by Sarah Fox
“The Waffle King’s buddy,” Gary said. “Lester or something.”
“Chester,” I supplied.
“That’s it.”
Leigh was looking after the elderly couple, but two orders of candy cane pancakes were ready to be delivered to another table. Ed and Gary didn’t seem to have much more information, so I was able to tear myself away from them and fetch the pancakes.
My thoughts whirled around and around in my head as I worked. Had something really happened to Chester?
As the morning progressed, it seemed more and more certain that something grave had happened in town, whether it was to Chester or someone else. Almost everyone who came into The Flip Side was talking about the hubbub on Pacific Street. It was late in the morning when Patricia walked into the pancake house and I received more concrete news.
“Did you hear what happened?” Patricia asked as I poured her some coffee.
“I heard that something happened,” I said.
“It’s that friend of Wally Fowler’s. Chester.” She shook her head sadly. “It turns out he’s dead.”
I set the coffeepot down on the table. “How?”
“I don’t know if this is fact or just rumor, but the word is that he was shot. Can you believe it? Two murders in less than a week.”
I struggled to keep up with what she was saying, my own thoughts distracting me.
“They must be connected, don’t you think?” Patricia said.
“It sounds like there’s a good chance of that.”
When I left her to her breakfast a few minutes later, I retreated to my office and sank down in the chair behind the desk. It would probably be best if the two murders were connected. Otherwise, that meant there were two killers loose in Wildwood Cove. One was bad enough, but if the same person had killed both men, then Chester didn’t belong on my suspect list, even if Vicky had given him a false alibi.
What about the attempt to harm Glo with the SUV? Was that connected? I felt sure it must be, somehow. Too bad I hadn’t seen the driver. If I had, all three cases might be solved by now.
My thoughts veered in Vicky’s direction. The poor woman. First she’d lost her brother to foul play, and now her boyfriend. Who did she have left? Anyone?
I couldn’t stick to my plan of pressing her for information after work. That would be too unkind considering this latest loss. I sat back and turned my chair in a slow circle, recalling the last time I’d seen Chester. He’d been drunk at the Windward Pub, complaining about being used. He’d also said he could take someone down.
Had he known something about Wally’s murder?
Maybe he’d known the identity of the killer and had threatened to turn them in to the police. That would explain why he’d ended up as a victim. But he hadn’t only said he could take someone down. He’d said if he went down, he wouldn’t go alone.
That made it seem like it was possible he had something to do with Wally’s death. Perhaps he was in on it with someone else.
Vicky?
I halted the chair’s momentum, facing my desk and sitting up straight as a theory formed in my mind.
What if Vicky really did lie about Chester being with her in Seattle? She and Chester could have conspired to kill Wally together. Maybe Vicky purposely left town so she’d have an alibi, and then she lied to give Chester one too. Meanwhile, Chester carried out the nefarious deed here in Wildwood Cove.
It made sense. Vicky stood to inherit millions upon the death of her brother. She’d claimed she didn’t know for sure if he’d left his estate to her, but that easily could have been another lie. With Wally out of the way, she and Chester could have lived a life of luxury together.
But why kill Chester?
So she could have all the money to herself.
I nearly jumped out of my chair, ready to seek out Vicky for more information. I stopped myself and sank deeper into my seat. I could be wrong, and if I was then Vicky didn’t deserve to be hounded so soon after Chester’s death.
There had to be another way to find out more about Chester and Vicky. I left the office for the kitchen, fueling my brain and body with a lunch of pumpkin pie crêpes and fruit salad. By the time I closed up the pancake house at two o’clock, I’d decided on a plan of action. I had to take care of a few tasks at The Flip Side before I could set out on my quest, however, and while I was busy cleaning the dining area, Sienna showed up, tapping at the front door and waving at me through the glass.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past three, but Sienna must have come straight from school.
“Ahhh. It’s much warmer in here,” Sienna said with appreciation, rubbing her arms as I let her inside. “And I love all the decorations! Did you hear the news about the Waffle King’s friend?”
“I did. Rumors were flying this morning, but it was your mom who told me he was shot.”
“It’s so creepy.” Sienna shivered, and I didn’t think it was from the cold this time. “Do you think the Hansfields might be behind this murder, too?”
“If they’re responsible for Wally’s death, then I think that’s a good possibility. But I do have other suspects.”
“Like who?”
I hesitated, wondering how much information I should share. I was still worried about Sienna getting too enthusiastic about sleuthing, but maybe that ship had already sailed so far from port that there wasn’t anything I could do to draw it back in.
“Wally’s sister, for one. We know she has an alibi for her brother’s murder, but if she gave Chester a false alibi and they were in on the crime together—”
“Then maybe she bumped off Chester!” Sienna finished for me. “She inherited her brother’s money and I heard he was loaded.”
“He was worth millions.”
“His sister probably promised Chester a cut of her inheritance if he killed her brother, but then she wanted to keep all the money for herself so…” She drew a finger across her throat.
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “Although, when I saw Vicky the other day she seemed really smitten with Chester.”
“Maybe she’s a good actress.”
“She could be. I don’t know nearly enough about her to say that’s not a possibility.”
Sienna followed me around the room as I swept the floor. “What I really came here to talk to you about is Bailey.”
“What about her?”
“She was looking super sad this afternoon. I asked her again what was wrong and this time she broke down crying.”
“Did she say why she was upset?”
“Oh, yeah. It was like once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. I guess she’s had everything pent-up inside for a long time.” Sienna picked up the wire stand that held a collection of newspapers so I could sweep beneath it. “It turns out she got caught shoplifting at a store in town. She feels terrible about it. Her dad arranged things so she’s doing volunteer work at the shop to avoid charges.”
“Sounds like she got off lucky.”
“Yep. But that’s not all. Things haven’t been great at home for her since the waffle guy came back to town. Her mom’s been really upset and distracted with him back in her life. Plus, her dad’s been working a lot and he’s all worried about her mom, so Bailey feels like she doesn’t even exist to them anymore. I’m guessing that’s what drove her to shoplifting. Maybe she wanted their attention? And she thinks they’re keeping secrets. They’ve been having a lot of whispered conversations that break off as soon as she enters the room.”
I paused in my sweeping and leaned on the broom handle. “What kind of secrets?”
Sienna shrugged. “She doesn’t know.” She raised her eyebrows. “But maybe we do.”
“Wally’s murder.”
She nodded. “And now maybe this other guy’s murder too. Does that make sense?”
I tapped my fingers against the broom handle. “If Chester somehow knew or suspected that they were behind Wally’s death, then they might have killed him to keep him quiet.”
The enthusiastic light died out of Sienna’s eyes. “Poor Bailey. What will happen to her if both her parents end up in jail?”
“Whoa,” I cautioned. “Slow down. We don’t know for sure that they had anything to do with the murders.”
“But they’re hiding something.”
I remembered how Glo had lied to me the other day. “They are, but we need to keep this to ourselves for now, okay? Rumors—even if they turn out to be untrue—could be devastating for Bailey.”
Sienna mimed zipping her lips, her expression solemn now. “I won’t say a word to anyone.” She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and checked the screen. “I’ve got to run. Let me know if you find out something new about the Hansfields?”
She didn’t wait for me to reply, and I was glad of that, not wanting to commit to anything. With a wave, she left the pancake house, and I resumed my cleaning.
As much as I would have preferred for Sienna to stay out of amateur sleuthing, I had to admit that her information was interesting. It strengthened my suspicion that Glo and Forrest Hansfield were guilty of something, and quite possibly murder. But I was equally as suspicious of Vicky now. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. I could pursue one avenue of investigation to start, and if that led to a dead end, I’d still have other suspects to look into.
It gave me hope to have some direction. Maybe now I could stop spinning my wheels and actually do something to help Lisa and Ivan.
“Was that Sienna’s voice I heard?” Ivan asked when I stopped by the kitchen to say goodbye a short while later.
Tommy had already left for the day, and it looked as though Ivan was about to do the same, everything put away and the worktops spotlessly clean.
“It was.” Worried he might ask why Sienna had stopped by, I hurried on to say, “I’m on my way out now. See you tomorrow.”
I made a quick exit and figured I was lucky to do so. On my way out of the kitchen, I hadn’t missed the glint of suspicion in Ivan’s dark eyes. He was never keen on me sticking my nose into murder investigations, although I knew that was because he didn’t want me coming to any harm. But with him and Lisa in trouble, there was no way I was backing down, so I slipped out the back door of the pancake house and hurried off on my search for clues.
Chapter 20
The Windward Pub was quiet when I arrived, only four of its tables occupied and no one sitting at the bar. I was relieved to see that the bartender was the same one who’d been working the other night when Brett and I had dinner there. Hopefully he’d be willing to talk to me, especially since he wasn’t busy.
“What can I get you?” he asked when I approached the bar.
“An orange juice, please,” I requested. I figured if I was going to fish information out of him, the least I could do was order something.
I settled onto a stool as he poured my juice.
“Do you remember when Chester Burns was in here a couple of nights ago?” I asked when the bartender had set the glass of juice in front of me.
“Sure.” He frowned. “It’s terrible what happened to him.”
“It is.” I took a sip of my juice as he ran a cloth over the bar, the dark wood gleaming. “He seemed upset when he was up on the stage.”
“He had a bit too much to drink that night.” The bartender flipped up his cloth to rest it over his shoulder. “But, yeah, he wasn’t too happy.”
“Because he thought someone had been using him.”
He flashed a wry grin. “Woman trouble.”
“Really?”
“So I assumed. After I got him down from the stage he was complaining about someone stomping on his heart.”
My thoughts immediately jumped to Vicky. “But he didn’t mention a name?”
“Nope.” The bartender looked more closely at me. “What’s your interest?”
“I’m just wondering if the person he was complaining about was the one who killed him.”
“Geez. You could be right. But if this woman had already dumped him, why go to the trouble of killing him?”
I shrugged and took a long sip of my drink instead of sharing my theory with him.
“Too bad he didn’t mention her name,” he said. “Do you think I should be talking to the sheriff?”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt,” I said.
A burst of male laughter drew my attention to a booth across the room. Adam Silvester was seated there with two other men, all three smiling as they made their way through burgers and beers.
“That’s Adam Silvester, right?” I said to the bartender, even though I already knew the answer.
“Yep. And it’s a great day for him.”
“How come?” I asked with interest, watching Adam out of the corner of my eye.
“Do you know about his kid?”
“I know she needs surgery that Adam can’t afford.”
The bartender nodded at the guys when one of Adam’s buddies signaled for three more beers. “He couldn’t afford it before.”
“But he can now?” I guessed, noting the wide smile that hadn’t faded from Adam’s face.
“Yep.” The bartender filled a pint glass. “Talk about a weight off his shoulders.”
When the bartender left to deliver the beers to Adam and his friends, I drained the last of my juice and left some money on the bar. As I passed by Adam’s booth on my way out of the pub, I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d suddenly managed to come up with the money for his kid’s surgery.
* * * *
I wanted to check in on Lisa before heading home, but I knew she’d still be at work and I didn’t want to bother her there. I drove to her neighborhood, anyway, deciding to see if Joan was at home in the meantime. Adam Silvester and his sudden access to money remained on my mind, as did Chester and Vicky, but I wasn’t sure what my next move should be. Maybe Leigh would know where Adam’s money had come from. She was probably busy with her kids now that school had let out for the day, but I could ask her when she arrived at The Flip Side for work the next morning.
I had plenty to keep me busy until then. The mystery of Camelia’s disappearance had never left my thoughts, even though I’d pushed it to the back burner of my mind temporarily. I wasn’t sure how Joan would react to me bringing up the subject of her brother, and I hoped I wouldn’t upset her.
As I climbed the steps to her front door, I crossed my fingers, hoping she’d be willing to talk to me about Harry.
When I knocked on the door, a volley of barking came from inside the house. Unlike the last time I’d been there, I heard Joan’s voice amid the barking, trying to shush Angel. When she opened the door, the West Highland terrier wiggled out onto the porch to sniff at my legs, his tail wagging.
“Marley, nice to see you,” Joan said. “What brings you by?”
“I was hoping to speak to you about something,” I said, giving Angel a pat on the head and receiving a lick to my hand. “Something from the past. If you’re willing to talk about it.”
The smile faded from Joan’s face and understanding showed in her eyes. “I figured this day would come.”
“You know why I’m here?”
“It’s about Harry, isn’t it? Harry and Camelia.”
“Yes,” I said, a hint of uncertainty in my voice. I couldn’t tell what she was going to say or do next.
She sighed, but then she gave me a sad smile. “You’d better come in.”
I stepped inside with a sense of relief, but my uncertainty hadn’t left me altogether. I really didn’t want to upset Joan, but the subject of her brother had clearly brought up some sadness already.
We sat at her kitchen table, cups of tea in front of us, Angel lying ne
ar Joan’s feet.
“You knew I’d ask you about Harry and Camelia eventually?” I asked once we were settled.
She nodded. “It was just a matter of time with you living in that house and being related to Grace. I figured you must have heard stories about Camelia. Now that you live in Wildwood Cove, it was inevitable that you’d eventually hear Harry’s name in connection with hers.”
“I don’t want to upset you by digging up painful memories,” I said. “But I find it so hard to accept when mysteries go unsolved, and this one involves my family, even if it’s a somewhat distant branch of it.”
“I understand,” she assured me. “And I’m not upset. My memories from that time aren’t the happiest, but I’m okay with talking about Harry, about everything that happened all those years ago.”
“From what I’ve read and heard, the popular opinion seems to be that Harry was responsible for Camelia’s disappearance and Tassy James’s too.”
Joan’s hands tightened around her mug of tea as she nodded. “That’s what most people believed. Still do, most likely. But it’s not true.”
She said those last words with conviction, but I had to wonder if that was simply because she couldn’t believe that her older brother was a murderer.
“How do you know?” I asked, keeping the question as gentle as possible.
“Harry never would have harmed those girls.” She gave me a tense smile. “I know you probably think I simply can’t accept that my brother could have killed them, but there’s far more to it than that.”
I waited, eager to hear more, but forcing myself to be patient.
Joan sipped at her tea, her gaze wandering out the window to her backyard with its bare-limbed trees. “It was all so long ago, and yet at times it feels like it was just last week.” She reeled her gaze back in, focusing on me. “I was only ten years old when it all happened. I knew Grace quite well. She was a bit older than me, but Wildwood Cove was a small town—even smaller than it is now—and we played together now and then, up until Camelia disappeared. Grace stayed well away from me after that.”