The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery

by Sarah Fox

  As Chloe parked the car and we climbed out, I recalled the many times over the years that I’d gone to Scoops Ice Cream. That shop had always been my favorite place to get a cool treat on a hot summer’s day. I told Chloe as much and she smiled.

  “It’s still my favorite ice-cream shop,” she said. “It changed hands a few years back but it’s still got the best ice cream in town.”

  We headed for the pub’s entrance. A wooden sign—as weathered as the building itself—hung over the door, swaying and creaking in the light wind. When we stepped inside, we had to pause for a moment to allow our eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Once we could see clearly, we settled into an empty booth, one of only a few that were unoccupied. Soon a young waitress with her hair pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail came over to ask us what we wanted to drink. Chloe ordered a Coca-Cola and I decided on iced tea. While the waitress fetched our drinks, we mulled over the food choices. In the end, Chloe went with a chicken sandwich with fries and I chose a garden burger with salad.

  While we waited for our food to arrive, I took in my surroundings. The dark floor and wainscoting went well with the green vinyl booths, and the decor had a definite seaside theme that matched the town’s character. Pieces of driftwood art, nets, and old fishing poles were on display, along with several seascapes hanging on the walls. Although it was only early in the evening, it was a Saturday and the pub wasn’t short on patrons, a low hum of voices filling the large room. Considering that it wasn’t the right season for tourists, I figured most of the customers were likely locals.

  As I ran my eyes over the people present, I recognized two familiar faces and wrinkled my nose. “Ugh.”

  “What?” Chloe twisted in her seat to follow my line of sight.

  “Gerald Teeves and Chantel Lefevre. I had visits from both of them today.”

  It was Chloe’s turn to wrinkle her nose. “Poor you. Let me guess—they were both hoping you’d sell Jimmy’s property.”

  “Got it in one,” I said. I narrowed my eyes at the two of them huddled close over a small table. “They sure are cozy.”

  Chloe took a sip of her drink. “Yep. They’re an item, apparently.” She rolled her eyes. “Match made in hell, if you ask me.”

  “Hmm.” My visit from Chantel made more sense now. More likely than not, Teeves had told her that I’d inherited the house. Maybe he’d set Chantel onto me after his own less than successful visit. The real estate agent had mentioned that she could arrange a quick sale. Now I was willing to bet my inheritance that she already had a buyer in mind.

  “I feel a bit sorry for his son,” Chloe said as I took a drink of iced tea. “Teeves hasn’t exactly made a lot of friends in town since he arrived. It can’t be easy for Logan to know that so many people dislike his father.”

  I set down my glass. “Logan? As in Sienna Murray’s boyfriend? He’s Teeves’s son?”

  “I don’t know if he’s dating Sienna, but it’s probably the same Logan.”

  “Sandy blond hair, doesn’t talk much?”

  “That’s him,” Chloe said. “Logan Teeves.”

  “Huh.”

  I took a long sip of my drink, remembering the glitter on Jimmy’s shirt. It could have been transferred from Logan to Gerald and from Gerald to Jimmy. Then there was the sickly look on Logan’s face as he’d stared at the bloodstained steps. Did he know or suspect that his father had killed Jimmy?

  Okay, so I didn’t know if Gerald Teeves was guilty of killing Jimmy or not, but in my book it was a definite possibility. And knowing or suspecting that your father was a murderer would be enough to make anyone ill.

  I wondered if I should find a way to have a chat with Logan, though he didn’t seem inclined to conversation. Sienna, on the other hand, would likely be more forthcoming. But did she know anything that might incriminate Gerald Teeves?

  Possibly.

  And what about Chantel? If Gerald Teeves was the killer, did she know about it?

  They seemed close enough to make that a possibility.

  The waitress arrived with our food, taking my mind off Gerald Teeves and Chantel Lefevre.

  “So,” Chloe said as she dipped one of her golden fries in ketchup, “you know my brother likes you, right?”

  My garden burger halfway to my mouth, I froze, my cheeks heating up. I set my burger back on my plate, not sure how to respond. The kiss had told me that Brett most definitely liked me, and I felt the same way, but I still wasn’t sure what to say.

  Chloe smiled at me, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I just thought I’d put it out there.”

  I opened my mouth to remind her of the fact that I lived in Seattle, that there wasn’t much point in pursuing a relationship in Wildwood Cove, but I didn’t get the chance. A shadow fell over our booth and I glanced up to find Michael Downes standing next to us.

  “Evening, ladies,” he said.

  “Hi,” we both returned.

  “Chloe Collins, isn’t it?” he said to Chloe.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  Michael swept his eyes up and down the row of booths along the wall. “Have either of you seen Daryl today?”

  “Daryl Willis?” Chloe asked.

  Michael nodded.

  “No,” she said.

  “Neither have I,” I added. And I was glad of that. “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “Probably not,” Michael said, “but I haven’t heard from him since yesterday and neither has Tina. He never came home last night and he didn’t show up this morning to help me with a plumbing job like he was supposed to.”

  “And that’s unlike him?” I asked, thinking that Daryl Willis didn’t strike me as the most dependable sort of person.

  “Somewhat.” Michael glanced around the pub again. “It’s probably nothing to worry about, but I could have used his help today. He’s not answering his phone or responding to text messages, so I thought I’d check in at a few places he frequents.”

  “Sorry we can’t help you,” Chloe said.

  “No problem. It was nice to see you ladies anyway.” Michael smiled at us. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  He left us then and headed out of the pub, stopping to talk briefly with one other person first.

  I watched him go, but then turned my attention back to Chloe.

  —

  Although dinner with Chloe provided a nice end to my day, sleep didn’t come easily that night. I kept tossing and turning, my mind refusing to shut down. One moment I was focused on Brett and our amazing kiss; the next, my thoughts jumped to Jimmy’s murder. It didn’t take long for Flapjack to abandon me, miffed that I kept disturbing his carefree slumber atop my blankets. Although I tried my best to clear my mind, I didn’t have much success. I eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, but it seemed like only moments later when my alarm went off.

  Lingering drowsiness weighed me down as I dressed and ate breakfast, and I had to remind myself not to dawdle too much. After eating his own breakfast, Flapjack curled up on the couch and went back to sleep. Although I was generally a morning person, today I wished I could do the same as the tabby. But I ignored the temptation of the couch and set off into the dark morning.

  I perked up a bit after sipping strong tea while getting ready to open The Flip Side for its Sunday morning customers, but the tangled mystery occupying my mind didn’t release its grip on my thoughts. When the brunch crowd thinned out, I escaped to the office and resumed the task of cleaning up the mess of papers the intruder had left behind.

  Although I made good progress with sorting through the jumble and returning piles of documents to the filing cabinet, I still didn’t find any clues pointing to the reason for the search of the office. After more than an hour of working away in the back room, Leigh appeared at the open door, bearing a plate of asparagus mushroom crêpes.

  “Ivan sent these along with orders to eat up,” she said as she set the plate on the desk. “He thinks you look like you need
some good fuel today.”

  “He said that?” I sank into the desk chair and the delicious aroma of the savory crêpes wafted up to meet my nose.

  “Actually, all he said was ‘make sure she eats them,’ but I’ve learned to read between his sparse lines over the years.”

  “Eating them won’t be a problem.” I’d already picked up the knife and fork Leigh had brought with the plate. “How are things out there? Do you need my help?”

  “Business is steady but not too busy at the moment. I can take care of it.”

  “Thanks, Leigh,” I said as she left the office.

  As she disappeared around the corner, I took my first bite of the asparagus mushroom crêpes and savored it before chewing and swallowing. Ivan really did have a gift. His dishes were never anything but scrumptious, and somehow he’d known exactly what I needed. By the time I’d cleaned the plate, I’d gained some much-needed energy. After delivering my plate and cutlery to the kitchen and thanking Ivan for the delicious meal, I donned my apron and joined Leigh out front.

  Not long after, Lisa came into the pancake house and waved to me as she settled in at her favorite table by the window. Leigh took her order, but once I’d delivered plates of pancakes and sausages to three other diners, I claimed the chair across from her.

  “How are you today?” Lisa asked once I was seated.

  “All right, thanks.”

  She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, her gaze fixed on me. “Are you sure? You look a bit tired.”

  I eyed her coffee. “Maybe I could use another cup of strong tea. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Understandable, considering what you’ve been through the last few days.”

  “I suppose so. I can’t seem to shut off my mind.”

  Lisa took a sip of coffee. “Because of the murder?”

  For a second I considered telling her about Brett, but I quickly pushed that thought aside.

  “Yes,” I said instead, and that was partly the truth.

  I glanced around to make sure no one could hear us. The neighboring tables were unoccupied, but I lowered my voice anyway. “It’s a tangled mess inside my head.”

  I was about to tell her about my suspects and Leigh’s predicament, but stopped myself. Even though I didn’t think anyone could hear us, rumors about Leigh were already flying around town and I didn’t want to add to them.

  “It’s hard not knowing who killed Jimmy,” I said instead. “And some things don’t add up. It’s confusing.”

  “What doesn’t add up?” Lisa asked after swallowing another sip of coffee.

  I didn’t reply right away, waiting as Leigh brought over Lisa’s plate of smoked salmon and cream cheese crêpes. Once we were alone again and Lisa had started in on her crêpes, I answered her question.

  “For starters, Jimmy called the pancake house on the morning of his death to say he was coming home from the hospital in a taxi.” Not wanting to bring Leigh into it, I didn’t mention that she was suspected of lying about the phone call. “But as far as I know, Jimmy didn’t trust taxi drivers, and there’s no record of a taxi picking him up at the hospital. On top of that, the phone call came from a cellphone, but not Jimmy’s cellphone.”

  Lisa chewed thoughtfully on her crêpes. “You know,” she said after swallowing, “I might be able to shed some light on at least part of that mystery.”

  “Really?”

  “My uncle Emilio drives a taxi and he and Jimmy were good friends. Maybe Jimmy trusted him enough to get a ride with him.”

  “But if your uncle picked up Jimmy from the hospital, wouldn’t the cab company have a record of it? The sheriff checked and came up empty.”

  “Hmmm.” She set down her fork. “Let me check with Emilio anyway.” She dug her cellphone out of her purse and tapped out a text message.

  As a group of departing diners headed for the cash counter, I excused myself and hurried over to help them. Once I’d seen them on their way, I ran my eyes over the occupied tables, assessing how everyone was doing. When my gaze swept over Lisa’s table, she waved at me and pointed to her phone.

  I hastened across the dining area and reclaimed the seat across from her. “What did he say?”

  “He did drive Jimmy home from the hospital that day.”

  Hope bubbled up in my chest. “But why was there no record of it?”

  “Emilio had just finished his shift. Jimmy called him on his cellphone to see if he was working and he told Jimmy he’d come get him, off the clock.”

  Finally, some pieces to the puzzle. Energy buzzed through me. “So your uncle definitely dropped him off at his house? Was there anyone else around at the time? Did Emilio see anything unusual?”

  Lisa tapped away at her phone, valiantly trying to keep up with my rapid questions.

  I could hardly sit still. For so long I’d been spinning my wheels, getting nowhere, and now finally I might get some information.

  “Hopefully he’ll respond soon,” Lisa said as she set down her phone and picked up her knife and fork.

  Doing my best to contain my impatience, I refilled some coffee cups and took down an order, glancing Lisa’s way every few seconds. After she’d finished up her crêpes, she checked her phone for the umpteenth time and waved to me again. I hurried back to her table, ready to burst with anticipation.

  “He says he dropped Jimmy off at home around quarter past eight,” Lisa said, reading the messages on her phone. “No one else was around and he didn’t see anything strange. When he heard about Jimmy getting killed, he was upset but had no idea that he was likely one of the last people to see him alive.”

  “What about phone calls?” I asked. “Did he see or hear Jimmy make a call at any time?”

  Lisa relayed my question through her phone and it buzzed in her hand a moment later. “Yes, Jimmy borrowed Emilio’s cellphone to make a call. His own phone was dead at the time. He called Emilio from a hospital pay phone.”

  I sat back, absorbing the new information and piecing all the bits together.

  “Does this help?” Lisa asked.

  “Yes, it definitely helps.”

  I smiled with relief as I realized how true my words were. Although I wasn’t any closer to knowing who had killed Jimmy, Emilio’s information proved two important points—Leigh didn’t lie about the phone call and Jimmy was still alive at eight o’clock, after Leigh had arrived at work.

  Chapter 17

  I asked that Emilio relay his information to the sheriff, and Lisa assured me that she’d make certain that happened. Leaving her tapping away on her phone, I got up and made a beeline for Leigh. Although she was on her way to take down an order, I took her arm and steered her into the back hallway.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as we came to a stop out of sight of the diners.

  “I’ve got good news,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. “Lisa’s uncle drove Jimmy home from the hospital and dropped him off at home after eight o’clock.”

  It took only a second or two for Leigh to absorb my words and realize their implication. Her eyes lit up with hope. “He was still alive when I arrived at work.”

  “Exactly. Plus, Lisa’s uncle also said that Jimmy borrowed his cellphone to make a phone call.”

  Leigh grabbed my arm. “Does this mean I’m in the clear?”

  “Sheriff Georgeson hasn’t heard any of this yet but once he does, I don’t see how you could possibly still be a suspect.”

  Leigh released my arm and leaned back against the wall, her eyes closing with relief. “Thank God.”

  “I’m going to call the sheriff right now, just to give him a heads-up about all this.”

  Her eyes open again, Leigh smiled at me and blinked back tears. “Thank you, Marley. You’ve taken an enormous weight off my shoulders.”

  I gave her a quick hug. “I’m glad.”

  I let her return to the front of the restaurant and shut myself in the office. As soon as I’d navigated around the piles
of paper still stacked on the floor, I plunked myself down in the desk chair and scrolled through the contacts on my phone until I found Ray Georgeson’s name.

  Unfortunately, my call went to voicemail. I left a short message with a brief summary of what Lisa’s uncle had told us. I hoped Emilio would talk to Ray before the day was over and that Leigh could get official confirmation that she was no longer a suspect.

  Sitting back in my chair, I gave myself a minute or two to enjoy the relief that came with knowing that Leigh’s name was—or would soon be—cleared. I didn’t give myself any more time than that, though. I still had several other problems to tackle.

  Trading my seat in the chair for one on the floor, I got to work sorting through the remaining papers the intruder had scattered, hoping to find a clue to unravel one or more of the mysteries that lingered in the spotlight of my mind.

  —

  After closing up and leaving the pancake house in the middle of the afternoon, I tried calling Ray a second time, but once again reached only his voicemail. I didn’t bother to leave another message and instead made myself a cup of tea and flopped down onto the couch next to Flapjack. When I checked my phone, I saw that I had a text message from Cassidy, expressing dismay and sympathy over the news of Jimmy’s death.

  A pang of loneliness hit me, and I set my phone aside after sending a short message in reply. I didn’t want to think about all the people I was missing, whether they were dead or simply far away. It would be easier to focus on other things.

  Before closing time I’d managed to finish sorting through the mess in the office, and although it was nice to have that job out of the way, I hadn’t found anything that provided even the slightest insight into the intruder’s motivations. If I hoped to have any chance of solving Jimmy’s murder, identifying the intruder, or figuring out why stolen goods were stashed in Jimmy’s workshop, I’d need to unearth more information.