A Little Taste of Murder: A Brightwater Bay Cozy Mystery (book 1)
By Carolyn L. Dean
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A Little Taste of Murder: A Brightwater Bay Cozy Mystery (book 1) is copyright 2017 by Carolyn L. Dean. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
Dedication
For my daughter, Victoria, always and forever loved.
For my parents. The older I get, the more I understand how wonderful they are.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
AUTHOR NOTES:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean
Chapter 1
“You’re not thinking of jumping, are ya?”
Claire turned around, still gripping the wet guardrail. The cold seeped through her thin gloves. The man’s question, asked with a note of genuine concern, was far too close to her own dark thoughts.
“Well, not right now, I’m not.”
A bitter December wind pulled tendrils of her hair around her face, and she brushed the strands back impatiently. She blinked at the middle-aged police officer, her previous reverie broken by the sound of authority in his voice. He looked down his hawk-like nose at her for a moment, apparently considering what to do next. His brown eyes, shaded by salt-and-pepper eyebrows, seemed to be both kind and worried. The flat brim of his hat dripped rain off the side, running down the thick jacket over his uniform. A dark sedan was parked behind him, pulled off to the shoulder of the twisting country road. The door was still open, as if he’d gotten out in haste, and the bar of red and blue lights on top were turned off.
“My car died, and I was waiting for the tow truck,” Claire said, almost apologetically. “I’m just waiting. Nothing else. No plans to jump, I promise.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, with a sigh. “I mean, I’m not happy your car died, but I’m glad you’re not thinking about jumping. I’d hate to think that this viewpoint would have such a tragic thing happen. People would have to think about it whenever they stopped to look down at Brightwater Bay.” He smiled. “That’d be terrible for the town, you know.”
It took a moment for her to understand that the police officer was trying to crack a very bad joke, but she smiled anyway. “Terrible.”
The cop looked out at the view, ignoring the drizzling rain as it pelted them both. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
Claire couldn’t help but agree. From the highway, the thickly-forested bluff dropped steeply downward, wisps of coastal mist lingering over it and softening the scene. It was winter in Washington State, and the late afternoon light was already dimming. The town below, hugging the edge of inland waters of the Pacific Ocean, was sprawled across the lowest level of land. Claire could make out a marina full of small white boats, and a large dock where a ferry was patiently sitting, waiting for travelers. Over a mile to the right, a cluster of buildings by the water’s edge were grouped around a central, sprawling lodge. Lights in houses and on street corners blinked on against the oncoming night. She briefly wondered about the people living there, heading home to their dinners and their families. It was an odd thought, that each light represented at least one person, living out their lives in a quiet town only a couple of miles long.
“Which tow company did you call? Was it Ben Draper’s Towing?”
When Claire nodded in answer, the cop gave a short huff of irritation. “You’ll be waiting all night, if it’s Draper. He may be down at the tavern with his buddies or he could be out checking his crab traps.”
Claire’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m supposed to be at a rental house tonight, on Lopez Island. If I don’t get this car fixed right away I’m going to miss the last ferry.” She quickly dug in her oversized purse and pulled out a folded schedule. Pointing to one of the lines on it, she showed it to the police officer. “See? I have until 6. If the car can get fixed right away maybe I can still make it.”
The cop shook his head, his eyebrows knit together in concern, and took the schedule from her hands, flipping it over. “This timetable is for summer, when all the tourists are around and the ferries are full,” he said, pointing at the dates for emphasis. “It’s almost Christmas, and in winter the ferry doesn’t run as often. I hate to tell you this, but you’ve already missed the last one today.” He looked up. “Sorry, but I think you’re stuck in Brightwater Bay for tonight.”
“Great,” she said, not meaning it at all. Claire let out a long breath of frustration. It had been a stressful day already. Her car had started making a strange clunking sound just after she’d driven by Bellingham, and by the time she’d passed two more small towns it had finally given out altogether, coasting to a silent stop next to the road as she’d mentally cursed her luck.
The policeman peered at her. “Look, it’s miserable out here today. How about I give you a lift into town so you can get out of the weather and maybe have some hot coffee? The diner has pecan pie on special today, and it makes a really great chicken fried steak. I’ll call Ben and let him know where to tow your car.”
Rainwater trickling into her eyes, Claire nodded, then quickly checked the cop’s nameplate. “I’d appreciate it, Officer…er…Portman.” She glanced back at her car, the hood still gaping open in distress. “Can I bring a friend with me?”
“Call me Darryl,” the officer said, turning to look at her car. “Of course you can bring a friend,” he added, then laughed when Claire opened the door and pulled a small black and white dog of indeterminate breed out of the passenger seat.
“I’m Claire, and this is Roscoe,” Claire said, tucking the fluffy animal under her arm as she made the introduction. “He’s my killer guard dog.”
“Oh, I can definitely tell that,” Darryl said with a grin as Roscoe wagged his plume-like tail and stretched his head over to sniff Darryl’s coat. “What does he do? Lick bad guys to death?”
The drive into town was full of twists and turns as the road dropped down further and further toward the protected bay. It was the first time Claire had ridden in a police car, and she couldn’t help but think it was much better to sit in the front with Officer Portman than it would’ve been to sit in the back, behind the grille-like panel that kept the policeman safe from passengers he could be taking to jail. The heater struggled to keep up with the December chill and to reduce the steam on the inside of the windows. Wiping a hand across the damp glass by her shoulder, Claire looked out. She could see far off dots of forested islands and peninsulas in the gray expanse of ocean water, and she idly wondered which bits of land were part of the San Juan Islands and which were attached to the mainland. The map she’d been using showed over a hundred and fifty islands in the area, some attached by bridges and some only accessible by boat or ferry, and she didn’t know which was which yet. Lopez Island didn’t have a bridge, and if she’d missed the last ferry she’d just have to
wait until the next day to get there. She’d made the reservation for a small rental house online, telling herself she was doing it for the cheap price and the possibility of December snow.
The truth was she didn’t think she could stand another Christmas by herself in her empty home in Arizona. Last winter had been bad enough. It had been worth packing an overstuffed suitcase and a patient dog into her car for a long road trip to get this far away from everything. After days of travel, being escorted into a town by its local cop was the most adventure she’d had.
Roscoe sat as tall as he could on Claire’s lap in the patrol car, his bright eyes locked on everything around him and his tail still wagging with excitement. There was a comfortable silence in the car. Over the last year Claire had developed a pretty good instinct of knowing when a man was interested in her and when he wasn’t, and had learned to hone that ability to a fine science. Sitting in Darryl’s patrol car, she didn’t feel threatened or nervous at all. It was surprising, because strange men normally set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was the heater blasting full force or maybe it was the kind light in Officer Portman’s eyes, but Claire felt warmer than she had in some time.
When they started driving past cottages and then small shops, Darryl slowed the patrol car to a crawl. He waved and smiled at an older woman walking by on the sidewalk, her head down and seemingly indifferent to the wet weather. Her wildly bristling gray hair poked out of the hood on her raincoat and waved like curly tentacles as she muttered to herself. She was pushing a small wire shopping cart and gave a nonchalant wave of dismissal at the police officer as he went by, her face set in anger.
Darryl sighed. “That’s Mrs. Freeman,” he explained. “She’s a little…off. She still hasn’t forgiven me since last spring, when I couldn’t figure out who picked all her prize tulips from her front yard. She still holds it against me.”
“Is that the sort of thing that happens in small town life?” Claire asked, then instantly wanted to clap a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to sound critical of Brightwater Bay, but the policeman didn’t seem to take offense.
“Pretty much,” he said evenly, pulling to a stop outside a tidy diner halfway down the main street. The large sign on the front of the building was hand-painted with pink blossoms and the name DOGWOOD CAFÉ. The front window was decorated with a cheery Christmas scene, complete with jolly Santa in an old-fashioned sleigh and a full set of reindeer flying across the glass. Outside, a signboard by the front door let anyone walking by know that the day’s special was beef stew with homemade biscuits.
Darryl turned the ignition off and glanced over at Roscoe. “Is it okay to leave him here in the car? Your dog’s not going to eat my upholstery, is he?”
“He’s not my—” Claire said, then clapped her mouth shut. She’d answered automatically, without thought. There wasn’t any reason to tell the police officer how she’d become Roscoe’s sole owner.
It hurt to even think about it.
She smiled at Darryl, hoping he hadn’t caught the pause in her conversation. “He doesn’t chew up upholstery. Now, if you offer him a ham sandwich or a squeaky toy, that’s a completely different matter.”
He looked at her for a second, and she realized he was thinking about what she’d said and how she’d said it, his years of experience from dealing with the public very apparent. Finally, he got out of the car and Claire followed suit. She sniffed in appreciation as she caught the delicious scent of roasting meat and freshly-baked bread. It seemed like forever since she’d had lunch in Seattle, and she didn’t need any convincing to follow the policeman into the small restaurant. The arched front doorway was framed with a thick cedar garland, wrapped in wide red ribbons moving in the breeze and sprinkled with dozens of white lights.
The little bell over the door was still ringing when they were accosted after stepping inside.
“About time you showed up here, Darryl! I was just telling Edgar that I hadn’t seen you all day. What do you expect me to do, fill in all the paperwork myself?” The middle-aged lady behind the counter glared at the cop with eyes narrowed under gray-streaked bangs, the sharp lines of her straight, shoulder-length hair accentuating her age.
Claire could see a cook pop his head up in the serving window, obviously wanting to know what was going on at the front of the café. Wearing a white cap and holding a pancake turner still in his hand, his eyes were wide with alarm as he watched.
Lucy gave a sight of irritation and shook her finger at the cop. “I need your report to send to the insurance company, you know. You think they’re going to pay for all that broken glass on just my word? I’m having enough trouble just getting someone on the phone over there, and I don’t need any delays with the paperwork.”
Darryl’s face showed his unease. “Sorry, Lucy, but I got kind of busy with everything today and I haven’t gotten it completed yet. I can drop it off first thing tomorrow, if that works for you. Did you discover anything else missing?”
“Nope,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Just the one pumpkin pie. That’s it.”
“Mrs. Freeman’s out walking with her cart,” he said, and Lucy’s lips thinned.
“Empty or full?”
“Empty.”
Claire watched the exchange, so casual between the two, in confusion. It seemed to make perfect sense to Lucy and Darryl, though, as though this same scene had been played out many times before.
“I’ll have Edgar take some sandwiches by her place later, with some pecan pie,” Lucy said, then turned to Claire. “Who’s your new friend?” she asked Darryl, her face stony as she locked eyes with the younger woman. “Well, now I see what’s been keeping you so busy you couldn’t stop by.”
After a day of cold rain, a broken car, and now the unwanted trouble of trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night, Claire had had just about enough excitement for one day. Heedless of the dripping rainwater pooling under her on the doormat, she put her hands on her hips and squared off with the formidable Lucy.
“Well, it seems the welcome I get in this town is about as warm as the weather,” she said flatly, staring down the older woman. “Look, lady, I’m just here because I’m on vacation and I’m temporarily stranded. As soon as someone fixes my car I’m outta here, but in the meantime, I’d like something to eat. That is what you do in this place, isn’t it?” She tried to keep the edge of anger out of her voice, but was surprised when Lucy burst into laughter. Picking up two menus, the still-chuckling hostess walked by Darryl and led the way into the cozy restaurant.
“Sounds like you’ll fit in here just fine,” she said, gesturing to an open booth and setting the menus down on the table. “How about a piece of warm apple pie to get you started? It’s on me. Made it myself this morning,” she offered with a smile. “Best thing about being an adult is being able to eat dessert first, I always say.”
Bewildered, Claire nodded her head. “Sounds great.” When she looked over at Darryl she could see the humor in his eyes.
“Oh, I can tell she likes you,” he said dryly as Lucy walked away. “She doesn’t give away pie to just everyone, you know. It usually takes bribery.” He pushed the menu to the side. “So, this was going to be your vacation, huh? Most people don’t travel away from their family this close to Christmas. Where are you from originally?”
“Arizona,” she said, realizing that he probably already knew that after seeing her license plate. She paused as Lucy set a fragrant plate of homemade apple pie in front of her, then wordlessly walked away from the table. “The Dry State. Nothing green like around here.”
“I’ve been to Arizona. Seemed to me like it was all heat and desert. So, I guess you don’t get much cold weather down there, do you?” he asked. “The forecast says possible snow tomorrow. Have you got any chains in your car?”
Claire’s eyebrows went up in alarm. “I didn’t even think about that. Can I buy some in Brightwater Bay?”
“I’ll see what we can do. The hardware store might have som
e.” The policeman smiled as Lucy walked back, notepad in hand. “Two beef stews,” he ordered, then turned back to Claire. “Is that okay for you? Best you’ll ever have, I promise.”
“Sure.” At this point she would’ve even eaten liver with onions and no bacon.
Darryl crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the scrubbed wooden tabletop. “So, you have family back in Arizona?” he asked, his voice casual but his eyes intent. “No one you’d want to bring with you on a trip like this?”
She could feel her defenses go up, along with a familiar stab of disappointment. “You’re not hitting on me, are you, Officer?” she asked, not quite teasing, and seeing the horrified look on his face she immediately guessed his answer.
“No! I mean, no, I’m not. I’m just making conversation, that’s all!”
“You’re trying to figure out if I’m a bad guy, aren’t you?”
He sat back on the seat, as tall as he could. “Just trying to learn a bit about you. It’s my job, that’s it.” He shifted, obviously uncomfortable. “It doesn’t hurt to be aware who’s new in town. We get a lot of people coming through because of the new ferry. It’s a good idea to know what their plans are.”
“No plans,” Claire told him. “I’ll be out of here and back home in two weeks.”
“So, you’re staying over the holidays, then back to Phoenix,” he said, but it was a question.
“Maybe.” She looked down at the gold wedding band on her left hand. “Nothing there for me but an empty house.”
She regretted the sentence the moment she said it. There was an uneasy silence between the two of them as they both pondered her simple statement, then Lucy broke the tension by bringing their food, a plate and bowl balanced in each hand. The stew smelled of fresh herbs and the biscuits were homemade with bright yellow butter. Claire’s mouth watered as she took the first luscious bite.
It was the best thing she’d experienced since she’d been stranded in Brightwater Bay.
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