by Nic Saint
Rob blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. “I—I know that Dad always promised Mom he would build her a dream house, which is why he kept Barrow’s Grove. I just didn’t know he finally decided to make good on that promise.”
The banker nodded. “He did. And the sale would have gone through if he’d lived a few more days. As it was, the deed was supposed to be signed next week. Now?” He gestured with his hand. “Now it’s up to you to decide. I fully expect the buyer to get in touch with you soon. The offer is quite generous I must say. Quite generous indeed.”
“Who is the buyer?” Ruth wanted to know.
The banker checked his documents. “A Mr. Jason Donovan. And in line with your parents’ stipulations Mr. Donovan has agreed to take over all existing personnel so no one will lose their job.”
Rob nodded. Donovan was the young man his mother had told him about. The one who was most eager to get his hands on the property and turn it into the jewel in his company’s crown. He was stunned by the thought that his father had been willing to build his mother her dream house.
“Mom was ill,” Ruth said quietly. She, too, was visibly undone by the revelations.
“And they never told us,” he murmured.
It was as strong a condemnation of his own attitude toward his parents as if they’d stood before him and slapped him across the face.
He suddenly couldn’t stay in this stuffy room any longer. He needed to get out and get some fresh air.
“I—I’ll be right back,” he said, and before the banker could object, he bolted from the chair and ran out the door.
Chapter 57
“What are you thinking, honey?”
Felicity was driving home with her mother and Alice. The meeting at the inn hadn’t gone according to plan, and she had the distinct impression they were further away from solving this case than ever.
“I’m thinking that I’m not cut out to be a detective, Mom,” she answered truthfully.
“Well, maybe that’s because you don’t have to be a detective. Maybe you were meant to be a baker instead, just like I’ve always told you.”
“Mom, there’s more to life than just baking cookies.”
“Of course there is,” said Mom a little huffily. “There’s bread and muffins and croissants and a lot more.”
Felicity groaned. They’d had this conversation about a million times. Ever since she started writing her baking column for the Happy Bays Gazette Mom had expressed the fear she would abandon Bell’s and become this big reporter. Then when Stephen had given her bigger stories to tackle Mom had freaked out. Not only did this mean less time spent at Bell’s, but she would have to become involved in the nasty world of crime.
She’d told her over and over again that crime in Happy Bays usually meant shoplifters at Rafi’s Deli or pickpockets at the mall, but Mom seemed to see Felicity scouring the dark underbelly of the small town and hobnobbing with known criminal elements of the worst kind.
“Murderers, rapists, vicious brutes. Really, honey. These are not the kind of people you want to be involved with,” Mom repeated for the hundredth time. “Who knows what they might do to you.”
“She always has me,” Alice piped up, but Mom shut her up with a doubtful look.
“Yes, dear, but even the two of you are no match for a brutal killer. Four dead bodies! It’s unprecedented!”
Well, it was, of course. In her own time Felicity had never heard of such a thing. And the police, it seemed, were at a complete loss.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to put my foot down,” said Mom, “and lock you up in the bakery and throw away the key.”
Felicity had to laugh at this. Her mother might talk tough, but she was too sweet to lock up her only child. “Thanks, Mom, but I’ll be fine.”
“No, but I mean it,” insisted Mom. “This is dangerous stuff, honey. Very dangerous stuff.”
“If we could just figure out who those two men were working for,” Alice mused. “There must be a paper trail to the client, right?”
“I’m sure the police have looked into that,” said Felicity. “Usually these kinds of deals are handled face to face, cash transactions only.” Though Alice was right, of course. There simply had to be some connection. The police simply weren’t looking hard enough.
Mom let out an exaggerated groan. “How come you know all this? This is such a bad influence on you.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it to Stephen, Mom,” she said, steering the van along the road to Lake Street, where Bell’s was located. The streets were deserted, and she wondered if people were staying indoors because of the murders. The atmosphere at Bell’s had been downcast. Not that she would know, for she hadn’t been there today, which her mother had also pointed out acerbically. She was neglecting her duties and for what? To poke her nose where it didn’t belong.
Then, just when she was turning a corner, she saw Rob Long walking furiously along the sidewalk, setting a brisk pace in the direction of Reed Park, just off Colbert Street.
“Wonder where he’s going,” she muttered.
Mom pursed her lips. “Such a horrible man. I’ll bet he’s over the moon that his parents are dead. Now he finally gets to lay his hands on the inn.”
“Talk about a motive,” commented Alice.
“Pity he has such a strong alibi.” She noticed Rob had walked out of Neil Domino’s house. She knew that Neil, president of the local branch of Armstrong & Tillich Bank, was executor of the Long estate. Probably they were already discussing the will.
She parked the van in front of Bell’s, and all three of them got out.
“Be careful, honey,” Mom repeated. “And please think about what I said. All that murder and mayhem is nothing for a nice young girl like you.” And with this final admonition, she disappeared inside.
“She’s right, you know,” opined Alice. “Murder is nothing for a nice girl like you.”
“Oh, please. Don’t you start too.”
“I was just kidding. On a different note, do you think it’s too soon for me to ask Reece out on a date?”
“You want to ask him out? Don’t you think you should wait until he asks you out?”
“Why wait? This is the twenty-first century. Women ask men out all the time.”
“I know, but…” Then it occurred to her she had no real objections to make and she shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Go for it.”
Alice chewed her lower lip. “You think he’ll say yes? I mean, he’s a big movie star and I’m just a small-town funeral home employee.”
Felicity laughed. “Didn’t you hear the man? He wants to make small-town movies now, so I’m sure he won’t have any objections dating a small-town girl.”
“I’ll just take my chances. And if it doesn’t work out, that’s fine too.”
“That’s the spirit,” Felicity murmured, though the Long murder case was still preying on her mind. There must be a way to solve it, she thought. All she needed was more information. More clues…
Chapter 58
“I don’t know, honey, but when I’m stuck on a story I golf.”
Felicity stared at the man she loved for ten seconds without blinking. “You golf?”
“Yep,” Rick said with a grin. “Helps me relax. Forces my mind to unwind. And I find that when I relax I get my best ideas. What you need is an activity that occupies your hands but not your mind.”
“Like what? I don’t play golf.”
He shrugged. “Can be anything. Washing the dishes, cooking, cleaning, ironing. I used to be a great ironer before I picked up golf.” He gave her that radiant smile again, and she suddenly felt a pang of sorrow he wasn’t there right now.
“I miss you,” she said as she touched the screen. Though she knew it wasn’t the same, it gave her the sense of closeness she yearned for.
“I miss you too, honey,” he said. “Another couple of days and I should be home, though.”
“This case has been terrible,” she intimated. “And I’m afraid
I’m going to make a big mess of things once I start writing the actual article.”
“Don’t forget you’re a reporter, honey, not a detective. All that’s required from you is to report the murders, not to solve them.”
“I know,” she admitted, “but I would so much like to know what happened. Alistair and Mary…” She swallowed. “…they didn’t deserve to die.”
“No one deserves to die.”
“I know, but the police are nowhere on this. Marjorie just told us Chief Whitehouse is at his wits’ end and so is Virgil. They’re thinking about finally bringing in the big guns. A detective from New York.”
“Finally, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe things will start moving again.”
“I think you should bake a cake,” Rick suddenly said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Bake a cake? What on earth for?”
“Like I said, you need to switch off. And baking sure does the trick.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said with a grin. “See what I did there?”
“I did and I’m impressed. Now go bake a cake and then tell me what you came up with. Can you do that for me?”
“I’d rather go golfing with you.”
He laughed. “I’m taking you up on that, you know that, right?”
“I don’t mind. I could use the exercise. And to be honest, how hard can it be, right? Hitting a little white ball with a stick? Child’s play!”
“I want to hear you repeat that after your first session.”
After she closed the Skype window she sat there for a while, wondering if Rick was right. Perhaps she had been thinking too hard. Maybe she had to quieten her mind and look at things from a different angle.
She got up and shouted to Alice, who was taking a shower, “I’m baking a cake! Get out the camera, hon!”
No sense in wasting a perfectly good opportunity to shoot a video for their Flour Girl YouTube channel.
Five minutes later she was laying out ingredients on the kitchen counter while Alice was setting up the camera. She’d wrapped her hair in a towel and looked as fresh-faced as ever.
“I think I’ll just call him,” she said. “Or should I text?”
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about your date?” Felicity asked. “Maybe you should bake the cake, not me.”
“Yeah, well, I could,” said Alice dubiously, “but I don’t want to poison anyone.”
Resolutely, Felicity stepped over to the dining room table, picked up Alice’s phone, scrolled to Reece, and pressed connect. Three rings later, a male voice answered and Felicity handed the phone to a squirming Alice.
“It’s for you,” she said curtly, then stepped back to the kitchen, looked into the camera and started her usual spiel.
Chapter 59
Rob Long was sauntering through Reed Park, lost in thought. He took a deep breath of the bracing air, a mixture of ocean brine and fresh scents emanating from a myriad of flowers and shrubs popping up now that springtime had finally come to Happy Bays. He found a small wooden bench and seated himself, trying to quieten a mind that was racing out of control.
Why hadn’t his parents told him about Mom’s illness? Had they so little faith in him? He would have wanted to be there for her. Would have wanted to know what was going on and help out perhaps.
He now bitterly regretted the angry words he’d spoken. She was ill and yet he’d been so upset he couldn’t see what was going on with her.
He’d cut her out of his life, and now she was gone.
For the first time he keenly felt the loss, and as he sat there, his mind churning with regrets and recriminations, a sudden calm stole over him—a peace he hadn’t known in a long time—a peace that seemed out of this world. As he looked up at the trees softly swaying in the breeze, he thought he could sense them—could sense his parents. Their spirits—they were calling out to him. They weren’t gone for good. They were still out there—ready to forgive and forget. He was still their son. Still their little boy.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, reveling in the epiphany—in the presence of Mom and Dad—in the wind, in the rustling of the trees, in the soft caress of a ray of sunshine on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Fifteen minutes later a different Rob Long stepped into the bank.
“I won’t sell,” he declared firmly when three pairs of eyes turned to him. “I want to run the inn, Maggie. You and me together, what do you say?”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “But, Rob, we don’t have any experience.”
“I have. I’ve lived here for the better part of my life, did all the jobs and know this place inside out. I can do it and so can you, honey.” Then he turned to his sister. “What do you say, Ruth? Are you in?”
His sister nodded gratefully. “I’m game if you are, Rob. We can run the inn together, the three of us.”
The banker looked up in surprise. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in days. Are you sure about this, Rob?”
Rob smiled. “I’ve never been more sure about anything my whole life.”
Chapter 60
Felicity eyed the hot milk cake as she took it from the oven. As she was putting the ingredients into the processor she had the distinct impression that the mysterious effect Rick had talked about eluded her. All through the baking process her mind had been a whirlwind of ideas, possibilities and thoughts. Instead of quieting down, her mind had sped up considerably. Then, when she was waiting for the cake to bake, she’d plunked herself down on the kitchen stool, staring at the oven, and had finally experienced a breakthrough.
Whoever had planned these murders had a clear goal in mind. He wanted to stop Mary and Alistair from doing something. And what else could it be but trying to stop them from selling the place? If Virgil was right and the Longs were about to sell the inn, the murderer must have found out somehow and tried to put a stop to it. And if this was true Rob and Ruth were in grave danger, too.
It seemed a very illogical thing to consider. Until now they’d always thought whoever killed the Longs had done so to sell the inn, but what if the murderer was trying to stop the sale instead?
She suddenly sprang from her stool, walked over to Alice’s room, and put her ear to the door. She smiled when she heard her friend deeply engrossed in conversation with Reece. She better not disturb her now. Instead, she picked up her phone and called Marjorie.
“Marjorie. I need to speak to Virgil.”
“I’ll put him on. Though I doubt whether he’ll want to speak to you.”
“Mom!” a voice rang out.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Marjorie asked. “You’re so secretive about this whole police business.” Then, into the phone, she added, “Here he comes.”
“Virgil, I had an idea,” she said without preamble. “You might think I’m crazy but—”
“You’ll tell me anyway, right?”
She explained in a few brief words her new theory and was surprised that Virgil heard her out. “So you see, if this is true we’ve been wrong all along. Instead of wanting to murder the Longs because they were blocking the sale, they murdered the Longs because they were going through with the sale.”
“Go on.”
“Which means that Rob and Ruth are also targets. Since they’re the new owners of the inn and anxious to sell…”
Virgil was silent for a moment and Felicity thought he would simply dismiss her out of hand.
“You may have a point,” he said instead. “I’ll send a man round to the inn to keep an eye on the Longs. Good work, Fe.”
And with these words, he disconnected. Felicity smiled. For the first time she had the feeling she’d actually contributed to the investigation. At that moment the oven dinged. Her hot milk cake was ready.
Alice ran into the room, her face jubilant. “We have a date!” she cried. “Dinner tomorrow night at his place!”
“Yay!”
“And he offered me a part.”
“A what?”
“A part. In this new movie he’s setting up.” She pressed her hands against her blushing face.
“Honey, that’s great.”
Alice picked at the cake and nodded appreciatively. “You have another winner here, hon. Oh, and I told him you wanted in as well.”
She frowned. “Wanted in? In in what?”
“In the movie, of course. Can you believe it, Fe? We’re going to be movie stars!”
Chapter 61
Rob was staring at the policeman. “Say what?”
The policeman, tall, beefy, and sporting a blond buzz cut, stared back at him, a little perplexed himself. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, sir. You and the lady next door. So if you notice anything suspicious, anything at all…” He jerked his thumb to the corridor. “I’ll be out here.”
“Anything suspicious? Like what? Give me a for instance.”
“Well, if you see a murderer, for instance, you can give me a holler and I’ll make sure…” The policeman’s voice died away, as he seemed to realize how ridiculous this sounded.
Rob did an exaggerated double take. “If I see a murderer?”
“Well, we do have a murderer running around, sir,” the policeman pointed out.
“I know,” replied Rob irritably. “He just killed my parents!”
The policeman winced. “Yes, I’m sorry about that, sir.”
“Not as much as I am.” He stared at the police officer for a moment, wondering what was going on. “Who issued these orders?”
“Officer Scattering, sir.”