“So he went to jail for stealing her jewelry?”
Molly shook her head. “No, actually he went to jail for selling drugs, but Mrs. Freeman always said that Orrin was the one who had taken her jewels.” She shrugged, almost apologetically. “Actually, it’s hard to tell sometimes with Mrs. Freeman. Ever since her son died she’s been kind of…confused. Sometimes things she says just don’t make sense and so people kind of ignore her.” Claire’s mind flashed back to the conversation she’d overheard between Lucy and Darryl at the diner, when she’d first come to town.
“So, I think I heard something about the cook at the diner taking sandwiches out to Mrs. Freeman,” she said, and Molly smiled.
“Brightwater Bay has a lot of problems, it’s true, but we do take care of our own. Mrs. Freeman is as much a part of this town as the ferry dock or the Brightwater Resort. Just because she gets a little addled doesn’t mean we don’t make sure she’s got food in her kitchen. It’s not her fault she’s the way she is.”
Claire sat back in her seat, considering. In all the years she’d been in Phoenix she couldn’t even remember the names of any of her neighbors. She and her husband had lived in a rented apartment, and people came and went throughout the years. It hadn’t seemed worth getting to know them really. When they’d had friends over, it had been people that they’d both known from work, and the conversation was easy because they knew exactly what they had in common. The thought of taking sandwiches to a mentally confused older woman might’ve been foreign to Claire, but in an odd way it was also truly heartwarming.
She watched Molly knitting for several minutes, and finally asked, “Did Mrs. Freeman ever get her jewelry back?”
Molly shook her head, her eyes still on her moving knitting needles. “Not that I heard. Of course, Mrs. Freeman might’ve gotten them back or just found where she’d stashed them and had forgotten about it. She may have hidden them and been confused about someone stealing them. With her, it’s hard to tell.”
***
By the time the ferry had pulled into the dock at Brightwater Bay, Claire was ready to pick up her dog and head home. Molly had offered a ride but Claire explained that the mechanic’s garage and her rental cottage were both close to the dock. As she walked off the ferry, she could see Scott directing cars at the front of the boat. He had his Santa hat pulled down over his ears to protect him from the cold wind, and was obviously busy, but he had time enough to give her a friendly wave and smile. She smiled back at him, then kept pace with the others as they walked off the ferry.
No reason to look back, she thought as she stepped onto the concrete of the boat ramp. I’m setting all this behind me and I’m out of here tomorrow.
***
Night had fallen in Brightwater Bay, and Claire was grateful for the thick pile of quilts on her bed as the evening chill crept into her little house. Even with the front door safely locked and the prospect of getting her car back in the morning, Claire couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on her bed, her mind going back over what had happened during the day. Roscoe, smart dog that he was, had gotten used to her nightly bouts of insomnia since her husband died, and had learned to stay out of her way as she flopped around.
After flipping from side to side and repeatedly getting tangled in her sheets, she gave a long sigh of frustration and lay in the dark, eyes wide open.
It had been sixteen months since Douglas had died suddenly, slumped over his laptop at work. They said his heart had failed, but Claire didn’t remember much of that conversation. The days afterward had been a blur, and it had taken her a while to figure out how to live by herself. Ever since a week after the funeral she’d made a firm rule to be in bed by 11 o’clock, even if she couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t easy to try to get a routine started when she had bouts of insomnia, but she did her best.
Her mind kept going over her visit, her car problems, the people she’d met, and the last year and a half. It had taken her months to realize that she wanted to survive her time of mourning and not just be overwhelmed by the depths of her grief. This trip was her last attempt to get some time away before she had to go back home and face the reality that her funds had dried up, and she needed to find a job.
After Claire finally drifted into a restless sleep, Roscoe suddenly jolted her awake by giving a deep growl and then barking sharply several times. His eyes were wide as he faced the bedroom door, his hackles raised as he stood protectively over Claire.
Putting a hand on the little dog, she quietly shushed him. She strained to listen for anyone outside, her heart pounding, but only heard the wind sighing in the fir trees by the cottage. Roscoe was still on alert, even though he was silent, every line of his small body rigid. After listening for several heart-pounding minutes, Claire flipped the bedside light on and got out of bed. She picked Roscoe up and slowly walked through the little house, turning on lights ahead of her as she walked, but finding nothing suspicious. Roscoe finally relaxed in her arms, although he kept looking around.
Even with the lights on in the other rooms, it took Claire half an hour to get Roscoe to settle down enough that he finally closed his eyes. Back in bed, Claire listened but still only heard the wind outside the snug little house. As she drifted off to sleep she smiled, knowing she’d be checking on her fixed car first thing in the morning.
Chapter 5
Sometimes the only thing that seemed to set the world right was a fresh day and a big cup of tea. Claire took a grateful sip from her travel mug as she looked out the kitchen window. She’d already packed and her suitcase was ready to go. She’d been reading more online about Lopez Island and had emailed the homeowner to confirm that she was coming today. Roscoe danced around her feet, impatient to go out and excited about the fact that the suitcase was packed. He knew what that meant.
She looked down at her little black-and-white companion and smiled. “All right buddy, she said. “Let’s get rolling. The repair shop should be open by now.”
Roscoe wagged his tail in agreement. Claire grabbed the handle of her suitcase and rolled toward the door as her dog danced between her legs, nearly tripping her. She unlocked the deadbolt, but as she turned the knob the wooden door suddenly flew open toward her with deadly force.
Something had fallen into the room and she jumped out of the way with a startled shriek as it thumped heavily and stiffly onto the wooden floor.
Only it wasn’t a something.
It was a someone.
The curly red hair was instantly recognizable, as well as the plaid jacket.
Orrin…whatever his name was.
The body was stiff, one arm bent above his head as if he’d been knocking on the door, or trying to hang on to the brass doorknocker. His phone was clutched in his other hand, and Claire could see some sort of brown substance on the sole of one of his white tennis shoes.
Roscoe began barking like crazy, growling and running around the body sprawled on the cottage floor, his hackles rigid with alarm.
Claire couldn’t breathe. She’d barely avoided being hit full-force by the wooden door and having Orrin’s body fall on top of her. Her heart racing with adrenaline, she tried to remember to breathe as she lunged for her cell phone and frantically punched in the numbers.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Help! A dead man just jumped at me, and he’s in my house!”
***
“Well, I always knew he’d come to a bad end,” Darryl said, looking down at the sprawled body with a serious expression. “You know, I was one of the people who put him in jail last time.”
Officer Portman had been the first person on the scene after Claire called. It had seemed to take forever before Darryl Portman’s police cruiser had sped down the street and stopped in front of the rental cottages, his red and blue lights still flashing. She’d been standing outside, Roscoe in her arms, shivering in the cold morning air, when he charged up her front steps. Claire’s words came out in a jumble. “I…I just opened the door and t
here he was. He fell into the room when I…” She gestured helplessly at the open door. “And he nearly crushed my dog and then I called you and…”
She’d been so flustered she almost hadn’t heard the high whine of the ambulance’s siren as it pulled up in front of her cottage. A few people had drifted out of their homes, watching the excitement and talking quietly amongst themselves. Right behind the ambulance was a black SUV that pulled up to the curb and stopped with the screech of tires.
Darryl turned and watched the ambulance driver walk up the sidewalk. He gestured with his head at the SUV and leaned over to Claire. “That’ll be the Sheriff’s Department,” he said. “Gonna be one of the deputies. I’m kinda surprised they got here so fast. They must’ve been in the area.”
Claire was confused and her voice was still shaking when she asked, “The Sheriff’s Department? You mean…you mean you’re not going to be the one in charge of finding out what this dead guy is doing on my front porch?”
Shaking his head, Darryl tried to explain. “No, I’m local police, for the town. We only have five officers, total. When there’s a death like this, that’s suspicious, we bring in the sheriff for an independent investigation. It’s best for everyone.”
Claire watched the policeman and the newly arrived deputy talking quietly together and suddenly her knees felt weak. Between the cold and the horror of finding Orrin as he’d fallen inside the front doorframe of her little house, she was almost dizzy.
“Claire!” The voice was familiar. She turned and saw Scott, the worker from the ferry the day before, walking up the sidewalk toward her.
“Hey, are you okay? What happened here?” he asked, quickly surveying the scene. Claire was starting to visibly shiver and as Scott moved toward her Darryl jumped to intercept him.
“Careful where you walk!” Darryl barked at Scott. “Use the grass. There’s a blood trail on the sidewalk.”
Scott nodded, and carefully picked his way across the lawn where Darryl showed him it was safe to walk. When he reached Claire’s side he studied her face carefully, and finally put a large warm hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, Darryl, I think we need to get this young lady out of the cold and let her sit down somewhere. Can I get her back into the house maybe?” he asked, but Darryl shook his head.
“Sorry, Scott, but we haven’t cleared the house yet. It’s going to be a while.” He looked over at the little blue house next door and seemed to be considering options. “I’ll tell you what. You could take her over to that house. There’s nobody in it right now, and I know Daisy left a key under the mat. Should be some teabags in the cupboard and you could turn up the heat.” He looked almost guilty as he glanced at Claire. “I hate to say this, but it’s probably going to be a while before we come question you about all that happened. The crime scene people are going to want to check everything out. I know you were planning on leaving town today, but that’s just not going to happen. I need you here so we can get as much information for the investigation as possible. “
Claire was speechless. Not being able to leave town for the last bit of her time away from home was frustrating, but to be involved in the investigation of some obnoxious man’s death made the whole situation even worse.
“I don’t know anything! The guy just showed up dead on my doorstep, that’s all!” she protested. “I opened the door and then BLAM! Some dead guy tried to fall on me.”
Darryl nodded in understanding but his voice was firm. “I’m sorry. With a circumstance like this we need to question anyone who might’ve had any involvement or who witnessed what happened, and since he showed up at your place that definitely means you.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear at all. Afraid that she’d say something that she’d regret later, Claire followed Scott as he went up the steps of the blue house. He dug under the front mat for a moment, retrieved the key, and opened the front door, stepping aside to usher her into the small room. It was identical to the house she’d been sleeping in, with just a few changes to the furniture and colors. Putting Roscoe down, she sank gratefully into one of the deep chairs by the door and watched Scott’s back as he went into the kitchen. He pulled an empty teakettle off the cold stove and ran fresh water into it. Roscoe sat down by Claire’s feet, his head on his paws, as if unwilling to be too far away from her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, and Scott looked over his shoulder, still running the tap.
“Oh, you left your book behind on the ferry, so I thought I’d bring it by for you. I certainly didn’t expect—". He stopped himself, as if he couldn’t think of what to say. Claire sat in the chair, her body numb from shock and cold.
“You always drop off the stuff left on the ferry at the owner’s house?” she asked, not buying his excuse for a moment, and Scott had the good grace to look embarrassed.
“Okay, you caught me. I found the book on the seat and it was yours, so I called up Molly and asked where I could deliver it to.” He gave her a small smile. “She seemed to think it was a good idea. Don’t I get points because Molly thinks I’m harmless?” He leaned over, looking more closely at her, his expression instantly turning serious. “Hey, you’re shivering. Are you okay?”
She shook her head adamantly and tried to keep her lower lip from quivering. “No. I’m definitely not okay. I haven’t had anything to eat today, some dead guy nearly crushed me when I tried to get out of my house, my vacation is ruined, and there are cops all over the place, checking out every inch of my rental cottage.” There was a rising edge of hysteria in her voice. “I am definitely not okay!”
Scott went back into the kitchen and pulled the teakettle off the stove burner. He turned the knob on top and walked to the chair where Claire slouched.
“Look, I’m really sorry that I can’t make everything all right for you. The only thing I can fix in that horrible list is to offer to buy you breakfast. How about I check with the cops outside and let them know that we will be at the Dogwood Café if they need to ask any questions?”
“I can’t leave Roscoe alone,” she said, and Roscoe peered upwards, as if he understood every word.
Scott paused, thinking, and said, “Daisy moved into the larger cottage on the end of the row about six months ago, and I know she’d be happy to watch your dog for you. How about that?”
Claire wrapped her arms around her shoulders, trying to control her shaking. In the midst of a horrible morning, Scott’s invitation was the first thing that sounded good to her.
“It’s a deal.”
***
Ten minutes later, she was sitting in a booth at the Dogwood Café again, gratefully accepting the brimming cup of tea with cream that Lucy handed her.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said to Scott, “but your town has got to be the weirdest place I’ve ever been.”
He laughed, his humor crinkling the lines around the corners of his eyes. “Well, I can’t say I disagree with you after everything that’s happened, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Brightwater Bay may seem kind of weird to outsiders, but I’ve lived here almost my whole life. There are a lot of good people in this town, and not everything is exactly what it appears to be. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I like the slow pace here. I like knowing that Robert at the hardware store always has the best fresh bait and that if I get a flat tire someone will stop and help me the moment I have my jack out.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes hovering over the rim as he looked at her. “There’s something to be said for knowing who your neighbor is, and being able to trust the people around you.”
“Trust the people around you?” Claire tried not to roll her eyes in disbelief. “The local tow truck driver may be out fishing instead of helping people, there isn’t a car part in town that would fix my car when I needed it, and the moment I walked into this Café the lady at the front counter was already telling your local cop about what a bad job he was doing. Apparently, he doesn’t file his reports on time and she’s ticked. She’s bee
n waiting for some insurance claim paperwork that he hasn’t given her.” She cocked an eyebrow. “If you can’t trust your local cop, who can you trust?”
Scott frowned. “I’ve known Darryl for a long time, and that doesn’t sound like him at all. He’s a good guy. Maybe he’s got other things going on that we don’t know about.”
By the time their orders of blueberry pancakes and bacon had arrived, Darryl Portman was walking in the front door and making a beeline for their table.
With several people also eating breakfast in the café, there was more than one ear turned their way to try to eavesdrop on the latest news. Darryl sat down and pulled off his police hat, setting it aside. Then he pulled a small notebook out of his shirt pocket. Flipping it open, he looked over at Claire and gave a deep sigh.
“Is there any reason why Orrin Cable would’ve had your address typed in on his cell phone? Or a photo of you on the ferry yesterday?”
Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, no reason at all. I hardly spoke to the man, and I never met him before yesterday.”
Darryl leaned forward. “So, you did meet him yesterday, then?”
Just as Claire was about to open her mouth to explain, Scott interjected, “He was trying to pick her and Molly up when he was on the last ferry run back to Brightwater. I had to step in and tell him to take a hike. Same old sexist crap like he used to do to the girls around here." He shook his head. “Claire didn’t do anything to encourage him, and she certainly didn’t give him her address.”
“Interesting,” Darryl commented as he jotted a few notes down. “He had your address in his phone and he looked like he was pretty intent on getting into your house. Is there anything else I should know about?”
Claire began to stammer. “Hey, look…my dog started barking late last night, but we didn’t see anybody there. I turned on the lights and walked around inside the entire house but there was no one.”
A Little Taste Of Murder_A Brightwater Bay Cozy Mystery Page 4