by Sarah Fox
“Let’s keep it that way. And remember what you promised.”
“I remember. No snooping. Asking my mom questions doesn’t count, though.”
“No, that should be safe enough.”
As long as Patricia didn’t find out that she wasn’t the only one her daughter had questioned.
“So…” Sienna set the swing in motion. “Do you think Levi’s alibi is for real? Or would Pippa lie for him?”
“I’m not sure. Any chance you know about their comings and goings last Friday and Saturday?”
“Nope. They’re staying in the suite above my mom’s studio, not in the house, so a lot of the time I don’t know when they’re around.”
Which meant we had no way of confirming Levi’s alibi.
“I wonder if any of our other suspects have alibis,” I mused.
“How would we find out? Should we ask more questions?”
“Not yet,” I said quickly, not wanting her to get any ideas. “I need to think about what to do next.”
Sienna hopped up from the swing. “And I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
“Sienna…”
“Don’t worry, Marley. I won’t ask any questions without you around.” She gave Flapjack and Bentley each a scratch on the head. “I have to go, but I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you,” I returned as she jogged down the steps.
I headed inside after Sienna had gone, the animals following me. Brett’s family was coming over for a barbecue and I needed to get ready. Everyone was bringing something to eat, so I didn’t have too much to do, but I wanted to make sure the house was tidy.
Fortunately, that didn’t take long. All I had to do was put a few things away and sweep up the sand that we’d tracked into the house over the last couple of days. As I worked, I tried to slip puzzle pieces together in my head, hoping to make an important connection or two, but I didn’t get anywhere. That seemed to be the story of my sleuthing life lately.
Too many pieces were still missing. One of the biggest question marks hovered over Bryce Harcourt’s name. Ray hadn’t arrested him, so maybe the fact that he’d lied about being in Wildwood Cove last week wasn’t enough to get handcuffs snapped around his wrists. Still, not being in jail yet didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty. Maybe Ray and his colleagues needed to gather more information before they could charge him with Yvonne’s murder.
I wondered if there was a way I could find out if that was the case. Ray would be the best source of that type of information, but he tended to remain tight-lipped about his investigations, which was understandable.
I considered what Sienna had said about the article found on Yvonne’s computer. Since Ray had asked Levi about it, maybe Levi was mentioned in the article. Perhaps Yvonne had decided to write about Levi and Pippa’s relationship. If anyone else had been the journalist, I would have wondered why they’d bother to write about that subject. Since Yvonne was behind it, the whole point might have been to attempt to embarrass or upset the couple. That seemed to be Yvonne’s style.
If the article was about Pippa’s romantic relationship with her personal trainer and Levi knew Yvonne was writing it, maybe he’d decided to take drastic measures to make sure it never got published. Not knowing how Levi had reacted and responded to Ray’s questions on the subject made it hard for me to assess the viability of that theory.
As I put away the broom, my thoughts returned to Nash Harlow. I poured myself a glass of sweet tea and grabbed my phone, taking both out onto the porch. I settled on the swing, tucking one leg up beneath me, and searched online for more information about Nash. After a few minutes of sorting through articles and other information I didn’t find helpful, I came across a YouTube video featuring the coach.
I let the video play. It showed a sit-down interview of Nash from about three years ago. I didn’t recognize the woman conducting the interview. She was asking Nash questions about two of his top young athletes who were, at the time, getting ready to compete in a triathlon at the world level.
After the first couple of minutes, I almost shut the video off, thinking it wasn’t going to be of any help to me. Then the interview took a more interesting turn.
“How has recent media coverage of your affair with one of your athletes affected your relationship with the other triathletes you coach?” the reporter asked. “Has it caused any strain or distraction?”
Nash’s face clouded over. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Despite his stormy tone of voice, the reporter seemed unfazed.
“Has it had an impact on the training of Rick and Michelle?” she asked, referring to the athletes who were getting ready for the world championship.
Nash’s face flushed with anger. “It hasn’t had any effect on my athletes at all, but it ruined my marriage. Some trash reporter wrote about my private life in an attempt to destroy me. Why do I deserve that? Why?” He leaned forward, his eyes practically bugging out at the reporter.
She didn’t wince or back off an inch. “So you blame the media for the breakdown of your marriage, not your own actions?”
Nash stood up so fast that his chair toppled over. “This interview is over!”
He ripped the microphone from his lapel and threw it to the floor, storming off camera right before the video ended.
I sat back, the swing moving gently as I sipped my iced tea and considered what I’d seen. Nash hadn’t taken any responsibility for his actions and had blamed the media for the failure of his marriage. Most likely he’d specifically blamed Yvonne. I doubted anything had changed since then, considering his feelings toward the murdered reporter.
He certainly had enough anger to be the killer, but did he have an opportunity to commit the crime?
Figuring that out would have to wait. I could hear Brett’s truck approaching along the driveway at the front of the house and I knew his family wouldn’t be far behind him. With Bentley racing ahead of me, I made my way down the porch steps to greet Brett.
An hour later, everyone had arrived for the barbecue and the table on the back porch was laden with food. Brett and his dad were sharing barbecue duty, grilling hamburgers and shrimp skewers that Brett had marinated before leaving for work that morning. While waiting for the meat and shrimp to cook, we all snacked on potato chips, veggies, and dip.
“How’s the wedding prep going?” Brett’s mom, Elaine, asked me.
“Moving along well, I think,” I said. “I got the flowers all ordered this afternoon. They should look great.”
“And Lisa and I have our bridesmaid dresses,” Chloe chimed in as she took a cherry tomato from the veggie platter.
“They’re gorgeous,” I said before munching on a chip.
“But Marley’s dress is even more beautiful.” Chloe nudged me with her elbow. “Show my mom the photo.”
“I want to see it too!” Jourdan, Chloe and Brett’s nineteen-year-old cousin, grabbed a carrot stick and joined us at the end of the table.
I glanced Brett’s way. Chloe correctly interpreted my hesitation.
“He won’t see. Just give them a quick look.”
“All right.” I grabbed my phone.
When I returned to the porch, Brett and Chloe’s aunt Gwen was also waiting to see the photo. I brought it up on the screen and passed my phone over to Elaine.
She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Marley.” Tears filled her eyes, and she seemed unable to say anything more.
She passed the phone to Jourdan, who shared it with Gwen.
I put an arm around Elaine. “You’re not supposed to be crying yet. There’s still a month until the wedding.”
“I’ll try to hold off,” she said, blinking her eyes to ward off the tears. “But you look so perfect in the dress, and seeing that picture somehow makes it all feel so real.”
“That’s w
hat it was like for me when I put the dress on for the first time.”
Gwen and Jourdan both exclaimed over the photo before handing the phone back to me.
“What’s going on over there?” Brett called from where he was standing near the barbecue grill.
“None of your business,” Chloe replied with a cheeky smile.
I stopped next to Brett on my way inside to grab a salad from the fridge.
“I was showing them my wedding dress,” I said before kissing him on the cheek.
He put a hand to my arm to stop me from walking away. “I can’t wait,” he whispered in my ear.
“To see the dress?”
“For all of it.”
I kissed him again. “Same here.”
Soon all the food was ready, so we sat down at the table and dug into a delicious meal while enjoying each other’s company. There was one empty seat at the table, meant for Ray. It wasn’t unusual for him to miss all or part of our gatherings because of work. Gwen had explained that he was putting in extra hours lately because of the murder investigation and all the other issues that typically arose during tourist season when the local population swelled. He was hoping to make an appearance at some point, and he finally showed up when the rest of us were polishing off our food.
Brett quickly set him up with a burger, and Ray added a handful of chips to his plate as he sat at the table. He was still in uniform and he told us he was likely to return to work to put in a few more hours before calling it a night.
I didn’t bring up his investigation while he was eating, letting him enjoy his burger in peace. Later on, while Brett was down by the firepit getting a small blaze going, I joined Ray by the railing. He took a sip of soda from his glass and looked out at the view.
“No arrests yet?” I asked.
He sent a sidelong glance my way. “Not yet.”
“Remember how I mentioned Nash Harlow before?”
“The triathlon coach.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I know you don’t want me getting involved, but I came across a video that I think you should see, if you haven’t already.”
“A video of Harlow?”
“An interview of him from a few years ago. One second.”
I dashed into the house and grabbed my phone for the second time that evening. Everyone else was down by the firepit when I returned and played the video for Ray.
When it reached the part where Nash’s temper flared, I thought I saw Ray’s eyes sharpen with interest. It was hard to tell, though. He was good at keeping his expression neutral.
“Can you email me the link?” he requested when the video ended.
I knew then that he was definitely interested.
“Sure.” I did that right away.
“And, Marley…”
“I know,” I said quickly. “You want me to leave the case alone. But there’s one more thing.” I rushed to continue before he could protest. “Bryce Harcourt. Has he explained why he lied about being in Wildwood Cove last week? Because I know Patricia Murray is worried about having a murderer staying at her B&B. His room’s right down the hall from Sienna’s!”
Ray set his glass on the railing. “The Murrays aren’t in any danger from Harcourt.”
“Are you sure?”
He glanced up at the sky with a shake of his head, but he didn’t seem angry. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But Patricia truly is worried. And there’s Levi. He’s a suspect too, right?”
“Levi Carter hasn’t been ruled out yet, but Bryce Harcourt isn’t the killer. He lied about being in town when his ex-wife was killed because he thought he’d be a suspect, but we’ve ruled him out. He’s in a relationship with a woman who competed in the games earlier this week. He was here to see her and they were together when Yvonne was killed.”
“And you’re sure?”
He didn’t hide his exasperation. “Yes, Marley, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I knew he’d shared a lot more than he typically would have, and I appreciated that. “Is it all right if I pass that on to Patricia?”
“I suppose that won’t hurt.”
I thanked him again, and we joined the others down by the firepit. Ray left a few minutes later to head back to his office in Port Angeles, but everyone else got settled in folding chairs or on the rustic wooden benches set around the firepit. The beach was fairly busy, with lots of people out enjoying the beautiful evening, but it grew quieter as time passed. At one point I spotted Pippa and Levi walking hand in hand toward town. I sat snuggled up to Brett’s side, his arm around me as we chatted and laughed with his family.
When the sun sank out of sight, we brought out the marshmallows and toasted them over the flames. After burning my first one into a charred lump that fell off my stick and into the fire, Brett toasted marshmallows for both of us. I was in the midst of savoring the gooey deliciousness of one he’d handed me when my gaze strayed beyond the dancing flames to the darkening beach.
As I swallowed down the marshmallow, my heart rate picked up.
A shadowy figure stood off in the distance, watching us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Who’s that?” I spoke so quietly that Brett was the only one to hear me.
“Who’s who?” he asked.
I nodded toward the shadowy figure. “Over there.”
By the time the words were out of my mouth, I was already on my feet.
With so many people nearby, I didn’t feel unsafe approaching whoever was on the beach, but a hint of wariness accompanied me. Why watch us from the darkness? If it was a friend or neighbor, they could have walked right up and said hello.
The person took a step backward as I drew closer, as if they were about to retreat. Then they seemed to realize they were caught and stayed put.
“Avery?” I said with surprise when I was close enough to recognize her.
Brett came up behind me, resting a hand on my lower back.
Avery flashed a smile at me. “Sorry if it seemed like I was lurking. I thought I recognized you, but I wasn’t sure. And I wondered if…”
Although she trailed off, I figured I knew what she’d left out. “You thought maybe Tommy was here with us?”
She shrugged and her smile was sheepish this time. “Yeah.”
“He’s not.” My voice had more of a blunt edge than I’d meant it to.
“Okay…”
Awkwardness wedged itself between us.
“Brett, this is Avery.” I made the introduction more to fill the silence than out of politeness. “She’s volunteering at the games. Avery, this is my fiancé, Brett.”
“Nice to meet you,” Brett said.
“You too.” Avery took a step backward. “I’d better get going.”
Without another word, she headed off along the beach toward town.
Tension eased out of my muscles, and I sensed Brett relaxing next to me. I hadn’t realized until that point how on edge we’d both been.
“That was…” Brett started to say.
“Strange?” I suggested. “It was.”
“She’s a friend of Tommy’s?” Brett asked as we headed back toward the glow of the fire.
“Something like that. They just met recently. I don’t know if they’re friends or if they’re dating, but if they aren’t dating, I’m pretty sure Avery wants them to be.”
We didn’t say anything more about it as we rejoined Brett’s family, but it took several minutes of sitting by the fire for me to lose the chill that had settled over me.
* * * *
I eventually managed to push Avery to the back of my mind until I saw Tommy at The Flip Side the next morning. The uneasy feeling she’d instilled in me left me concerned for Tommy. Was she too interes
ted in him?
Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I hoped that was the case. I was curious to know how Tommy felt about her, but I didn’t want him to think I was prying.
“I talked to Rob last night,” Tommy said after I’d greeted him and Ivan.
“The reporter?” Ivan asked.
“Yep.” Tommy sliced up a banana as he talked. “Marley and I were hoping he’d know something about Jay Henkel.”
Ivan raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
“He’s a sports photographer in town for the games,” I explained.
“And one of Marley’s suspects,” Tommy added.
Ivan narrowed his eyes at me.
I thought he was about to voice his disapproval of my penchant for investigating, so I quickly said, “He didn’t like Yvonne, and he has a habit of taking photos of people without them knowing.”
“Isn’t that what sports photographers do? Take photos?”
“Sure,” I said, “but these aren’t sports photos.” I told him about the pictures of Felicia and Yvonne arguing and the one of Pippa and Levi kissing.
“What does he do with the photos?” Ivan asked as he mixed up some breakfast scone batter.
The delicious scents of apple and cinnamon wafted my way.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
Tommy unpeeled another banana and sliced it up as well. “I’ve got an idea, thanks to Rob.”
“So he does know Jay?”
“Not personally, but he’s heard of him. Rob used to work at the Seattle Insider.”
“Where Yvonne worked?”
“Yep. And Jay worked there for a while too. Until Yvonne got him fired. Now he’s freelance.”
The oven timer dinged. Tommy set down his knife and wiped his hands before opening the oven and removing a tray of maple pecan sticky rolls. The enticing aroma almost distracted me from our conversation, but not quite.
“How did Yvonne get Jay fired? That sounds like a motive for revenge and maybe even murder.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tommy removed a second tray of sticky rolls from the oven. “Rob doesn’t know all the details, but the rumor was that Jay was using photos to blackmail or influence people.”