Cranberry Bluff

by Deborah Garner

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind and add something myself,” Bryce said. “So far I’m quite taken with some of the charms of the inn itself.”

  “You’re speaking of the wine and cheese, I’m sure.”

  “Of course,” Bryce said, smiling. “I would come back just for that afternoon social hour. Multiple visits, I believe. In fact, I think I’ll plan to do just that.”

  “Return guests are always welcome at Cranberry Cottage Bed and Breakfast.” Molly smiled.

  “Maybe some guests are more welcome than others?” Bryce took a step closer to Molly, leaning one elbow on the counter.

  Molly closed her eyes as the familiar scent of pine and spice struck her senses.

  “Maybe,” she admitted. It was getting more difficult to resist the man with every comment he threw out. Still, she stepped back and pulled herself together.

  “However,” Molly said, “we’re still on this visit and I believe we have a bank robbery to solve.”

  “Yes, you’re right about that,” Bryce said. The switch in his focus was immediate. He must be very good at solving cases, Molly thought, watching the serious look wash away the former flirtatious manner. She certainly hoped he was.

  “We’ll get this figured out, Molly,” Bryce said. “I promise.”

  “I hope so,” Molly said. “I hate the feeling I’m on the run when there’s nothing I should have to run from.”

  “So is that a yes for dinner tomorrow night at Ocean?”

  “Sure,” Molly said. “Why not? And, Bryce…”

  “Yes?” He stopped in the kitchen door and looked back at Molly.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Bryce said, smiling as he left the kitchen.

  Molly turned back to the sink and began to rinse out coffee cups. Thanking Bryce hardly seemed enough, but it was a start. Hopefully he would be able to help. She was innocent, so she had nothing to hide. There was no harm in trusting him because there wasn’t anything he could find that would work against her.

  Molly sighed. Deep in her heart, she had known that coming to Cranberry Cove wasn’t going to end the problems. Still, it had been a good decision. It had given her distance after things fell apart in Tallahassee. Even the few months she’d been running the bed and breakfast had given her a chance to relax and regroup.

  She’d been ready for a change, anyway. Fate tended to work in strange ways, one event becoming a catalyst to another. Granted, she would rather have skipped the whole bank robbery scenario. Certainly there could have been less dramatic situations to jumpstart her move. But it had happened the way it had.

  Molly finished the last bit of breakfast clean up and moved to her office. She returned a message from the answering machine, an elderly couple looking for a quaint place to stay while starting off on retirement travels. It was one of the things Molly enjoyed most about running the inn, seeing the variety of circumstances that sent people to the area. It was like catching glimpses of personal photo albums. Each stay was a snapshot in time of someone’s life.

  She heard someone coming down the stairs, and soon found Mr. Miller standing before her desk, room key in hand.

  “Checking out, I see,” Molly said, handing him a receipt she’d prepared ahead of time, along with the traditional copy of Aunt Maggie’s “Cranberry Cottage Cookbook.”

  “Yes, I’m leaving now,” Mr. Miller said. He set the room key down and took the receipt. He rejected the cookbook with a quick shake of his head.

  Molly picked up the key and placed it in a cubbyhole inside the desk.

  “I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” she said.

  “It was everything I expected it to be,” Mr. Miller said. He clutched his briefcase close to his side. His monotone voice left Molly at a loss for a response.

  “Well, then, that’s good,” Molly said, finally. I think, she added to herself.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Miller said. “I’ll be going now.”

  Molly watched him walk to the front door and step onto the front porch. As he turned around to pull the door closed, she was almost certain she saw him smile. Strange little man, she thought to herself, not for the first time. She reached for her purse, put on her jacket and left thoughts of Mr. Miller behind as she headed into town to run errands.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Susie rummaged through the bookshelves in the library. Time was running out. Molly could be back from afternoon errands soon. Dan could get bored and come looking for her. Luckily, Sadie had dragged Bryce into town to check out Eleanor’s. And thank heavens that weird guest Mr. Miller was already gone. He gave her the creeps, though she’d never been able to put her finger on exactly why. Probably one of those past life things, she thought. If a person believed in all that malarkey.

  She’d been through five rows already, removing each book, shaking it out and replacing it on the shelf. Three rows remained, all of them high above the floor. It made more sense that the money would be hidden on a top shelf, but she’d taken a shot at the lower ones first. For one thing, the most obvious hiding place was often the least likely. For another, she was too short to reach the upper shelves.

  Failing to find anything within the lower rows, she poked around the office and kitchen areas, finally locating a three-tiered step stool. She carried it to the library, locked the door and started in on the upper shelves.

  Thirty minutes later, she was convinced the library was a dead end. The shelves held books and nothing else. She checked underneath a throw rug, behind picture frames, and inside an antique china cabinet. No hidden compartments, no trap doors.

  Susie rolled the rug back down and opened the library back up. Taking the step stool back to the kitchen, she weighed her options. She’d already checked the downstairs guest rooms, though they’d never been a serious consideration. Hiding anything in a room where strangers would come and go made no sense. Even the library was a long shot. But it had deserved a chance just because of the sheer number of possibilities.

  She tried to put herself in Molly’s place to figure out where she might have hidden the money. It was a long stretch for a clever sleuth-slash-criminal to get into the mindset of a plain office girl who took advantage of a fluke opportunity. What kind of mind would be capable of switching gears so quickly, aside from hers, of course? Ah, there it was. They had more in common than physical size.

  Susie had a sudden, sickening thought. Was it possible that Molly had been in on it from the start? That would mean that Al had set her up. No, after all the years she’d worked for him, she couldn’t believe he’d do that. She was too valuable to him for future work. And, from everything she’d seen of Molly, the girl just didn’t have it in her. How it was that she’d caught Bryce’s attention was beyond comprehension.

  The wave of bitterness that accompanied that thought filled her with renewed energy. She made a quick pass through the inside of the inn again. Wherever Molly had hidden the money, it wasn’t inside.

  Susie slipped out the front door and down the pathway to the Cottage Suite. Cracking the door open, she heard Dan’s snoring before she even stepped inside the room. She pulled the door closed and looked through the back garden. Unless she wanted to start digging up the ground, there was no place to search.

  She circled around the back corner of the building and checked the electrical box. That was pointless, she realized as she shut the cover. No one would hide money where a meter reader would find it. Moving along, she rolled a large potted container to the side, checking for a recessed area beneath it, but to no avail. Two additional potted arrangements yielded the same thing: nothing.

  Which is when she came to the wooden tool shed, halfway between the front and rear yards. The tiny, nondescript side yard was so insignificant that she had missed it completely.

  Glancing around, she reassured herself she was alone. Shrubbery blocked the view from outside the property, and the shed was too low to be seen from inside the inn. And the shed was small. She’d be able t
o search it quickly and still have time to freshen up before the wine and cheese hour.

  She wasted no time pulling the latch to the side and opening both doors. Inside the shed, two rows of wooden planks held garden tools, while bags of fertilizer and potting soil lined the floor. A shovel, rake and hoe leaned against the right hand corner. A spray bottle for water hung from a hook inside one of the doors. It was a ridiculous place to hide money, which made it a perfect place.

  Susie ran her hands along the top shelf, shifting tools from side to side, but found nothing below or behind them. The lower shelf yielded the same result. Flattening her palms under the shelf, the wood was smooth to the right and center, but her hand struck a lump of tape, to the left. She fiddled around the tape with her fingers until it peeled back. Her hopes soared as she felt a metal object beneath her fingertips, thinking it might be a key to a safe. But those thoughts deflated just as quickly when she pulled it out and found it was a common house key. Of course Molly would have a spare key hidden. She was just that sort of obnoxious, organized personality.

  Susie replaced the key, attempting to press the tape against it securely, but it didn’t hold. The key tumbled and fell behind the bags of fertilizer. Frustrated, Susie reached down to retrieve it and froze. The key balanced on the handle of a box. Gardening tools, perhaps? Seed packets? Or could it finally be what she was searching for?

  She retrieved the key, placed it on top of the lower shelf and lifted the box out from behind the bag. Setting it on the ground, she paused before opening it. If it contained nothing but miscellaneous supplies, she’d wasted more time. The entire trip could even have been pointless, worse than pointless, really, considering she’d had to deal with Dan all weekend.

  The plastic slide latch was easy to pull aside. Not even a lock on the box, Susie mused. How foolish. Even worse, it was discouraging. The likelihood of money being hidden, but not locked up, was slim. But as she lifted the lid and inspected the interior of the box, she gasped. Bundles of hundred dollar bills were carefully stacked side-by-side below an empty, upper tray. She had been right all along. Molly was the thief.

  Susie needed to think quickly. She could try to move it to the car while Dan was still napping. No, that wouldn’t be smart. Anyone could see her walking to the street. Besides, she needed to take advantage of finding the money at Molly’s, as she had planned all along. Once Molly was found with the money, the case would be solved and she could shop to her heart’s content with the rather large portion that wouldn’t be recovered. Not only would Al be off her back, but Molly would get what she deserved.

  Playing it safe was the best bet. She latched the lid on the box, replaced it behind the bag and scanned the interior of the tool shed. Everything looked the same as when she first entered it. Leaving the stash, she closed up the shed and returned to the barn suite. She’d return later to siphon off her share.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sadie sat across from Bryce at Eleanor’s, reading the daily lunch specials. Seven days of the week, seven different specials. All looked delicious, as did everything on the regular menu.

  “Ah, the Southwestern Salad, that’s it for me,” Sadie said, setting the menu on the edge of the table. “Chopped lettuce, black beans, diced tomatoes, avocado, corn, tortilla strips and cheddar cheese. Can’t go wrong with that combination. Makes me want to head back to Santa Fe. Always loved the food there. Just might make that my next trip.”

  Bryce set his menu on top of hers. “The French Dip is tempting, but I’m going with Eleanor’s Rueben, since you recommended it so highly.”

  “Room for one more?”

  “Eleanor, so glad you’re here!” Sadie said. She motioned for the café owner to join them. “This is Bryce; he’s staying at Cranberry Cottage, too. I was hoping you two might meet.”

  “Glad to meet you, Bryce,” Eleanor said, taking the offered seat. “How do you like our quaint town?”

  “It’s full of little surprises,” Bryce said, smiling.

  “Yes, indeed,” Sadie beamed. “You never know what you might find in a small town. Like this gentleman right here, for example, who is…working on a novel, isn’t that right?” Sadie gestured toward Bryce, who simply nodded.

  “Is that so?” Eleanor smiled. “I’ve thought about writing a book myself, though it would be a cookbook. My friends keep bugging me to put one together.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised, with everything I’ve been hearing about this place. I’m glad Sadie finally dragged me here.” Bryce paused as a server stopped by and took their order.

  “Good choices, both of you,” Eleanor said. “That salad is delicious with the cilantro-lime dressing and the Reuben is a local favorite.” She paused, seeing the restaurant hostess signaling to her from the front. “Excuse me a moment. That must be Casey,” she said as she stood up and headed to the front of the restaurant.

  “Who is Casey?” Bryce leaned back in his chair, paying only minor attention to his question.

  “Eleanor’s husband,” Sadie answered. “He owns the local hardware store. Nice man. He’s probably picking up food to go. I think she makes him a lunch every day that he can take back to work.”

  “A good wife.” Bryce smiled. “And an advantage of having a restaurant in the family, within walking distance, no less.”

  The conversation paused as their meals arrived. Bryce’s eyes widened as he took in the hefty sandwich and accompanying fries. He grinned and nodded his head in approval. Sadie wasted no time pouring dressing over her salad and spearing the fresh greens with her fork. Bryce followed suit and took a bite of his sandwich.

  Eleanor returned to the table, taking a seat and smiling. “I see you’re enjoying your meals.”

  “How could we not, Eleanor?” Sadie said, stabbing another forkful of salad. “Everything here is addictive. Obviously your husband thinks so. I see you’re still fixing his lunches.”

  “Of course I am,” Eleanor said. “He works hard. We both do. Anything we can do to help each other out, we do. It’s convenient we have the restaurant. He doesn’t have to close up to get something to eat, yet he gets a chance to get away for a few minutes when he picks up lunch.”

  “And you get to see him midday, as well,” Sadie pointed out. She poured extra dressing on the salad with a flourish.

  “Not normally,” Eleanor said. “He usually picks it up at the hostess stand on his own. I make sure it’s ready ahead of time, in case we’re busy.”

  “But today?” Sadie said.

  “Sometimes when Casey sees that it isn’t too busy, he’ll have the hostess get my attention, and he’ll tell me little stories about his customers. He wanted to share a strange encounter he had,” Eleanor said.

  Bryce’s eyebrows lifted. “Strange? In a bad way?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “No, not in a bad way. Just weird. A man came into the store, browsing the aisles slowly. Bought a couple of tackle boxes.”

  “How is that weird?” Sadie asked. “You must have fishing in this area. There’s a whole ocean just down the street.”

  “Casey said he didn’t seem like the fisherman type,” Eleanor said.

  “Maybe they were a gift?” Bryce took another bite of the Reuben, turning it sideways to keep sauerkraut from spilling out.

  “Maybe,” Eleanor said. “Casey just thought he was a bit odd. Must have been a guest somewhere, said he was checking out soon.”

  Sadie and Bryce exchanged glances.

  “What did he look like?” Sadie set her fork down and took a sip of iced tea.

  Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. “Short, glasses, not very friendly, almost rude – that’s how Casey described him.”

  “Sounds like one of the guests at Cranberry Cottage,” Sadie said. “A Mr. Miller. Quiet, keeps to himself. I saw him loading his car when I walked over here, so he must have been getting ready to check out.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Eleanor said, standing up. “He just gave Casey the creeps. Anyway, I’ll let y
ou finish your meal in peace. I need to see how dinner prep is going.” She pushed in her chair and returned to the kitchen.

  “What do you think?” Bryce asked Sadie as he pushed his plate away in surrender.

  “Nothing, really,” Sadie said. “He’s a strange man, but I don’t think buying tackle boxes is that weird. Maybe he’s planning to take a couple of sons on a fishing trip in the future?”

  “Sons?” Sadie laughed. “There’s nothing about that man that says ‘married’ to me.”

  “Nephews, then,” Bryce proposed. “Or maybe he goes fishing by himself and likes to be overly prepared.”

  Sadie agreed. “He does seem that type, a bit on the obsessive side.” She set down her fork and moved her salad plate to the side of the table.

  “Now, about Molly,” Sadie continued.

  The server removed the plates from the table, took them to the kitchen and returned with two small scoops of cranberry sorbet, each in a miniature crock and matching saucer.

  “Homemade, compliments of Eleanor,” the server said, setting a check for the rest of the meal on the table.

  “Oh, my, what a delightful surprise! Tell her thank you!” Sadie wasted no time digging in.

  “So, back to Molly,” Bryce said after the server walked away. Sadie caught the softness in his voice.

  “You’re smitten,” Sadie grinned.

  “Smitten – what an old-fashioned word, Sadie.” Bryce tasted the sorbet, raising his eyebrows in approval.

  “Now, now, young man,” Sadie said. “I’m old and I’m fashioned, but I’d hardly say I’m old fashioned.”

  Bryce laughed. “You’ve got me there. But, you’re right. I suppose I’m ‘smitten,’ as you say. Beyond that, I’m convinced she had nothing to do with the bank robbery, not before, not after. Still, we have no way to prove it. I’m running out of time to report back to Binky and we haven’t identified another suspect or found any money.”