He nodded. “It’s been in her family for generations, and now she’s the legal owner.”
“What’s the Crescent Crown Company?”
He hesitated, almost sorry to put the pieces of the puzzle together for her. “It’s one of the biggest retirement resort companies in the country. They go around buying up very expensive and desirable chunks of land so they can build super-luxurious resorts on them, catering only to wealthy retirees.”
Amanda gulped, her mind racing. “You mean the mayor…”
He nodded, seeing she was on the right track. “She stands to make millions if that deal goes through. They want her land.”
“What about the Inn?”
“Your property is right next to hers. If the resort company decided to expand, your land would be worth a fortune. They have a history of buying up surrounding properties and putting in more condos.”
“But only if the town…”
“Stays off the beaten path. That means exclusive, private, no tourists, no weekend rentals, no new roads or businesses coming in that won’t directly benefit the retirement community. Crescent Crown is famous for its requirements of the surrounding areas, as their members want only the best. I wouldn’t be surprised if they would want to update the local shops with something bigger and more modern.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s just say they’re known for pushing the local people to allow in huge companies that have contracts exclusively with them, and ones that will give the resort residents steep discounts.”
Amanda’s mouth dropped open, thinking of Cuppa and Kazoodles and Petrie’s Hardware and all the small businesses in town.
“James, I’ve heard about companies that do that kind of thing. That will wipe out almost every shop owner in town. Does anyone else know about this yet?”
“Not yet. I don’t have any solid data to give you right now, but I’ll see what I can pull together. You understand that as an officer of the law I can’t officially take sides on this.”
Amanda’s face registered surprise. “You can’t take sides but you’re telling me all this?”
James tried to look innocent and failed entirely. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m not willing to let Ravenwood just die due to corporate greed. Let’s just say that I think you may be a person who’d have an interest in doing something about Crescent Crown. I think that if you got a chance you might figure out that this little town is exactly the sort of place you need, Miss Graham, and that there are people here who you could actually get to know a bit.”
“It has been nice making friends here,” Amanda admitted. “There didn’t seem to be many people I could talk to in LA.”
The handsome detective leaned over and put his broad, warm hand over hers. “You can always talk to me.”
Too much. It was too much to expect her to get involved with someone just because he was giving her the info she needed to try to change her circumstances. She’d always prided herself on being able to stand on her own two feet, on being able to walk away when things got too complex or ugly, and she’d certainly seen ugly up close and personal with the last man in her life.
She reluctantly pulled her hand away and picked up her burger, trying to control her breathing so he wouldn’t know that her heart was racing.
“Thank you, Detective. If I have anything to report, I’ll be sure to contact you.”
Best to keep things impersonal, she thought, even though she read the disappointment in his grey-green eyes.
“I’d appreciate that, Miss Graham.” His voice was cool, efficient. “Any assistance you can provide to the authorities would be helpful.”
They ate in silence, all the while wondering what the other was thinking, and trying not to dribble ketchup on their chins.
Chapter 13
Even if her time at Ivy’s with James hadn’t been very comfortable, the information he had given her was a goldmine, and certainly got her motivated.
The news about the mayor and the retirement community had really ticked her off. There’d been a murder in town, and all she’s interested in is her own profit and turning this place into some sort of retirement haven? Whether she was in it for her own profit or some other reasons really didn’t matter. The bottom line was her selfishness was hurting everyone, including the owner of the Ravenwood Inn.
Was the mayor trying to devalue the Inn enough to buy it from Amanda, or did she have some other plan in mind? Either way, the thought of giving up the Inn after so much work and intrigue made Amanda’s stomach hurt. Sure, at first the thought of just fixing it up to sell it may have been at the back of her mind, but with each day that she’d been working on it, she’d been able to see the potential beauty in the old building, and in Ravenwood Cove itself. Yes, it wasn’t LA, but she was starting to see a glimmer of what her future could be in a small town where everyone knew everyone, and she was beginning to like that image.
The question was, what did she do now? She puzzled over this as she drove slowly back to the Inn, thinking back on James’ words and trying to figure out what to do about it.
How can she prove the link to the mayor? Would it hurt the town if she told them about the upcoming real estate deal, or would it benefit the merchants to know about what was being plotted against them? Amanda wasn't sure. If she told the secret that she knew, maybe to Lisa at the newspaper, she might be doing more harm than good. Telling the merchants about the Crescent Crown Company might panic them into selling, and that was the last thing she wanted for this little town.
Either she was going to have to find a way to change the mayor's mind, and she didn't think she could do that, or she was going to have to think outside the box and come up with a different plan. A plan to help the merchants, attract tourists so the resort company didn’t want to build in this town, and hopefully save the Ravenwood Inn. She was in too deep to back down now.
By the time she’d parked in the circular driveway, a plan was beginning to form. The moment she was back inside the Inn, Amanda opened her laptop on the kitchen island and got to work.
The new cat had definitely made himself at home, seemingly thrilled to have his own food bowl and a human servant who would fill it on command. He rubbed against Amanda’s ankles and when that didn’t get him the attention he wanted, he hopped onto the counter, content to just sit and purr as Amanda typed like crazy.
She’d been used to putting together websites for past projects so she knew a bit about software and design, and by the end of the day she had two very professional-looking websites up on the internet.
The first one she created was for the Ravenwood Inn, and included historic photos of it in its heyday, as well as a blog detailing the restoration efforts she was attempting. She made sure to include a glowing review of Roy Greeley’s construction company, and put in the recent article the newspaper had done about the remodel. At first she was tempted to include information about the discovery of Emmett Johnson under her scarecrow but she finally decided not to. Even if he was universally disliked, she wasn’t the sort to profit off of someone else’s death, and she certainly didn’t want any more questions or pointing fingers about her uncle’s possible involvement. She wanted good publicity, not notoriety.
The second website took her more time and thought, because it was for her new hometown, Ravenwood Cove. She was lucky to be able to snap up the domain because it looked like no one else had ever thought of starting a website to feature the local business and the charm of the beach town. Using the best photos she could find, both new and historic, she included links to any merchant websites she could find. Many of the local shops didn’t have their own sites on the internet, so she put together simple descriptions for them, making a note to talk to the owners for more info later. She wanted to be sure they were happy with their new web presence and with what she was doing. As she typed and made to do lists and uploaded everything, her mind was working through possibilities of how to help the town, and ways to get her beaut
iful Inn open again.
And that’s how she thought of her place. Beautiful. The quiet building, steeped in years of dignity and the laughter and comfort of guests, had really grown on her as she had peeled off the layers of neglect and disuse. She genuinely loved the curve of the main staircase, the broad rooms with their comfortable and carved furniture, and the view of colorful sunsets from her balconies. Yes, maybe she did have a crazy rooster that woke her up every morning at dawn by crowing his head off somewhere down her little street, and maybe her neighbors were flat-out weird, but the quirkiness of this place was starting to almost seem normal.
If there were any ghosts here, they seemed to be just ghosts of happy memories. As long as she didn’t think too much about the hole in the garden, Amanda was able to almost see the loving couples waltzing around the parlor on a long ago summer’s night. The more she worked on the websites, the more those hopeful thoughts coalesced in her mind. This was a life worth fighting for. It was hers, and she was going to do what she had to in order to keep it.
So the townspeople were interested in her and what was going on with the Inn?
FINE. If they were interested in her she was going to make sure they knew she was interested in them. The websites might help a bit, but she knew that a couple small sites would be nearly impossible to find among so many websites about the Oregon coast. Why would someone be interested in Ravenwood Cove in the first place?
She needed something else. She needed to find out what people were thinking about the current city council and what was going on.
***
The next morning she packed her purse with a pad of paper and extra pens, and headed to Main Street. Amanda parked and looked down the sidewalk, seeing the tiny little shops, some with apartments on the second story for the owners, stretching out toward the town square with its tall flagpole. The chill of the morning fog clung to her as she stepped out of her car and scanned the quiet street. Under cheerful storefronts and awnings, shop owners were just starting to turn over OPEN signs, water the big hanging pots of late season flowers hanging from the antique streetlamps, and sweep stray leaves from their doorsteps. A couple of merchants set out bowls of fresh water for any dogs that strolled by.
The marquee on the theater boasted that it was running a classic movie, Lawrence of Arabia, for just three dollars. She could hear the jingle of the bell over the door in Petrie’s when Brian stepped outside, broom in hand. He spotted her and gave her a broad wave.
Packing tape, she thought. How did his packing tape get wrapped around a corpse in my garden?
She waved back, trying to give her best smile and turned toward Cuppa. If she was going to talk with Mr. Petrie, it would have to be after she’d had a lot of coffee and a bit more courage.
Amanda spent her morning walking from shop to shop, waiting her turn while the friendly owners helped other customers and then chatting with them. They seemed moderately happy but almost skeptical when she told them about the new website she’d built for the town, and when Amanda started asking questions, it didn’t take long for a common theme to emerge. Grace TwoHorses at Kazoodles said the same exact sort of thing that Tory Sherwood, the owner of Cuppa, expressed. They loved their little town, they wanted to stay and keep their business there, but times were tough and there just weren’t enough customers to keep them open forever.
“It’s like the town is drying up,” Grace said as she arranged the front window display, full of elaborate Lego dioramas that the local kids had created.
“Have you ever met up with the other business owners and talked about this?” Amanda asked. “Maybe there’s something you could do if you band together.”
“Why bother? It’s not like we’re going to get more people into town to buy stuff anyway.”
Amanda thought about that, watching while Grace stepped back to view the elaborate display, a look of satisfaction on her face.
“What if we could get more people to come to town?”
Grace scoffed, not unkindly, as she walked back toward the counter. “Yeah, good luck with that,” she said. “See how many customers we have?” She gestured to the empty store. “It’d have to be something pretty drastic to get more people in here. I do my best but no matter how many sales I run or how great that front window looks, if people aren’t visiting town there’s no one to buy anything.” She plopped down on the wooden stool behind the cash register. “I can’t make a living selling just to the locals. At this rate, I’ll have to close up shop before Christmas.”
From the butcher, Jeff Prudhoe to the baker, Mrs. Mason, the response was pretty much the same. She listened carefully to everyone’s frustrations and concerns, nodding her head and sympathizing, and being sure to buy something at every store. Maybe it was just a small, silly gesture but she wanted to help, and she wanted them to know she appreciated what they were going through.
Madeline Wu, the owner of the local fish store, wrapped up two pounds of her best salmon and refused to take payment for it when Amanda tried to hand her a twenty. “On the house. Welcome to Ravenwood Cove!” Madeline said, smiling warmly and passing over the fish, now wrapped with an ice pack in white butcher paper. Amanda almost felt guilty taking it but after a bit of protesting, she thanked Madeline and asked for ideas on how to cook it. By the time she walked out she had a great new recipe for a blackberry glaze for the fish, and had seen at least a dozen photos of Madeline’s grandchildren, all proudly displayed in a little album she kept under the front counter.
It was about noontime and Amanda’s tummy was rumbling for lunch. She tucked the fish and ice into her car, glad that she’d parked in the shade of one of the huge maples growing by the wide sidewalk, and headed to Ivy’s café. She’d already begun to hatch a plan and as soon as she settled into a back booth at Ivy’s she pulled out her notebook. After ordering a big bowl of clam chowder she began frantically jotting down ideas and details. It was going to be a challenge to try to come up with something that would help people and still wouldn’t disclose the possible land sale to the retirement community developer. If she had to, she would do that as a last resort, but she was hoping to avoid the certain uproar and panic that would bring.
One thing was for sure; working on ideas to help the town’s shopkeepers was helping her forget about her own troubles a bit. She couldn’t change the fact that her family was under suspicion for murder, or that her own business was sinking like a rock, or that her bank account was rapidly drying up. At least she had a roof over her head, and some new friends, and a chance to help someone else.
So my own life is going straight into the dumpster, she thought, tasting the soup. Maybe I’ve been thinking too much about myself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really gone out on a limb to help someone who wasn’t close friends or family.
James was right. The chowder was amazing. He lingered in her thoughts as she ate, and she wondered what he was doing about the investigation into Emmett’s murder. She wasn’t used to trusting other people, but she knew in this case she’d have to.
I’ll touch base with him later, she thought, with a pang of regret. I’ve got other things to do.
Chapter 14
It was worth getting up so early. Anger definitely felt better than despair, and Amanda gripped her backpack and shovel tightly as she locked up her car in the empty parking lot.
She didn’t mind the dampness of the fog or the soft darkness of the pre-dawn morning. Once she’d walked through the whip-like seagrass toward the ocean, the empty beach stretched on either side of her for miles. A constant wind nearly muffled the sound of the rolling surf, white with constantly-moving foam, crashing against the shore in timeless rhythm. She pulled out her spade and got to work, a few seagulls hovering nearly motionless overhead in case she’d brought food. Setting her mouth in a grim line of determination, Amanda thought about her plan and how it might play out.
Starting to dig, she focused on the tiny holes and bubbles in the sand, and the reflection of gra
y sky and green water. Simple and beautiful, and here since ages before people ever walked this beach.
She’d already been working for about fifteen minutes and made several holes when she heard the crunching sound of footsteps on the sand and the scent of a familiar aftershave let her know she wasn’t alone. The seagulls winged off without any sense of panic, in search of quieter hunting grounds.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Detective Landon sounded more curious than accusatory.
She kept digging, her spade making deep cuts as she shoveled the sand out of the hole.
“I’m planting.”
She heard his snort of dismissal. “Planting in the sand?”
“Well, for some odd reason I don’t feel like planting stuff in my garden anymore.”
He ignored her pathetic joke, peeking over her shoulder as she turned her body away from him a bit. Finishing her hole while he watched in silence, she leaned over to pull something out of the nearby backpack.
It was a seashell, huge and beautifully intricate, and definitely not from any sort of shellfish that had ever lived near Oregon. It had obviously come from some exotic tropical beach somewhere. James caught a glimpse of more shells in the bag.
Amanda smiled with satisfaction as she carefully placed the shell, as big as her hand, in the sandy hole, and used the spade to fill it in.
“They’re from my aunt’s collection,” she finally explained as she picked up her pack and moved about ten feet away, starting a new hole as he followed. “She loved to travel and bring seashells home as souvenirs and I found boxes and boxes of them in the Inn. I’m just putting them back where they belong. I think she’d approve.”
He watched her, still confused. “If I’m right, the shells you have in that bag were probably collected from beaches all over the world. Why are you putting them here?”
“I’m recycling.”
“Um, technically, you’re littering.”
BED, BREAKFAST, and BONES: A Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mystery Page 7