by Agatha Ball
"Oh," I said. "That's really helpful. Thanks, I'll do that."
"Anytime," he replied, going back to wiping out his glasses.
"But, what I was saying was that—-"
"Hey, Tim!" Jake shouted, waving at the bait shop owner I had just said goodbye to a few minutes ago.
Tim's face paled as he looked at me. He patted his pockets. "I left my wallet at my shop. I'll be right back!"
"I'll spot you, Tim! I know you're good for it!"
"No," said Tim, walking backward. "Thank you, but I think I need to go get my wallet right now. I'll be back. In a little while."
"I'll keep the griddle hot for you!" Jake said as Tim hurried out the door.
Tim's back pocket had the suspiciously square shape of a man's wallet.
"Do you think Tim is acting really strange?" I asked.
"Seems fine to me," said Jake. "But that could just be Tim. He's always been a little off, if you know what I mean." He circled his finger around his ear knowingly. He then folded up his arms and rested his elbows on the bar. "But I know you aren't crazy. You were saying something when he came in."
"It's nothing," I replied.
"No! Go on!"
There was just something about Jake that made me want to confide in him. "The worst thing about this all has been being accused of killing that guy myself."
Jake outright guffawed. "People think YOU were even CAPABLE of killing that guy?"
"RIGHT?" I said, feeling for the first time like someone understood how ludicrous it was. "I mean... Look at me. I wouldn't even know how to do it."
"And it was a big guy, too, wasn't it?" Jake asked.
"I actually have no idea," I replied. "I kind of ran away as soon as I realized I was stepping on his hand."
"Smart girl," Jake complimented.
"But then this sailor came into Granny's shop earlier today."
"A sailor?" repeated Jake, looking at me with some disbelief. "Next you're going to tell me stories about butlers killing people in drawing rooms with candlesticks."
"No, really! This crazy sailor guy! And the moment I mentioned it to Tim, he suddenly had to go running off like he had forgotten something. Just like he did now."
Jake looked at the door. "Huh. Some sailor has Tim all scared? What did the guy look like?"
I gave Jake the full rundown. By the time I was done, he gave a low whistle. "Listen, I'll stop by and see what's up with Tim. It could be nothing more than an unwanted relative or one of his wife's ex-boyfriends. Who knows?"
"I hope it is just something like that," I admitted.
"Do you think it might have been something more?"
"I don't know," I replied, suddenly realizing I had just unloaded all over Jake and forgotten I was supposed to be the one asking questions. "We — Byron's nephew and I — were looking through some of Byron's things and discovered he was buying up a lot of land under people's businesses. Did he ever approach you about stuff like that?" I asked.
Jake shook his head. "Nope. Never did. Although if that old bastard ever stepped across this threshold, I would have popped him in the nose."
"Why?" I asked, surprised by Jake's vehemence.
"Aw, he was trying to crowd Yvette out of her shop."
"Why was that?" I asked. "What did he have against that shop?"
"Maybe he thought he could squeeze Yvette out if he bought up everything under her and around her. He was a vindictive old bastard."
"Oh," I replied, realizing where some of the puzzle pieces might fit. "Someone said that this all started after Yvette's husband was arrested. That's when Byron started acting differently toward her."
"Don't know about that," said Jake. "Feels like things were never right with that guy."
"It seems like everyone hated him... I mean... everyone but Georgia." I leaned forward and whispered. "She told me she thought he was going to propose."
"GEORGIA!" Jake burst out with laughter. "Oh man... that is RICH! And makes so much sense. Birds of a feather. Him and GEORGIA!" He slapped his thigh. "Well, I never."
"Don't tell anyone!" I said to him. "She made me promise not to tell anyone."
"We bartenders keep secrets better than a priest in a confessional." He gave me a wink.
I realized he had done a really good job of getting me talking. "So, since you hear so many people talking, can you think of anyone who would want Byron dead? I mean, not just hypothetically?"
Jake thought for a few moments. "Did they get the autopsy report back yet?"
"Not yet," I replied.
"Well," said Jake. "If it was just a drowning, it would have had to have been someone who could have lured him to the edge of the bluff. I can't think of anyone who would have been able to do that... except..." Jake looked concerned.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Well, if what you are saying is true and he was after Yvette's shop... no. I don't even want to think such a thing. I've known Yvette for years. No."
I realized what he was saying, though. Everyone said Byron was after Yvette's business. He probably would have met her anywhere. Was she desperate enough to take a man by surprise and push him off a cliff? Looking at Jake's face, I saw how much he didn't want to believe Yvette was capable of such a thing.
I offered up a hypothesis. "But if that's what happened, maybe he lured her out there. Maybe he attacked her and it was just self-defense."
Jake seemed relieved to have an alternate idea. "That could be what happened. I mean. If that's even what happened. We won't know until we see the autopsy report." He leaned on the counter. "Because if for some reason he was drugged or incapacitated, someone would have to have been strong enough to carry him to the bluff." Jake looked at the door. A shadow crossed over his face. "You don't think Tim... I mean... he's strong enough to haul in nets full of fish, and has landed some swordfish larger than a grown man..." He stopped himself again. "Now you've got ME going through crackpot conspiracies." He hadn't quite talked himself out of the thought, though. "But if the autopsy comes in, and Byron died from anything but drowning, someone pretty strong must have moved him."
I stood up.
"Hey! You barely touched your burger," he said. "You want me to box it up for you?"
"All this talk made me lose my appetite," I said.
"Sorry about that," he replied. I started to pull out my wallet but he waved me back. "Don't worry about it. On the house. You gave me some of the most fascinating conversation I'll have all day. Come back anytime!"
I smiled. "Thanks, Jake."
"Really, anytime," he reiterated, clearing my plate away. "Keep me updated on your sleuthing, Nancy Drew." He gave me a wink.
"Will do," I replied. "That's a promise!"
As I walked out the door, I realized it was almost time to meet Nate. And fortunately for the both of us, it was in Yvette's cafe. I had a few questions I wanted to ask her; and I wanted to see, too, if she was hiding any bruises. As much as Jake wanted to think the murderer might be Tim and not Yvette, there was a part of me that wondered if perhaps Jake was blinded by love.
Chapter Seventeen
Nate was sitting inside the cafe as I arrived. Yvette's place wholeheartedly embraced the shabby-chic, French country look. Everything was whitewashed shiplap. Pretty blackboards hung from the wall, featuring handwritten menus in colored chalk. There were booths by the window, and Nate had found a spot where we could have a good view of the sidewalk. He was looking at his menu, but the bell over Yvette's door tinkled merrily and he looked up. A great big smile crossed his face.
It felt good to see him so soon for me, too. I slid into the booth across from him. "How'd it go?" I asked.
"Very, very interesting," he said. He held up his hand to reveal a highly buffed manicure. "The ladies in the beauty shop are absolutely lovely, by the way."
I laughed. "They do good work."
"How about you?" he asked. "Did you have any success?"
"I think I did," I replied.
I stop
ped as Yvette came over. She pulled out her pad and a pencil. "And what will you two lovebirds be having to drink?"
"Oh... we're not..." Nate and I said in unison.
Yvette crossed her arms knowingly and smiled. "My point exactly." She gave us an obnoxious wink.
"Yvette?" I asked, figuring it was going to be really awkward if I didn't get the elephant in the room to put all the cards on the table. "You know Nate, right? Byron's nephew."
She didn't even bat an eye. "We haven't met. Now, what will you be having?" she asked.
I grabbed a coffee while Nate just had some water. Yvette's drip coffee was out of a pre-brewed pump pot, but I didn't want to seem like a snob.
"I'll give you a few more minutes to look things over and be back," she announced.
"Did she seem suspicious to you?" said Nate, leaning over the table to whisper at me.
"Not particularly...?" I replied.
"And THAT doesn't seem strange to you?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Think about it. I'm the nephew of the most hated man in town, a man who hated her evidently, and she was totally fine. Didn't say, 'Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss' or 'Your uncle was a bastard' or anything. It should have been at least a little bit awkward."
"Maybe she's just trying to be polite...?" I offered.
Yvette rang up a couple of tourists and then fired up her espresso machine for their drinks. I glanced over and tried not to judge how long she allowed the shots to sit, as she puttered about, before adding them to the drinks. No wonder we had her beat on the coffee front.
"Just feels like there's something else going on," Nate mused.
I leaned across the table. "I just talked to Jake, and he was thinking there might be something funny going on with her, too."
"Huh," said Nate, staring over at her and squinting.
"We should figure out what we're going to order so that WE don't look suspicious," I replied.
By the time Yvette came back, we had both picked out the least murder-y things on the menu. I went for a salad. Nate went for the soup and sandwich combo. Hopefully, our choices seemed normal and not like we were there to find out if Yvette killed Nate's uncle.
While Yvette disappeared into the kitchen, I told Nate everything I had learned, including Tim's weird reaction when I mentioned the sailor and Georgia's belief that she was set to inherit all of Byron's belongings.
"She said they had a 'thing' between them?" Nate clarified. "That woman in the ferry booth had a 'thing' with my uncle?"
"That's the one. She said not to get too comfortable in Byron's house because she is sure he wanted to give it to her."
Nate laughed. "She can HAVE it. Seriously. I'm ready to just set fire to the place and call it a day."
"I'll let her know," I replied. I sipped on my tepid coffee. "Huh," I mused.
"Huh?" Nate repeated back at me.
"Well, I just wonder... if you DIDN'T want someone like Georgia noticing your comings and goings, I wonder where you might land instead."
"Huh," said Nate, sitting back and contemplating my question. "Well, we're on an island and there are plenty of beaches where you could come ashore... I mean... I guess?"
"There are a lot of cliffs," I said. "The water is pretty deep in some areas, but there would have to be some places."
He paused for another moment. "Do you think Johnny would know? I mean, surely, with all his surfing and diving, he must know this island better than anyone else."
"Maybe after lunch, we should see if he wants to take us out," I suggested. "It couldn't hurt. Maybe if that sailor came in on an actual boat, we'll see it somewhere."
"Sounds like a really good idea, Paige." Nate smiled. "You're pretty fantastic at this whole sleuthing business."
"That's just what Jake was telling me at the bar."
Yvette came out of the kitchen with our order. She set it down in front of us and then drifted politely away.
Nate bit into his sandwich, set it down, and then pointed at it. "This is good. I really hope that Yvette is not the murderer, because this is REALLY good."
As soon as she saw him finish chewing, she drifted back over. "How is everything over here?" she asked cheerfully. "Good?"
"EXCELLENT sandwich," Nate complimented as he wiped his mouth.
"I hope you're getting done what you need to get done," she replied. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she clenched her teeth. It said louder than words that her earlier politeness was skin deep. "Headed back to the mainland soon?"
I thought now was a good time for mending some fences. And maybe see if Yvette would talk to us over the fence, as it were. "Listen, Yvette. Nate was going through Byron's things and realized his uncle was buying up a lot of land. He wants to be able to sell it back to the shop owners for what his uncle bought it for."
Nate looked at me like I had gone mad. I figure that it is a gentleman's prerogative to change his mind and he could backtrack later. But if we could somehow convince Yvette that Nate wasn't the enemy, we stood a much better chance of getting people to loosen up and welcome Nate in. Maybe even to stop killing people.
I didn't want to say it, but I was thinking about that dead man I discovered.
What if the killer had seen Nate hanging out with me? What if he thought Nate was coming to see me at my cottage? It could have been an easy enough mistake to make in the dark. If someone killed his uncle, it made a lot of sense that they would have gone after the next of kin. MUCH more sense than them just killing a random stranger.
It was that flash of tension on Yvette's face that made me tell the lie. Maybe if we created the gossip that Nate wanted to do right... well... I just wanted to do what I could to make sure it wasn't Nate's body I stumbled across the next time.
And if Yvette was the killer, maybe I could convince her to give Nate a fair shake before taking him down.
It seemed to work.
Yvette seemed totally taken aback. "Oh!" she said. Her demeanor softened and she cautiously seemed to warm a bit toward him. "Well. That is a really nice thing for you to do, Nate," she said.
"Is it true that Byron bought your land?" I asked innocently. "We're just trying to make sure that everyone is accounted for. Things were a real mess up at the house."
Yvette's face flushed and she cast her eyes down at the ground. "No. No, he didn't buy my land. He wanted to. But he didn't." She smiled again, but this time much more real. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know. If you want, I can ask around."
Now I was totally confused. Why had everyone told me that Byron had bought Yvette's land? On the map Nate and I looked at the night before, it said he owned it. How did she get the property back?
"That's such a relief to find out we're square with you," said Nate, sighing. "You make a mighty fine sandwich, and I would've been sad if I couldn't come back for another one tomorrow."
She smiled again and this time it was a little bigger. Nate really knew how to work the charm, I thought.
"Well, you and I are right as rain, Nate. He very much wanted this place. In fact, sometimes he was a little pushy about it. But, I held firm."
"Why did he want your place so badly?" I asked. "I mean... not that I am into gossip, but I heard he REALLY wanted this place bad."
Yvette shrugged. "I just don't know. He was bent on it, though. He would stop by at all hours. Call me at home. Call my family at home..." Her mouth thinned into a line.
"That's AWFUL!" I said.
"I know he's your uncle," said Yvette to Nate, "But he wasn't always the kindest man to people. I'm glad to see that quality was not passed down through the family."
"I'll try my best to make up for any of the hardship he put this town through," said Nate. "And I mean that."
Yvette took the check off the table and ripped it up. "Listen. This lunch? On the house. On account of all that you've been through. You haven't exactly been welcomed into the community with open arms, and that was our mistake. You're always welcome h
ere, Nate." She leaned forward. "You know. As long as you don't go trying to buy my place."
Nate stuck out his hand. "You have yourself a deal."
And then they shook on it.
Yvette went back to the counter as the bell over the door rang to alert her to new customers. Nate sat for a moment, smiling and watching her until he was sure she was fully engaged and then leaned over the table at me. "Um... thanks for making promises I may or may not be able to keep...?"
"I'm sorry!" I apologized. "It just came out. But look! You had someone who hated you and now she doesn't. That's a good start, right?"
Nate ran his fingers through his light brown hair. "Listen, I don't even know if I CAN keep that promise to everyone else. I mean, I would like to..."
You know, I had been a little judgmental about the way that Jake had been unable to believe Yvette could have done something wicked. But Nate's kneejerk stonewalling gave me a flash of realization that I might be guilty of the same sin. "Why couldn't you?"
"I was looking through his paperwork, and it is a LOT of money."
"Is that a problem?" I said. "I mean... he was buying it up from people for pennies on the dollar."
"But... The value of the land is SO much more."
"Which is why you should sell it back to them for the cost of what you got it for."
"I don't know how much he owed," Nate replied. "I don't know if he borrowed money from a bank or got some investors to buy it. I mean, it seems like something he would have had to do. How am I going to pay that back?"
"Nate, your uncle swindled a bunch of people out of their land. Land that sits under their shops and... I mean... these are people's lives. Their ONLY lives. It is not like they can go off and get another job somewhere."
"I just don't know WHY he did it yet," Nate said. "Let me figure out why, just to make sure I'm not getting us into hotter water than we already are. It could be there are contracts or loans or... I don't know what. Just... Let me figure where everything stands, first. It could be that he was in financial trouble. Maybe he bought it because he really needed to sell it. I just don't know."
"But if that's not the case, if things are free and clear, you'll sell it back to everyone at cost, right?"