“Well, prepare to be disappointed. They took just about everything out of my garden and the master suite, so I’m not sure what’s left to see, if anything.”
She pulled the door open and let the tall detective inside. He hung up his leather jacket on the hall tree and followed Amanda’s retreating figure into the kitchen. He knew a woman who needed coffee when he saw one.
He was right. It took only a couple of minutes for her to fill the coffeemaker with water and shovel in some grounds. She pulled out two mugs and spoons, and gestured for him to sit at the long wooden table.
“I take it you’re not here to talk to me about stranger danger or a neighbor complaint?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and snorted in surprise. “You seem to be pretty nonchalant about what’s going on. You always like this?”
Amanda pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Yep. Every time they dig up somebody out of my yard, this is exactly what I do. Make coffee. Crack bad jokes.” She sighed. “Look, I’m not exactly myself. Let’s start over, okay?” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Amanda.”
He shook her hand, grinning a bit. “I’m Detective Landon and I’ve been assigned to this case. Call me James.”
“Deal. Want cream and sugar?”
By the time two steaming mugs of coffee were poured and doctored, James was listing what was going to happen with her case.
Her case. As if she had killed this guy herself.
“So the autopsy will tell us more, but it’s been long enough that the coroner may not be able to determine a cause of death. We won’t know for a bit. There’s not a lot to…work with.”
Amanda tried not to think about that. “Look, I hate to be practical, but I need to know what I can do and what I can’t. The cops are saying that I can’t work on some parts of my Inn until their investigation is over, and the mayor capped that off by saying that even if I do get this place up and running, she won’t allow me to use it as a business.” She looked across the table at the detective, his large hands wrapped around the warmth of the oversized coffee cup. “I’m getting tired of people telling me what I can’t do, especially the mayor.”
James shrugged. “Officially, I can only tell you about the police part but I grew up around here. My folks and my brothers are all still here, so I can tell you a thing or two about our esteemed mayor that would curl your toes.”
He pulled a cookie off the plate that Amanda offered. “She likes to act like she’s the queen, but she’s got a past and issues just like everyone one. She just hopes no one remembers all of them.”
“Okay, so what do you recommend? Blackmail? Voodoo doll?”
James shook his head. “Lawyer.” From Amanda’s facial expression, he could tell she didn’t like that idea at all.
“And don’t talk about blackmailing anyone, okay? I’d hate to have to come back here and slap some handcuffs on you.”
She just caught the teasing gleam in his eye, even though his voice was steady and serious, and she broke out with a laugh.
“What if I rob a bank to pay for the lawyer?”
He took a big bite of his cookie, now openly grinning. “For that, lady, you get a free ride in a cop car and a one-way ticket to jail.”
“Hey, at least it’s free.”
***
Amanda followed around after him, watching him take photos and scribble notes about various places in the Inn and outside in the yard. It was fascinating to see his keen mind trying to put together patterns and information out of seemingly random clues. She tried to keep quiet as she watched him work, but after over an hour of tagging along behind him, she was happy when they were both able to sit on the edge of the back porch and take a break.
“You know, Ravenwood Cove wasn’t always like this, closed off to people. It was a great place to grow up. I bet I still know two-thirds of the people here.”
Amanda thought of LA and the people she’d been around there. She didn’t even know what her neighbor looked like, even though she’d lived next to him for a couple of years. She certainly didn’t miss any of the people from her former workplace.
“You know anything about a really annoying rooster who likes to wake up the entire neighborhood at the crack of crack?”
The detective chuckled. “You mean Dumb Cluck? He’s not gonna hurt you. He’s just been around for years and thinks everything in the neighborhood belongs to him.”
“He keeps waking me up this early I’m gonna put him in a crockpot.”
James looked at her in mock disapproval. “Now, you don’t want to do that. He’s been here longer than you have. And also he’d be tougher to eat than an old boot.”
“All right. He won’t go in the crockpot, but how about I just duct tape his little beak shut?”
At his surprised look she raised her hands in surrender. “Just kidding!”
“Not much of a country girl, are you? Where are you from, anyway?”
“California.” She swung her legs back in forth, enjoying the time off her feet.
He grunted. “Well, that explains it.”
They sat in silence for a bit, just looking out at the backyard and the dug up garden.
James shifted gears a bit. “Tell me about your uncle. What sort of argument did he have with Emmett?”
“Look, I don’t know anything about that. I only saw Uncle Conrad on holidays and he wasn’t exactly the chatty sort. Also, are you sure this guy is Emmett? No one’s told me officially yet.”
James set his camera down on the wooden porch. “We won’t know for sure until the dental records get confirmed, but it sure looks like it. Several people have verified the metal boot tips and ring found with the body.”
“Did he have any family?”
James looked up, seemingly studying the passing clouds. “Not anyone who would claim him. You could say that he wasn’t well-liked.” He looked at her sideways. “By anyone.”
“So there’s no clue yet about how he died?”
James shook his head. “As soon as we know, I’ll call you.”
Amanda was surprised at the pang of disappointment she felt when he said that. Would be nice to have him stop by instead, she thought, looking over at the handsome lines of his face.
Get ahold of yourself. She mentally shook herself as she shut the door behind James’ broad back. After everything she’d been through, the last thing she needed to be doing was speculating about whether her guest had been working out to get such broad shoulders, or if he was just naturally built like that.
She already had all the trouble she could handle, and eyeballing the local constabulary was just going to complicate her life further.
Now if she could only get her brain to obey that command, she’d be doing just fine.
Chapter 7
It wasn’t easy being a small town celebrity.
Everywhere Amanda went, whether it was to stock up on groceries or to get her mail or to walk down to the beach for some quiet time, the silent eyes of the townspeople followed her. Most kept their distance, with maybe a small smile or quiet nod, but some stared outright or just ignored her as they walked by. At least her neighbors across the street had packed up the assortment of chairs they’d had in their front lawn to watch the parade of police, press, and officials that had come and gone once Emmett had been discovered.
Roy still showed up every day, without his crew, to lend a hand as he could. Some mornings he’d arrive a bit late, apologizing and explaining that he’d taken his boat out early to set a crab pot or two, and making sure to stay on Amanda’s good side by dropping off a large Dungeness crab from time to time.
Amanda spent a lot of her frustration and anger on sanding the hardwood floors, stripping paint off the old shutters with a wire brush, and hoeing the weeds out of the curved flower borders near the front entrance. One day, while walking out to the mailbox she again caught a glimpse of her Slavic-looking neighbor at the bungalow next door. A pretty blonde woman was at the door, holding a big bag of groceries w
hile the bundled-up lady gave her a hug and gestured for her to come inside. Amanda hadn’t seen anyone over at the house since she’d seen the lady slip quickly through her fence to get out of the Inn’s abandoned apple orchard, and the heavy curtains in her neighbor’s windows were always closed.
Roy could see Amanda craning her neck a bit while she watched the neighbor go inside with her young visitor, and he had the answers all ready for the questions he knew Amanda would ask.
“That’s Jennifer Peetman. She visits over there a couple o’ times a week.”
“Oh, really? Is she a relative?”
Roy wiped his dusty hands on his overalls. “Nah. She’s just the only person around here who speaks any Russian, so she goes to take that lady stuff and visit with her. Just doing a good deed, I guess.”
Amanda nodded. “Wish she’d tell her she could take all the apples she can carry. There’s no way I’m going to use all the fruit I’ve got back there,” she said, gesturing past the Inn.
Flipping open the local paper, Amanda scanned the front page. Not much more news about Emmett but they’d still made sure to take up as much space about it on the page as possible. Looks like the staff at the Ravenwood Tide were going to milk a rare crime story for everything they could. Compared to the announcements about Blackout Bingo Night to raise money for filling in potholes in front of the elementary school and that the local fisherman association was sponsoring an oyster-eating contest, the excitement of a murder won hands down.
As usual, Amanda ate her lunch outside on the front porch, taking a break from all the physical work and going over her list of things that still needed to be done. Sitting on the second step with her iced tea and tuna sandwich beside her, she was adding a few things to her shopping list when she heard an unfamiliar scratching sound.
She turned just in time to see a huge orange paw curl up from under the stairs and take a desperate swipe at her tuna sandwich, feeling around a bit on the plate as it tried to hook its long claws into Amanda’s lunch.
“Hey!” she hollered and the paw jerked back, disappearing under the painted boards. Amanda was silent, straining to hear any sound from her unexpected and hungry guest, but heard nothing.
“Going to play hard to get, are ya?” she chuckled. Getting only silence in response, Amanda quietly gave her best cat-like meow. It had been years since she’d had a cat of her own, especially since Ken had been terribly allergic and hadn’t liked cats. Any time she’d brought up the subject of getting a kitty of her own, he’d look at her with his blond eyebrows raised in shock, as if she were an idiot, and change the subject.
She didn’t miss Ken.
There was a pause, then a small meow back from under the broad steps. When Amanda tried again there was no answer, but Amanda broke a corner off her sandwich, making sure there was plenty of fishy bits inside, and dropped it onto the grass at the side of the stairs. She leaned over, hoping that a free meal might tempt the would-be sandwich thief out into the sunshine, and after less than a minute the broad head of a striped orange cat emerged, glancing upward to watch Amanda with suspicion before taking the extra two steps to wolf down the tasty tidbit.
Amanda could see that the cat was lean, too lean, and that it had no collar. When she made little mewing sounds at it, and then leaned over to try to pet it, the cat hissed softly at her, and quickly scrambled back to its hiding place.
“Have it your way, Mr. Kitty,” she said, and pulled several more big chunks off her sandwich. She dropped them in the grass, close enough that the cat could smell them, and brushed the crumbs off her hands. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”
So much for making friends in Ravenwood, she thought. Seems like I can’t make friends with either people or animals.
***
With the rest of the crew starting up their afternoon tasks, Amanda was free to head to town for a little research. The mayor had mentioned zoning, and when Amanda had talked to the city assessor about property taxes the first day she’d started to work on the Inn, he hadn’t mentioned anything about a zoning issue.
It didn’t take long to drive to City hall or to request the file on her property, but when the apologetic clerk brought out the card file, she was stilled stunned by what she saw. There, in black in white, was a newly-filed rezoning order, revoking any previous variance that had been in place. The taxable amount had been left the same, but the Ravenwood Inn, proud host to countless guests over decades of hospitality, was now just a single family home.
At the bottom of the card was one signature. Mrs. Sandford, dated the day she’d first met Amanda, and the day that Emmett had been discovered, buried in her garden.
Chapter 8
Amanda settled into the plush seat offered, and clutched her leather handbag on her lap.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Timmins.”
The lean lawyer smiled at her from across his expansive antique desk. “Please, call me Charles. After your phone call it was apparent that you needed to talk to someone right away, and I’m happy to help.”
“I just need some advice, and to figure out what I can and can’t do, actually. I’m not sure where to start and you’re the only lawyer in town.”
Charles chuckled. “Well, there are some benefits to being the only one. I’ve been able to help the families of Ravenwood Cove for over twenty years, writing wills or contesting fence lines or answering legal questions. I even got to help George Ortiz adopt his youngest daughter. Being a small town lawyer means I get to help solve my neighbors’ problems, and maybe I can do the same thing for you.” He rested the elbows of his linen blazer on the desktop and steepled his fingers. “You want to know if your Uncle Conrad killed Emmett Johnson.”
There it was.
She took a deep breath. “That’s exactly what I want to know. I also want to know what I can do for my business. This whole thing has tied up my project of getting the Ravenwood Inn up and running again. It’s not that I’m unsympathetic to the fact that someone has died, but I have to be practical.” She shifted a bit in her seat, embarrassed. “Sympathy doesn’t pay the bills.”
The lawyer’s face seemed to reflect his concern. “Sounds like you have a lot at stake, Miss Graham. I can only tell you what I know, and what everyone else knew. Emmett was obsessed with your aunt, and your uncle knew it. I’ve never seen a man so jealous.” He leaned forward, his soft brown eyes full of compassion. “I know it’s not what you probably want to hear, but your uncle had a terrible temper. He was known all through town as a hothead.”
Amanda grimaced. “So I’ve heard,” she admitted. “Charles, do you know anything about the day my uncle and aunt left, or the day before?”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you much with that, Miss Graham. I was out of town that week at a legal conference and only heard about it when I got back. All I know is that your uncle was heard yelling at Emmett in Ivy’s Café, and told him to go to hell. The waitress told me all about it when I came in the next time.”
“Serves town gossip with her coffee?” The thought of someone spreading tales about her family, whether it had been true or not, made the pit of Amanda’s stomach hurt.
Charles’ voice was soothing as he stood up to walk around the desk and sit in the large chair next to her. “It wasn’t like that at all. When something happens in public, people are going to talk about it in public. There must’ve been fifteen people in that diner when the argument occurred.” He took a deep breath.
“And there’s more. If it proved that your uncle is the murderer, the surviving members of his family can file a civil lawsuit to sue the estate of your uncle.” He watched Amanda’s face carefully and continued. “That means they can go after whatever property that was his at the time of his death. And that includes the Ravenwood Inn.”
Amanda’s heart stood still, time suspended in the office while the lawyer’s words resounded again and again in her ears.
Includes the Ravenwood Inn.
All that
work, all that hope, gone. Along with every last bit of money she had. Any hope she’d had of a future suddenly felt like a distant dream.
“I checked the zoning, Charles. The assessor’s office shows that the mayor rezoned the Inn the day she met me, so now it’s strictly residential.” Her words were flat and emotionless.
“Are you sure?” At Amanda’s resigned nod, Charles began to bristle.
“That’s horrible. She may have the authority to do it but that doesn’t give her the right. Maybe we can figure a way around it legally. If you’re going to make that Inn back into a business it’s got to have business zoning.”
Amanda blinked back the tears threatening to gather behind her eyes, and Charles leaned over to pull some tissues out of a box on the desktop, handing them to Amanda.
“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m not usually this emotional but I think everything is catching up to me. The lack of sleep, the hard work, all the problems here in town.”
The lawyer’s voice was soothing. “I’m on your side, Amanda. You can always come talk to me about anything, even if it’s just to let off some steam. Look, just send the documents you have about your uncle’s last wishes and I’ll see what I can do. As of today I am officially on retainer.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to pay you, Charles.”
He smiled warmly. “Got a dollar?” She was confused but he waited patiently while she dug into her purse and produced a single dollar bill. He took it and laid it on his desk.
“There. It’s official. You’ve paid me a retainer and now I’m your advocate. Care for a mint?” He offered Amanda an open tin of peppermints, but she smiled and shook her head no, understanding that he was trying to give her a chance to calm down a bit. Charles set the tin down and stood up, digging into the top drawer of his tall file cabinet. After a few seconds of flipping through the folders, he pulled out a sheet of paper, looked it over carefully, and handed it to her.
“Here’s a list of your rights while your property is under investigation. The main thing is to remember that you have a lawyer on your side, and that you don’t let anyone search without a warrant.”
BED, BREAKFAST, and BONES: A Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mystery Page 4