Murder at Redwood Cove

by Janet Finsilver

  I didn’t argue. I knew the company rules. Any serious incident called for a second manager on site. I had talked him out of it once. This time I wasn’t going to try.

  “How soon do you think he’ll get here?”

  “Probably sometime tomorrow afternoon or early evening.”

  That gave me some time to try to sort things out on my own. Once Scott got here, that might not be so easy.

  “I’ll stop by the inn as soon as I get in on Saturday. It’ll be helpful to me to have Scott there, as well.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. “There’s someone here. Probably the deputy.”

  “See you Saturday then. And . . . Kelly, be careful.”

  “Right. ’Bye.”

  Be careful. But who was the threat? Who was I supposed to be careful around?

  I went to the front door and peeked through the small hole. Deputy Sheriff Bill Stanton stood under the porch’s light.

  “Good evening, Deputy Stanton.” I swung the door wide. “Please come in.”

  “Evenin’, ma’am.” He moved his six-foot-plus frame with grace through the opening. “I hear something else has happened. This time an attempted murder?”

  Did I detect a hint of skepticism?

  “Yes. Someone tried to kill Tommy.” I walked ahead of him to the kitchen, biting my tongue in frustration. Mom’s voice spoke to me, reminding me to think before speaking, especially when I was mad.

  Memories of Mom’s words corralled the rush of anger by the time I reached the workroom. I turned to the deputy sheriff. “Tommy’s showering. Daniel and Helen will bring him over here when he’s done.” I took a deep breath. “Would you like some coffee or tea?” Be polite, Kelly, be polite.

  “No thanks.” The deputy removed his hat and placed it on a nearby chair. “What happened?” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and leaned against the counter.

  I told the story. I was amazed to see this bulk of a man making tiny notes in a miniscule pocket notebook. It must be something they taught them at the police academy.

  He snapped the book closed and viewed me with weary eyes. “Sounds like a close call.”

  “Yes. I agree.” I had a feeling it was linked to Bob’s death, but I didn’t know how. Murder and an attempted murder. Throw in robbery and poaching. They had to be connected.

  The back door opened and a scrubbed, clean Tommy entered, his face flushed from the hot shower. Helen held his hand. Fred lumbered behind, and Daniel brought up the rear. Tommy stopped when he saw the deputy.

  “Hi, Tommy.” The officer smiled. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Stanton.”

  It was the first time I’d seen the deputy be anything but stern and, in my opinion, uncooperative. This was a nice change.

  “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure.” He patted the stool beside him. “Have a seat. I’d like to hear about it.”

  “Deputy Stanton, do you need to do this now?” Helen pulled Tommy closer to her. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Rogers. It’s important I get as much information now as I can while it’s still fresh in his mind.” He looked at Tommy. “Do you watch police shows on television?”

  The boy nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then. We’re going to act like we’re on TV.”

  Tommy looked at him with interest. I was beginning to see another side to the deputy.

  “Hop up here on this seat, and I’ll ask you questions like they do on television.”

  Tommy clambered onto the stool.

  The deputy extended his hand. “My name is Deputy Sheriff Bill Stanton.” His voice had a melodramatic ring to it.

  Tommy’s small hand disappeared in Stanton’s large one.

  He released Tommy’s hand, opened his notepad, and straightened up. “What’s your name, young man?”

  Tommy straightened up, too. “Tommy Rogers, sir.”

  “I have some questions to ask you.” The deputy frowned theatrically.

  “Shoot.”

  For some reason, I wished Tommy hadn’t used that word.

  Daniel interrupted from the kitchen. “Before you get started, I think our witness could use some hot chocolate for this interrogation.” The chocolate’s rich, sweet scent permeated the room. He poured steaming liquid into a mug decorated with frolicking dogs and put a large spoonful of fresh whipped cream on top. He garnished it with curls of chocolate. “Time for triple hot chocolate.” He handed the boy the mug.

  Tommy’s eyes grew big as he accepted the cup with two hands. He took a sip and acquired a white, pencil-thin moustache. “Does it have the chocolate chips at the bottom?”

  “You bet. It wouldn’t be triple hot chocolate without those.”

  “Deputy Stanton, would you like some hot chocolate?” Daniel asked.

  “You know, don’t mind if I do.”

  What? The gruff deputy drinking hot chocolate? No way.

  “Whipped cream?” Daniel asked.

  “No. I’ll pass on that.”

  “That’s the best part.” Tommy now wore a full white moustache. He licked cream from his lips.

  Stanton laughed. “If I was your age, I’d have it. Got to watch the calories these days.”

  Between the hot chocolate and the laugh, the tension in the room evaporated. Who would’ve thought the big guy could be so sensitive.

  “Kelly, chocolate?” Daniel asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “So, Tommy, tell me what happened,” the deputy sheriff said.

  Tommy rattled away.

  I heard nothing new.

  The boy’s eyes went to half-mast and then closed.

  The deputy stood. “Tommy, I’ll come back in the morning. I don’t want you to go to school tomorrow.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Tommy was now wide awake.

  “You still have to do your homework and make up the classwork you miss,” Deputy Sheriff Stanton said in a stern voice.

  Tommy nodded vigorously.

  “And I want you to stay with your mom, Daniel, or Kelly at all times. Understand?”

  Tommy nodded again.

  The deputy looked from me to Daniel. “Is that okay with you two?”

  We agreed in unison.

  I’d been thinking about the coming night during the questioning. “Helen, I think you, Tommy, and Fred should stay in the inn tonight. The Magnolia Room is open. It has two double beds.”

  Helen’s haggard eyes spoke their gratitude. “Thanks.”

  Stanton turned to Daniel. “I’d like to see where the incident took place tonight. Can you take me there?”

  “No problem. Let me help them get their things, and then I’ll show you where it happened.”

  I picked up Tommy’s empty cup and put it in the sink. Daniel went out with Helen, Tommy, and the ever-present Fred.

  “Ms. Jackson,” the deputy sheriff said.

  “Yes?”

  “This opens a whole new door to what’s been happening here.” He paused. “You could be right about Bob.”

  I tried really hard to keep the I-told-you-so look off my face.

  Chapter 19

  The alarm clock’s incessant buzz snapped me out of a fitful sleep. I welcomed the intrusion; it had been a long night. I reached over and punched the button, stretched, and winced as bruises reminded me of their presence. The events of last night poured into my mind. I closed my eyes, and visions of a dirt-covered Tommy lying on a cliff flashed on my mental television. Time to get up. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. I needed coffee. Strong coffee.

  Walking into the suite’s living area, I slid the divider to the sunroom back. The morning sun hadn’t made the black beast of night flee yet. I was completely exposed to anyone who might be outside while I could see nothing. I quickly closed the partition.

  I went through the steps of coffee prep while my mind wrestled with questions. Who tried to kill Tommy? What did the boy know? Had he seen something? Who was the second person on the cliff? Was this rece
nt attack connected to the BlackBerry theft and Bob’s death?

  Only questions. No answers. I had to make a plan.

  My shower was a fast one. I did my daily makeup routine on autopilot. Dressed, I sat and began jotting ideas. I needed to question Tommy about Allie changing her password. When did she do it? Who was present? I wanted him to go through the last couple of days again. I believed him when he said he didn’t know any reason why someone would want to hurt him, but there had to be something. I needed to explore at the site of the incident. We had Bob’s schedule. I would read it over and talk to the most recent people he’d seen. I’d check with the Sentinels and see if they’d discovered anything new.

  I put the pen down, relieved I now had a direction.

  Scott. What was I going to do about him? Would he take over? He was higher up in the organization and could do that. Then there was the growing attraction I’d been feeling. He’d been popping into my mind more and more. The idea of risking another relationship made me as cold as a winter night in Wyoming.

  I needed to put thoughts of him in a mental box right now. I had other things to deal with. Among them, managing the inn.

  I went to the kitchen.

  Helen was busy with the breakfast baskets.

  “Did you and Tommy sleep okay last night?”

  “He did.” Her voice was raspy from shouting the night before. She arranged raspberry croissants on a plate and garnished them with fresh berries. “He’s still asleep.” She nodded toward a blanket-covered bundle in a large overstuffed chair. Fred snored on the floor near him. Helen wrapped the plate with plastic wrap. “Little sleep for me.”

  It showed. Her face was tight and drawn. The sunken areas under her eyes were blue-black splotches.

  “I’ll have Daniel check the windows and doors of your cottage to be sure the locks are secure. Then I’m having an alarm system put in.” I paused. “Even if this hadn’t happened, I think it’s a good idea.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Helen wiped her hands on a blue-checkered towel. Her shoulders slumped.

  She’s carrying their world—Tommy’s and hers—on that gaunt frame. It must be tough. “Let me help you.”

  We completed the food preparation and packed the baskets. The blanket began to move and make noise.

  “I’ll deliver these so you can stay with Tommy. After that, I’m going for a short walk.”

  “Kelly, thanks once again.”

  After the baskets were placed, I shrugged into my jacket, unbolted the front door, and headed for the scene of last night’s attack. The rising sun was hidden in the hills behind me, but it had pushed the blackness away to a drab, gray dawn. The tent poles for tomorrow’s festival were piled on one side of the expansive front lawn. They looked like a pile of giant bones in the sparse morning light.

  I reached the spot in less than ten minutes. Fresh soil had been turned over where Tommy had pulled grass out by the roots, trying to stop his fall. I leaned over, peered below, and shuddered. Huge rocks and crashing waves were hundreds of feet below, and the drop was only a few feet beyond the ledge where I’d found him.

  A flush of anger rushed through me. I clenched my fists. I’d get this person. If it was the last thing I did, I’d get him. I looked around, and it hit me why the attacker chose this spot. Aged, gnarled pines, bent by years of relentless winds, grew a few feet away in a huddled bunch. Scanning the bluff, I spotted no other stand of trees. The perfect place to hide. That answered one question—why this place on the cliff.

  I walked slowly back to the inn. A collection of locals occupied a corner near a coffeehouse. Some dogs lounged on the boardwalk, while others greeted their doggie friends. Rusted, dusty pickups raised high on oversized tires sat nearby. A Great Dane mix wagged his tail at me and looked with hopeful eyes for a friendly pat, or better yet, a cookie. His owner talked with a bleary-eyed individual clasping a large mug with both hands.

  “May I pet your dog?”

  A denim-clad young man held the rope tied to the enormous tan dog’s collar. “Sure. He’s always up for attention.” He went back to conversing with his friend.

  I rubbed the dog’s ears as he leaned into me. As I scratched his side, the dog’s owner said to the man next to him, “Did you hear about what happened on the headlands last night?”

  “No.” His friend had the look of a long night—face unshaven, red eyes squinting into the distance.

  “Someone tried to off the kid that lives at Redwood Cove B&B. You know, the little scrawny one that’s with the funny-looking dog all the time.”

  “You’re kiddin’.” The man’s eyes opened a fraction of an inch wider.

  “Nope. Jake just told me.” He took a sip of coffee. “Tried to toss him off the cliff.”

  “No!” Eyes a millimeter wider.

  They stopped talking and contemplated their coffee cups.

  Oh my gosh. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How did they know this? I had to find out. How could I keep them talking? Maybe feeding them some new information they could impress their friends with would do the trick. Something that wouldn’t jeopardize the case.

  “Thanks for letting me pet your dog. He’s a sweetie. I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying. I was there last night.”

  The man studied me. Wary. Conflicted. Probably wanted to learn more, but reluctant to talk to an outsider.

  “What d’ya mean you were there?”

  “I’m interim manager at the B&B. As I’m sure you know, the former manager, Bob Phillips, died recently.”

  Both men nodded, looking somber.

  The dog put his head in his master’s lap.

  The man scratched the dog’s furry neck. “We heard about someone being sent to take over.”

  “When Tommy went missing, I helped search for him.”

  The man whom I hoped to trade information with inspected the contents of his cup.

  “Rumor has it the hound tracked him.” He looked at me expectantly.

  “Yes. His dog found him.” Now my turn. “How do you know what happened?”

  “There’s a communication system here that’s like a wildfire.” The dog’s owner exchanged furtive glances with his friend then looked back at me. “If something happens around here, everyone in town knows in half an hour, an hour max.” He tossed back his last bit of coffee. “One of my friends told me. Don’t know how he found out.”

  “Thanks.” I headed back to the inn.

  Wonderful. The whole town already knew. There wouldn’t be any covert questioning without people knowing where I was headed.

  I entered the workroom just as Andy and Phil burst in. Tommy was eating cereal, while Helen washed dishes.

  “Tommy, how are you? I heard about your terrible experience,” Phil said.

  “Oh my. Oh my,” was the best Andy could produce.

  Tommy’s face paled.

  Helen stopped washing dishes and turned to the men. “Andy and Phil, I think Tommy . . .”

  A knock on the door, a turn of the handle, and there was Jason.

  He rushed in. “My boy, are you okay? I came over as fast as I could when I heard.”

  Tommy was as still as a statue.

  As well-intentioned as the men were, Tommy’s eyes were getting bigger by the minute.

  “Guys, your concern is really touching, but I think we should go in the parlor and talk,” I said.

  A look of understanding settled on Phil’s face. “Good idea.” He grabbed Andy’s arm and started for the front of the building.

  I touched Jason’s shoulder and nodded toward the front of the house.

  “I made this for you.” Jason gave Tommy a cupcake with chocolate frosting, colorful sprinkles, and TOMMY written in purple icing on top.

  “Oh boy. Cool.” He began to look like a normal little kid again, his eyes devouring the decorated treat, color returning to his face.

  “If there’s anything we can do to help either of you,” Phil said over his shoulder t
o Helen, “please let us know.”

  “That’s very kind,” Helen said.

  “Mr. Phil?”

  “Yes, Tommy?” The wine merchant turned back toward him.

  “I have to stay home today from school. I’m working on a Greek mythology project. Could you help me with that?”

  He beamed. “Absolutely.”

  “We can’t ask you to do that,” Helen said. “I know you have work to do.”

  Phil puffed out his chest and threw back his head. “I’d be honored to help him understand the stories of my culture. Too many times people get it all wrong.” He looked at Tommy. “I’ll be back in a little bit, and we can talk about gods, and goddesses, and Greece, and . . .” He stopped as he saw my arched eyebrows.

  I shooed the guys into the front room. “How on earth did all of you find out about what happened?”

  “The delivery man at the hotel told me,” Jason said.

  Andy, who’d recovered the power of speech, said, “The newspaper boy, and I told Phil.”

  Another question to answer. Who first told what happened? Certainly not the murderer. Or could it be?

  “I think it’s best if we let Tommy try to have as normal a day as possible.” I looked at each of them. “That means not talking about what happened.”

  The three men nodded.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you know? I’m curious to see whether it’s accurate and if there is anything you know that I don’t,” I said.

  They had it all. Every detail. There weren’t that many people who knew about last night—Tommy, Helen, Daniel, the deputy sheriff, me, the attacker, and whoever stopped him.

  “That’s what happened.” I stood. “Please watch for anything unusual happening around here, and let me know if you hear anything else.”

  Again the three nodded.

  Who was most likely to have told the story? I returned to the work area. Tommy was finishing his cereal and reading the newspaper comics.

  “How are you feeling today?” I asked.

  “Okay,” he mumbled, working on a mouthful of cereal.

  “Did you tell anyone about what happened after you talked to Deputy Stanton?”

  He nodded. “I texted Allie last night. I knew she’d want to know.” He took another spoonful of cereal and went back to reading.