by Sarah Fox
“Come in.”
I stepped past her into the warmth of the waffle house and she let the door fall shut behind me.
“I’d offer you tea or coffee, but the kitchen…” She fingered the collar of her shirt.
“Is it still off-limits?” I asked.
“No, the police are finished with it, but I can’t stand the thought of going in there.”
“I understand, and don’t worry. I don’t need anything. I just came to see how you’re holding up.”
Vicky sat down at the nearest booth and I took the seat across from her. She stared past me, out the front window, for a second or two before speaking.
“People have been peering in the window all day long. I was afraid you might be a reporter. I was getting ready to go home. I’m not sure why I even came here today. I felt like I should be here doing something, but I don’t know what. Mostly I sat in the office staring at the wall.”
My heart ached for her. “Do you have any other family in Wildwood Cove?”
“No, none.”
“Where’s Chester?”
“I sent him home earlier. He’s torn up about Wally. He practically idolized my brother.”
I bit down on my tongue before a surprised comment could slip out of my mouth. Idolizing a guy like Wally Fowler was something I had a hard time wrapping my mind around.
Vicky’s hand went back to her collar as she stared at the tabletop. I knew I should probably leave her in peace.
“Is there anything I can get you?” I asked. “Anything I can do for you?”
“Unless you can tell me why this happened…” She trailed off. “Thank you, but no. All I need right now is answers.”
“Has the sheriff given you any?”
“No. He only had questions for me, not answers.” She glanced around until her gaze fell on the clock on the wall. “That reminds me, I should get home. I need to find some receipts for the sheriff.”
“Receipts?”
“From my trip to Seattle. Have you heard that Wally was murdered?”
“I did, yes,” I said.
“I guess everyone knows by now. The sheriff called me in the middle of the night to tell me what happened. I got back here as fast as I could. It was bad enough to hear that my brother had been murdered, but then the sheriff wanted to know where I’d been. I told him I was driving to Seattle last night, but he asked for proof.” A strangled sound escaped her throat, something between a sob and a laugh. She took a moment to compose herself again. “I’m a suspect in my brother’s murder.”
“They probably just want to rule you out,” I said. “If you can prove you were out of town that will likely be the end of it.”
“I can prove it if I can find the receipts. I seem to have misplaced them. But Chester can vouch for me.”
“Chester was with you?”
She nodded, her gaze drifting around the room as if she were hoping to spot her missing receipts lying out in the open.
“I also need to tell the police that the money’s still missing,” she said, so vaguely that I wondered if she was talking to herself rather than me.
“What money?”
“Wally had cash in the safe in the office. About thirty grand.”
My eyes widened. “And it’s gone?”
“Yes. Wally must have removed it before he died, but I don’t know what he would have done with it.”
“Did anyone else have access to the safe?” I wondered if Wally’s murder could be tied in with a robbery somehow.
“Just me.” For the first time since I’d entered the waffle house, Vicky looked right at me. “You were here last night, right? With your chef. The police told me that, but everything’s a bit of a blur.”
“I was here,” I confirmed.
“Did you…” She stopped herself and frowned. “No, don’t tell me if you saw Wally. I don’t think I really want to know.” Her gaze drifted back to the window, going out of focus.
I got up from my seat. “If there’s anything I can do for you, all you have to do is let me know.”
She tried to smile. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about yesterday, the way my brother acted at the pancake house.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that,” I assured her.
“Wally always wanted everyone’s admiration, but he didn’t know the right way to go about getting it.” She pushed herself up from the booth and walked me to the door.
“Will you still be opening the waffle house next week?” I asked.
“No. The waffle house was Wally’s dream, not mine. He picked Wildwood Cove for his latest venture because he’d heard about the popularity of your pancake house, and popularity was always what he wanted.” A cloud seemed to pass across her face, and her attention drifted away from me.
“Again, I’m sorry about Wally.”
She acknowledged the statement with a vague nod, and I pushed out the door, leaving her alone with her grief.
* * * *
I drove home after leaving the waffle house, but I didn’t stay long. After putting my groceries away and spending a few minutes with Flapjack, I decided to check in on Lisa. It was nearly five o’clock by then, so she’d soon be finished work for the day. Brett was working with his dad on a renovation project across town and wouldn’t be free before six, so I had time to kill before we met up for dinner. I could have texted Lisa to see how she was doing, but I wanted to see her in person instead.
I put out some food for Flapjack—receiving a grateful purr in response—and returned to town in my car. As I pulled up to the curb outside of Lisa’s cute white-and-green house, I spotted her walking along the street with Justine Welch. I climbed out of my car and met them on the sidewalk.
“Hi, Marley.” Lisa smiled, but she seemed tired and her eyes weren’t as bright as usual. “Do you know Justine?”
“We met recently,” I said. “How are you, Justine?”
“Great, thanks.”
“Do you want to come inside?” Lisa asked both of us.
“Actually, I have to get going,” Justine said. “I need to pick up my daughter. It was nice to see you both.”
She waved and continued along the street.
“How about you, Marley?”
“If it’s not a bad time.”
Lisa’s tired smile made a brief reappearance. “Of course not.”
“How do you know Justine?” I asked as we headed for the front door. “Did she grow up here in Wildwood Cove?”
“She did. I didn’t know her well back then because she’s several years younger than me, but she was in my yoga class last summer. She’s working for the newspaper now.”
“That’s how we met.” I told Lisa about the photo Justine had taken at the hardware store.
“I really admire her.” She fished her keys from her purse. “She had a disastrous marriage and a messy divorce, but she’s really bounced back.” Inside the house, Lisa dropped her purse and keys on the small table in the foyer. “What brings you by?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m all right.” She hung her coat in the closet and did the same with mine.
“Are you sure? You don’t seem quite yourself.”
She kept her eyes on the closet doors as she shut them. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“I’m guessing you heard about Wally.”
“I don’t even know how to feel about him being dead,” she admitted. “I’m horrified that someone killed him, of course, but I’m also relieved he won’t be around town anymore. Is that awful of me?” Her brown eyes shimmered with tears.
“It’s perfectly understandable.” I hugged her. “All your feelings toward him are perfectly legitimate.”
She tucked her wavy dark hair behind one ear and gave me a glimpse of a tremulous
smile. “Thanks, Marley. Give me a minute to change out of my work clothes.” As she headed up the stairs to the second floor, she called out, “Help yourself if you want something to drink.”
I was about to wander toward the kitchen at the back of the house when I heard footsteps on the front porch. I peeked through the sidelight and saw someone familiar.
“Ivan?” I said, opening the door before he had a chance to knock.
If the chef was surprised I’d opened the door instead of Lisa, he didn’t show it.
“Is Lisa here?” he asked.
I stepped back and opened the door wider. “She’s upstairs, but she’ll be down soon.”
As if on cue, Lisa’s footsteps sounded on the stairway. She appeared a second later, wearing jeans and a sweater instead of her suit.
She wasn’t as surprised as I thought she might be to find the chef standing in her foyer, and her face brightened at the sight of him. “Hi, Ivan.”
Subtle suspicions that had lurked at the back of my mind in recent weeks began to creep forward, growing stronger.
“How are you?” Ivan asked her.
Whatever light had returned to Lisa’s expression faded away. “All right.” She attempted a smile. “Come back to the kitchen, you guys. I could use a hot drink. Do either of you want tea or coffee?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. “I’m meeting Brett for dinner so I won’t stay long.”
Ivan requested tea, so Lisa put the kettle on and took two mugs down from a cupboard.
“Marley, you usually know what’s going on with the sheriff’s investigations,” she said. “Does he know who killed Wally?”
“If he does, he hasn’t told his sister. I stopped by to see her earlier and she didn’t seem to know much about the investigation.”
“Have you heard if there are any suspects?”
I thought I detected a slight tremor to Lisa’s voice when she asked the question. I glanced Ivan’s way and saw him watching Lisa, a deep frown on his face. The downturn of his mouth wasn’t unusual, but his eyebrows had drawn together and there was a worried light in his eyes, one I’d rarely seen.
“Lisa’s the one you saw outside the waffle house last night, isn’t she?” I asked Ivan, the dots connecting in my head.
He didn’t reply, but I read the answer in his eyes. I turned my attention to Lisa. Her hand shook as she removed two tea bags from a box and dropped them into a stout green teapot.
“The sheriff will suspect me.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back before they could escape. “What am I going to do, Marley?”
“Hey.” I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Why would Ray suspect you?”
“Everyone who lived here when Wally was around before knows I blame him for getting Carlos into drugs. And then last night I decided to go to the waffle house.”
“Why?” I glanced at Ivan and suspected he already knew.
“To give him a piece of my mind.” Lisa poured hot water into the teapot.
“And he was still alive?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I never went inside. I ran into Ivan and he convinced me to go home.”
“He wouldn’t have cared about anything you had to say,” Ivan said. “He only would have upset you more.”
Lisa nodded.
“Did you tell Deputy Mendoza that you saw Lisa last night?” I asked Ivan.
His only reply was a curt shake of his head.
“You didn’t have to lie to the police for me,” Lisa told him.
“I didn’t lie. The deputy asked if I’d seen anyone outside the waffle house. We were well down the street when I saw you.”
My growing suspicions solidified. Ivan was trying to protect Lisa, and I knew he didn’t go to such efforts for just anyone. He really cared for her. And from the way she looked at him in that moment, I knew she reciprocated his feelings.
“So no one knows you were nearby on the night Wally died,” I said to Lisa. “That’s good. That means you aren’t on the suspect list.”
“I hope that’s true.” She poured the tea and handed one mug to Ivan, keeping the other for herself.
I wanted to give them some time alone together, but I had another concern to address first.
“What about you, Ivan?” I said. “Do you think you’re on the suspect list?”
Alarm registered on Lisa’s face. “Why would he be?”
“I found the body,” Ivan said. “And I didn’t like the man. He wanted to run Marley out of business, and to put me, Leigh, and Tommy out of jobs.”
“But you wouldn’t have killed him,” Lisa protested.
“We know that,” I said, “but that’s not enough to keep his name off the suspect list. Have you been questioned again?” I asked Ivan.
“Not yet, but I won’t be surprised if it happens.”
“I’ll tell the sheriff I stopped to talk to you that night,” Lisa said. “I’ll be your alibi.”
“No.” Ivan’s tone was resolute.
“I can’t stay quiet knowing you might be wrongly accused.”
“You might be accused if you say anything.”
Lisa opened her mouth to protest again, but I cut in.
“He’s right, Lisa. And I’m not so sure it would do any good if you told the sheriff. Unless there’s some way for him to know exactly when Wally died, down to the minute, and that you were talking to Ivan right at that moment, he doesn’t have an alibi.” I turned to the chef. “Am I right?”
He nodded and scowled into his tea as he took a drink.
Lisa’s shoulders sagged, but then her face lit up with hope. “Maybe we won’t have to worry. If the sheriff finds the killer quickly, everything will be fine.”
Someone knocked on the front door before Ivan or I could comment on Lisa’s statement. She set her mug on the counter and headed for the foyer, with me and Ivan following. I intended to set off for home, but when I saw who stood on the front porch I stopped short.
“Ms. Morales,” Sheriff Ray Georgeson said to Lisa, “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Chapter 7
“Come in,” Lisa said, stepping back to let the sheriff in.
I was impressed by her composure. She appeared calm and at ease, unlike the way she had been in the kitchen only minutes earlier.
“Does this have something to do with Wally Fowler’s death?” I asked, knowing that was most likely the case.
“It does.” Ray ran his gaze over all three of us before addressing Lisa again. “Could we speak privately for a few minutes?”
She hesitated.
“Do you want us to leave or should we wait in the kitchen?” I asked her.
“The kitchen,” she said, sending me a flash of a grateful smile.
I wanted to offer some words of support before I left the room, but I didn’t want to give Ray the impression that she needed any. Ivan didn’t move at first, but after a couple of seconds he followed me to the kitchen.
“She’ll be fine,” I whispered, as much for my own benefit as Ivan’s.
Judging by the unhappy, concerned energy radiating off him, I expected him to pace back and forth along the length of the kitchen. Instead he planted himself in the middle of the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at the open doorway that led to the dining room, which was connected to the living room.
Unable to help myself, I crept closer to the doorway and tried to listen in on the conversation going on in the other room.
“You were seen heading in that direction last night,” I heard Ray say.
“Yes, I was out walking, but I didn’t go as far as the waffle house.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were walking?”
“I saw Ivan.” Lisa’s voice sounded strained. “We stopped and talked for a minute or two. Afte
r that I headed home. I saw my neighbor Joan Crenshaw out walking her dog, but that was much closer to home than to the waffle house.”
“And you didn’t see anyone else?”
“A couple of cars went by when I was on Pacific Street, but otherwise no.”
“I understand you knew Mr. Fowler when he lived in Wildwood Cove before.”
“I knew of him, that’s for sure. His sister was a year ahead of me in school. I never had anything to do with Wally, but I knew who he was. Most people did.”
“I’ve heard it said that you blame him for getting your brother Carlos hooked on drugs.”
There was a beat of silence before Lisa spoke again. “I do. Wally wasn’t good for this town, and I’d be surprised if anyone disagreed with me.”
I couldn’t see how Ray reacted to that statement, but a moment later Lisa continued.
“He didn’t deserve to be murdered, though.”
“Do you have any idea who might have killed him?”
“None. If you want a list of people who didn’t like him, I could give you one, and it would be a long one, but I can’t imagine any of them killing Wally or anyone else.”
“Is there anyone in particular who had a recent grievance with Wally, or a particularly strong one that might have survived all the years he was out of town?”
“Aside from me, you mean?”
I itched to peek around the corner to see Ray’s reaction, but I stayed put.
“I can think of one person,” Lisa continued, “but I’m sure you already know about her. Glo Hansfield.”
“I’m aware of Mrs. Hansfield’s connection to Fowler.”
Hearing movement in the other room, I took a few hurried, silent steps away from the door so I wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping. Voices murmured farther away, and then the front door opened and closed.
Ivan and I left the kitchen to meet Lisa in the living room. She stood by the couch with a hand pressed to her forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She lowered her hand. “I think so. He didn’t grill me like he considered me a suspect. That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is,” I said, although I knew that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t under suspicion.