by Kate Bell
She slowly shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen it before. Are you with the police?”
Alec nodded. “Yes, we’re helping with the investigation. Did you hear anything last night or this morning? Or notice anything unusual?” Alec repeated himself, noticing she hadn’t answered his first question.
She shook her head again and smiled up at Alec. She looked to be about 5’10” and had short, curly blond hair and green eyes. She seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She reminded me of Geena Davis when she had been in Thelma and Louise. I wondered if she had done some modeling or acting, she was that pretty.
“I really can’t say as I heard anything. I sleep with a fan on to block out noise. My neighbor has a yappy little dog that drives me crazy. Sorry. I really haven’t noticed anything unusual,” she said. I couldn’t see even a trace of grief on her face. If she had known Spencer Cranston, and especially if they were having an affair, I was sure she wouldn’t be able to hide the shock and grief of hearing he had just died, no matter how badly she wanted to keep the affair a secret.
“Have you lived in Sandy Harbor long?” I asked. Although she seemed vaguely familiar, I couldn’t say that I had ever run into her in town, and Sandy Harbor was small enough that I was sure I would have, if she had lived here long.
“I’ve only lived here for six months,” she said. “I don’t really know many people.”
“Oh? That must be why you only seem vaguely familiar to me,” I said, turning on the Southern charm. “I’ve lived in Maine more years than I did my home state of Alabama. That’s where I was born. I moved here after I got married. And you?” I thought I was probably pushing it, but the smile never left Jenna’s lips, nor mine.
“Business,” she responded, but didn’t elaborate.
A dog started barking then, and we all turned in the direction of her neighbor’s house to the left.
“See what I mean?” She gave a small laugh. “My neighbor must have let him out to do his business. You might ask him if he heard anything over all that noise. He’s a nosey thing. My neighbor, not the dog.”
“We’ll do that,” Alec said, handing a business card to her. “If you remember anything, will you give me a call?”
“Sure,” she took the card from Alec. She glanced at it and then smiled at him again. “Well, I’ve got to get going. I hope you figure out what happened.”
“Thank you,” Alec said. “We appreciate your time.”
Jenna went back into her house and we turned toward the neighbor’s house.
“That’s weird,” I whispered as we headed down the sidewalk. “If she was having an affair with the dead guy, you would think she would have had a pretty strong reaction to hearing he was dead.”
“Maybe Cranston’s wife was just being paranoid,” Alec suggested. “She didn’t have any real, concrete evidence. She wanted me to find some.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I agreed. “I didn’t get a good look at the dead guy, but Jenna’s a lot younger than forty-three, and do IT geeks really get girlfriends that beautiful?”
Alec smirked. “Maybe he wasn’t that geeky.”
“It’s just common sense. The nerdy guys don’t usually get the beauty queens,” I assured him. I felt like I had a knack for putting things together. Maybe I could hire myself out as an ace detective in my spare time.
He chuckled. “Don’t be so quick to judge. Nerds are hot these days.”
The neighbor’s house looked just like Jenna’s, except it was painted a light tan and had white trim. The door was painted bright green and looked out of place with the dull color of the house. The beige curtains at the window moved as we walked up the path to the front door. Alec knocked and the dog in the back yard went from sounding slightly bored to barking rabidly.
“Wow, that could really get annoying,” I said, trying to be heard above the noise.
“You’d need a fan that sounds like a jet plane to drown that out,” Alec exclaimed, raising his voice.
When there was no response at the front door, Alec knocked again. At the sound, the dog became more frenzied in his barking.
The green door slowly opened a crack and I had to turn my head to the side to get a look at who was peeking out. I saw large eyeglass lenses with a nose beneath them and not much else.
“Hello?” Alec asked. “Sir?”
I didn’t know how Alec could tell it was a sir from the open crack.
The door opened a little farther.
“Yes?” a soft male voice answered.
“Sir, I’m Alec Blanchard and this is Allie McSwain. We’re working with the police. Can we have a moment of your time?”
The door opened wider and the man looked from Alec to me and back. He appeared to be middle-aged and stood about five feet tall. He had a swath of black hair around the sides of his head, but the top was bare. His glasses had the thickest lenses I had ever seen and served to magnify the size of his eyes. We would have called them Coke bottle glasses back when I was in school.
“Yes?” he repeated.
“Sir, can you tell us if you heard anything unusual early this morning? Or possibly in the middle of the night?” Alec asked, raising his voice to be heard over the barking dog.
“No, I can’t hear you,” the man said, glancing at the police and ambulance surrounding the gray car across the street. His face was a frightening shade of pale white and it made me think he might not be well. He looked at Alec and then his eyes went to the scene across the street again. “What happened over there?”
“There’s been a death,” Alec said, raising his voice again. “We were wondering if you had seen or heard anything unusual.”
“Eh?” he said, holding a hand behind his ear like I had seen old time actors do in black and white movies to indicate they were hard of hearing.
“Have you seen or heard anything unusual?” Alec said louder. He glanced at me. The dog was going to give himself a stroke if he kept that frenzied barking up.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” the man said, shaking his head slowly.
“Can we come in?” Alec asked.
“Eh?” the man said. “I can’t hear you.”
Alec sighed. “Can we come in and speak to you for a moment?” He shouted each word slowly, trying to be heard above the barking.
The man’s eyes got big. I didn’t think he was accustomed to having company.
“I—I can’t,” he stuttered, stepping forward and pulling the door closed behind him.
“Can you make the dog stop barking?” I shouted.
“What?” he asked me.
“Can you make the dog stop barking?” I shouted louder. The dog must have understood English because he started growling in between barks now. I didn’t think the dog could be very big, but the anger in his voice made up for his lack of size.
“Oh!” he said. “Yes, I suppose I can.”
He stepped out on the landing and Alec and I took two steps back. Then the man turned toward the fence and with a voice I would have sworn he couldn’t possibly possess, screamed, “Be quiet, Frito!”
Alec and I looked at each other wide-eyed. Frito immediately stopped barking.
“There. Sorry about that,” the man said. He stepped back into the doorway, pushing the door open a crack, but still keeping it closed as much as he could. “Now, what was it you wanted?”
“Did you hear or see anything unusual in the neighborhood in the past day or so?” Alec asked calmly.
The man shook his head. “No. Nothing at all.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we got your name,” I said.
“Phil Jones,” he replied quietly. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
“What?” Alec asked surprised. “No. Of course not. We’re simply trying to figure out what happened across the street.”
“Did someone die?” he asked, looking at the ambulance.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Alec said.
“Who is it that died?” Phil a
sked.
“We haven’t identified the body yet,” Alec said. “We just needed to know if you heard anything last night or this morning?”
“No. Nothing. I was in bed sound asleep until about twenty minutes ago. How did he die?” Phil asked, glancing in the direction of the gray car.
“We’re not sure yet,” Alec said. “We need to wait on the autopsy for that information.”
“Oh, I see,” Phil said. “So, you’re with the police department?”
“Yes, let me give you my card,” Alec said, pulling a card out of his wallet. I was sure it was an old business card that still said he was a police detective. The detective part wasn’t true anymore, but since Sam Bailey had asked Alec to work on the case, it was close enough.
“Say, can you do something about my neighbor while you’re here?” Phil asked, looking over the card.
“Oh? What’s the problem with your neighbor?” Alec asked.
He glanced over in Jenna’s direction. “She’s so noisy. Always has the radio on loud. And sometimes it’s the TV. She leaves her door and windows open and I can hardly hear myself think, it gets so loud.”
“Well,” Alec said. “You know, it’s best to give the police department a call while she’s actually playing the radio or TV loudly. That way they can catch her in the act and ask her to turn it down.”
I forced myself not to look at Alec. I could tell by his tone that he was smiling and if I looked at him, I would lose it. Frito’s bark would more than drown out any television or radio, no matter how loud they were played.
“Oh, okay,” Phil murmured, nodding his head.
We said our goodbyes and headed to the neighbor’s house on the other side of Phil.
“How can he hear anything over that barking?” I whispered. “And do you really think she’s got her windows and doors open during the winter?”
Alec laughed and shook his head. These two were going to be a treat to deal with.
Chapter Five
We headed over to Henry’s after speaking to Jenna Maples and Phil Jones. The other neighbors on the block weren’t home, and there wasn’t much else we could do with the investigation until the dead man’s wife had been notified.
I wanted to check in on the baked goods I had dropped off at Henry’s earlier. I kept telling myself it wasn’t necessary, but nearly every afternoon, I found myself stopping by the restaurant. It was becoming an obsession.
Cherry pie was a specialty of mine and I was sure they would all be gone from the lunchtime rush. It was almost 4:30 by the time Spencer Cranston’s body had been removed from the crime scene and I wondered if I should have had Alec drop me off at home earlier so I could bake another pie or two for the restaurant dinner service. Oh well, I thought, there were the lemon pound cakes and orange scones to keep the customers happy if the pies had all sold out.
“I bet Spencer Cranston’s wife never imagined things were going to turn out like this,” I said to Alec as we pulled into Henry’s parking lot. “She thought she had a philanderer on her hands and now she has a dead husband.”
“I’m sure it will be a shock,” he said, shutting the engine off. “It is odd that the woman his wife thought he was having an affair with didn’t seem to recognize his car. I’ll have to talk to Meg Cranston, soon.”
“We,” I articulated, turning to him.
“What?” he asked.
“We. We will have to talk to her soon.”
He sighed. “Sam Bailey is dead set against you helping me with this, or any, investigation,” he reminded me. “I’ll see what I can do, though.”
“You don’t work for Sam Bailey anymore. You are an independent contractor. You decide who works with you,” I pointed out. I was not going to allow Sam Bailey to dictate how Alec ran his business.
He turned toward me. “If I want to be paid, the customer does have some say in things. Especially since it’s the police department. And it’s not like I can afford to make Sam mad. They don’t have a detective on staff anymore and he could become a steady source of income for me.”
I bit my lip for a second, feeling heat rising up on the inside. “Why did you leave the police department if you’re still bound by what Sam Bailey says? I thought you wanted to be free of him? Just tell him this is how it’s going to be. It’s not like there’s another PI in town. And even if there was, they wouldn’t have the experience you have.”
“I know. Like I said earlier,” he said, giving me a big smile. “We’ll play it by ear. He’s right in that I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. You never know what might happen when you’re tangling with a murderer. But maybe we can make some compromises along the way.”
“You’re just trying to appease me, right?” I asked.
He nodded. “That’s exactly right.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Alec,” I whined.
“I don’t know why you’re so set on hanging out with me. You have all this baking to do and a blog to run. Which, by the way, I’ve noticed only has one entry. What’s up with that?” he opened his door and got out of the car.
I opened my door, released my seatbelt and got out. “Don’t change the subject. I know I’m behind on blogging. And I suppose I don’t have to follow you absolutely everywhere, but I do want to go with you some of the time.”
“Okay, you can come with me some of the time,” he came around to my side of the car and took my hand. “Right now I’m tagging along with you to see how those pies are doing. I think I might need a late afternoon snack to hold me over until dinner, anyway.”
The restaurant was deserted when we walked through the door. I stopped short. It was early for most people to eat dinner, but there were usually some of the senior citizens taking advantage of the early dinner discount, or someone having coffee and a sweet snack. It was surprising that the restaurant was completely empty.
My eyes went to the dessert case and my heart skipped a beat. It was still nearly full. Cynthia entered the dining room from the hallway and gave me a small smile.
“What happened?” I asked as I walked up to the dessert case. I opened the door. Only one and a half cherry pies had been sold, and about a third of a lemon pound cake. The orange scones looked sad with their thin powdered sugar icing, sitting in the corner, untouched.
Cynthia sighed. “You got me. This is the slowest day we’ve had. Like, ever. I’m surprised we sold as much as we did, if you want to know the truth.”
“Seriously?” I asked, looking at her wide-eyed. “Was the lemon pound cake dry? Because I really have to watch those when they’re baking. They go from undercooked to dried out in like, two minutes. But I swear I watched them carefully.”
“No. I had a piece, myself. The lemon flavor is perfect and they are as moist as pound cake gets. I really think you have a winner with that recipe. But like I said, we’ve been so slow today. Makes me wonder if there’s something going on in town that I wasn’t aware of. Like some kind of all day event that everyone felt they had to attend.”
I shook my head slowly and looked back at my desserts. “Nothing I’m aware of. You know, I’ve kind of felt like things haven’t taken off like I thought they would. Do you think people just don’t like my baking?” I couldn’t imagine that to be true. There was one thing I was confident of, and that was my baking abilities.
“To be honest with you, things have been slow all month. I hope things pick up or I’m going to have to really take a close look at expenses and see where I can cut back. And you know what that means,” she said sadly.
I looked at her. “Letting people go? Is it that bad?”
She shrugged. “I’d hate to do it, but if I get into a financial hole, I’ll lose the restaurant. I can’t lose the restaurant. Henry would be devastated if he was alive to see that and I just can’t let that happen.”
“I bet it’s just a slow spell is all,” Alec chimed in. “I’m sure all businesses go through this from time to time. Winter is dragging on and people are tired of goin
g out into the cold.”
“I hope so,” Cynthia said, brightening. “I’m sure you’re right. There’s no need to panic just yet. Is there something I can do for you two?”
“No, I just wanted to stop by and see how things were going,” I said. “I guess I know now.”
Cynthia smiled at me. “Like Alec said, it will get better.”
“Say, Cynthia, did you hear about that new French restaurant that opened up last month? Le Chemise?” I asked.
She frowned and nodded. “I heard it’s good.”
“It is,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty. Alec and I had eaten dinner there several weeks earlier and we were amazed at how good the food was. Especially the authentic French desserts. And that had me worried.
“Oh?” she asked surprised. “You’ve been there?”
I glanced at Alec, then nodded. “We had dinner there a few weeks ago.”
“It was as good as they say?” she asked, frown lines creasing her brow.
“Very. Right, Alec?” I asked, looking at him.
Reluctantly, Alec nodded. “But they are very high end gourmet. I don’t think most people around here could afford to eat there on a weekly basis. I’m sure people are just trying it out. It’s always exciting when something new opens up, and as soon as the novelty wears off, they’ll be back.”
“Well, I can see that happening. Most folks in Sandy Harbor are working class folks. They like good home-style cooking, not fancy schmancy food. Right?” she asked, looking from Alec to me.
“That’s exactly right,” I said, nodding. “People love Henry’s. They’ll be back.”
“And besides. It’s not like that fancy restaurant has Allie McSwain’s desserts to draw them in. Right?” she said, looking hopeful.
I swallowed hard. That was the thing I had been worried about ever since we had eaten there. They had authentic French pastries and desserts. And they were good. Really good. I had a reputation in this town for making decadent, Southern style desserts, complete with real butter, cream, and sugar. I never took short cuts or used artificial or cheap ingredients. But maybe my desserts were too plain. Boring, even.