Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “I’m Agent Colquett. FBI.” He flashed his badge just missing Ron’s big, protruding nose.

  “Bay,” Renmar said. “I’m so glad you’re here.” The tears now ran freely down her face.

  “Oliver Gibbons was our family. Isn’t that right, Charlotte?” Ron said. “You, and nobody else can tell us what we can do with his body. The government doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “You’re misinformed about that, Sir,” Bay said, his voice deep and official. “Oliver died on government property. And he died under suspicious circumstances. That means the FBI has the legal authority to look into his death. And by that I mean have an autopsy performed.”

  Whispering started in the dining room to the left of where they were having the conversation. Ron’s brow furrowed and his eyes visibly twitched. He glanced at Charlotte, who let out something like a hiccup. Ron licked his lips. “There’s going to be an investigation into his death?”

  “Probably is. That’s why I’m here.” Bay looked at his mother and aunt. “That and for my family. Oliver was family to us, too.”

  Miss Vivee patted the seat next to her on the tufted bench where she sat. I walked over and sat down. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. She gave me a weak smile.

  “Not the kind of family that would get anything he owned. Not the land. Not the money,” Ron was saying, his voice escalating with each word.

  “What?” Brie’s voice was up an octave. “Are you talking about Oliver’s things? He hasn’t been dead half a day. And you come in here talking . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence, instead she broke down crying. Renmar stepped behind the counter and rubbed Brie’s shoulders. She glared at Ron.

  “Why don’t we step outside?” Bay said. We can speak in private then you can get you and your wife a room.”

  “Get a room here?” Ron bellowed. “I wouldn’t stay here if it were the last place on God’s green earth.”

  “Lucky for us it’s not,” Renmar said sarcastically.

  “C’mon, Charlotte.” Ron adjusted the suitcase on his shoulder, grabbed his wife and dragged her and her small suitcase on wheels out the door.

  Bay followed behind him, but leaned in and gave his grandmother a kiss. “I got one for you, too,” he said and smiled, his eyes turning to me. “But you’ll have to wait a little bit longer for it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, ain’t he the be all, end all,” Miss Vivee said. Renmar had taken Brie and disappeared into the back of the house. Miss Vivee and I sat on her favorite bench in the foyer. “Coming in here, nobody’s ever heard of him and he thinks he can run things.” She was definitely in a huff.

  I looked at her, a grin on my face. “Seems like his wife’s the only thing he can run, huh?” I said. I knew he’d never get the best of Miss Vivee or Bay. I’d seen them both in action.

  Miss Vivee opened up her purse and pulled out the little memo pad she used to keep notes when she was “investigating” Gemma’s death. She flipped through the pages until she got to a clean sheet.

  “I need a notebook from Hadley’s Drugstore, Logan. I need you to get it for me,” she said as she dug in her purse for a pencil.

  “Why?”

  “He’s going in my notebook,” she said and licked the tip of her pencil.

  “Who?” I said and looked around the room.

  “Ron Anderson,” she said and started scribbling across the page.

  I spoke slowly, my voice questioning. “You’re . . . putting him down in your notebook . . . why?”

  “Because he’s a suspect.” She looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to get me another notebook? This one is almost full and I don’t want to mix up the notes from the other case.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I mean . . . If you want . . .” I said stumbling over my words.

  How could I tell her no? She was sixty (maybe seventy) years older than me and I was taught to respect my elders. But her needing a notebook could only mean one thing. She thought there was a murder to be solved.

  “And if you won’t do it,” she said, she scrunched up her face in a frown, and wagged her finger at me. “I’ll go get it myself.”

  “Miss Vivee. I know you’re upset but . . . I really don’t think . . .” She was making me nervous. I hadn’t known Oliver long and I was sorry he met such an unfortunate end, but I was not trying to get tangled up with Miss Vivee and her crime solving antics again. Especially when Oliver may have brought this all on himself.

  Okay. I’m sure that’s not a nice thing to say.

  But I did remember thinking once that Oliver, with his cheating ways, was going to get himself shot. But his death just couldn’t be another murder.

  At least I didn’t want it to be another murder.

  I leaned in close to Miss Vivee and whispered. “I don’t think that he was murdered.” I said it to try and convince her, and, I had to admit, myself.

  “Yes he was,” she said, a little louder than I would’ve liked. She looked at me and titled her head. “You know for you to deal with dead things as a profession, you sure don’t have a keen eye for one, do you?” She turned, looking back down at the notebook. “But I do. And that man just might be the one who did it.” She pointed her finger toward the door.

  I could see the cousin-in-law and Bay still talking on the porch. Charlotte standing with her back up against the doors to the house.

  “Worrying about his inheritance before Oliver can even be put in the ground,” Miss Vivee’s words made me look back at her. “How rude,” she spat.

  “He couldn’t be a suspect, Miss Vivee,” I kept my voice lowered hoping she’d do the same. “Didn’t you hear him? They just got to town.”

  “Don’t care. He’s suspicious. That makes him a suspect. Plus, I don’t like him and neither does Cat.” She nodded her head toward the dog. “Writing his wife’s name in the book, too.” Her voice getting louder.

  “Shhh!” I said. “She might hear you.” I stood up and walked over to the door. With my back to it, I mirrored Charlie’s stance on the outside. “You just can’t make people suspects because you don’t like them.” I looked at Miss Vivee and then out the door at the woman.

  “She’s so mild mannered,” I leaned toward Miss Vivee and lowered my voice. “Probably couldn’t hurt a fly.” I stood erect and put my ear to the door and tried to listen, just as I had at Oliver’s door that morning. I could hear Ron and Bay’s muffled conversation, but Charlotte’s crying was coming through the door clear as day. I walked over to the archway between the foyer and the dining room and turned so I could see out the door without it being too suspicious. Charlotte was visibly upset. She was tugging on the bottom of her blouse, her eyes red from the crying. I was guessing it was due to her learning about Oliver’s death. Couldn’t imagine her husband’s bad attitude did it, she had to be used to him. He seemed like a natural jerk.

  “Look at her, Miss Vivee,” I said. “She’s so upset. No way she could have killed him and cry over it like she’s doing.”

  “Those could be tears of guilt.” Miss Vivee glanced out of the window. “Some people do the deed and then are remorseful. Can’t say that about her husband. All he wants is to get his inheritance.” Miss Vivee glanced out the pane of glass on the door. “And what’s with all that crying?” She rolled her eyes. “Does she think she’s auditioning for a part in Steel Magnolias?” Miss Vivee shook her head. “She couldn’t have known Oliver well enough for her to be that upset. He would have told us. Looks like to me she’d do whatever that husband of hers told her to do.” Miss Vivee pointed a shaky finger at Ron who was animated. Jabbing his finger at Bay, his belly wiggling around like a bowl of Jello, Ron’s face got redder with each word. Then she dragged that finger my way.

  “And you, Missy,” she said wagging that finger. “Better be careful of those two or you might find yourself face down in the Savannah River, too.

  I came back and sat next to Miss Vivee. Maybe I could reason with he
r. “You don’t even know that Oliver was murdered.” I glanced over at her. “There were no clues this time before he died like with Gemma. You didn’t see him this morning, he might have been feeling bad.”

  I remembered seeing him this morning, though. And he seemed fine. And in my opinion, even with the arguing, he didn’t seem upset enough for it to trigger a heart attack or stroke.

  And then I thought about Renmar . . . She was there. And she did threaten to end his life. I looked at Miss Vivee flipping through the pages of her worn notebook. I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to share my snooping discovery with her just yet. Plus, I didn’t want to accuse my new boyfriend’s mother of something so heinous.

  That definitely would not be good for the relationship.

  I took in a breath. I had to get Miss Vivee’s mind off of murder.

  I nodded my head toward the long lost cousins, “If they have their way – no autopsy – then we’ll never know the cause of death anyway. So I wouldn’t go fretting over it.”

  “I’m not fretting.” She snorted. “I don’t fret.”

  “I’m just saying you don’t have much to go on.”

  “I didn’t need to see him alive, if that’s what you’re talking about. Seeing him dead was enough.”

  “What did you see, Miss Vivee?”

  “Oliver was poisoned. I’d be willing to bet my life on it.”

  Oh, here we go again.

  Chapter Nine

  I headed out of my second floor room going to the kitchen to find something to snack on. With all that had happened that day, I’d forgotten to eat. I hadn’t wanted to stop to eat egg salad earlier when we had been on the Island.

  Wow. This morning on the Island seemed so long ago, now.

  And my fish.

  I’d almost forgotten all about the fish.

  I figured I’d get a bite and take it to my room while I tried to find out what kind of fish that was on the Island. The house was quiet. The Anderson’s had been long gone, and there were still a few stragglers were having desert and coffee in the dining room. Miss Vivee had gone out to her greenhouse, but not before telling me for the umpteenth time to get her a memo pad from Hadley’s Drugstore. Renmar was back in the kitchen and I’d heard Brie stirring around in her room.

  My hand sliding along the handrail, eyes down, I trotted down the steps. Bay, coming through the front door just as I landed off the last step, grabbed me and pulled me into the closet under the stairs.

  “What is this fascination everyone has with this closet?” I said and yanked on the chain to turn on the light.

  “I just wanted to be close to you,” he said.

  “In here? I do have a room . . .” But before I could finish my sentence, he reached up and turned the light off. Then he wrapped his arms around my body and pressed his lips to mine. I could feel my muscles turn to jelly, and there was a spark that sizzled each time it skipped its way down my spine.

  “Mmmm . . .” I moaned when his mouth released mine. I tugged on my bottom lip with my top one, tasting him again. He smelled so good. I nuzzled my head into his chest and closed my eyes.

  “Hi, Logan,” he said and stroked my hair. “I missed you.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I said enjoying his smell. His warmth. The beating of his heart.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Of course.” I said and stepped back, stumbling over something on the floor. Then I said it again – for confirmation. “I missed you.” But then it sounded more like an automatic response than an emotional one.

  He reached out and felt for my arms. He grabbed them and let his hands slide down to my wrists. “Are you sure? You sound like you’re not sure if you did.”

  “I definitely missed you,” I said trying to add more feeling. “I’ve just been so busy.”

  Bay was really my first boyfriend. I had been such a nerd most of my life. Worrying about nothing but school, getting my doctorates. While my friends were dating and some even getting married and having kids, I didn’t ever think much of doing anything like that. If it wasn’t for my father staying on me about not burying my head in books and finding a man to “make a life with” he’d always say, I probably wouldn’t have given Bay a second thought.

  I pulled on the chain, flooding the small area with light again. I squinted until my eyes adjusted, and then focused on his soft, hazel eyes.

  I’m so glad I listened to my daddy.

  “I missed you.” I placed a kiss on each hand. “I missed you.” I pulled his head down and kissed his lips. “And I am soooo happy you’re here.” I put my head back on his chest and squeezed him tight.

  I am definitely going to have to learn to do this girlfriend/boyfriend thing right. Especially with Bay living in Atlanta and me working in Yasamee. The long distance relationship was going to be hard enough. Being so far apart certainly wasn’t typical for people just starting out.

  “Well don’t get too happy,” he said and chuckled. I looked up at him. “I’m going to have to escort the body up to Atlanta.”

  “Atlanta?” I pulled away from him. “Why isn’t it going to Augusta, that’s only twenty-five miles away? And that’s where you and the Sheriff took Gemma Burke’s body.”

  “I know. But the FBI’s medical examiner has to do the autopsy since we’re taking over the case. And that’s where he is. You know, the FBI has its own little world.”

  “Yeah. I also saw that Sheriff Haynes wasn’t too happy about the FBI coming in taking over his investigation.”

  Bay laughed. “Yeah, I know. Tom. He’s the liaison that was there this morning. He’d been close and got the call, which I guess now was a good thing. He’s a stickler for rules.”

  “Yeah. I noticed that,” I said. “Brandishing his gun.”

  “His gun?” Bay shook his head. “He wasn’t supposed to have one.”

  “Well he had one.”

  Bay was quiet for a moment. “He’d just come from home,” he said. “Maybe it was his personal property.”

  “Whatever it was, he was definitely going to make sure everything was done right,” I said.

  Bay stroked my hair with his hand. “I spoke to Lloyd before I came over to the house, though. I told him he knows he can count on me to keep him in the loop. Everyone in this town knows each other, you know?” He let took in a sharp breath. “Oliver’s death is a loss to all of us. I’m gonna make sure everything’s done right.”

  “Your grandmother thinks he was murdered.”

  “My grandmother does know everything.”

  It didn’t seem he was being even the least bit sarcastic.

  “You are such a grandmama’s boy,” I said.

  Bay smiled. “You should be glad I am, she’s the one who told me I should make you my woman.” He pulled me back in and planted another kiss on my lips.

  “Oh so if she hadn’t of told you?” I cocked my head and looked into his eyes.

  “You’d be standing in this closet all by yourself.”

  “I really don’t know why I’m even in this closet.”

  “Anyway,” he said rubbing my cheek with the back of his fingers. “We’ll know soon enough if Oliver was murdered. The Bureau’s medical examiner works fairly quickly. He’s thorough, though. Doesn’t miss much.”

  “Miss Vivee thinks she already knows the cause of death.”

  “And what is that,” he asked, his voice was low and he was staring at me. I don’t really think he was listening to me.

  “She says he was poisoned.”

  “Really.” Bay let his eyes drift off from mine. He looked just like Miss Vivee when he did it. I could see her in him. That made me smile.

  “Bay,” I got his attention. “She wants me to go and get her a notebook.”

  “So go and get her a notebook.” His attention back on me. “They sell ‘em over at Hadley’s. You know, in the town square?” He kissed my forehead, then my cheek.

  “You don’t understand,” I said and backed up from him. “I
t’s for her investigation of the murder.”

  “Oh no.” Bay chuckled and pulled me back to him. “My two best girls thinking they’re in an Agatha Christie novel. So what? You two outsmarted the Sheriff in Gemma Burke’s case, now you think you can get in front of my investigation.”

  “Not me!” I said. “That’s your grandmother.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said pulling me back to him, he reached up and gave a tug on the light chain, enveloping us again into total darkness. Giving me kisses on my neck he said, “A little old lady making you do things,” he kissed the other side of my neck. “Probably threatening you . . .” He nibbled my ear. “And you just have to obey.”

  He pressed his lips again mine and I parted mine ever so slightly to meet his . . .

  “That Ron Anderson is here to see you,” Miss Vivee said. She had swung the door open, letting in all the light from the foyer, and all the eyes from the dining room. She stood staring at us, with Cat wagging her tail at her feet. “He said he wants to talk to you.”

  Oh my gosh. How embarrassing.

  I licked my lips and smoothed down my hair.

  “You better come out here and talk to him,” she said. “Because if you don’t, I’ma get my snake gun and shoot him.”

  Snake gun?

  “Where is he, Grandmother?” Bay said. He gave me a peck on the lips and stepped out of the closet.

  “I didn’t let him in. He’s waiting on the porch.”

  “Grandmother,” Bay said and shook his head. “Where’s your Southern hospitality?”

  I’ll show that man a hospital room. That’s all I know about being hospitable to that goat,” she said. “C’mon, Cat.”

  Miss Vivee sat and Cat jumped on her lap. I sat down next to her as Bay opened the door.

  Time for round two, I guess.

  “C’mon in, Mr. Anderson,” Bay said, apparently trying to make up the for Miss Vivee’s lack of manners.

  “I’m just letting you know, out of courtesy,” Ron Anderson said unceremoniously to Bay as he walked through the door. “We’ll be staying at the beach house. It’s our house anyway since Oliver’s dead.”