by Nic Saint
Both women nodded. “Yes, there is.” Then an owl, out of nowhere, gave tongue—or beak—by hooting loudly, as if wanting to add his voice to the choir.
“I can’t believe it,” he said.
“He’s already killed Alistair Long and who knows when he’s going to strike next,” said Alice with pretty concern. She was still holding onto Reece’s bicep, though Felicity failed to see why, for apart from some blood trickling from his nose the man seemed perfectly fine.
“Alistair Long. Happy Bays Inn Alistair Long?”
Alice squeezed his bicep in affirmation. “One and the same.”
“He was killed yesterday,” added Felicity. “Shot at point blank range.”
Reece whistled through his teeth, something Felicity had never seen a man do before. It reminded her of Hunk, Reece’s breakthrough hit movie, where he’d whistled each time he needed his horse. Hunk was a western. “That’s bad.”
“Pretty bad,” agreed Alice, kneading the man’s bicep appreciatively.
Felicity frowned. It seemed to her Alice was doing her utmost to win the bet and she was going nicely. Not that she begrudged her this. Far from it. And neither did she begrudge her a lifelong supply of donuts, but she very much doubted whether this man would break off his engagement to Dorothy Valour and choose Alice instead. Life rarely mimicked a Jennifer Boiler story. She decided to spare her friend the heartache and settle matters once and for all.
“Where is Dorothy?”
Reece’s eyebrows rose. “Dorothy?”
“Your fiancée?”
“Oh, that Dorothy,” Reece said, as if he knew a dozen Dorothys. “I’m just visiting my father. Dorothy decided to stay in New York. Too much on her plate.”
Alice’s hand released its grip on the Hudson bicep at this introduction of the fiancée theme and her face betrayed dismay. Conveniently, it seemed to Felicity, she’d forgotten that there was still another woman in Reece’s life.
For a moment, silence reigned, only interrupted by the soft hooting of the owl. “I actually came down here to practice shooting,” Felicity said. She gestured to her friend. “Alice thought it was a good idea to learn how to defend myself, what with this killer on the prowl.”
“Fe is a reporter,” Alice explained. “She’s doing an article on the killing.”
Reece’s expression went through a marked change. Until now he’d been chatting amiably, like one of the boys, or one of the girls, but now he suddenly got a hunted look in his eyes, like most movie stars when they discover a reporter nearby. His eyes flitted about Felicity’s person. “A reporter, huh?”
“Yes, well, actually I’m a baker. Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room? But in my spare time I like to write for the Happy Bays Gazette. I have a baking column.”
“Flour Girl,” added Alice. “Perhaps you’ve seen it? We even have a YouTube channel where we post baking videos. I’m the director and Fe stars.” She sounded hopeful, as if this put her on equal footing with the Hollywood hunk.
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. Though I know Bell’s, of course.”
He appeared more at ease, though still shifty-eyed. Felicity thought she knew what it was. She held out her hands. “I don’t have a camera, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Reece’s face broke into a smile of relief. “How did you know?”
Fe grinned. “I’ll bet you Hollywood types are hounded by paparazzi all the time, right? Trust me, I’m not that kind of reporter.”
Reece’s smile widened. The wattage was blinding, and both Felicity and Alice reeled with the effect of it. Christ, the man’s charisma was a lethal weapon!
“Why don’t we go inside,” he suggested. “Dad will be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
As Reece started in the direction of his dad’s gun range, where the lights had finally come on, Alice hissed, “Back off! He’s mine!”
Felicity, taken aback for a moment, hissed back, “No, he’s not. He’s Dorothy Valour’s!”
Alice’s only response was a look so dirty Fe had trouble keeping a straight face. This was going to be an interesting night, she decided.
Chapter 30
“It’s the first time I’ve talked about this to anyone,” said Mary as she cupped her mug of hot tea. In spite of the fact that it was early spring she was chilled to the bone and the heat from the steaming hot mug felt good. She picked up another cinnamon cookie. She and Bianca Bell were seated in the cozy living room of the Bells, above Bell’s Bakery.
“It’s good to let it all out,” said Bianca, who’d been a good friend of Mary’s for a long time. In fact the two women only differed a couple of years and had been in high school together, though they’d been in different grades and had never met socially at that time.
Mary nodded. “It’s such a great loss. Not just to me personally but also to the community.” She felt the absence of her husband keenly—the loneliness of suddenly losing her best friend. “I don’t think…” Her voice broke. “I don’t think I can go on without Alistair, Bianca. He was my best friend.” She broke down again, the tears flowing down her face.
Bianca made a soft soothing sound. “If I were to lose Peter I don’t think I could go on either. But then I have my daughter to think about and this place…”
Mary nodded. “You have Felicity and your sister and the kids. I have no one.”
She’d had her first meeting with Rob and Ruth that afternoon. She’d been putting it off, but then Suzy told her they arrived and she decided to get it over with. Rob had been morose, as usual, not a hint of compassion or grief in his manner. He’d never cared for his father and the fact that Alistair was murdered hadn’t affected his attitude.
And then there was Ruth, who did seem touched and had given her a warm hug, then asked if Daddy had suffered. She’d merely shaken her head, not trusting her voice, but then the conversation had turned to more practical arrangements: the funeral, the paperwork required, invitations, and the matter foremost on Rob and Ruth’s mind: the will.
She had refused to discuss the matter, intending to leave it all to the executor, but Rob had insisted and decided to drive the point home. He wanted both the inn and the land sold.
Mary hadn’t budged. She and Alistair had plans for the inn and the land, and now that he was gone…she needed time to think. To decide for herself what she wanted.
“Maybe I should simply sell and get it over with,” she said, taking another sip and gazing before her. Outside, darkness had fallen and the street lanterns had been lit, casting their diffuse light over the rain-spattered streets below. She liked this time of day. The darkness lent her a certain comfort.
“I don’t think you should decide right now, honey,” said Bianca, patting her hand. “You’re grieving. Now is not the time to make these important decisions. At least wait until after the funeral.”
She nodded and kept thinking about the murderer. “Why did this happen to us?” she asked. She knew that Bianca, like her sister Bettina, dabbled a little in the spiritual. “Why do you think the universe decided to take Alistair away from me now? I mean…” She waved a hand ineffectually. “If it is true that there is a reason for everything that happens, then why him? Why now? Why make me a widow? What—” She broke down, a sob escaping her throat.
“I don’t know, honey,” said Bianca softly, placing a soothing hand on her arm. “Only time will tell. I do know that when the answer comes, it will come to you alone and it will comfort you in your suffering.”
Mary nodded. She knew that Alistair hadn’t been an angel. Many people thought he was grumpy and unfriendly, and he had certainly slighted people in his life. But he didn’t deserve to die like this. “Do you think whoever did this will…” She swallowed. “…will kill again?”
Bianca pursed her lips. “I’m sure the police are doing everything in their power to catch the murderer and make sure this doesn’t happen again. It’s simply unimaginable that something like this has happened in the first pl
ace. Not in Happy Bays. Not to one of us.”
Mary nodded. If Alistair had died from a heart attack she thought she could have borne it better. But to die a violent death like this? It made it that much harder to bear. She checked the hands on the clock over the Bells’ mantel. Eight o’clock. “I better get back now. I need to help Suzy with dinner.”
“If you need to talk to anyone, honey, you’re always welcome here, you know that,” said Bianca softly and the two women hugged. At least one good thing had come of this, Mary thought. She’d never realized before what a good friend Bianca was. She and the other Bells had been sweet to her, as had other members of the Happy Bays community. She wasn’t alone, she realized. She might have lost her best friend, but the tragedy had brought her closer to her other friends.
Chapter 31
Dorothy Valour plunked her perky butt down on the pink plastic chair and took a sip from her appletini, then checked her phone. Still no message from Reece. She and her BFF Avril were partying hard at the latest greatest Village club and so far so good. The place was packed, the owner had personally greeted her at the door, and she’d lit up the dance floor with her signature moves, then joined the DJ to spin the latest tune.
Now if only she could get her future husband to toe the party line…
Reece hadn’t returned her last three messages and frankly she was getting fed up. She’d already posted a veiled message on her Facebook and Twitter feeds that she was in a very bad mood, a selfie of her famous pout speaking volumes, and for the cretins amongst her followers had added that someone was about to feel the heat. The post had been shared thousands of times but still no response from the culprit.
She didn’t get it. Why would he be hobnobbing with his father at a time like this? There was so much stuff to take care of right now. Parties to go to and friends to see and about a million decisions to make for the wedding and he chose this time to go off the grid.
For a brief moment she played with the idea of heading down to Long Island to pay him and his yokel dad a surprise visit but then decided against it. Men came to Dorothy Valour, not the other way around. She believed in training her men, and she needed to put it into Reece’s head that Dorothy Valour always came first, no matter what.
She decided that the time for half-measures was over. If he didn’t return to New York right now she would simply call off the wedding and shame Reece Hudson before the whole world.
Not that she meant it, of course, but that’s just how she rolled.
The pounding music was starting to give her a splitting headache and she dug around her purse for an Advil, then glugged it down with another appletini—drinks were on the house, after all.
Reece had sent her a picture of a dog. Apparently his dad had gifted him some stupid mutt and she was supposed to get all excited about it? She’d immediately texted back that she was a Peke girl and would never betray her darlings by bringing some mongrel into the house. He hadn’t responded.
She took another selfie, pulling a sad face, this time backlit by the strobes firing on the dance floor and posted it on Instagram, adding the caption ‘partying alone tonite #achybreakyheart.’ If her fan base didn’t go wild now, she didn’t know them very well. This would go viral, and would be in every tabloid the world over, beneath headlines suggesting the end of Doreece.
Then she sent the selfie to Reece, adding ‘Feeling lonely tonite. Missing my Reecie.’
She grinned as she hit send. If he didn’t come crawling back now, she wasn’t the woman she knew she was.
Chapter 32
Reece’s phone dinged, and he checked the message. He frowned at Dorothy’s latest shenanigan and felt the anger rise in his gut like bile. The woman seemed to think he was her little lapdog and that he was put on this earth to jump through her hoops. Well, she had another thing coming. He switched off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. Radio silence. He frankly needed it.
When he looked up he saw that his father was watching him, a twinkle in his eye. “That fiancée of yours again?”
Reece nodded. “She’s…”
“Needy?”
“Well…”
“Manipulative?”
In spite of himself he grinned. Dad had Dorothy’s number, that was for sure. He checked the firing line, where a couple of customers occupied booths and were now engaged in aiming their rented guns at the targets, squeezing off shot after shot.
He’d spent so much time here as a kid that just to be back gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling most people didn’t associate with gun ranges. Back then he’d sat tucked away safely behind the counter with his dad, as the latter checked IDs and handed out guns and ammo.
Mom had usually taken care of the house while the range was Dad’s domain. Then Mom had died when he was seven, and it had just been him and his old man. He now felt as if he’d never been away, and it felt great not only to be back but also to find that the good people of Happy Bays weren’t star struck at all.
Everyone knew who he was, of course, but they didn’t treat him differently. No awkwardness, no selfies, no nonsense of any kind, and even as he walked down the street people acted normal, not freaking out and staring after him as if he’d just flown in from Mars. In fact Happy Bays just might be the only place on the planet where he could be himself.
Then he trained his eyes on the backs of Alice and Felicity as they stood at the range. Alice was teaching her friend to shoot and had gifted her a mighty nice gun too, straight from her uncle’s gun shop. As far as he could tell Alice was a great shot. Felicity? Not so much. Though she did throw a mean punch. He touched his nose, which was still sore. Yeah, she was one tough cookie, that one.
His eyes drifted back to Alice. The way she’d stood there in the barn had bowled him over. So fresh-faced and natural. Nothing like the fake blondes out in Los Angeles. And nothing, he was forced to admit, like Dorothy Valour.
“Do you mind taking care of the store for a bit, Reece? I want to go check on something,” Dad said as he stood and stretched his limber frame. At sixty-one, the old man was still in fine fettle.
“Sure thing, Dad. Take all the time you need,” he said as he settled back behind the counter. And as he sank deeper into his chair he found his mind straying to the worrisome thing Felicity had told him about.
A murderer in Happy Bays? It seemed impossible. Who in their right mind would want to murder Alistair Long? The man was a gentle soul. He needed to ask Dad. If anybody knew about guns and who owned them in Happy Bays, it was him. And it was then that a disconcerting thought occurred to him. Dad had been one of the few people who’d had a falling-out with Alistair. After Alistair had accidentally killed Benji the two hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while. Could Dad have had something to do with the murder? As soon as the thought popped up he dismissed it again. Of course not. Dad was not a murderer. And over a dog? Nah, that was just crazy talk.
And as he found his gaze drawn to Alice once again he thought she looked really pretty with those earmuffs over her blond tresses. Real pretty indeed.
Chapter 33
“I’ve been wondering the same thing all along,” Nathan said. He cast a malevolent eye at the cozy street outside the café window. He didn’t like cozy streets. He didn’t like small towns. And he sure as heck didn’t like Happy Bays.
“You have, huh?” Malcolm said.
Nathan returned his eye to his partner. “There’s something fishy going down. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times.”
“But you haven’t said it a million times.” Malcolm counted on his fingers. “As far as I can tell you’ve only said it twice.” He frowned, thinking hard, then nodded again. “Yep. Twice.”
Nathan’s frown deepened. “It’s just a figure of speech, you moron.”
The two men were seated in Jack’s Joint, a small café in the heart of Happy Bays, just off Loy Street, nursing their drinks. They were both of average build, average height, average age, sporting average faces and looking,
to all intents and purposes, absolutely average. Which was, in their profession, paramount. When you kill people for a living it’s important not to stand out.
Malcolm, who possessed below-average intelligence compared to Nathan, frowned. He had the impression he’d just been insulted, but since he wasn’t entirely certain, he refrained from comment.
“I don’t like it. I just don’t like it.”
“It’s just a job, Nate. Just another job.”
“But it’s not, though, is it?” Nathan rapped the table smartly. “For one thing, why haven’t we been paid? Huh? Can you tell me that?”
“Because we haven’t completed the job yet?”
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t like it. I just…don’t like it.” He swept a hand at the window. “And then there’s this town. This creepy little town. With all these creepy little people.”
“What don’t you like about them? They’re friendly enough.”
“That’s just it! They’re too friendly!” He let his eye roam over the other patrons, who all seemed to have too much fun in his opinion. No one was supposed to have this much fun, especially if you lived in a small town called Happy Bays. He eyed them suspiciously. “I think they know.”
“That’s impossible. How could they?”
Nathan shrugged and took a swig from his beer. Malcolm was right. It was impossible. For one thing, they were professionals. They hadn’t stayed in the game for over a decade without being extra careful. Even now, when all they needed to do was kill an old couple, they’d taken every precaution not to get caught.
When he’d pulled the trigger and iced Alistair Long he’d picked up the slug, used booties to cover his tracks, and had parked the car far enough away that his tire tracks would merge with the others on that narrow country road. And Malcolm had kept an eye out so they wouldn’t be disturbed. And yet this whole assignment didn’t sit well with him.