Much Ado about Nutmeg

by Sarah Fox

  “Don’t be silly.” Lisa took hold of my shoulders and turned me so I was facing the mirror. “You look like a princess!”

  When I saw my reflection, all I could do was stare at myself, my tongue suddenly unable to work.

  “See?” Lisa said.

  “Holy buckets,” I whispered when I finally found my voice.

  Lisa was smiling over my shoulder. “I told you. A princess.”

  “It’s not just the dress.” I struggled to overcome the powerful emotions that had hit me like a rogue wave. “I’m getting married.”

  Lisa laughed. “That’s why you bought a wedding dress.”

  Her laughter helped me to feel less overwhelmed.

  “I think it truly hit me for the first time, you know?”

  She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. “And you’re happy, right?”

  I studied my reflection again, my smile almost blinding me. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

  * * * *

  I needed to contact the tailor Patricia had recommended. The dress’s bandeau bodice had to be taken in, and I was thinking of getting the skirt shortened slightly. I didn’t want it dragging too much in the sand. But other than that, the dress was perfect.

  My smile stayed on my face all the way through lunch and my walk home. Brett had texted me while I was at Lisa’s to say he was making a trip to the hardware store, so I wasn’t surprised when I arrived home and he wasn’t there. After all the emotions that had run through me while I was at Lisa’s house, I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around Brett and kiss him, but that would have to wait.

  In an attempt to keep myself occupied, I booted up my laptop and settled on the couch with it, leaving the French doors open so I could enjoy the slight summer breeze. Bentley settled on his bed across the room from me, and Flapjack padded his way out onto the back porch and stretched out in a patch of shade.

  Once I had my Internet browser open, I did a search using Claudia’s and Yvonne’s names. Claudia’s story of what the reporter had done to her a few years ago had shocked me when I’d heard it, and I was still astounded by Yvonne’s cruelty. I wanted to see if I could find any of the posts or references to them online. I thought Claudia had told the truth, but I wanted to double-check.

  It didn’t take much digging to find one of the posts. Someone—a friend of Claudia’s, I gathered—had blogged about what Yvonne had done. The reporter had tweeted a photo of a plump Claudia taking part in a race and had added the caption “Race Walk or Elephant Race?” A screenshot of the original tweet was included with the blog post.

  Despite already knowing what Yvonne had done, seeing the tweet shocked me anew. How could anyone be so cruel?

  I quickly read through the rest of the blog post. Apparently, Yvonne had deleted her tweet in the face of angry backlash from the Golden Oldies athletic community, but not before the author of the blog post had taken the screenshot of it.

  I didn’t bother searching for any more of Yvonne’s cruel posts about Claudia. Seeing one was enough.

  Next, I plugged Felicia Venner’s name into the search bar. After skimming through the results, I learned that Felicia had competed at the Olympic Games in her twenties and had gone on to have a coaching career. From what I could tell, she was still involved in coaching and had taken up competing in the Golden Oldies Games as soon as she’d turned fifty about five years ago.

  When I added Yvonne’s name to the search, I found an article the reporter had written about Felicia around that time. By that point, I shouldn’t have been surprised by Yvonne’s cruelty, but I still couldn’t help but wince when I read part of the article.

  Failed athlete Felicia Venner is taking a stab at resuscitating her long-dead career in track and field. Now officially over the hill, Venner is scheduled to compete in this year’s Golden Oldies Games, a sporting event where all the competitors are oldies, but not necessarily golden, Venner being a prime example.

  I didn’t bother reading further. The first few lines were more than enough to put me off.

  How had Yvonne managed to keep her job?

  Maybe she hadn’t. Further investigating revealed that Yvonne had worked for a different newspaper when she’d written the article than she had at the time of her death.

  I browsed through more of the search results and came across a scathing post Felicia had written on Facebook.

  To all my friends who’ve reached out after seeing the recent article about me, thank you for your support. There’s no need to worry about me, though. Yvonne Pritchard has always been a cruel, bitter woman with a shriveled-up heart. Her favorite hobby is trying to tear people down to her miserable level. She’s a pathetic hag, and her words mean nothing to me.

  Claudia had mentioned that the animosity between Felicia and Yvonne had started decades ago, and I now had a glimpse of just how deep that bitterness ran.

  Felicia and Claudia both had reason to dislike Yvonne, and I couldn’t help but wonder if one of them hated the reporter enough to kill her.

  Chapter Ten

  When I heard a car in the driveway a short while later, all thoughts of Yvonne and potential murder suspects fled my mind. I shut down my laptop and left it on the coffee table, getting up in time to meet Brett when he came in the back door.

  I barely gave him a chance to greet an excited Bentley before I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. The kiss lasted until Bentley nosed his way between us, wanting some more attention for himself.

  “You’d think I was missed or something,” Brett joked, petting Bentley on the head.

  “You were,” I said in all seriousness.

  Bentley seemed appeased now, so Brett focused his attention on me, running a hand up and down my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Better than okay,” I assured him.

  “How’s the dress?”

  “It needs adjusting here and there, but otherwise it’s perfect.”

  “That explains the smile.”

  I hadn’t realized until that moment that I had a big grin on my face. “That’s not the reason.”

  “No?”

  I put my arms around his neck again. “I’m so happy because I’m going to marry you in a few weeks and I’m the luckiest person in the world.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, holding me close. “I think I’m the luckiest person in the world.”

  “Maybe we’re tied,” I said, still smiling.

  “I can live with that.”

  We kissed again, but then agreed that we should run some errands. We needed groceries, and normally we’d drive to the store, but having witnessed the state of traffic in town, we opted to go on foot. Between the two of us, we’d be able to carry our purchases home.

  On our way to the grocery store, we stopped in at the flower shop, Blooms by the Beach. Since I had plenty to discuss with Sylvia, the owner of the store, I made an appointment to come back later in the week. Then we made our way over to the grocery store on Main Street, where we filled three of our reusable shopping bags with food.

  When we left the store, we set off down the street at a leisurely pace. The racewalking event was over, but the streets were still closed off for the running and biking portions of the triathlon. Nothing seemed to be happening on Main Street at the moment, however, and only a few people milled about on the sidewalk.

  Brett and I were about to go into the bakery to buy a loaf of bread when I spotted Tommy across the street, hanging around outside Johnny’s Juice Hut.

  “I’m going to see Tommy for a moment,” I told Brett. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about payment for the wedding photos yet.”

  While Brett went into the bakery, I dashed across the street.

  “Hey, Marley,” Tommy greeted when he saw me.

  “Are you here to watch the triathlon?” I asked.
>
  “No, I’m meeting Avery.”

  “The girl you introduced me to the other day?”

  “Yep. We’re going to get drinks here.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward Johnny’s Juice Hut.

  “I won’t keep you long,” I said. “Brett and I have talked about payment for the wedding photos, and we wanted to see if you’re happy with the amount we came up with.”

  Tommy shook his head before I had a chance to say the number. “You’re not paying me anything.”

  “But we have to,” I protested.

  “No, you don’t. And I’m not taking any money from you.”

  “Tommy…”

  He shook his head again. “Nope. The wedding cake is Ivan’s gift to you, and the photos are my gift. You won’t change my mind,” he added quickly when I opened my mouth to protest again.

  “Are you absolutely sure? We really don’t mind paying you.”

  “Nope. Not happening.”

  “But—”

  “You’re the best boss I could ask for, Marley, and you’re my friend. The photos are a gift, so forget about the whole money thing.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I threw my arms around him and gave him a hug.

  “Thank you, Tommy. Brett and I really do have the best friends.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” a female voice said.

  I released Tommy. Avery had arrived. Today she had her auburn hair in a ponytail. She had a smile on her face, but it struck me as forced.

  “You’re not interrupting,” I assured her. “I need to get going. Thanks again, Tommy. You two have a good time.”

  Tommy pulled open the door to Johnny’s Juice Hut. “See you Wednesday, Marley.”

  He held the door open for Avery as I headed for the curb. Before crossing the street, I glanced back over my shoulder, feeling a strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I thought I caught Avery glaring at me through the window of Johnny’s Juice Hut, but when I blinked, she’d turned away. I told myself it was a trick of the light and pushed it from my thoughts.

  * * * *

  That evening Brett and I attended a tennis match at the courts in Wildwood Park. Normally there were only a couple of benches next to the courts, but bleachers had been set up for the Golden Oldies Games so more spectators could enjoy the event. It was free to watch the matches, and the bleachers were half full by the time Brett and I arrived.

  A mixed doubles match started up soon after we found seats and got settled. I didn’t recognize any of the players, but as the match came to an end, I spotted a face in the crowd that I’d seen before.

  “You see that blond man on the other side of the court?” I whispered to Brett. “The one in the yellow T-shirt?”

  Brett’s gaze zeroed in on the man I’d seen at the opening ceremonies. “What about him?”

  “I saw him glaring at Yvonne on Friday. He was muttering to himself about how he couldn’t believe she’d dared to show her face here.”

  “I’m guessing that earned him a spot on your suspect list.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know his name or who he is.” I joined the crowd in applauding for the victorious team as they waved.

  “I don’t think he’s a local,” Brett said as the applause died down. “He doesn’t look familiar.”

  “Then I probably need to ask someone involved with the games.”

  Another match was set to start in a few minutes. Several people got up from the bleachers to leave, stretch their legs, or visit one of the nearby food trucks. Brett and I got up from our seats as well, having decided earlier on that we’d only stay for one match.

  As we made our way down the bleachers, I caught sight of another familiar face in the crowd.

  “I think I know who I can ask,” I said to Brett. “I’ll be right back.”

  I darted around the people milling about at the base of the bleachers and caught up to Pippa as she paused beneath a leafy tree, her gaze glued to her phone as she tapped away at it.

  “Pippa.”

  She raised her head when I said her name and she tucked her phone into her handbag as I approached.

  “Are you here to watch some tennis?” she asked.

  “My fiancé and I watched the last match. We might catch another one later in the week. When do you play?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” she said with a faint, joyless smile. “I can’t say that my heart is in it anymore, though.”

  “That’s understandable. How’s Rowena doing today? Is she still in town?”

  “She is. She doesn’t want to leave until Easton’s been found. She’s a bit calmer today, although still terribly upset. I don’t think she can truly start to heal until Easton’s had a proper burial.”

  “Is anything more known about what happened to him?”

  “No, and I’m not sure there ever will be. Rowena didn’t see him go overboard, so how it happened will always be a bit of a mystery. But at least if his body is found, Rowena can have some closure.”

  “I hope that happens soon.”

  The blond man in the yellow shirt stopped to purchase a drink from a bicycle vendor not far from us.

  I tipped my head his way. “Do you know who that man is?” I asked Pippa.

  “Nash Harlow.”

  “Is he an athlete?” He looked like he might just be old enough to meet the minimum age requirement.

  “A coach. He’s got several athletes competing here at the games. He coaches younger athletes as well, including a couple who’ve made it to the Olympics.”

  “Impressive. Does he coach tennis?”

  “Triathlon.” Pippa’s phone jangled, and she dug it out of her handbag. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this. It’s Rowena.”

  “Of course.” I took a step back. “Good luck with your match tomorrow.”

  I left her to answer her phone call and found Brett waiting for me a few feet away.

  “Any luck?” he asked as he took my hand and we walked toward the edge of the park.

  “His name’s Nash Harlow and he’s a triathlon coach. I didn’t find out about his connection to Yvonne, though.”

  “But you know who he is now. That’s a start.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It is.”

  “You should probably talk to Ray.”

  “About Nash?”

  “And everyone else on your suspect list.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Brett didn’t miss the hint of reluctance in my voice. He gave my hand a squeeze. “It’ll be fine. He might not like you getting involved in his murder investigations, but he also wouldn’t want you withholding any information that might help him track down the killer.”

  I knew he was right about that. I needed to share the information I had, even if it meant risking a lecture about keeping my nose out of the case.

  “I’ll call him when we get home.”

  Brett drew to a stop as we left the grass for the sidewalk. “How about we go for ice cream first?”

  “For the third time in four days?”

  “There’s no such thing as too much ice cream.”

  “True, but I’d better remember to go for a run in the morning.”

  As we resumed walking, someone dashed past us and ran off down the street. It took me a second to recognize the woman.

  “That was Pippa.”

  She’d already disappeared around the next corner.

  “The woman you were just talking to?”

  I nodded. “Rowena was calling her and now she’s running toward the marina. I hope nothing else bad has happened.”

  We picked up our pace, pausing only briefly to make sure the road was clear before crossing and heading down the street to the marina.

  “Something has happened,” I said when the whitewashed hut came into v
iew.

  Two sheriff’s department cruisers were parked in front of the building, and a small crowd had gathered near the top of the ramp.

  Brett and I jogged the remaining distance. I spotted Charlie standing by the ramp, preventing anyone from going down to the docks below. We worked our way through the crowd toward him.

  “What’s going on, Charlie?” Brett asked as soon as we’d reached him.

  Ray was down on the docks with one of his deputies and a couple of civilian men. At their feet was a lumpy form shrouded by a tarp. I guessed the answer to Brett’s question before Charlie responded.

  “It’s Easton Miller,” he said. “His body’s been found.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Another deputy arrived and took up Charlie’s post at the top of the ramp. Charlie led Brett and me away from the small, curious crowd and over to some shade cast by the building that housed the marina’s office. We had more privacy there and a hint of relief from the sun, which was still intense, despite the hour.

  “Was he found by the docks?” I asked once we were out of earshot of the rest of the crowd.

  A sudden image appeared in my mind of Easton’s body bobbing beneath the docks for nearly three days, trapped there as people came and went, none the wiser. Despite the warmth of the evening, a chill trickled along my arms.

  “No,” Charlie replied, banishing the image from my mind, much to my relief. “A couple of local guys were out fishing and spotted him. He wasn’t too far out, though. He probably would have ended up on the beach before long.”

  Another chill spread over my skin, and I rubbed my arms in an attempt to ward it off. Even though he hadn’t been trapped beneath the docks, it was still terrible to think about Easton floating out in the water since he’d gone missing.

  “I guess his wife knows,” I said.

  Most likely that was why Rowena’s phone call had sent Pippa running for the marina.

  Charlie winced. “Yes, she’s still staying on her yacht. She’s in a bad way, but she’s got a friend with her.”

  “At least she can get some closure now,” Brett said.

  We all agreed that was the one hint of good in the unfortunate situation.