by Clover Tate
My breath came in short puffs. I stopped and drew a long breath and, for focus, held it five counts before releasing it, as Mom had taught me to do after her meditation retreat a few years ago. Then I went inside.
The back door led into Marcus’s kitchen. Its counters were clear, and an empty coffee cup and cereal bowl sat in the sink, attracting ants. The TV droned from the other room. Taking steady, even steps, I forced myself to round the corner to the living room. “Marcus?” I said.
No one responded. His empty recliner faced the television, a coffee table next to it. On top of the television was a framed photo of a younger Marcus in a tuxedo with his arm around a smiling, freckled bride. Judging from the style of the bride’s dress, the photo was only ten years old or so. Marcus was probably in his midforties now—younger than I’d assumed by his looks. I glanced through the crack in the living room’s curtains. The street was still empty.
As I turned back toward the room, a flash of movement caught the corner of my eye, and I backed into the wall. Pulse throbbing, I waited. The house was completely still, completely quiet. A minute passed, then two. It had been nothing. Just nervousness.
I forced myself to pass through the living room to a small hall with three doors off it, each door ajar. To the right, at the front of the house, was a guest room with a tidily made bed and little else.
The middle door had to be the bathroom. I pushed it open. Nothing here but the usual. The mug that would have held toothbrushes was empty.
The last door must be Marcus’s bedroom. Bear had gone before me and nosed the door open. Here, too, the bed was made with military precision. Again using my T-shirt to cover my hand, I pulled open a few dresser drawers and saw a gap where underwear and socks might have been. In another drawer, next to a partially full box of bullets, was a black box meant to hold a handgun. I raised its lid. Empty. I closed the drawer and caught my breath.
Marcus had left town. He didn’t want anyone to know it. And he was armed.
Just then, I heard gravel crunch outside, as if a car were slowly driving up the street, close enough to be on the shoulder. “Bear,” I whispered and drew him to me. He seemed to sense my hammering heart and rested his head against my chest. “Good boy.”
The car crawled by. After a moment, when its engine’s low murmur had disappeared, I crept to the front window and, staying well to the side, glanced out to catch the back of the sheriff’s car. He was clearly on the lookout for Marcus. He wasn’t going to find him here.
chapter twelve
“What’s wrong?” Avery stepped onto the porch from the kitchen. She’d lost the round of rock, paper, scissors and had just finished the dinner dishes. “Are you worried about the kite contest?”
Sunny and I were watching the sunset. I had a pile of multicolored nylon in my lap. My fingers were cramping from basting the pieces together. I had to admit, though, that this time—attempt number three—the kite’s construction was going faster, and I’d improved the design to bring more light to its edges.
“Yes,” I said. I didn’t see any reason to go into it more than that. Both Avery and Sunny knew the score.
“I’m sorry,” Sunny said again. She turned her giant brown eyes toward me, just as she’d been doing since she was a toddler and had laid my Barbie under Dad’s VW Bus’s tires. I think my parents were actually happy about that, since they didn’t approve of Barbies, but I was inconsolable. This time, as then, Sunny truly was upset.
“You couldn’t help it,” I mumbled.
“Maybe I could visit Sullivan’s Kites and spy on Jack’s kite for you. You know, make sure yours is better.”
Or maybe you could just “accidentally” destroy it, I thought. “That’s okay. Like I said, you couldn’t help it. This kite will be even better than the last one.”
Avery watched us. “Is it strange to compete against Jack? I mean, both of you can’t win.”
“Nope,” I said quickly. Of course it was strange, but it helped that our styles were so different. Thanks to his engineering background, he built aerodynamic kites that swooped and darted and steadily climbed. But my kites were beautiful. People saw Jack’s kites in flight and gasped. When they saw mine, they relaxed and smiled. I’d be thrilled for Jack if he won, but that wasn’t going to happen as long as I could help it.
“If you’re worried about money, maybe I can help,” Sunny said.
“How?” I asked, grateful for the change in the conversation’s direction. “You don’t even have a job.”
At Sunny’s look of anguish, I felt awful. She’d had her own challenges lately. It couldn’t have been easy for her to gather the courage to quit college and run off. My mother’s idea of her beloved “rebel” daughter focused on her dreadlocks, self-designed major, and involvement in the campus Endangered Species League. It took courage for Sunny to reject that.
“I’m sorry. I’m cranky and taking it out on you.” I reached out to affectionately tug one of her dreadlocks.
She pulled away and smiled. “Like I was telling you,” Sunny said, “you should buy the building Strings Attached is in. With the tourist economy here picking up, land values are only going to rise. You could rent out the upstairs as a vacation apartment, if you wanted. I bet the view is great. Or, you could even live there.” Sunny pulled out her phone and switched to the calculator app. “How much is the shop’s rent?”
“Sunny.” My heart warmed at the earnestness in her voice. “You’re so sweet. Don’t worry about me. Let’s think about you.”
“Yeah, it’s great having you here,” Avery added. “But you probably don’t want to stay forever.”
Bear responded to the warmth in Avery’s voice by jumping into the wicker chair next to her and cramming his body along hers. Meanwhile, the horizon was tossing off another of its jaw-dropping shows as tangerine light spilled above the darkening blue ocean. Avery lit a candle on the little coffee table between us.
“Have you thought at all about what you want to do?” I said. “So fermentation isn’t for you. It’s not too late to find another major. Mom and Dad would spring for an extra year.”
Sunny stared at the ocean a moment. “I don’t want to go back to that college. I think . . .”
Avery and I traded glances. “Think what?” Avery prodded gently.
Sunny shifted in her seat. “Well, today I was out on the cliffs, and I got a sign.” She turned to look at me, then Avery. “Of what I should do with my life.”
Uh-oh. “What kind of sign?”
“I know this is going to sound crazy—”
“What kind of sign?” I repeated with a little more urgency.
“I saw ‘401k’ written in rocks.”
“What?” Avery and I said simultaneously. Bear jumped down from Avery’s chair and curled up on his bed.
“Maybe it wasn’t super clear like that, but the ‘0’ and the ‘1’ were easy to see.” Excitement had crept into her voice. “The ‘1’ was a stick,” she added.
“401k? What does the universe want you to do? Retire?” I said.
“Study finance, right?” Avery asked. When Sunny smiled, Avery added, “Sunny found my insurance file yesterday and had a few recommendations for cutting costs and changing up my coverage.”
“A higher deductible would save you quite a bit in the long run,” Sunny said. “Maybe you’d be interested in buying Emmy’s building.”
“I’ve got enough to shore up around this house,” Avery said. Her family’s house was sturdy and long on charm, but any house in the Pacific Northwest’s climate was perpetually in need of new windowsills or repointed masonry. I knew Avery was saving up to have the creaky porch rebuilt.
“Finance, huh? Mom and Dad will crucify you.” My father was a retired environmental attorney, and Mom spent her time mixing herbal remedies for members of her croning circle. There was a hundred-to-one chance that Mom kne
w more things to do with quinoa than the entire staff of the Food Network.
“I know.” Sunny’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t help it if I’m good with numbers. I just happen to have a knack for it. And it’s fun. It doesn’t mean I have to be a slumlord or hide money in the Seychelles or anything.”
“Does Evergreen College have business classes so you can get a taste of it?” Avery, ever practical, asked.
Sunny raised her eyebrows in a “what do you think?” expression. Evergreen was known for its progressive approach to education. Its Latin motto translated to “Let It All Hang Out.”
“Oh,” Avery said.
“Avery has a good point,” I said. “If you could get some firsthand experience with finance, you could see if you truly do like it, or if you’re just handy with numbers.” I sat straighter. “Rose.”
“What do flowers have to do with anything?”
“No, Rose Normand,” I said. “She’s my CPA, and she knows about planning for retirement and that kind of thing. I bet she’d do an informational interview with you. She’s not a big-time banker or anything—”
“I don’t want to work for some giant corporation.” She wrinkled her nose. “Cubicles. Ugh.”
“Rose has her own business. Her office is in her garage.”
“Really?” Sunny’s tone was cautious, but I could tell she was interested.
“She’s doing my taxes and giving me some financial direction for the shop. She works with a lot of the businesses in town.”
Now Sunny faced me full-on. “Do you really think she’d talk to me?”
I hadn’t seen her so excited since she’d come to Rock Point. At last, I was fulfilling my big sister role and helping her out. Even if Mom and Dad still didn’t know.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask first thing tomorrow morning, before I open Strings Attached.”
“I’ll work at the shop for you, if you want,” Sunny said. She was practically bouncing in her seat.
By now, stars were beginning to salt the night sky. I pulled a blanket over my lap. No matter how warm the day might be, nights were chilly here.
If Sunny took over Strings Attached tomorrow, I could not only visit Rose, but put in a few hours on my competition kite, too. Plus, maybe drop in on Darlene and see if she knew anything about Marcus.
“Thanks, Sunny. I’ll take you up on that.” I yawned. It had been a very long day. And who knew what tomorrow held?
chapter thirteen
The next morning, as promised, I set off to see Rose. Not only did I plan to ask her if she’d talk to Sunny about financial planning, I wanted to offer my condolences about Jasmine. I hadn’t seen Rose since her sister’s death. And now the situation had become more gruesome with the death being a murder. Avery had given me a bag of pastries from the Brew House to take along.
As I’d expected, Rose was in her office behind her house. She didn’t seem like the type to shut herself in the house and mope. She’d power through her grief by immersing herself in work.
I leaned my bicycle against the old garage’s wall, ruffling loose a handful of rose petals in the process. Through the door’s window, I saw Rose flipping through a stack of papers. I knocked.
Rose lifted her head. She didn’t smile, but her expression did soften when she saw me. “Come in. Why don’t you leave the door open? It’s going to be another warm day.”
“Rose, I was so sorry to hear about Jasmine. You must feel awful. I brought you these.” I set the pastries on her desk.
She peeked inside the bag but didn’t take one. “That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” She pushed the bag away. “I suppose you heard it was murder?”
My heart throbbed in sympathy. “Awful.”
“I still can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “Murder.” She whispered the word. “It must have been some crazy fan, and that’s what I told the sheriff. I’d wanted Jasmine to stay with me—I have plenty of room—but she insisted on renting the beach house.”
“I guess she wanted her own space.” It was an odd choice. Rose wouldn’t see her sister that often, and her two-story house looked to hold at least three bedrooms.
“Jasmine said Caitlin didn’t want to stay here.” The scorn on Rose’s face was impossible to miss. “And, of course, Jasmine liked her modern conveniences.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Everything with Jasmine was complicated.” She cast a glance toward the stack of papers. “I took care of her finances, and, well . . .”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Jeanette at the post office had said Jasmine was on the receiving end of a number of bills. Did she have money trouble? If Jasmine wasn’t flush with cash, it would remove greed as a motive for her murder. Unless she had an insurance policy that paid out.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself for her death just because she didn’t stay with you,” I said. “If someone was determined to kill her, they would have done it even if she were here with you.”
Rose let out a long breath. “I know. I was in Portland that night, anyway. I’ve been going over that night again and again, wondering if there was anything I could have done . . .” She stared through the open door a moment, then drew her attention back to me. “I suppose you brought your tax documents?”
“No, actually, I came to ask a favor.” I wondered if it was too soon. Perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested this to Sunny.
“What can I do for you?” Rose’s energy was a little lower than normal, but she was calm. Maybe a distraction was the best balm for her grief.
“It’s about my sister, Sunny. She’s interested in finance—personal finance, especially—and I wondered if she could talk with you a bit.”
“Sunny, the girl with the dreadlocks? Finance?”
“I was surprised, too. She’s taking time off from college to figure out what she really wants to do, and right now it’s business.”
“She could have chosen a worse path. She’ll always have work if she can keep books.”
“She seems to have a good brain for this sort of thing, too. She already has a scheme for me to buy the building Strings Attached is in.”
“Not a bad idea.” Her voice gathered strength. This sounded more like the Rose I knew. “You could take the deduction for the shop, then rent out the upstairs as a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Sunny suggested that Avery and I live up there and rent out Avery’s house.”
“Even better. The Cook house would earn you a nice income, at least in the summer.” Rose nodded. “Yes. Tell Sunny I’d love to talk with her. Have her drop by tomorrow morning. I’ll be here sorting out my sister’s estate.”
The thought of Rose working alone to untangle her murdered sister’s finances was almost unbearably sad. Whatever happened in my life, I had Sunny and Avery, at least. “Maybe Sunny can help.”
Rose sighed. “I doubt it. Not this mess.”
“An entertainer’s estate probably has lots of complications. Movie contracts, that sort of thing,” I said, remembering my conversation with Jeanette the day before.
A movement in my peripheral vision startled me. A tall man with broad shoulders filled the doorway. He was lean, but all muscle. If it weren’t for his blue jeans and T-shirt, he might have materialized from an ancient Roman gladiator fight. “Jasmine just signed a movie contract, in fact,” he said.
“Oh.” The word came out of my mouth as a whoosh without sound behind it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”
“Emmy, have you met Jasmine’s husband, Kyle?” Rose said. “Kyle, this is Emmy Adler. She owns a kite shop in town. I do her taxes.”
“Kyle Connell. Pleased to meet you.”
His hand dwarfed mine. Jack had mentioned he’d been a pro football player, and it showed in his physique. He had something else, too—charisma. With his hand over mine, he looke
d into my eyes, and I, with my messy hair and haphazard wardrobe, actually felt like the freaking Venus de Milo.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” I squeaked. “Sorry for your loss.”
He released my hand and stood upright again. “There was only one Jasmine.”
Rose’s glance darted from me to Kyle, and I caught a flash of a grimace. She’d likely become immune to Kyle’s charm a while back, not that she seemed the type to succumb to it in the first place.
“I hope Rock Point is treating you well,” I said. I’d found my voice again. “Where are you staying?”
“Here, with me,” Rose said.
“Through the funeral. I couldn’t stay at the beach house,” he said. He clearly was more sensitive about it than Caitlin was.
“No. Of course not.” An uncomfortable moment of silence passed between me, the movie star’s husband, and the accountant. “Will you be here for the kite festival?”
“That’s Saturday, right?” he asked. His gaze was icy blue. Jack had said Kyle would probably end up a sportscaster since an injury kept him out of football. If his patter was as good as his looks, he had a long career ahead of him.
“Yes. The parade’s in the morning. My friend Stella’s 1967 Corvette will be in it.” Now I was blabbering. I was beginning to understand Jack’s momentary infatuation with Jasmine. “The kite contest is right after that.”
“If all goes as scheduled, the funeral home will be ready for us by then,” Rose said. “We’re going to have a private ceremony.”
“Of course. And again, I’m so, so sorry.” When neither Kyle nor Jasmine replied, I added, “I guess I’d better be moving on. Thank you, Rose, for agreeing to talk to Sunny.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“And, both of you, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. You must have a lot to deal with now.” I moved toward the door and had to pass through Kyle’s charisma zone to leave. I nearly swooned.