by Sarah Fox
The problem was that I wasn’t sure where to dig. At the moment, Gerald Teeves and Daryl Willis were at the top of my list of murder suspects, so I figured it would be a good idea to focus my investigation on them. I was still in the midst of coming up with my plan of action when a car door slammed nearby. I hesitated with my mug of tea halfway to my mouth, apprehension tensing my muscles. The last thing I wanted right then was another visit from Gerald Teeves or Chantel Lefevre.
As I set my tea on the coffee table, another possibility crossed my mind.
Maybe it was Brett.
That thought got me up off the couch. When I reached the foyer, someone knocked on the door. I took a look through the peephole and cursed under my breath. It wasn’t Gerald Teeves, but it wasn’t anybody I wanted to see, either. I wondered if I could slip away from the door or if they’d already heard my footsteps.
A fist pounded against the door again, almost making me jump. Rolling my eyes, I unlocked the door and opened it.
“Hi,” I said to Goldie Krantz, offering a slight smile but nothing too enthusiastic. I didn’t want to encourage her in any way.
As it turned out, she didn’t need any encouragement.
“Oh, it’s just so hard to bear!” she exclaimed as she shoved her way past me and into the house.
“Um…” Eyebrows raised, I stared after her as she bustled into the front living room.
Come on in and make yourself at home, I wanted to grumble, but somehow I managed to refrain.
It didn’t surprise me at all when Jonah sidled through the door after his mother. Although I hadn’t spotted him at first, he always seemed to be hovering somewhere not too far away from Goldie.
With a sigh, I shut the front door, resigned to the fact that they were going to take up some of my time. Jonah had hesitated in the middle of the foyer, his eyes scanning the area. When I came up behind him, he jerked his gaze away from the office and entered the living room.
I followed in his wake, stopping just inside the door. Jimmy had rarely used this room. It was the most formal one in the house, with a settee and two wingback chairs upholstered in matching rosy pink fabric. The cream-colored carpet was thick underfoot and extended into the adjoining dining room. Grace’s collection of Royal Doulton figurines decorated the fireplace mantel and the built-in shelves on either side of it. Cream and rosy pink weren’t colors that Jimmy had ever favored, but Grace had decorated this room and her touch was evident everywhere. It didn’t surprise me in the least that Jimmy hadn’t changed a thing.
Goldie sniffled loudly and dropped onto the settee. “Isn’t it so tragic?”
“Isn’t what tragic?” I asked, distracted.
My focus was on Jonah, who was now standing by the fireplace and eyeing the Royal Doulton figurines. Maybe he simply had an interest in collectable figurines, but he was so shifty that I wasn’t about to put it past him to slip one or two of them into his pocket.
“Jimmy’s death, of course,” Goldie said.
“Right.” I got back on track. “Yes, it is a tragedy.”
Goldie produced a handkerchief from one of her pockets and dabbed at her dry eyes.
I didn’t want to endure any more of her theatrics, but I did my best to contain my annoyance. It wasn’t easy, however, especially since I noticed her taking in the room with calculating eyes from behind her handkerchief.
“I’m actually quite busy at the moment,” I said, resorting to a lie in the hope of getting rid of my unwanted guests. “Was there something you wanted?”
Goldie sniffled again. “It’s more about what Jimmy wanted.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”
She pushed her rotund form up off the settee and ran a finger along the edge of a crystal vase sitting on an end table. “Jimmy knew how much I admired some of the gorgeous things in this room, especially this vase and the pretty figurines. He always said that my companionship was such a comfort to him and that he wanted me to have these things as a token of his affection and appreciation.”
Disgust built up dangerously inside of me, but Goldie continued talking, unaware of the effect of her words.
“Naturally, I told him I couldn’t possibly accept them, but he insisted. I hadn’t yet had a chance to come pick them up, but of course I never knew that we would run out of time so soon.” She cried into her handkerchief.
Or, as I suspected, pretended to cry.
Boiling anger worked its way up through my chest. I didn’t believe for one second that Jimmy had considered giving away any of the items in the room, especially not to Goldie. Grace had cherished the figurines and the Waterford crystal vase. Some of the items had come to her from her mother and held significant sentimental value in addition to their monetary worth. I had no doubt that they’d held sentimental value for Jimmy as well after Grace passed away.
Besides, I remembered what Lisa had told me a few days earlier. Goldie might want me to believe that she and Jimmy had been close right up until the day of his death, but, according to Lisa, their relationship—whatever it might have entailed—had ended weeks ago.
Frankly, I found it surprising that Jimmy had been involved with the loathsome woman for any length of time, but perhaps loneliness had pushed him in that direction. Even if he did, for whatever reason, have some measure of affection for Goldie, I simply couldn’t swallow the story she was trying to feed me.
I forced myself to speak through my anger. “You’re saying the two of you had an agreement that he would give you the vase and figurines?”
“Yes, precisely.” A hint of greedy hunger flickered in her eyes before she covered them again with her handkerchief. “Oh, Jimmy. He was such a generous soul.”
“And do you have any evidence of such an agreement?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“I…” Goldie lowered her handkerchief, her face bewildered. “Evidence?”
“Such as a written agreement stating Jimmy’s intention to gift the items to you?”
Annoyance flashed across her face before she smoothed out her features. “Oh, we didn’t need anything so formal.”
“I’m afraid you do now,” I said. “He didn’t leave those items to you in his will and without any other evidence to support the existence of an agreement, everything will stay where it is.”
She couldn’t hide her annoyance this time. “Well,” she huffed, “I never.” She bustled past me toward the hallway, but then stopped and turned back. “Who knows if those items were really his to begin with.”
“They belonged to his wife, Grace,” I said, not sure what she was getting at.
Goldie sniffed. “So he might have told you.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jonah answered instead of his mother. “It’s all over town that Jimmy was a thief. The word is that he was the one responsible for the recent break-ins.”
Hot anger rushed through me. “Jimmy was not a thief.”
Jonah shrugged, uninterested.
Goldie dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief again, back to her grief-stricken routine. “All I wanted was something to remember Jimmy by.”
“From what I’ve heard, Jimmy hadn’t had anything to do with you for weeks.”
Goldie’s façade slipped away. Her nostrils flared and she glared at me with undisguised hatred. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors.”
I met her glare straight on. “Neither should you.”
Goldie huffed again and spun around. “Let’s go, Jonah.”
She stormed out the front door.
Jonah frowned but sidled through the door after her.
I stood on the front steps, watching as they climbed into an ancient maroon station wagon, Jonah at the wheel. It wasn’t until they’d exited the driveway and turned onto the road that I finally went back inside and shut the door.
Seething, I returned to the family room at the back of the house and dropped onto the couch.
That wo
man! I couldn’t believe her gall.
And someone was spreading rumors about Jimmy being a thief. That only added to my heated emotions. Jimmy’s name being tarnished was exactly what I’d wanted to avoid, but I’d obviously failed in that respect. I didn’t know how the rumor had started, but it probably didn’t take much for any scrap of information to get spread around town with some distortion of facts along the way.
I jumped up off the couch and paced up and down in front of it, unable to remain sitting. Flapjack lifted his head and regarded me from his spot on the windowsill. Seconds later, he tucked his head between his paws and went back to sleep. I paused by the French doors and stared out at the ocean, trying to calm myself.
The tide was a long way out, leaving an expanse of wet sand between the breaking waves and the high water mark. A seagull dipped into view before flapping off out of sight and two children ran along a sandbar, heading for the tidal pools. I allowed the familiar scene to soothe me and after a few deep breaths, my anger dissipated and my muscles relaxed.
There was no point in wasting my energy on Goldie and Jonah Krantz. I had far more important things to focus on. But while I’d calmed down, my mind still wasn’t clear enough to work efficiently on any mental tasks. I decided to give myself some time, to keep my hands busy while my thoughts settled. There were plenty of chores within the house that needed my attention, and I figured I might as well get something done while I recovered from my unpleasant encounter with Jimmy’s ex–lady friend and her son.
Chapter 18
I decided to start by sorting through Jimmy’s clothes. Although that wasn’t a job I looked forward to, I knew it needed to be done.
After dumping my cold tea down the sink, I opened the closet in the foyer and pulled items out one by one. I sorted through Jimmy’s jackets as well as some hats and gloves, placing the folded items on the settee in the front living room. Anything still in decent shape would go to charity, while everything else would have to go in the trash.
Fortunately, the majority of what I removed from the closet went into the charity pile, including the sturdy pair of work boots and dark green Wellies that were the last items I sorted through. Even though it wasn’t easy for me to go through Jimmy’s belongings, knowing it meant I’d never see him again, I held back my tears and got the closet emptied.
I didn’t know if I was allowed to donate Jimmy’s belongings to charity before probate—I’d have to ask Mr. Ogilvie about that—but either way, I could at least have everything organized.
As I stood regarding the piles of footwear and outerwear, I decided I needed some boxes. I recalled seeing some in the storage room upstairs and when I poked my head in the upper tower room, I spotted several flattened ones stacked beneath one of the windows. Edging my way around the clutter, my gaze fell upon the antique slipper chair again.
It would go perfectly with the cheval mirror I’d seen in the antiques store, I realized. I could already picture them together here in the Victorian, adding a touch of elegance to the back bedroom currently claimed as my own. If I perked up the walls with a coat of fresh paint and found a queen-sized bed that complemented the antiques, I’d have a beautiful, cozy retreat.
But I was getting way ahead of myself. I’d inherited the Victorian and intended to keep it, but I still had a life waiting for me in Seattle. Did I really want to give up everything that I had in the city to move to Wildwood Cove?
Yes and no. I loved it here in the seaside town, but would I feel the same about it on a long-term basis? I wasn’t sure, and the thought of making such a big change made me nervous.
I pushed aside my musings and grabbed a couple of the flattened boxes. I brushed the dust off them, sneezing in the process, and carried them downstairs. When I reached the living room, I heard the rumble of another vehicle approaching the house.
“Please, no more unpleasant visitors,” I said to the ceiling as I dropped the boxes next to the settee.
I left the living room for the foyer. As I stepped out onto the porch, I was relieved to see that there were no maroon station wagons, yellow sports cars, or silver BMWs in sight. Instead, a black truck pulled to a stop in front of the house, Michael in the driver’s seat.
“Hi,” I said as he opened the truck’s door.
“How are things going?” he asked.
“All right, thanks.”
He climbed out of the vehicle and approached the porch steps.
“What brings you by?” I asked, with an inkling that I already knew.
“I was hoping to find out if you’d given any more thought to my dinner invitation.”
My stomach gave an uncomfortable twist and I was about to pass on the offer when I realized that dinner would provide a good opportunity to ask him some questions and learn more about Daryl. Besides, the thought of spending time in some good company appealed to me in the wake of Goldie and Jonah’s visit. I didn’t want to mislead Michael by accepting the invitation, but I doubted that would be an issue. He knew I was in town for only a few more days. Most likely he was just being friendly.
“Tonight?” I asked, checking to be sure I’d assumed correctly.
“If you’re free.”
“I am, and dinner sounds great,” I said.
Michael grinned. “I’ve got a place in mind, just at the edge of town. Do you like seafood?”
“I love it.”
“Good. That’s settled, then.”
“I just need a few minutes to change.”
“It’s a casual restaurant,” he assured me.
I glanced down at my dusty clothes. “Still, I’d like to put on something different.”
“No worries. I’ll wait out here.”
Leaving Michael on the porch, I dashed upstairs and quickly traded my dusty clothes for clean ones. Hurrying downstairs again, I set out some food and fresh water for Flapjack. Then I grabbed my phone and tote bag and rejoined Michael at the front of the house.
Moments later we were in his truck and heading toward town. During the short journey to the restaurant we chatted about our jobs and where we were from. I learned that Michael had grown up in Southern California and had arrived in Wildwood Cove three years earlier.
“What brought you here?” I asked, curious about how he’d found out about the small seaside town.
“I have relatives here,” he replied as he turned left off Wildwood Road. “Well, just one relative now, but I came here for a visit and decided I liked the place.” He slowed the truck and pulled into a parking space at the curb. “Here we are.”
As I climbed out of the truck, I glanced up at the sign above the restaurant: CJ’S SEAFOOD HOUSE. The name wasn’t familiar, and I had a feeling the restaurant hadn’t been around when I’d last visited Wildwood Cove.
Although the seafood eatery didn’t have a beachfront location, it was situated up a bit of a hill and overlooked the ocean. When we entered the restaurant, the hostess led us to a small table near the window so we were able to enjoy the view to its fullest.
As we looked over the menu and placed our orders with the waiter, we continued to chat about the town. I was eager to ask my questions, to find out how much Michael could tell me about Daryl, but I held back for the moment, not wanting to dive into that subject too soon. Once the waiter had brought our meals, however, I decided to give my questions a try. I was still attempting to figure out how to guide our conversation in that direction without being too abrupt when Michael saved me the effort.
“How’s the investigation going?” he asked as he sank his fork into a piece of seared black cod. “Any news from the sheriff lately?”
I swallowed a bite of delicious marinated prawn before replying. “Not much. Jimmy might have been killed on his property before he was taken to Myler’s Point, but I don’t know that the sheriff is any closer to making an arrest.”
“Hopefully that will change soon.”
“Hopefully,” I agreed.
Michael sniffed and rubbed the side of his nose
before delving back into his cod.
“Do you have a cold?” I asked.
“Nah. Just allergies. Spring must be coming.”
“Seems to be,” I agreed. “I saw a few daffodils out the other day.” After enjoying another prawn, I asked one of the questions queued up in my mind. “Any word from Daryl?”
Michael took a drink of ice water and set down his glass. “He eventually sent me a text message, saying he planned to stay out of town for a while, but he didn’t say anything more than that.”
I digested that information as I ate another prawn with some seasoned rice. After a moment or two, I decided to fish for further information. “I saw the bracelet Daryl gave Tina. It’s beautiful.”
Michael frowned, his fork poised above his plate. “I don’t think I’ve noticed it,” he said, returning his attention to his food.
I didn’t let that deter me from my quest for clues. “I was surprised he could afford something so nice.”
“Maybe it wasn’t as expensive as it looks.”
“Or maybe he didn’t pay for it.”
Michael raised his eyes from his plate. “You think he stole it?”
I shrugged. “Or maybe it’s a family heirloom.”
“I don’t think he has any family heirlooms, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gone back to his old ways.”
“Old ways?” I echoed, latching onto those words. “Does he have a record for stealing as well as assault?”
“From when he was a teenager, but he hasn’t done anything like that for a long time.”
I wasn’t so sure about that and, despite what he’d told me, Michael didn’t seem so sure either. A troubled expression clouding his face, he returned his attention to his dinner. I went back to eating as well, but my thoughts continued to revolve around Daryl and what I’d just learned about his past. More and more, Michael’s young friend seemed like he could be guilty of at least one crime, if not more than one.