by Nancy CoCo
“She just got here.”
“Super.” I wiped my hands on the lint-free dish towel, took off my chef’s jacket, and walked out to the lobby. “Frances, Megan’s here. Let’s take Mal for a walk and go get a coffee.”
“Splendid idea.” She hopped off her stool. “Megan, the Hansons are the last to check in. They called to say they expected a late check-in. If they don’t make the last ferry, call them and let them know we’ll hold their room one more night, but their credit card will be charged for both nights if they aren’t here by noon tomorrow.”
“Got it.” Megan’s eyes were bright with intelligence.
I assumed Jenn had told her what was going on, but she acted as if she didn’t know. She was good ... very good. I hoped she would come back next year.
Frances leashed Mal and I hung my chef coat up and grabbed my wallet and my phone. We stepped out into the early afternoon crowd. The numbers of tourists were down by half since the race had ended yesterday, making it easier to walk down Main Street. We headed toward the marina and my favorite coffee shop.
“I got wind of what happened last night,” Frances said. “I’d love to hear it from your own mouth.”
“Well, I was almost arrested for assault.”
“That’s crazy,” Frances said as Mal proudly led us down the street.
“You and I both know I didn’t do it. In the end, the evidence was inconclusive. Rex told me to go home and told Harold Jones there wasn’t enough evidence to press charges.”
“Harold Jones,” Frances said. “We’re to believe you assaulted Harold Jones? My friend Grace said that Harold is six foot two and two hundred and forty pounds.”
I raised an eyebrow. “He’s a big guy, yes.”
“What did you do to him?” Frances asked, her gaze filled with laughter.
“It’s a story,” I said as we crossed Main Street and walked to the end of the marina.
“Do tell. This should be interesting.”
“Let’s get some coffee first. Or do you want tea? Scones?”
“Yes,” Frances said. “Chia latte and cherry scones. Mal and I will find a table outside.”
I went in and ordered the drinks and scones. Gail wasn’t working. I glanced at the bright yellow walls and imagined stenciled cabbage roses. They might just work. When I came out, Frances had found an empty table with an umbrella and was facing the lake. I sat across from her and faced the marina. I handed her the tea and scone, then opened a bottle of water and poured some in a paper cup for Mal.
“I’m waiting for the story,” Frances said.
“Okay.” I leaned my arms on the table and wrapped my fingers around my cup of coffee. “It all began when I overheard two women talking in the yacht club bathroom about Eleanor, Carin, and Paige.”
“Who were the women?”
“I’m not sure.” I drew my eyebrows together. “They were very well dressed and looked to be in their early thirties. One was a blonde and one brunette.”
Frances sipped her tea. “They could be anyone.”
“I think they went to school with Paige or Eleanor. They seemed very familiar with the whole dynamic of Paige and Carin. In fact, they were talking about how surprised they were that Paige killed Carin.”
“Why?”
“Paige and Carin had made up at the Christmas fund-raiser and were working together on Carin’s boyfriend James Jamison’s run for Congress.”
“Now there’s a bit of gossip I hadn’t heard before.”
“Probably because he’s running in Illinois. I don’t think he is from Mackinac.”
“I agree. There aren’t any Jamisons on the island.”
“From the discussion I overheard, it didn’t take much to figure out that Harold Jones was dating Eleanor and—”
“That meant he had a motive for telling the police that he saw Paige on the pier that night, Frances interrupted.
“Yes,” I said.
“How did this almost get you arrested?” Frances pinched off a bite of scone and fed it to Mal.
“After most of the people had gone, I confronted Eleanor about the connection between her and the eyewitness in Paige’s murder case. When I started talking, she stepped outside in what I can only assume was an attempt to keep our conversation private.”
“What did she say when you told her what you knew?”
“She said I was mistaken. Then Harold Jones stepped out of the shadows and joined us on the patio.”
“Wait, Harold Jones was waiting outside the yacht club?”
I nodded. “Yes. He said he was waiting for Eleanor to be done working so he could walk her home.”
“That’s a strange dynamic,” Frances said. “They’re dating and she didn’t invite him to the dance?”
“I don’t think she wants anyone to know they are dating. It ruins his credibility as a witness. When I told Eleanor that she had more of a motive to want Carin gone than Paige did, she ordered Harold to take me out to the middle of the lake and dump me.”
“She did not!”
“She did,” I said. “I thought she was joking, but Harold grabbed me. I was so surprised. Long story short, before he could haul me off, instinct kicked in. I followed my self-defense training without really thinking about it. I dug my heels into his instep and then kicked him in the groin and ran back inside. Lucky for me, Trent was there to keep them from doing anything further. Then after the police arrived, Eleanor had the gall to say I assaulted Harold.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know it’s crazy,” I said. “But he had a chunk of his instep missing from the force of my heel and was limping. Someone called the police and Rex took us all down to the station.”
A small smile teased Frances’s face. “Rex Manning is a man of action.”
I shook my head. “I guess. Anyway, in the end, evidence was taken and Rex told us to all go home as he couldn’t see anything criminal. I had bruises on my arm showing Harold had grabbed me so even though his instep was mashed we were both bruised. It became a he said-she said thing.”
“Well, good for Rex for taking your story seriously. They tried to kidnap you, for goodness sake,” Frances said with a scowl on her face. “You could press charges.” She slipped Mal another bite of scone.
I shrugged. “It would be my word against theirs. It’s okay. I got away. Now they can’t do anything to me or it will look suspicious.”
“Do you think it was Harold who put the bear trap on your doorstep?”
“I’m not sure.” I sipped my coffee. “I was narrowing down suspects before last night. I don’t think I gave much thought to Eleanor as the killer until I realized that if Carin and Paige joined forces, Eleanor would be left out. Think about it. Eleanor has spent her entire life doing whatever Carin wanted. In return, Carin brought Eleanor into the social elite. But when Carin and Paige got together . . . well, they had more in common. They both live and work in Chicago. Carin’s boyfriend runs in the same social circles as Paige and Reggie. Well, one of Carin’s boyfriends anyway.”
“One of Carin’s boyfriends?” Frances lifted an eyebrow. “Not Reggie.”
“No, Ronald Lorrie said he and Carin were having an affair, that Carin was thinking of leaving James for him.”
“No,” Frances shook her head. “Carin would never leave a political force like James Jamison. They say he might someday be in the White House. She had big plans.”
“Plans that left Eleanor out in the cold,” I said. “From the way she treated Harold, it was clear that he is the one in love, not Eleanor. She could hardly stand to look at him.”
“Maybe it was Eleanor Harold saw on the pier with Carin that night,” Frances suggested. “Maybe he was using his testimony to blackmail her into dating him.”
“That would be an interesting twist,” I said thoughtfully. “But that still leaves the problem of the oar.”
“The murder weapon?”
“Yes.” I grabbed a scone. One bite and I understood why Mal b
egged for the soft buttery treat. The cherries added just the right amount of sweet and tart. “How do I get it in Eleanor’s hands? I mean, it says Scoundrel right on it and has Paige’s fingerprints on it.”
“Did you ask Paige about that?”
“No, but I imagine Rex and her legal team did already. My asking isn’t going to help. I’m trying to think outside the box. With Paige as a suspect, no one is looking anywhere else.” I studied the boats docked at the marina. “I’ve started Rex thinking about Eleanor, but without any real evidence there isn’t any reason to charge her instead.”
“How has the new camera system been working?”
“Okay,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve mostly caught Caramella coming and going, and Mr. Beecher on his twice daily walks. A few people coming home late from the bars. Nothing sinister.”
“That’s a relief,” Frances said.
I eyed the boats in the marina some more. “You’ve lived here all your life.”
“And?”
“You must know about boats.”
“I do,” Frances said with a nod. “Not the yachts of course. I never cared to run around with that crowd. But I can sail a small boat and I can use an outboard motor.”
“What do you know about oars?” I fiddled with my cup. “I mean, seriously, I didn’t even think oars were needed on a yacht.”
“Some are purely decoration like the ones along the dock here. Others are kept on the lifeboats,” Frances said. “I can imagine it would be easy to take one and not have anyone notice it was missing. It’s not like they inventory the safety gear every time they go out on the water.”
“They should,” I said.
“Yes, they should, but I imagine they don’t. That night was a party night. They weren’t going that far.”
“I’m sure Rex questioned the captain and crew about it.” I put my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand. “That would be one of the first things I would do.”
“Except I’m not certain the Scoundrel is big enough to warrant a crew,” Frances said. “It could just be one of Paige or Trent’s friends that captained the Scoundrel out that night. You should ask Trent about that.”
“Wow, I will. I sort of think of it like that old movie Overboard where they had a captain and crew.”
Frances laughed. “I do love Goldie Hawn movies, but the Scoundrel isn’t that big.”
“Everyone says the murder weapon came from the Scoundrel because it has the name painted on the handle,” I said. “What if someone painted it on to make it look like it came from there?”
Frances winced. “That’s a lot of preplanning,” she pointed out. “There are more effective ways to kill someone. Think about it. If you were preplanning a murder, why wouldn’t you use poison or a gun? Even a knife is more likely to kill than a boat oar.”
“True,” I said. “Unless you are trying to make it seem like a crime of passion.”
“Still, an oar turned sideways so the edge hits the right place on the back of the skull to kill her? That is not premeditated. That’s anger.”
“If it wasn’t premeditated, how did the oar get in the hands of the killer? How is it that so many people on the Scoundrel were passed out? That no one can recall seeing Paige during the window of opportunity the killer had to kill Carin?”
Frances had another question. “What if the killer was on the Scoundrel and didn’t want anyone to know they were slipping off to meet Carin on the dock?”
“You mean someone other than Paige?”
She nodded. “Yes. Who was at the party that night?”
“Good question,” I said. “Let me text Trent and see if he can send me a list of guests.”
“Maybe the answer has been right under our noses all along.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” I hit SEND on my text to Trent. “Now, what’s the big deal about tonight’s date?”
Frances blushed. “It’s our three month anniversary.”
“Oh, sweet,” I said. “You celebrate your anniversary each month?”
“At our age, we never know how many days we have left,” Frances said. “We try to celebrate as many anniversaries as possible.”
“What a great way to look at life,” I said. “We all need to celebrate more of the little things. Do you know where you’re going?”
“No,” Frances said with a shake of her head. “But he did ask me to dress semiformal. Jennifer is going to come home with me at five and help me. She promised to do my makeup so that I look great.” Frances leaned in closer. “I want to look good should we go to the Grand and the photographer wants to take our picture.”
“That would be a great memento.” I made a mental note to see if we can’t get a still photograph to go with the video.
“I’m excited,” she said, her gaze sparkling in the afternoon light. “I feel like a teenager again. Who knew we could find love at our age?”
“I think you can find love at any age,” I said. “If you look for it hard enough. In fact, most of the time it’s right under our noses.”
“Yes,” Frances said with another nod. “The answers to life usually are.”
Chapter 27
I handed Frances off to Jenn and went upstairs to my office. I’d asked Trent to have Paige go over the list of party invitees and mark through anyone who hadn’t gone and add anyone who was not on the original list. He’d texted back that Rex had asked for the same thing early on in the investigation so they already had a copy on hand.
I downloaded the list to my laptop and printed it out. I studied it carefully. Several of them simply had a plus one marked by their name. It was important to know who all were there. I made notes of who I knew and who I didn’t know. All told, twenty-five people had been aboard. The boat had been captained by Trent’s friend Peter. That was the extent of the crew. A catering staff and bartender had also been aboard. I frowned. The list wasn’t telling me anything.
I gave up and went up to the rooftop to see how things were progressing without Jenn. She had said all was well and I believed her, but still I wanted to check it out. Frances had been so cute about her date tonight. I’m not sure she suspected the proposal, but I was happy to help make it special.
It had me wondering why Trent and I didn’t celebrate our monthly anniversaries. I’d never really thought of it. We’d been together eight weeks . . . or was it ten? I laughed at myself. No wonder he didn’t include me in his sister’s investigation from the start. We weren’t as serious as Frances and Mr. Devaney. The next thought had me stopping halfway between the roof and the attic. What would I do if Trent asked me to marry him?
White sheers billowed prettily in the breeze. The sky was a royal blue, creating a stunning backdrop for the gazebo. Soft music played through the speakers hidden behind four large palms. I knew video cameras were also hidden in two of the palms and would be activated with a remote by Mr. Devaney, giving him total control of what was recorded and what wasn’t.
I smiled at the thought of when he might turn it off.
“Everything is set and ready,” Sandy said. She had two big pillows in her hands.
I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at the pillows.
“Editing,” she said solemnly. “First you put out everything you think you want, then you edit back. What you leave out is just as important as what you put in.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Makes sense. At their age, I don’t see them getting down on the floor and sitting on pillows.”
“The chairs were plenty,” Sandy said. “Plus more room for dancing.”
“It’s going to be a wonderful evening.” I held the trap door open for Sandy as she climbed down with the pillows. When I headed down a thought struck me. Maybe it wasn’t as important who was on the invitation list for the Scoundrel that night as it was who was left off the list.
I headed back to my desk where the list sat and scanned it briefly front and back. If Carin and Paige had made up and were becoming fast friends, why wasn’t Carin
invited to the party?
I sent a text to Trent.
Me: Why wasn’t Carin Moore invited to Paige’s party the night she was murdered?
Trent texted back. Let me ask Paige.
I waited a minute and drummed my fingers on my desk.
He finally texted back. Carin had a campaign committee meeting she’d planned to attend via Skype.
Wait. If she was part of a Skype committee meeting, why was she wearing a silk cocktail dress?
She was wearing a cocktail dress when I found her.
Who else was having a party that night?
It was yacht club week. Everyone was having a party that night. Trent answered.
Except you and me. I texted back wryly.
We don’t need a yacht race to celebrate.
I texted a smiley face emoji, but my mind was still on Carin’s murder. If Paige and Carin had joined forces to support James Jamison’s political campaign, who else had joined in? Eleanor? Mrs. Jones? I needed to get my hands on a list of locals who may have contributed. Maybe Carin left the Skype call to attend a political party.
Trent, can Paige provide me a list of James Jamison’s political supporters? The local ones?
He texted back. I’ll have her e-mail it to you. Am I still dropping by around ten?
I texted back. Oh yes. You don’t want to miss this.
He sent me a heart icon, which made me smile. This gorgeous, sexy, wealthy man had said he loved me. It made me want even more to prove his sister’s innocence.
Easy Almond Butter Fudge
Ingredients
1 cup almond butter
1 cup butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon almond extract
¼ teaspoon salt
2 pounds of powdered sugar
Directions
In a microwave on low, melt butter. In a large bowl, mix almond butter, melted butter, vanilla, almond extract, and salt.