by Sarah Fox
“Ray used you as bait?” he said once I’d finished speaking. He didn’t sound pleased.
“He and Rutowski were there with me the whole time.”
“Still, you could have been hurt. Worse than you were. The other day Ray told me he was worried you were getting too involved in the case. Now he’s gone and involved you more.”
I reached across the table and took his hand. “I wanted to go. And I’m fine, just disappointed that we didn’t get much out of it.” I squeezed his hand. “Don’t be annoyed with Ray.”
He returned the pressure on my hand and skimmed his thumb across my knuckles. “All right. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“How was your day?” I asked once we had our meals in front of us.
“Work-wise, pretty run-of-the-mill. But I got a call about Bentley.”
I sat up straighter. “What kind of call? Is he still okay?”
“He’s recovering well. One of the clinic’s clients recognized Bentley’s photo and thought he belonged to her neighbor. Turns out she was right.”
I couldn’t help but feel a small sting of disappointment. “So you don’t get to adopt him?”
Brett smiled, surprising me. “Actually, I do. Bentley’s owner passed away recently. Her son inherited everything, but he doesn’t like dogs and doesn’t want Bentley.”
I didn’t understand how anyone could feel that way, but I was pleased for Brett and the goldendoodle.
“Does the son have any idea what happened to Bentley?” I asked.
“He said he accidentally hit him while backing out of the driveway. Bentley took off on his three good legs and never returned.”
“Poor dog.”
“Hopefully that will be the last of his troubles. Tomorrow he’ll officially become a member of the Collins family.”
“Brett, that’s fantastic.”
I mirrored his smile, and we spent the next while chatting about Bentley and other happy topics while finishing our meals. When we left the restaurant, Brett took my hand as we walked toward his truck.
“You know what would taste really good right now?” he said.
“Aren’t you full?” He’d helped me finish my pasta as well as his own.
“I’m never too full for ice cream.”
I opened the passenger door of his truck. “If that means we’re going to Scoops, I’m all for it.”
He grinned. “Then hop in.”
I did, with a hand from him, and we were soon on the highway, heading back to Wildwood Cove and the ice cream shop near the river. I was still full from dinner when we parked down the street from Scoops, so I ordered a child-sized cone of strawberry ice cream while Brett ordered a regular-sized one of licorice.
Brett paid for the cones and we wandered down to the beach while enjoying our dessert. At this end of the cove we were close to the place where my cousin Jimmy had died three months earlier, so when we looked for a place to sit, I chose a log angled away from the black rocks of Myler’s Point. We sat close together, Brett’s arm around me, looking out at the water as we licked our ice cream.
“This brings back memories,” I said before taking a bite out of my cone.
So many times during my childhood I’d enjoyed ice cream from Scoops while sitting on the beach. Some of those times had been with Brett and his friends.
“Good memories,” Brett agreed. “But I’m liking the ones we’re making now too.”
I smiled and leaned against him. “So am I.” When we’d finished off our ice cream cones, I snuggled closer to him. “Whatever happened to Donny and Emma?” I asked, referring to two of his childhood friends I’d met long ago.
“Donny’s a software engineer. He lives in Silicon Valley with his wife and two kids.”
“Redheaded freckled kids?” I guessed, remembering Donny’s flaming hair.
Brett smiled. “Yep. And Emma’s in Spain. She went there for a holiday one summer and loved it so much that she ended up moving there.”
“Have a lot of the people you grew up with moved away?”
“Quite a few. But some never left, and some—like me—went away for a while and then came back.”
“I’m glad you did. I don’t think we would have crossed paths otherwise, even living in the same city.”
“It’s definitely not a decision I regret.”
He took my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles, a habit of his that I loved. We stayed there on the beach, continuing to chat quietly between stretches of comfortable silence. People walked by and children and dogs splashed about in the ocean, but I felt like we were in our own private world. Eventually, as the sun dipped below Myler’s Point to the west, I shivered, missing the earlier warmth of the evening.
Brett stood up and pulled me to my feet. “You’re cold. We should get you home.”
I took his hand as we walked up the beach to return to his truck. I was ready to go home, but not ready to lose his company.
“Can you stay over again?”
He treated me to his irresistible grin. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Chapter 19
The next morning heralded a change in the weather. Since Brett had driven to my place the night before, he dropped me off at The Flip Side around six and carried on home to get ready for his own workday. Although he’d pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant, I decided to go in the front door instead of the back so I could take a moment to look out over the ocean. I liked to start each day with a bit of beach time, and since I hadn’t had my usual morning walk to work, I spent a moment perched on a log, watching the seagulls bob about on the waves.
Clouds had moved in during the night and the ocean was grayish-blue rather than sparkling with early morning sunshine. The air was muggy, a fact I’d noticed soon after waking, my curls even curlier than usual. Although I knew some rain wouldn’t be a bad thing for the dry gardens and forests on the peninsula, I hoped a change in the weather wouldn’t keep the tourists away.
Drawing in one last breath of salty sea air, I unlocked the front door of the pancake house and went through my usual routine of popping into the kitchen to greet Ivan and Tommy. Once I had The Flip Side ready for customers, I spent a few minutes in the office, fast-forwarding through the footage recorded by the security cameras. It wasn’t something I planned to do every day—only when there’d been a problem of some sort—but I wanted to make sure that the system was working properly. It didn’t take long to confirm this, and that knowledge comforted me.
Shortly after the breakfast rush—no less busy than usual despite the clouds that were growing thicker and darker by the hour—Patricia Murray stopped by to update me on the fundraising plans for the next day.
“Five other vendors have come forward to say they’ll donate half of their profits from the next market,” she told me over cups of tea in The Flip Side’s office.
“That’s great,” I said.
We chatted about a few more details, and then Patricia left, stopping for a quick word with Sienna before heading out the door with a wave to all of us.
When I checked my phone a few hours later, I saw that I had text messages from Brett and Lisa. Brett’s message had arrived recently, letting me know that he was off to pick up Bentley.
I smiled, eager to see the dog again soon.
Is it all right if I come by your place after work? I wrote back to him.
Then I tapped on Lisa’s text.
Still on for tonight? her message read.
It was a good thing she’d sent the reminder. With all that had been going on over the past week, I’d forgotten that we’d arranged to have dinner out together, followed by a movie back at her place. It was something we’d decided to do at least once a month after I’d moved to Wildwood Cove.
Of course, I wrote. Where should we meet?
She texted back a short while later, suggesting the Windward Pub. I agreed to meet her there and got back to work.
Once The Flip Side had closed to customers and was all t
idied up, I walked to Wildwood Cove’s general store to pick up a bottle of sunscreen. The heat wave might have been over for the moment, but I knew there was likely to be more sunshine soon.
I was about to turn down the magazine aisle on my way to the cashier when I caught sight of a familiar face. Jake, Kirk’s junk shop employee, was standing in front of a rack of magazines, thumbing through a publication dedicated to cars while talking on his cellphone.
“Tomorrow night?” he said into his phone, keeping his voice low. “But the whole town’s up in arms about the river.”
Before he had a chance to spot me, I ducked into the neighboring aisle, pretending to examine a bottle of shampoo as I strained to hear what Jake was saying.
“Fine. I’ll be there, but you’re gonna have to find a new spot soon.”
He mumbled something else that I couldn’t decipher, and a second later I saw him striding toward the cashier, two magazines in hand. Once he was on his way out of the store, I replaced the bottle of shampoo on the shelf and paid for my sunscreen. With my purchase tucked into my tote bag, I walked home, thinking as I went.
I knew of only one reason why the town of Wildwood Cove was currently up in arms about the river—the illegal dumping. The rest of what I’d overheard only strengthened my theory that Jake was involved in at least some of the recent incidents. But clearly he wasn’t the only one. Whoever was on the other end of his phone call seemed to be the organizer. That could have been almost anyone, but I thought there was a good chance that he’d been talking to Kirk.
If Jake and his boss were planning to dump more waste by the river before the barricade went up, I wanted them to get caught in the act. My blood boiled at the thought of them putting the river and surrounding environment at risk all because they were too lazy or too cheap to dispose of their waste properly.
At home, I checked on Flapjack, refilling his water dish and giving him a few treats. As I was leaving the house again, the heavy clouds finally decided to release some of their moisture. While raindrops pelted down, I dashed over to my car, deciding to drive to Brett’s place instead of walking.
By the time I arrived at his house, I was still fuming at the thought of what Jake and his pal likely had planned for the next night. I pressed the doorbell and immediately heard a volley of barking from inside the house. That brought a smile to my face, banishing my anger for the time being. Footsteps joined the barking on the other side of the door and it opened a second later.
I scooted inside so Bentley wouldn’t escape. Then I knelt down to greet the excited dog.
“How are you doing, Bentley? Are you liking your new home?”
“He seems to be so far,” Brett said. “Keeping him quiet hasn’t been all that easy though. He wants to explore everything.”
“I bet.” I stroked Bentley’s short fur and he wagged his tail happily.
Standing up, I gave Brett a kiss and a hug. Bentley whined and tried to get in between us.
“You want to be the center of attention, don’t you, buddy?” Brett said.
Bentley responded with a happy bark.
I laughed and followed Brett to the family room at the back of the house. Bentley went straight to a brand-new dog bed in the corner and settled onto it, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his eyes bright and happy. While I knew it would take several weeks for his injured leg to fully heal, it looked as though it was hardly bothering him at all now.
Brett fetched cans of iced tea from the fridge and we settled onto the couch. As soon as we sat down, Bentley abandoned his bed and claimed the spot at our feet.
“How did your day go?” Brett asked as he popped open his drink.
“Pretty smoothly,” I replied, giving Bentley’s head a pat. “But I stopped by the general store on the way home and overheard something suspicious.”
I told him about Jake’s phone call.
“Doesn’t it sound like he could be involved in the illegal dumping by the river?” I asked.
“It does sound suspicious, but there’s still no real evidence that he’s involved.”
“No,” I agreed, “but if someone was to keep an eye on Jake tomorrow night, maybe he and his accomplice could be caught in the act.”
“It’s worth mentioning to Ray, anyway. I’ll call him later and fill him in.”
Setting that topic aside, we fussed over Bentley as we finished our drinks. Chloe arrived home a short while later and I checked the time on my phone.
“I’d better get going. I’m supposed to meet Lisa at the Windward Pub soon.”
While Chloe showered attention on Bentley in the family room, Brett walked me out to the front porch. After a long kiss, I leaned into his chest and wrapped my arms around him.
“Will you let me know what Ray says about Jake?” I requested.
“Of course.”
“Okay.” I reluctantly stepped away from him. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I hurried through the rain and took shelter in my car. With a wave to Brett, I turned out of the driveway.
A few minutes later I was dashing through the door of the pub, the weathered sign above it creaking and swaying in the breeze. I spotted Lisa sitting in one of the booths along the wall and hurried over to join her.
Running a hand through my damp curls, I slid into the booth across from her. “Am I late?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve only been here a minute or so. Did you come straight from The Flip Side?”
“No, I left a couple of hours ago. I stopped at Brett’s on the way here.”
She smiled, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Is that why you looked a bit flustered when you came in?”
Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “I wasn’t flustered.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She was still smiling.
A waitress arrived at our booth, saving me from more good-natured teasing. She handed us menus and took our drink orders, assuring us she’d return in a few minutes.
“So, seriously,” Lisa said as we picked up our menus, “how are things going with the two of you?”
Try as I might, I couldn’t keep a smile from taking over my face.
“Aha! I knew it!” She beamed at me. “I’m so happy for you, Marley. You two seem so great together.”
“Thanks. He really makes me happy.”
“I can see that.”
Still smiling, I turned my attention to the menu. When the waitress reappeared, I ordered a veggie and shrimp wrap to go with my lemonade while Lisa requested a pulled pork sandwich.
“How about you?” I asked once we were alone again. “Are you going to see that guy from Port Angeles again?”
A couple of weeks back she’d gone on a first date with a man she’d met at a computer store while she was shopping for a new laptop.
“Steve? No, I don’t think so. He was nice and all, but there wasn’t any chemistry.”
“Are there any other potentials?”
“Nope.” She sighed. “I should probably adopt a few cats, right? At this rate, I’m going to be single forever.”
“I highly doubt that,” I told her. “But there’s nothing wrong with adopting a cat or two.”
“True.”
The waitress arrived with our meals and our conversation turned to other topics as we ate. After our plates were cleared and we were finishing our drinks, a raised voice drew my attention to the bar at the end of the room.
“I never laid a finger on her!” The man’s indignant voice was slightly slurred.
He was half-slumped over the bar, a pint of beer in front of him. The bartender spoke to him in a low voice, and that seemed to settle him down. He took a long drink of his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before scratching at his gray beard. Even from where I sat, I could see that his denim jacket was worn and grubby.
“Who’s that?” I asked out of curiosity.
Lisa twisted around in her seat to get a look, but soon turned back. “Beats me. He doesn’t look familiar.”
&nbs
p; The waitress, who was approaching our table with our check, overheard.
“I think he was married to the woman who got killed last week,” she said in a low voice.
“He’s Terry Winkler?” I said with interest.
The waitress shrugged. “I’m not sure about his first name.” She set the bill down and hurried off to clear a newly vacated table.
“Ready to get going?” Lisa asked after we’d settled the bill.
“Actually, do you mind if I talk to Mr. Winkler for a moment?”
Lisa leaned closer and whispered, “Is he a suspect? Is that what he was talking about earlier when he said he didn’t lay a finger on her?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it’s definitely a possibility.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
I slid out of the booth and approached the bar. Terry Winkler was staring morosely into his nearly finished beer, and didn’t so much as glance up when I stopped by his side.
“Mr. Winkler?”
“Eh?” His eyes skittered my way, but only for half a second.
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
This time he fixed his gaze on me, or at least he tried to. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary. “Did you know Ida?”
“Sort of,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask how well I knew her or whether I was fond of her.
His attention dropped back down to his pint glass. “All I wanted was what’s rightfully mine,” he mumbled.
My interest sharpening, I perched on the stool next to him. “What do you mean?”
He swung his head back my way. “I didn’t kill her,” he said, his words thick. “Just because we argued, that don’t mean I killed her.”
“You argued?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who wants to know?” Before I even had a chance to answer, he seemed to forget that he’d asked the question. “I just wanted my stuff, you know? So what if the damn house was in her name. Does that mean she should get everything in it?”
I didn’t bother to reply. “She wouldn’t let you get your stuff?”
“Not a single thing. Not even a shirt to wear on my…my back.” He swayed on his stool, but then seemed to regain his balance. He tossed back the rest of his beer and set the glass down on the bar with a smack.