by Pam Moll
“What are you doing here?” A female voice asked.
When she got closer, I recognized her. At first. I thought it was Fiona, Erica’s mom, but she was too tall. It was Detective Lacey with her hair pulled tight under her hat. I barely recognized her in street clothes. She had on a dark pantsuit and a white blouse, and as she strode toward me her spine was ramrod straight.
“Oh hi, Detective Lacey.” I looked for her partner trailing behind and saw no one.
“Well, I asked you a question,” she said gruffly.
“I’m walking my dog.”
“Out here?”
I tensed when she spoke. “Yes, I live and work here, remember?” Why was she being harsh? Did she think it was a flimsy excuse to come back here? I did have other motives, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“I find it hard to believe that you’d be back here at night after what just happened.”
Did she glance up toward my apartment? It hadn’t occurred to me until that minute that it seemed odd that I saw a shadow in Mrs. Reynolds apartment, and then only moments later Detective Lacey shows up.
“Where’s your partner?” My voice sounded shaky even to me.
“He’s hanging Christmas lights.” Lacey was regarding me strangely. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“Well, like I said, I’m walking my dog and …” I tugged on Snickers’ leash to emphasize.
“So, you say you were out walking your dog when you found the body,” she said with a touch of a sneer.
“This is practically my backyard. I’m here a lot.”
“Most people find it pretty scary having a murder in their backyard. And yet here you are creeping through the crime scene.”
“I didn’t realize this was a crime scene. I mean, there’s no police tape and this area isn’t cordoned off,” I responded. Did she flinch? Did she reveal something she shouldn’t have? I should be asking her what she’s doing here. On second thought, I may be obsessed about clues, but I’m not nuts.
“I’m not saying anything that won’t be known soon, but yes, this is a crime scene. Do you know criminals like to come back to the scene of a crime?”
“Are you saying I had anything to do with this?”
“I’m just saying if the black outfit fits, and gloves in 60-degree weather.” She pointed at my hands. “If the glove does fit, we mustn’t acquit.” She chuckled at her O.J. Simpson analogy.
I glanced down at my all-black attire and shuddered at her thoughts. “I like to wear gloves when I drive the golf cart.”
Driving a golf cart, that’s all I could come up with? I didn’t tell her I may be digging through gardens later tonight and I had to wear gloves, or I might be mistaken as a sneezing burglar.
She was smirking, and it didn’t look good on her.
“Don’t leave the area.” She turned and walked back in the direction she had come from.
My head reeled from her accusations. Was I a suspect? Was Detective Lacey following me? I stared for a few moments pretending to enjoy the gentle waves.
Why hadn’t I brought flowers to lay on the ground? I checked out the tides, noted the time, and left.
When Snickers and I got back to Granny’s house, she and Henrietta had already retired to their rooms. I was exhausted.
I promptly made it to the second floor and threw on a t-shirt and flannel dog-printed shorts. I was disappointed I hadn’t been able to sneak over to Jim’s house to peak at his gardens.
Before falling asleep, I pulled out my red moleskin notebook from my backpack. I had written several names at the top of the page including Erica Alltop, Felix and Jack, Jet M., and the Mayor’s son Todd Clawson.
I underlined Erica. What did she and Mr. Grist argue about? I checked my phone for messages. None.
Why hadn’t Erica called me back? I’d phoned her several times throughout the day. And in light of what Aurora mentioned, I desperately needed to try and see Erica tomorrow.
I picked up my pen and attacked my list like a maniac. What could be a motive for murder?
I wrote down Ambition. Would the charter fishing business be that competitive? Under that I wrote Greed. Would cheating someone out of the contest be enough to kill someone?
Love. Had Jim and Erica really divorced, and was that what they were arguing over? Had she caught him with another woman?
Money. I started thinking about the fishing contest. The purse was a hundred grand according to Felix. Was that enough to murder someone over? Most tournaments feature modest prize money. Fishing is one of the most popular pastimes in our area, and it could be competitive amongst the professionals.
And I wondered if Jim had a Will. Or Insurance. If so, who was his beneficiary?
What other reasons would someone murder Jim? Envy or Revenge?
I read in my Google searches that Jim lived in a neighboring town. I had planned to check out the gardens in his backyard tonight to see if he grew mint and had fallen into his own patch, but it would now have to wait until tomorrow.
My eyelids were heavy. I tucked the notebook in my backpack, turned off the nightstand lamp, and within seconds was fast asleep.
Coffee makes everything possible.
~ Anonymous
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The perfect day started when I could roll out of bed without setting an alarm clock. As the sun crossed the bed in rose and gold stripes through the blinds, I dragged myself from under the crisp cool sheets and light comforter. I pulled on a pair of faded, fraying jeans and a gray long sleeve t-shirt.
I smiled at the Christmas Fairies that Granny had hung from the mirror of the dresser. They had been my favorite decorations growing up. I loved all the whimsical Mark Robert’s bendable fairies Granny collected. There was something magical in the winged-elvish figurines. There were three pixies perched on the mirror—a Candy Cane lover, a Choc-a-holic, and the Christmas Shopping fairy.
The doorbell rang. I started down the stairs, only to stop abruptly when I saw Deputy Drew and Detective Lacey in Granny’s foyer.
And now my perfect day was getting off to a bad start, as the long arm of the law showed up before I could have my first cup of coffee!
“Good morning,” I said, almost choking at my greeting. Deputy Lucky was standing directly under the arched doorway where a mixed bunch of holly and mistletoe hung suspended.
He followed my gaze, smirked, and took a few steps back. “Good morning Mo, um, Molly.”
He was so serious this morning, here on official police business. I couldn’t help but wonder if my chance meeting with Detective Lacey had anything to do with this early morning visit.
I walked slowly down the wide stairs to greet them. I was pleased to see Lacey looked smaller than I remembered last night, but I still disliked her. Her icy blonde hair was neatly tucked into a tight ponytail, compared to my red loose-curled, I-just-woke-up look.
“We need to talk to you and your grandmother,” she said. The crass insensitivity of her demand reinforced my dislike of her.
“What, no good morning, how are you today?” I said.
She eyed me but didn’t reply. Henrietta appeared and ushered everyone into the living room. “I’ll get Dee,” she said, and scurried off.
Detective Lacey eyed the large decorated Christmas tree and garlands on the mantle as she moved to the living room. Her sour expression seemed to allude to whole forests being sacrificed to provide enough evergreens for the garlands and wreaths throughout the inside and outside of this house.
Before long, Granny appeared in the hallway and joined us. She was dressed in black slacks, a white polyester blouse, and a strand of pearls clinging to her neck. It was early for her, and she looked annoyed as heck.
“Well by God,” Granny ranted, “this had better be good. I had to race out of bed, put in my dentures and I haven’t even had a cup of tea yet.” She narrowed her eyes at Lucky, and he blushed.
I was relieved to see Henrietta enter with a tray of coffee cups and a large silv
er teapot and a plate piled high with pastries and scones, and one blueberry muffin. I wondered if I’d have to wrestle Lucky for the muffin.
Henrietta practically pushed everyone into a seat around the coffee table. She handed each of us a cup of coffee, except for Granny. I was surprised neither Lucky nor Detective Lacey declined. It’s truer than you think that cops love coffee. Working at the café, I knew that for a fact.
Lacey picked up her cup and took a sip, watching me closely.
I reached for my mug and stared back at her.
“We need to borrow your cane, Ms. McFadden,” she said, still looking at me, not Granny Dee.
“My dear, what do you need my cane for? And which one?”
“You have more than one?” Lacey asked, turning to Granny.
“Of course, I do, dear. I have several to match my outfits.”
I thought of all the walkers and canes that often line the wall of the book nook each day. I didn’t smile at the thought, though. Instead I asked, “Why do you need her canes?”
“For our investigation,” Deputy Drew said.
“What investigation?” Granny asked coyly, as if Drew and Lacey were old friends who had stopped by for tea.
“Ah, the body on the beach,” Detective Lacey announced firmly. “It wasn’t an accidental drowning.”
“Oh my,” Granny feigned surprise even though everyone in the room knew it had been no accident.
“But why would you need her cane?” I asked.
“To rule it out,” Deputy Drew said.
“As a murder weapon?” Granny asked, trying to fight back a smile. She picked up her cup of hot tea that Henrietta had prepared for her just the way she liked it.
“No. Not that. There were marks in the sand and footprints around the body. We took impressions and well we need to match up …”
“Wait a minute!” I interrupted. “Are you implying that Granny’s a suspect? That’s ridiculous!” I was outraged at Detective Lacey’s insinuation.
“At this point, were treating this like it’s a homicide. And we need to rule out everyone.”
“But Granny? Seriously?”
Granny plopped her hands on her hips.
“She has a garden and we found distinct cane markings in the sand at the scene of the crime. So we took impressions of the marks.”
Ah. I had recognized the marks. They were holes of some sort that definitely resembled an imprint from the bottom of a cane. The holes in the sand were from the boardwalk side closest to my cafe, whereas the tire marks were from the Bait Shop side. Had Drew seen the tire marks too? Or had they washed away? I’d seen both markings in the sand, but the question was, had the cops seen the tire marks?
“Over half the citizens in Bay Isles use canes,” I said, “because most are seniors.”
“Then she won’t mind lending hers? To rule her out?” Lacey said.
“How was the man killed?” Granny interrupted Lacey, speaking far more bluntly than I would have.
Great, Granny, I scolded her in my head. Way to be subtle about getting information.
Detective Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Well, it’s a small town and you’re going to find out soon.” She took a sip of coffee for dramatics. “He was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Granny’s eyes furrowed.
“Surely you have another reason then for wanting her cane,” I said.
Lacey shrugged and looked at Deputy Drew. “Routine.”
I was getting more upset by the minute. “Don’t you see just a few issues here? One, how would a senior citizen in a small town know where to get poison? How would she know how to use it? And how would she carry the body to the beach while using her cane? And lastly, what’s her motive?”
“We’re not saying she did it alone.” He looked at me with those puppy eyes.
“What? Are you kidding? Me?” I said.
“Mo, you have a few things going against you two.”
I crossed my arms in front of me. “Seriously?”
“You found the body,” Lacey said.
“We’ve already been over this,” I sputtered.
“Second, both of you grow herbs. Molly in your apartment and Granny in her backyard,” Drew said. I felt hurt that he used the information I had provided him yesterday at our lunch. So much for off-the-record.
“Again, probably a third of the Bay Isles residents grow mint.”
Lacey jumped in. “We didn’t say mint.” She crossed her arms on her chest and wore a smug smile on her face.
Oops. I already made that mistake yesterday.
Lucky’s puppy eyes were on me again. Granny sighed. Henrietta ’s hand went to her mouth and she crossed herself.
I felt goosebumps bloom along my arms. “Look, it’s not what you think. I knew it was mint in his hands because I’m allergic to it. It made me sneeze. So that’s how I knew.”
“You didn’t tell us that when we took your statement,” Lacey said.
“I …” Shoot she had a point. Why had I withheld that information? Again, had Lucky told her? “… I didn’t know for sure. I wanted to verify it, and then I’d let you know. But of course, by then you already knew.”
“She told me yesterday,” Deputy Drew said.
Lacey nodded. It was then that I realized that he had probably already discussed everything I told him with her.
“Look Molly, you need to be open with us. You can’t be doing an investigation behind our backs, and you certainly can’t be withholding evidence in a murder investigation.”
I nodded. “But I still don’t understand why you would target Granny?”
“We need her cane to rule out the markings,” Deputy Drew said, while he wrote something in his notebook.
“Okay. Henrietta can you get my canes?” Granny Dee took a deep breath and looked defeated.
“Wait, don’t you need a search warrant or something?” I protested.
Detective Lacey looked at Deputy Drew, and then he turned to me. “We’d hope you would give them willingly,” he said.
“We were trying to spare you the grief,” added Detective Lacey. “But I can play it your way, if you like. I could have a search warrant by the end of the day. And a team of investigators that would search this house from top to bottom.” Lacey said. “And the garden,” she quickly added.
The thought of a team of investigators trampling through Granny’s house and gardens freaked me out. What irritated more was the thought that they considered us suspects.
Deputy Drew looked up from his notebook and smiled at me. That always did it.
I nodded to Henrietta. She left to go fetch Granny’s canes.
I was angry. But at who? Not at Erica—she had to be innocent. Not at Jim—no one deserved to be poisoned and end up dead on the beach. Not at Deputy Drew—he was just doing his job. Now Detective Lacey, well, she was someone to be ticked off at, even though she was doing her job too, but poorly. I get the whole Good Cop, Bad Cop routine, but Lacey had made me and Granny her targets, with not even a mention of Erica.
I focused on Drew, who was no longer smiling at me. His smile had morphed into a curious grin directed at Granny.
Candles flickered, and holly berries glistened on the mantle. Apple cinnamon smells filled the air, and all was Dickensian jollity, except for the two cops questioning my Granny and me in a murder case.
Life happens. Coffee helps.
~ Anonymous
CHAPTER TWELVE
I watched the Palma County Sheriff’s vehicle pulling out of Granny’s driveway, smiling at the fact that they had hauled off a bag of eight walking canes. Henrietta had most likely thrown hers into the mix as well.
For the next few hours, I followed up on café matters. Perched on a chair at Granny’s desk, I used her computer to place orders to my suppliers and balance the checkbook. When I made the schedule for the next few weeks, I wondered if I should slot Erica in the shifts. I decided against it. Instead I could always pencil her in later. I sent the schedule to my
team and reminded them in the email that the Holly Fest was days away.
Could I help solve this murder puzzle before then? If not, it could put a damper on the holiday festivities. Our greeting cards could read, Happy Holidays from Bay Isles, where the treats are sweet, the people are friendly, and the holidays are murder.
I powered down the PC and scanned the local newspaper, the Beach Beacon. The fisherman’s death made front page news. While reading through the paper, I noticed an advertisement for an estate sale in Claus Cove on the same street where Jim’s house sat. It was his next-door neighbor’s house, the Townsends.
How was I going to find out if Jim grew mint? I needed to check out his garden. If I could get in the backyard of the neighbor’s house, I could climb the fence and sneak into the dead fisherman’s backyard. After I checked out his garden, I planned to pay a visit to Erica.
I added a few more entries in my moleskin notebook, and then went to have lunch with Granny. I was pleasantly surprised to see Henrietta had set a place setting for herself. I knew she and Granny shared many meals together.
We three shared a quiet lunch in the dining room. Snickers and George danced around under the table, and it would have been a perfect time to tell Granny about my mother’s visit. But I had promised not to. Besides, we had a small nightmare on our hands at the moment.
The grilled shrimp panini sandwich with fresh pesto smelled amazing, but Granny picked at her food.
“I’m going out for a few hours. Can I bring you anything?” I asked Granny.
“No honey, I’m good. Where are you off to?” Granny asked.
“I want to check out a few gardens.”
She nodded. I’m sure she knew whom I was talking about, without mentioning names. I needed to make sure that Jim hadn’t been poisoned at his own house before he was moved to the beach. If he, indeed, had mint plants at his home, and that’s where the crime occurred, then checking out the other possible suspects’ gardens wouldn’t be necessary. But first I needed to rule out his.
“It seems to me that we may have gotten into a bad situation,” Granny muttered.