by Polly Holmes
A crimson blush touched Charlotte’s cheeks and she edged closer to Liam’s chest.
A pang of longing stabbed Margarete’s heart as she watched them snuggle. That kind of true love was hard to come by. Ignoring the niggle in her gut, she forged ahead. “You see, that’s just it. With the new Vietnamese place opening last year, it seemed both Pierre and I were going to open family-style eateries. In direct competition with each other. I managed to get him into the kitchen to discuss it, away from the prying eyes of customers. He just kept raging at how he’d destroy me and how he was coming into some money. He said he’d make sure his restaurant would rival the best in the world, including mine.”
“Money? What money?” Charlotte asked a frown wrinkling her perfectly smooth forehead. “He wasn’t getting any from CC’s Simply Cupcakes or CC’s Cupcake Haven.”
Margarete shrugged. “He never told me.”
Kayne rubbed his chin. “Interesting. Just so I’ve got this straight… The recording will show you and Pierre having an animated argument about Pam and MMM. Pierre was jealous of your expressed interested in MMM. Have I got it right?”
Oh gosh, when you say it like that, it does make me sound like I have a motive for murder.
Margarete nodded, her words struggling to get free. “That’s why it’s important I find the real murderer. Whoever it is, is doing a great job of framing me for a murder I didn’t commit. If I don’t do something, I’m going to spend the rest of my life locked away in a padded cell.”
“How about you leave the investigative work to the professionals?” Kayne asked, puffing his chest out. “I know the previous detective was a piece of work, but I’m here now and I promise you all, I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of this. I’d prefer if all the sleuthing were done by me.”
Sleuthing? A heavy cloud of guilt froze Margarete to the spot. I guess I have been caught up in the hype a little more than I expected. She wasn’t Nancy Drew, but she had watched every episode of Murder, She Wrote with Oma when she’d been growing up. Not to mention, she loved Agatha Christie movies. Maybe she would leave the sleuthing up to the police, but it couldn’t hurt to keep her eyes and ears open for unusual happenings. “Of course. You’re the professional. But you will keep me posted on your findings, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Kayne said. “It may be hard to keep anything quiet in the town.”
She lightly elbowed Logan’s chest and sidestepped toward the exit, pulling him along beside her. “Come on, Logan, we’ve interrupted their evening long enough. Congratulations again, Mr and Mrs McCorrson. I hope when I marry the man of my dreams, we last as long as you two have.”
Margarete swallowed with embarrassment at the raised eyebrows, cheeky smiles and sideways glances at Logan. If only she could click her fingers and disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Thank you, Margarete,” Mr McCorrson said, easing his arm around his wife in a loving cuddle. “I do think I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Edith giggled and swatted him on the chest. “Oh, you are the charmer. Margarete, I’m having a little female high-tea get-together. Here, tomorrow afternoon, around two to two-thirtyish. If you’re free, I’d love for you to come. Charlotte and Clair are in charge of the food and Cassidy is going to do a quick revamp on some decorations.”
Margarete raised her eyebrows. “Really? Wouldn’t you be worried that people will think you have a murderer in your house?”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle. They can believe what they want. I’ll have who I want in my house and I challenge anyone to tell me otherwise. Besides, Elaine, Logan’s stepmother, will be here. It’ll be a great time for you two to get acquainted.”
Margarete smiled, Edith’s last comment lodging in the back of her mind. Good friends are hard to come by in small towns and she knew she had some of the best in this very room. “I’d love to come.”
Edith clapped her hands together ecstatically. “Perfect. Oh, I almost forgot. I have some old interior design magazines here, if you’d like them for the café.”
“Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”
Kayne held his hands out, halting anyone’s exit. “One more thing before we go our separate ways. I wanted to know if anyone could fill me in on this Ryder Stone character. He’s next on my list to have a chat with.” Her gaze fell on an array of puzzled expressions.
Clair frowned. “Ryder Stone? Who is Ryder Stone?”
“Ryder Stone… You know, the man who stood up last night at the party after I informed everyone they would have to stay in town until cleared.”
Margarete gazed around at the shrugs and blank faces. It seems she was with the rest of them. “Beats me.”
“I have no idea,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t invite him, I thought Mum and Dad did.”
Edith’s voice raised an octave. “What? It wasn’t me. I have never met the man before.”
“Nor have I.” Mr McCorrson added, shock emanating in his tone. “We thought you girls must have invited him.”
All three siblings rambled at the same time.
“I don’t think so…
…Not me…
Nope.”
Could the Ryder guy be a suspect?
“So, no-one knows who this guy is?” Kayne asked.
A glimmer of hope eased Margarete’s tense body. “Thank you again for the magazines. Logan and I will get out of your hair now. Good night,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the front door.
At least the night wasn’t a total write off. Her mind just about exploded with all the new information she’d acquired.
Chapter Ten
Every muscle in Logan’s body twitched with anticipation as he pulled up outside Margarete’s house. It had turned out to be an informative evening, and her words stuck in his mind like super glue. I hope when I marry the man of my dreams we last as long as you two have. What type of man was she looking for? Would he fit the bill?
“Thank you again for accompanying me today. Apart from the murder stuff, I had a really great time,” she said shyly, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.
He smiled as he watched her blush from forehead to the base of her neck. Satisfaction warmed his chest. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only anxious one in the car.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said as he killed the engine.
“Thank you, but it’s really not necessary.”
“I know, but I want to.” He liked her company and the least he could do was finish the day like a gentleman.
Margarete’s golden eyes sparkled like gemstones. “Okay.”
Electricity sparked as they walked side by side toward her front porch, the magazines from Edith McCorrson tucked neatly under her arm. “I would really love to have had dinner together tonight, but I promised my stepmother I’d dine with her this evening.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d think Margarete’s nervous giggle was her way of dispersing the tense situation. “Of course, as you should. She is your mother, after all.”
“Stepmother.” He corrected, watching her search her bag for her house keys. “And as stepmothers go, I know I lucked out. Elaine is pretty great, and my Dad loves her so much. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.”
Margarete paused and gifted him with the most amazing smile he’d ever seen. “Wow, you are amazing, you know.”
“Amazing enough to want to see me tomorrow?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I think I can manage to squeeze you into my schedule.” She giggled inserting the key into the door. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Count on it,” he said, smiling as if they were communicating in secret code. She handed him her phone and he entered his number. Returning it, he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited until she’d safely turned on the hall light. “Night.”
Margarete spun and reached for him. Her lips found his in the sweetest, most delicate kiss he’d ever encountered. She moved fast, and by the time he realised what was going on it w
as too late.
“Night,” she said, her whisper was like the wind dancing in the nearby trees. And she was gone, leaving him longing. Longing for her touch, for her lips on his.
****
Margarete’s chest heaved as she leant against the closed door in an effort to stop her jelly legs from collapsing underneath her. “I can’t believe I just did that?” But she did. Oma always said, if you want something bad enough, make it happen. And she really wanted to kiss Logan.
She glided her tongue over her lips, the delectable taste of Logan lingering. “Oh my.” She swooned and her pulse raced over her boldness. Margarete clung to the door as her mind ran through the kiss, moment by moment. I’ll happily take more kisses from that man any day.
Margarete floated down the hallway her mind still back on the porch with Logan. Her mind was jolted back to the present by the melodic shrill of the landline. Picking up the pace, Margarete hastened toward the kitchen and grabbed the phone before the answering machine kicked in. “Hello.”
“Margarete? Hi, it’s Katie. Hope I haven’t got you at a bad time?”
“Hi, Katie. No, not at all,” she said, her words contradictory to her thoughts. Heading into the lounge room, Margarete dropped Edith’s magazines on the coffee table, tucked her leg underneath her backside and flopped down on the couch. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to arrange a time for that exclusive interview you promised me.”
Oh yeah, that. Margarete cringed at the mere thought of being interviewed, but she did make a promise and she never went back on her word. “How about you pop into the café at lunchtime tomorrow? Savannah can take care of things while we pop into my office and chat.”
“Sounds perfect. Thank you, Margarete. I know we’ll be able to set the record straight with this story. I promise you won’t regret talking to me. See you tomorrow.” Katie’s enthusiasm was a little disconcerting. It’s was only an interview after all, and Margarete was still unsure about whether or not it was the right thing to do.
“Bye.” She dropped the phone in her lap and pinched the bridge of her nose. A sharp, stabbing jolt of pain ran across her forehead from temple to temple. This blasted murder was like the most annoying jigsaw puzzle. Each piece taunting her like a recurring nightmare.
Refusing to let it spoil her entire evening, she kicked off her shoes and reached for the television remote on the opposite armchair. Snuggling in for the night, she pointed it at the blank screen.
“Right,” she said as the DVD player roared to life. “Let’s see what you’re up to tonight, Veronica Mars.”
Margarete watched as Veronica went about her daily business, solving one mystery after another for her fellow schoolmates at Neptune High. As the clock ticked, it wasn’t long before her mind wandered back to Kayne’s earlier comment.
So, Pierre was an imposter and no-one knows who this Ryder Stone guy is? She had a good mind to question the man herself. Kayne would probably just tell her to keep her nose out of police business.
“What would Veronica Mars do? In today’s age, she is the ultimate sleuth.” Margarete racked her brain, and it was as if a flash bulb ignited in her head. “Do all she can to find the information she needs.”
Margarete bolted upright. “Maybe I could do a Veronica Mars.” Within seconds, her deflated body flopped back down on the couch. “Except, I promised Kayne I’d leave the sleuthing up to the professionals.”
Margarete watched Veronica move through her paces. Helplessness consumed her. “What good is it sitting at home twiddling my thumbs?” She picked up one of the interior design magazines and began flicking through it. Her gaze staring blankly at each page while the words blurred before her.
“This is crazy,” she said, closing the magazine and dropping it on the couch beside her. Maybe she could just help find out where this guy was staying and then she could leave the confrontation up to the police.
Without wasting a second, Margarete Googled the number of the Ashton Point Country Club and hit dial. Her stomach began to knot. Was it really sleuthing, if you were helping the police find the truth? A truth that would keep her butt out of a lifetime jail sentence.
Not according to Veronica Mars. She was all for proving innocence.
“Thank you for calling the Ashton Point Country Club. How may I help you?”
Margarete swallowed around the anxious lump in her throat and put on her best Southern Belle American accent. “Well, good evenin’ there, young lady. My name is Delta, Delta Stone, and I’m hoping to God you can help me.”
“I’ll try my best, madam. What can I do for you?” she asked once more.
“I’m lookin’ for my husband, Ryder Stone. I’m so worried about him. He was supposed to let me know where he is staying while in town. I wanted to call and surprise him, but he never gave me a call and now I’m worried out of my mind. Please tell me my husband has checked in there?”
“We’re not really supposed to give out client information, madam.”
Margarete froze. Who was she kidding, she was no Veronica Mars. What was she supposed to do now? Either hang up or take it up a notch. “He is, isn’t he? And I bet he has some floozy with him. That’s why he hasn’t called me. That lying bastard. I’m going to march myself down there right now and find the cheating, no-good sod, even if I have to search every room. If he thinks he can get a hold of my fortune, he’s got another thing coming—”
The woman’s voice hiked up a decibel or two. “Madam? Please calm down.”
Adrenaline coursed through Margarete’s system and her days as the leading lady of her drama club came flooding back. “What do you mean, ‘calm down?’ He’s there, isn’t he? The fact that you won’t tell me proves it.”
“No, madam, he’s not. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I can hear it in your voice how upset you are. There is no Ryder Stone checked in here at the country club. I’m sorry.” Her fast-paced, quivering voice echoed her nervousness over disobeying the rules.
“Well, in that case. You have a great night, ya’ hear.” Margarete said as she ended the call and dropped the phone on the lounge. Her body was on fire. She paced, shaking her hands in an effort to calm her nerves. “I can’t believe I just did that.” She fist pumped the air. One down, many more to go.
Snatching the phone up again, Margarete Googled the number for the Seaside Hotel. “Wait a minute. If I didn’t want anyone to know who I was, would I really stay in Ashton Point where anyone could find me? I’d probably stay in the most unlikely place I could find in a nearby town.”
Margarete’s brain ticked each hotel, motel, guest house and BnB over in her mind. “Got it. Watson Creek Hotel. Not the most up-to-date establishment, but certainly a place someone trying to avoid attention might visit.” It was located on the outskirts of Watson’s Creek, far away from prying eyes.
She took up position on the arm rest and dialled the number. Channelling her inner Blanch DuBios she sucked in a deep breath and prepared for another award-winning performance.
“Watson Creek Hotel.” The burly male voice said down the line.
Margarete raised the pitch of her voice to damsel-in-distress mode. “Good evenin’. I hope you can help me, kind sir.”
“Good evening, what’s wrong ma’am?”
“I’m lookin’ for my husband, Ryder Stone. I’m supposed to meet him here and I’ve searched almost every place in town, but I can’t find him anywhere. Please tell me he’s checked in at your establishment. I’m worried sick. The only place left to try is the hospital.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do. What did you say his name was?”
“Ryder, Ryder Stone. I’m Delta, his wife. I have Ryder Jr. with me, and he so desperately wants to see his father.” Margarete paused before she got too carried away with the role.
“Yes, ma’am, we have a Ryder Stone booked into room ten. Would you like me to connect you?”
So much for client confidentiality. “Oh, thank goodness I found him. Ye
s, if you would, put me through. Thank you, sir. You’re an angel.”
“Connecting you now.” The staccato beep of the dial tone registered in her head, instantly sending a wave of fear through her.
Oh no, what if he answers? What am I going to say… I can’t very well tell him I’m his wife.
The familiar male voice took her by surprise. “I’m sorry, Mrs Stone, but he doesn’t seem to be answering. Would you like me to take a message for when he returns?”
A message? Yes, tell him I’m going to let the police know where he is. “No, that’s all right, sir. You’ve been most helpful. I think I’d rather keep my arrival a secret. It’ll be much more fun that way.”
“As you wish.”
“Thank you and goodnight,” she said ending the call. Just jumped up and punched her fist high in the air. “Yes, success.” Remembering Kayne had finished at the station for the night she dialled Alexandra’s Cohen’s mobile hoping she was still with Kayne. Frustration fed her anxieties as it rang out. She tried again. No luck.
“Now what?” A hundred different scenarios played out in her mind, but the one starring on repeat was Kayne walking up to the Watson Creek Hotel tomorrow only to be told Ryder Stone had checked out. Could she take that chance?
“I think it’s time the little missus did a little spying on her pretend husband. After all, if he is the murderer, what better evidence to have than Ryder Stone doing something incriminating?”
Chapter Eleven
As Margarete slid down behind the gumtree on the far side of the Watson Creek Hotel car park, the flaky bark peeled away against her fingers. The perfect hiding place to keep door ten in her sights. In fact, she could see every door of the hotel from her vantage point. Dressed like a ninja and sporting a black beanie, she was sure she could lurk in the shadows of the night undetected. Just like Veronica Mars. She’d have to make Kayne understand.
“Okay, Ryder Stone, where are you and what are you up to? No-one knows why you’re in town, so I’m guessing it can’t be good,” she muttered as she scanned each door through the zoom lenses of her SLR camera. Her sister had brought it for her birthday a few years back, primarily to take professional photos of her culinary creations. Who knew it would come in so handy?