor has a more profitable use for his or her money.”
“His or her? You don’t know who your investor is?” I gaped. “How did that happen?”
“My dad’s lawyer represents a group of investors. He offered to ask if anyone would be interested in my shop. One thing led to another, and then I had the money I needed to open. As long as I agreed to the investor remaining anonymous, that is. According to my dad, it’s done that way all the time.” She walked to the front of the shop and grabbed a bottle off the counter. “I guess backing out of investments is done all the time too.”
“I’m sorry. Finding out from the bank that way must’ve been hard. Calling you to come in and dropping the news on you like that.” I wasn’t known for subtlety. I tiptoed like a two-ton elephant through that territory.
“I found out from my dad’s lawyer, actually.” She rummaged through a bag and pulled out a handful of curly fries.
I chewed on my upper lip. The visit to the bank had nothing to do with her investor. “I don’t suppose your investor has a thing for Hawaii, does he?”
“What?” She stopped chewing for a moment, then averted her gaze to stare at the fast-food bag and plucked out another fry.
“Never mind. I should probably be going.” I hefted my bag over my shoulder, then paused at the door. “How well do you know Grayson Stone?” At once, her face blushed bright red.
“I’ve run into him a couple of times. Why?” She turned to stuff the bag and the empty bottle in the trash can behind her.
“I know he was the one you argued with that day at the Blue Whale, Megan. Is he … is Grayson Stone giving you problems?”
A nervous titter escaped. “Don’t be silly. It was all a misunderstanding. He forgot to pay for an item when he shopped at my store. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work packing.”
I left the shop and checked my watch. Maybe I was overreacting and her actions were innocent, but I wasn’t totally convinced she was telling the truth about the argument with Grayson. Same thing with the Fizzy Orange soda bottle and fast food from Bob’s Barbecue she was scarfing down, which could be pure coincidence. Lots of folks enjoyed Bob’s food. Bottom line, I came away with no idea if I was right or wrong about Megan. “File those details under the Hunter’s hunches-are-not-evidence column.”
I kicked at stones scattered on the pavement and, instead of going straight to the shop, I steered a path to the lake. Benches skirted the shore, and I sat on the closest one. My gaze followed the sailboats skimming across the lake. I recognized the Abbington vessel with the blue and white sails and the name No Regrets painted in a curly scrawl of black letters. I’d listened to Mom and Dad boast for days how they would take first prize in the boat race, which really was no more than a ribbon because this event was a fundraiser, but they were excited and motivated. According to Izzie, they’d been practicing for weeks and argued about everything from tacking to backing to who tied the best clove hitch. The race was tomorrow morning, which meant Mom and Dad would go to bed early this evening. With any luck, dinner would be a quick affair. No time for Mom to poke and probe or volley hints across the table about a reconciliation between Ross and me. Thank goodness. Closing my eyes and lifting my chin, I soaked in the sunlight. My mind drifted to other problems. I wanted to help Izzie in any way I could. She was stressed because I was feeling the same way. Sister empathy in overdrive. My eyes popped open, and, on a whim, I pulled off my sandals. Taking a cue from Ross, I sprinted across the grass and stepped knee-deep into the lake. With both hands, I splashed water on my face and neck. I grinned. He was right. This was the perfect way to decompress.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Megan coming out of her shop. Arms swinging side to side, she power walked across her lawn and took a turn to the left, instead of heading toward Paint with a View and Whisper Lane. I stopped splashing and let my hands drop. In a few hundred yards, she disappeared beyond the townhouse development that towered over some of the small lake cottages. I puzzled over where she could be going. Most every house along that end of the lake was a rental, and none of them belonged to Megan. I left the water for dry land and slipped into my sandals. I considered following her, but the possibility of getting caught squashed my enthusiasm. Besides, most likely what she was doing, where she was going, and who she was seeing had nothing to do with Fiona and her murder. I was grasping for any lead that took Izzie and me off Hunter’s radar. I shifted my gaze toward Paint with a View and headed in that direction. All these problem-solving thoughts in my head exhausted me. I was done playing snoop for the day.
Chapter Fifteen
“Would you all move a little to the right?” I stood, lifted my chair, and waited while Izzie, Megan, Gwen, and Penny scooted over.
Ross had backed out of both dinner and this morning’s invitation to watch the sailboat race. Some excuse about a web consult with a client he couldn’t afford to cancel smelled of the old Ross, who put all things personal on a back burner. No shocker there. Old habits were hard to break. At least I had avoided any possibility of a mom interrogation. Maybe after this she’d back off playing Cupid. Unless there was an apocalypse or an invasion of aliens to excuse you, no one canceled on one of Kate Abbington’s dinner invitations.
“Wait! Don’t set your chair on my burrito.” Izzie snatched a bag off the ground and heaved a sigh.
I squirmed in my seat to get comfortable, then perched binoculars on the bridge of my nose.
A colorful array of sailboats sat in a wavy line, waiting for the signal.
“There!” I pointed. “Second from the far end.”
Mom and Dad’s vessel looked so pristine. The fresh coat of paint had certainly given its appearance a lift. With such good care, no one could tell the boat was more than three decades old. The wedding gift from Granddad Abbington had been cherished as well as used hundreds of times on trips to vineyards, to camping spots, or for a spur-of-the-moment sail around the bay.
“Pass me a donut, would you, sweetie?” Penny called out from the tail end of our queue.
“Sure thing.” I handed the bag to Izzie, who passed it down the line.
We had front row seats, nestled along the lakeshore, thanks to Penny, who’d arrived at dawn to claim our space by setting out chairs. To make sure no squatters stole our spot, she had parked herself in a seat for three hours until we showed up. As far as I was concerned, she deserved the whole bag of donuts for that act of diligence.
Claire set up a portable kiosk to sell baked goods and coffee from For Sweet’s Sake while Bob claimed the spot next to her, offering his signature Fizzy Orange beverage and breakfast burritos with barbecue dipping sauce on the side.
Food was my favorite part of the show, even if it wasn’t the main attraction. The sailboat race was an annual event. Each year, the money raised went to a different charity or fundraiser. Businesses sponsored the participants in the race, while town residents bought raffle tickets to win door prizes. Last year, Mom won a cement swan from Bellini’s Nursery and placed it in the front yard. She painted it tangerine orange to match the porch swing. Definitely a conversation starter. I smiled as Gwen and Penny argued over the last custard-filled donut.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure there are plenty more. Be right back.” I jogged over to the baked goods kiosk and waited in line. Even Claire and Bob gave a portion of their sales to the cause. By the looks of the crowd, the lighthouse and ferry fundraiser should make a killing.
The bellowing sound of the horn signaled the start of the race. I purchased a dozen assorted donuts and bagels, then hurried back to my seat. “Here.” I shoved the bag at Izzie and snatched the binoculars from her lap.
“Hey! Not nice.” She wrinkled her brow and stuffed half an éclair in her mouth.
I ignored her and peered across the lake. Mom and Dad’s No Regrets was gaining distance, way out in front of other boats, except for one. Its bright yellow sail billowed in the wind as it skimmed at a fast pace. The name of the vessel was etched in blue. “Hummingbird. Who has the boat with the yellow sail?” I nudged Izzie.
“Number?” Izzie stretched the flyer across her lap.
“Hmm?” By now the Hummingbird was several yards ahead of Mom and Dad.
“Chloe, there’s more than one boat out there with a yellow sail. What’s the number? Every boat has one. You know that,” Izzie said.
“Oh. Right. It’s …” I steadied the lens on the Hummingbird. “Seven. Who’s sailing that one?” I set the binoculars down and leaned over her shoulder to read the list of participants. “Seriously?”
“Is he even allowed in the race? I thought only residents of Whisper Cove could participate.” Izzie smacked the paper with her hand. “I’m lodging a complaint.”
“Complaint about what?” Gwen stretched her neck to get a look.
“Grayson Stone is number seven. Are out of towners allowed to participate?” Izzie asked.
“Who’s Grayson Stone?” Penny pulled a custard donut from the bag.
“An out of towner, obviously.” Gwen nodded.
“Say. Speaking of out of towners, did any of you get a letter in the mail from some company in New York City with an offer to buy your shop?” Penny turned her head side to side.
“Not me, but when I spoke to my cousin Sally—she works for the county, you know—she told me there’s news about some bigwig real estate developer from upstate that’s interested in building resorts and condos around Chautauqua Lake. I wonder if Whisper Cove is on their radar,” Gwen said.
“Boy, I sure hope not. I’d like our cozy little town to stay just as it is.” Penny nodded.
“I need something to drink. Anyone else?” Megan stood and hurried toward Bob’s kiosk without waiting for an answer.
“Well, I’m saying something. It doesn’t seem right.” Izzie sipped her coffee.
“What’s that?” I turned my attention back to her, quickly dismissing Gwen and Penny’s conversation.
Izzie pointed toward the lake. “The Hummingbird and Grayson Stone.”
The Hummingbird was still leading, but No Regrets was closing in. “Mayor Porter’s in line for a burrito. Why don’t you go talk to him?”
“Ha! You want to get rid of me so you can hog the binoculars.” She stood and handed me the flyer. “Fine. I will because somebody needs to.”
I glanced for a second as she marched over to Bob’s kiosk. Fat chance she’d get anywhere with Porter. He only saw dollar signs when it came to negotiating town business. My guess was Grayson had charmed his way into the event by bribing Porter with a hefty donation to the fundraiser. Izzie’s complaint would fall on the mayor’s larger-than-life deaf ears.
“Would you look at that? Jake’s boat is passing your mom and dad’s and catching up to the out-of-towner guy.” Penny sprang from her chair and waved both arms. “You go, honey! You can win this.”
I couldn’t help my grin. Jake Marino and Penny had been an item and top news of town gossip for several years. No one was surprised that bets were made on whether Jake or Penny would pop the question sometime in the next decade. As long as they stayed together and happy, I was glad because that meant cheaper costs for car repairs. Something about the saying “happy wife, happy life” could apply here.
I peered through the binoculars. Jake puckered his lips, then blew several kisses in a sappy but cute gesture. As quick as a wink, he returned his concentration to sailing Penny Lane. His love for both the Beatles and his significant other was obvious. I gripped the binoculars. Poor Jake. If his goal was to beat the Hummingbird, the dream was fading because the distance between the two vessels widened. My heart sank as No Regrets fell farther and farther behind to fourth or maybe fifth place. Our household would be quietly depressing this evening.
“What’d I miss? Oh, wow! Oh, that’s not good.” Izzie sank in her chair while her gaze fixed on the boat race. “Mom and Dad will be so disappointed.”
“Yeah, well. So will Jake.” I pointed to the Penny Lane as she sailed neck and neck with the vessel named Pickles to the finish line.
“Is that Edna Charles? I thought she sold her boat to Timothy Olebotham.” Izzie leaned forward.
“She did, sweetie. Timmy’s sailing Pickles. He promised not to change the name. In remembrance of Edna’s dog, you know.” Penny chewed on her éclair with ferocity. “Jake will be devastated if Timmy gets second place. I should head over to give him moral support.”
“Looks like Mom and Dad are taking fourth place.” I slumped in my chair. “Let’s go cheer them up.” I stood and tugged at Izzie’s arm.
Izzie turned to Megan. “You want to tag along?”
“Nah. I’ll stay and keep Gwen company.” She patted Gwen’s arm. “If that’s all right with you?”
Gwen rubbed her thighs. “My legs are killing me. Ballroom dancing sure is a workout. And I’d love to stay for some girl talk with you.”
“Okay, then. We’re off.” Izzie linked her arm through mine, and we headed to the far end of the lake, mixing in with the crowd that had the same destination in mind.
“What did Porter have to say?” I asked but could guess the answer.
“A thousand-dollar donation trumped my words of protest. Moving on.” She shrugged.
As we drew closer, the sparks of a heated argument filled the air with a hostile tone.
“I guess we end this event with fireworks.”
“Not much different than other years. Remember when Bob and Jake battled
it out over who got third place? Too bad we don’t have some fancy camera taking shots at the finish line to decide. You know, like in horse races or football games?” Izzie nudged a huge lumberjack of a man in front of us to move to the side and we slipped through to get a better view.
Jake and Timmy were nose to nose, their faces both the shade of ripe tomatoes, while every five seconds or so, Penny attempted to pull them apart. Meanwhile, Grayson stood farther to the side. Mayor Porter and Charlie Wales presented him with the symbolic blue ribbon, shaped like a sailboat. The polar opposites of the scene were almost comical.
“Maybe we should go. I need to open the shop so we can finish prepping for this evening.” Izzie shifted her feet backward. “Besides, the outcome of who wins the fight will be buzzing through town within the hour.”
She was right about the buzzing through town. More than half of Whisper Cove attended this morning’s event, and it took only a handful of folks to spread the news.
“I didn’t notice Willow at the lake. Did you?”
“Nope. Maybe she hates boats.” Izzie unlocked the front door of the shop.
I snorted a laugh. “Then she came to the wrong town. Nothing but boats and water all around us.”
The shop phone was blinking. Izzie reached over the counter to punch the message button.
Someone coughed, then Willow’s voice cleared to speak. “Sorry. I can’t make it in this morning, but I promise to be there for this evening’s event. See you then.”
A Brush with Murder Page 19