by Lucy Quinn
The vision of Swan and her mother kissing—it made her shudder. And then she mentally chastised herself. Cookie kicked at a piece of ice, and pain radiated through her toe as it skittered across the street. Who was she to judge who people fell in love with? It wasn’t too long ago Cookie was struggling with her own feelings for two men in her life, all the while knowing she was causing both of them pain as she took the time she needed to make a decision. And now the one she picked didn’t believe she’d fully committed herself to him.
Cookie let out a sigh.
This was one confusing Valentine’s Day. It was as if Cupid’s aim was off, and it made Cookie want to forget the holiday existed. Fortunately, she had the distraction of a case. She pointed to the street sign that read ‘Church Street’ and said, “Blake and Lydia’s house should be on the left.”
Church Street was one of the oldest streets in town, and the homes had been mansions in their day. They walked by Colonial-style houses with columns, wrap-around porches, and widow’s walks until they came to the Rosen’s home. A couple of plastic-wrapped newspapers were on the stoop and it occurred to Cookie that Blake couldn’t call a neighbor to gather the mail when he was in jail.
“Where did Blake say the key is?” Hunter asked.
After they’d gotten consent to search Blake house, he’d willingly informed them of where to find the spare key. “In the iron lobster next to the door.”
As Hunter retrieved the key and worked the lock, Cookie emptied the mailbox. Hunter scowled at her. “You’ve lived on this island too long if you’re now collecting suspects’ mail for them.”
Cookie shrugged. It was true she wouldn’t have done such a thing in Philly, but life on Secret Seal Isle was different. The pace moved slowly and it was as if time did too, because people still looked out for each other. And she liked it. It felt right to get Blake’s mail, no matter what kind of trouble he was in. But she wasn’t sure she could explain it to Hunter, so she began to shuffle through the envelopes and flyers. As paper rustled she said, “I’m just checking for clues.”
They stepped into an open entryway that rose up two of the three stories of the house. Off to the right was a parlor and to the left a sitting room with a TV. Cookie said, “Winter found the diary in a box on the desk of Lydia’s study.”
An Oriental carpet muffled their footsteps as they walked down a hall and saw a formal dining room on the left. Further down on the right they found a study, and because it was decorated in shades of burgundy and pink, the feminine appearance made them think it had to have been Lydia’s room. Hunter and Cookie stepped inside, and Hunter pointed to what appeared to be a hand-carved box on top of the desk. “That must be it.”
Cookie sat herself in the antique chair to open the drawer of the desk in search of the key. It was on top of a box of stationery, and the metal was slick in her fingers as she took it to open the box. Sure enough, a brown, leather-bound journal was inside.
The diary was thick, and when Cookie opened the book they discovered it was nearly full of handwriting as well as ticket stubs from a Broadway show, a concert, and a flower show. “This could take a while,” she said as she flipped through the pages. Cookie stopped when she found a receipt tucked between two pages, and she removed it to inspect more closely. It was for a journal from the stationery store where Cookie had bought Dylan’s card. When she flipped it over, she saw a series of numbers on the back. “Wait a minute.”
Hunter peered over her shoulder and said, “That looks like a phone number.” He pulled out his cell. “Let’s see who it belongs to.”
As he held the phone to his ear he broke into a grin. “Voicemail.”
Cookie smiled too, because that meant they’d get a name without having to explain why they’d called. As he listened, she skimmed the page of the diary that the receipt had marked, and a section caught her eye. I met a man today I can’t stop thinking about. I don’t know what to do.
“It’s Andrew DePaul’s number,” Hunter said.
“That’s the guy who owns the stationery shop,” Cookie said. “Huh. Listen to this.” She read the lines Lydia had written about meeting a guy. While the receipt could have just been marking a place in the journal, Cookie had a feeling it was connected to the man Lydia had met. And it could very well be one gift shop owner named Andrew DePaul. “It looks like we need to go see Andy again.”
Chapter 17
The bell of the stationery shop let out a cheerful ring when Cookie and Hunter walked through the door to see Andy, but for a split he looked anything but happy when he saw them. Cookie attributed it to the fact that Valentine’s Day was likely a busy time as significant others scrambled to get their lovers a gift at the last minute.
“Andy!” Cookie exclaimed. “You look much better than the last time we were here.”
“Yes,” he said as he gave her a smile of his own. The cash drawer rattled when it opened as he finished ringing up the only other customer in the store. He handed a bag to the man. “Thank you, Roger. Have a great evening.”
“You too,” the man said, and he offered Hunter and Cookie a nod before he left.
Andy came out from behind the counter. “I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me, because I feel much better now.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Cookie said. She turned to Hunter. “Agent O’Neil and I would like to ask you a few questions about our current investigation.”
Andy sighed. “I heard about Lydia Rosen. So tragic.”
Hunter said, “It is. But Ms. James and I have every intention of seeing that justice is served.”
“Of course,” Andy said. “How can I help?”
“How well did you know Lydia?” Cookie asked.
Andy shook his head. “Barely at all. I think we only ran into each other a couple of times.”
“I’m sure this is a busy day for you so we’ll be brief.” Hunter pulled out the receipt they’d found and showed it to Andy. “This was in Lydia Rosen’s diary, and as you can see, the number on the back is yours.”
Andy frowned for a moment. “That is very odd. I certainly didn’t know the woman well enough to give her my number.” His expression suddenly changed and he said, “Ohhhh. I remember now. The day Lydia came here to buy the journal she was with Julie Taylor.” He gave them a sheepish grin. “I remember that very well, because I gave Julie my number and we dated for a while. I don’t understand why Lydia would’ve kept it, though.”
“Yes. That is strange,” Cookie said. But she had an idea of how the receipt might have gotten in Lydia’s diary. Considering Julie had spent a good deal of time trying to comfort Blake over Lydia’s disappearance, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think she’d visited Blake’s home. That meant Julie would have had ample opportunity to plant the evidence if she was trying to frame Andy. But why would she?
The bell to the front door rang again as a harried-looking man entered. Andy merely pointed in the direction of the Valentine’s Day cards and said, “There’s candy the next aisle over too.”
The man waved his hand at Andy as he rushed over to get his gift. Cookie glanced at Hunter who dropped his chin as a signal he had no further questions. She said, “Thank you so much for your time, Andy. We’ll let you get back to work.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck with the investigation.”
Once Hunter and Cookie were outside, they headed toward the historical society building. Cookie said, “I’m not sure what to think.”
“You like Andy for this?” asked Hunter.
“I’m not ruling him out completely, but I’m leaning toward Julie. She could have planted the evidence at Blake’s house to frame Andy and cover up what she did.”
“Or what Blake did,” Hunter said. “Look, Charlie. I know you want him to be innocent, but we still don’t know that he is.”
“I’m aware,” she said with a bit of annoyance in her voice. Icy wind blew a strand of hair in her face, and she swiped it out of the way with a mittened hand. Cook
ie knew she was relying too heavily on her gut, but she really believed Blake wasn’t Lydia’s killer. She supposed that was why she and Hunter worked so well together. Whenever one of them blindly trusted their intuition, the other would keep them grounded in the facts. “Sorry,” she said. “I know you’re just keeping me honest, Hunter.”
“You do the same for me,” he said. They’d reached the historical society and Hunter stopped walking. He tugged on the bottom of his jacket and straightened his tie as if he were about to pick up a date for the first time.
Cookie chuckled at him, and he cocked an eyebrow at her as if to ask, What?
“No breath spray?” she asked. “C’mon lover boy, let’s go give Julie her valentine.”
Apparently the historical society was not a hot spot for Valentine’s Day, because they entered into a nearly empty building. And Julie was on them like flies on honey the moment they did. Correction. She was on Hunter the moment they walked in.
“Agent O’Neil,” Julie cooed. “What a lovely surprise. Today of all days.” She placed a hand on her chest above her left breast. “Be still my beating heart.”
Cookie choked back a laugh as Hunter flirted right back with an amused smile. “Ms. Taylor, it’s nice to see you again too.”
“Julie. Please.” The woman giggled while Cookie tried not to gag. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“We have a few more questions to ask you about our investigation,” Cookie said.
“Oh.” Julie’s expression turned hard as she looked at Cookie. “I’m not sure what else I can possibly tell you.”
Hunter reached in his jacket and pulled out the receipt. “We found something in Lydia’s journal that is interesting.” He held out the piece of paper. “It seems she was using this as a bookmark, but oddly Andy DePaul’s number is on the back. When we asked Andy about it, he said he gave it to you.”
Julie took the receipt from Hunter and read the number. “Yes. This is Drew’s number, but he never gave this to me.”
Drew? “So he never gave you his number?” Cookie asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Did you two have a relationship?” asked Hunter.
Drew, Cookie thought again and frowned as she tried to determine what was significant about the nickname.
Julie smiled at Hunter. “We did. But it was years ago, and our relationship was very short lived.”
“I see,” Hunter said.
“Drew and I spent time together working a fundraiser for the town through the Chamber of Commerce,” Lydia said. “You know those cute little ducks we float down the river each spring?” Hunter nodded as she went on. “Well. Drew and I got along and—” Julie’s voice faded in the background as Cookie latched onto why the name Drew was rolling around in her head. Drew DePaul fit the initials D.D.!
Suddenly Cookie didn’t think Andy was sick the other day. At least not from something he ate, because Drew DePaul could have been Lydia’s lover. The pieces began to fall into place, but Cookie knew she didn’t have time to tie this up in a neat bow. If it was Andy, he knew they were dangerously close to discovering the truth, and he could be packing up his car to skip town as they spoke.
She grabbed Hunter’s arm and interrupted Julie. “Excuse me. Thank you, but we have everything we need for today.”
“We do?” Hunter asked, pinching his eyebrows together as he studied her.
“We do,” Cookie confirmed and tugged Hunter toward the door.
“You don’t want to hear about the time Drew tried to kiss me and I kneed him in the junk?” Julie asked, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Hunter grimaced, but still turned to her with interest. “You did? Why?”
“He was getting fresh,” she said primly.
“Okay. Maybe we can get the details later,” Cookie said. “Right now we have somewhere to be. Thanks, Julie.”
“Um, sure.” The woman slid up to Hunter and ran a hand down his lapel. “I’m not sure I was helpful, but if you need anything else, my door is always open.”
“Uh.” Hunter cast Cookie a desperate look, clearly asking her to rescue him.
Cookie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Agent O’Neill will remember that, Julie. Thanks again.” She tightened her hold on his arm and dragged him out the front door.
“What was that about?” Hunter asked her the moment they were on the sidewalk.
“What? You mean the part about Julie throwing herself at you, and you getting caught like a deer in the headlights?” she asked, leading the way down Main Street to Deputy Swan’s office. Hopefully Rain had been giving him a lift back to work and the two weren’t off doing—Cookie didn’t even want to think about it. They were going to need an arrest warrant before they could go after Drew, and if Swan wasn’t around, she’d call Rain to find out where he was hiding. “You’d think you never had to turn down an aggressive witness before.”
He gave her a flat stare. “Not that. And I wasn’t caught like a deer in the headlights. I was distracted by your sudden ninety-degree shift. Julie said something to trigger that brain of yours, didn’t she?’
“Yes, while you were flirting, I was thinking,” Cookie said, giving him a smirk.
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Okay, out with it.”
“Drew DePaul. Do the initials D.D. ring a bell?”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed, then his lips curved into a satisfied smile. “You think Andrew DePaul gave Lydia that locket.”
“Exactly. And we need to get a warrant and arrest him before he leaves town. After our questioning today, how much you want to bet he’s already packing a bag?”
He snorted. “I know better than to bet against your hunches.” Hunter quickened his pace and glanced over at her. “Keep up, Charlie. We have a case to put to bed.”
Hunter held the door open to the small Sheriff’s office. Cookie quickly strode in and headed for the enclosed glass office in the far right corner. She could see the back of Swan’s head lolling to the side in the office chair. Cripes. Was he passed out? She couldn’t tell. The chair was turned around, facing the wall. The only thing she knew for sure was that Swan wasn’t moving.
“Deputy Swan,” Cookie called as she stepped through the door.
Nothing. He didn’t move.
“Swan!” Cookie rounded the chair, irritation making her grit her teeth. She reached for him, grabbing and shaking his arm, but instead of jolting awake, the deputy slid sideways, lying limp in the chair.
“Damn.” Hunter muttered and reached for Swan’s pulse. He raised his gaze to Cookie’s and shook his head. “Swan’s dead.”
“But…” Cookie frowned and glanced at the time on her phone. “How is that possible? We just saw him with my mother, oh, thirty-five minutes ago.”
Hunter let out another curse.
Cookie’s body tensed. “What is it?”
“Swan’s body is too cold.” His jaw tensed as a pained expression flashed over his handsome features. “There’s no way this man just died.”
Suddenly Cookie’s stomach felt like her breakfast had contained the kitchen sink. “Oh, Rain,” Cookie whispered. “What did you do?”
Hunter sighed. “Call your mother. Make sure there isn’t anything we need to know before I call Watkins.”
Dread ate at Cookie’s insides as her blood ran cold. If there had been any foul play—she shook her head violently and reached into her pocket, fumbling for her phone.
Her mother answered on the first ring. “Cookie!” She let out a nervous giggle. “How’s the investigation going? Are you and Hunter going to call it a day soon? I thought you had plans with Dylan tonight. I’m sure me and Scarlett can entertain Hunter until I leave to show off my present to Hale. I got him—”
“Mother,” Cookie cut off her rambling. “Where are you?”
“At the inn. Where else would I be, dear?”
“Oh, I don’t know, tooling around in the Mustang after dropping Swan off at the sherriff’s office.”
Silence. There wasn’t even any background noise from the inn. Cookie pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen. The call was still connected.
“Mom, is there something you need to tell me?” Cookie asked, a warning in her tone.
“Um, nooooo,” Rain said with a whine.
Cookie closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “What happened? And don’t lie to me.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I swear! I was doing a naughty little dance, pretending like I was going to strip down to a black satin teddy. But I totally wasn’t going to show him any of the goods! I mean, Hale wouldn’t go for that, and I’m not that kind of girl. But when I started unbuttoning my shirt and flashed him just a smidge of cleavage, suddenly he was clutching at his chest. At first, I thought he was just a little overwhelmed. Because you know, I am pretty sexy. Any man might have a trouble resisting this. Right?”
Cookie was gripping the phone so tightly she half expected the protective case to crack. “Mom, I don’t need the exposition. Just tell me what happened next.”
“You needed to get the full picture so you know it’s not my fault. I swear I didn’t know my sexual prowess was going to be his downfall. It’s not like I’ve ever killed a man with just a little flash of flesh before, now have I?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Cookie admitted.
“See? I couldn’t have known. Anyway, I continued to tease him by undoing another button, and the next thing I knew, he was gasping for air as his face turned gray. Then he just fell over, dead, right there in the office. I tried CPR and mouth to mouth. I swear I tried, Cookie. He was just… he was gone.”
“And you didn’t think to call 911?”
“Of course I did. But you know how long it would take for an ambulance to get here. By the time they got across the ferry, there was no way he was going to survive. And I happen to know Doctor Charming is down in Florida getting his flirt on. There was no one to call.”
Doctor Charming was the eighty-year-old retired doctor who, as long as he was on the island, could usually be counted on to help in an emergency. “So you put him in the car and took him to the sheriff’s office?” Cookie asked, incredulously.