Margot thought that vindicated was an interesting choice of words, but she didn’t speak up. She was more an observer here than anything else.
“So what do you need from me, Detective Eastwood? What can I do for you?”
He sounded more together than he’d been before and Margot wondered what had changed in his mindset. Then again, finding out that your son was murdered could have a strange and profound affect on a person.
“Sir, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your son.”
“Continue.”
Adam asked many typical questions regarding Elliot’s history, his employment up until the time of his death, his friends, and generally anything Mr. Henry could tell them about his son. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the father barely knew the son.
He couldn’t say when he’d last known Elliot to work, or at least not steadily, finding it nearly a miracle that he’d made it this far in life without begging for money as he’d been expected to do.
When asked about who he spent the most time with, Margot began to take more notice.
“I couldn't understand his fascination with James Peck, though.”
“Fascination?” Margot spoke up for the first time and Miles sent her a glance before looking back at Adam.
“I suppose you could call them friends, but in reality, someone in James’s situation isn’t likely to be friends with someone like my son. And still, they spent an inordinate amount of time together.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “James is a good man. Solid, respectable, does a wonderful job in my marina, but…I don't know why Elliot would spend as much time down there as he did. Honestly, the only fault I could see in him was what a bad manager of his money he was.”
“What do you mean?” Margo tasked.
“He was always behind on things. Sometimes needed an advance, things like that. I think he’s putting his daughter through school. But, other than that, a good guy.”
“One last question, Mister Henry. Elliot was living in the cottage behind the house, correct?” Adam asked.
“Yes. It was the one free thing I did for my son. Don’t think me cruel; I merely wanted to teach him what it was like to take care of things yourself. I didn’t ask for rent, but I didn’t give him any spending money. He was welcome to eat with us but rarely did. Instead, he spent most of his time at the clubhouse with that girl or down at the docks.”
Margot was beginning to pull together a picture of Elliot, but it wasn’t adding up.
Adam rose and Margot wished they could stay a little longer so that she could more accurately understand the situation between Miles and his son, but she could see that Adam had gotten all he needed. Since she had no real reason to be there, she knew she should be thankful and leave it at that.
They walked out into the sundrenched foyer and Mr. Henry met Adam’s gaze. “John speaks highly of you. I’m glad to see that you have a desire for justice, Adam. Give the chief my regards.”
Adam nodded and they left, though Margot had a feeling the last thing Adam would be doing was telling the chief anything about their visit.
Chapter 11
“Looks like you’ll be able to keep your job.”
Adam rolled his eyes at Margot in jest as they pulled out on to the main road that would lead back to town. “Looks like it.”
“What did you make of what he said about Elliot and money?”
“In what way? The fact that he was a complete mooch, or the fact that he still spent money—and had money—without actually working?”
“The last part,” she said with a grin.
“Yes. I definitely noted that. I’ll have our analyst look into his finances, but—” He stopped abruptly when Margot cleared her throat.
“Don’t tell me…” He shot a glance at her before pulling his eyes back to the road. “Who? Who did you get to— Dexter. I can’t believe it.”
“I was just going to ask what he could find and…”
“He did. Margot, you could have put him in danger.”
Her anger flared at this statement. “Why? Is something he’s doing dangerous? Because you continually tell me that he’s fine and there’s no need to worry about him and—”
“All right. Point taken.”
Margot crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t want him to get into any kind of trouble, but he offered to help.”
“What did he find?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” She chided herself for being petty. “Sorry. I can send you what he found, but it’s likely what your analysts will find—and in a more legal fashion. He was making cash deposits.”
“Monthly? Regularly? How so?”
“There wasn’t a pattern that I could see to it. I’d assumed his father was giving him money, but after our meeting, I’m not so sure that’s right.”
“I agree. It doesn’t sound like something Miles Henry would do for his son. So, if not him…then what?”
“Drugs maybe?”
Adam shrugged as he pulled up in front of the bakery. “Possibly. I’ll get in contact with a few informants I have. See if they knew of Elliot selling anything on the street.”
Margot reached out to open the door then paused. “Thanks for taking me with you. You didn’t have to.”
“I like having you with me,” he said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “Now go see if anyone’s emailed you back about that position. When this case is behind us, I look forward to spending some more time with you on the weekends.”
She laughed and exited the car.
Margot watched as he drove away but remained on the sidewalk, lost in thought. Elliot was getting money from someone. Enough to cover his expenses but not enough to fully cover larger bills incurred at the golf course. Was that partly why he’d dated Kellen? To be at the clubhouse and yet be able to slip away without paying?
And where was the money coming from? He obviously had a way to keep afloat. The drug angle didn’t ring true to her, though. Wouldn't someone selling drugs make more than what Elliot was getting? And where would a rich kid like Elliot find someone to sell drugs for? Obviously, many rich kids got into doing drugs and partying, but Kellen had been adamant about the fact that he didn’t party like that. He had a good time, but not with illicit drugs or alcohol?
Sighing, she went back into the bakery, waving at Rosie who was with a customer, and made her way back to the office. Once there, she bit her lip and clicked her email open. One email had come back with a reply from one of the school’s she’d contacted. It was from her friend Nadia.
Margot scanned the email before slumping back in her chair. It looked like there was one woman Nadia could recommend, but Margot wasn’t so sure. Nadia explained that the woman, Julia Hageman, was a single mother to a six-year-old son. That didn’t sound like the type of flexible worker Margot had set out to hire. But she couldn't ignore Nadia’s pleas that Margot at least meet with the woman.
And why wouldn’t she?
Margot typed in a quick reply and agreed for Nadia to share Margot’s contact info with Julia. Now she had to wait and see if anything came of it.
Margot sat with her feet up on the couch, a gameshow playing in the background, though she wasn't paying attention. Instead, her mind was focused on the case. Or what little they had of the case.
First, there was Kellen, who obviously was no longer in love with Elliot—if she ever had been. She had changed so drastically from the time when Margot had met with her at the country club to the meeting she’d had with Adam at the senior living facility. While a change in personality didn’t exactly indicate murder, it didn’t bode well for Kellen either. But, aside from being placed near Elliot on the night of his death—along with Drake—there isn’t evidence to link them to the crime.
Margot shifted, reaching for another handful of air-popped popcorn. Munching on it, she considered the little evidence they did have. Elliot’s death wasn’t an accident, due to the alcohol in his system and his reput
ation for abstaining from drinking. His bank accounts were suspicious—getting deposits without any known job. And the money—where did the money he was depositing come from?
Margot chewed thoughtfully on her lip. Following the money always tended to point to a culprit, but with cash deposits like that, it would be virtually impossible to trace anything.
Her mind jumped to another oddity. Elliot’s association with James Peck. James seemed like a good guy. His work history at the docks spoke well for him, his employer seemed to like him, and he seemed to like Elliot. But even that seemed odd. For Elliot to keep company with someone like James, there had to be a reason. Unless he saw the man as a father figure. That could be part of it. And, after meeting with his real father, Margot had to wonder about their strained relationship. It was clear that Miles hadn’t appreciated his son, but it appeared as if Elliot had done nothing to earn his father’s respect.
Earn. Was it possible he was working for James on the side? Earning money that way?
Margot dropped her feet to the floor and turned off the television. Now that sounded like a possibility. He had been down at the docks a lot, just how much Margot wasn’t sure, but was it possible James had hired Elliot on his father’s payroll without his father’s knowledge? It would explain the money as well as why he spent so much time with James. It would also explain why his father didn’t know about it. Margot had a feeling Miles Henry wouldn't take kindly to providing his son with money through means of being a dockhand. No, he seemed like the type of father who wanted his son to step into shoes of the father’s making.
Margot nodded to herself, standing and taking her popcorn bowl into the kitchen. After putting it in the dishwasher and turning the machine on, she headed toward her bedroom. The door to Julian’s office—now her spare bedroom—was ajar and she pushed it open slowly. The scent of paperbacks wafted toward her as a slight breeze came through a crack in the window. She liked having fresh air in all parts of the house and left this window open, though only slightly, to keep the flow.
She stepped into the office, keeping the light off, and looked around. It was filled with things that reminded her of Julian. Stacks and stacks of crime and thriller novels lined the wall. From Dean Koontz to Agatha Christie. It hadn’t mattered to him as long as the storyline was good and kept him guessing until the end.
Trailing her fingers over a row of books, she let a sigh escape. It had been five years now since her husband had died. The sharp pain that had assailed her in the early days had been subdued to a dull ache when she thought of him. The memories of their best times together caused a worn smile to cross her lips rather than a longing to take hold of her.
She missed him—she thought a part of her always would—but now she thought of him fondly. It was strange how time changed things; healed things.
Her thoughts trailed to Adam.
Julian, would you have approved?
She wanted to ask out loud, as if the mere act would gain her the feeling of acceptance she needed, but she felt foolish speaking to an empty room of cheap paperbacks and a spare bed. Then again, she already knew what his answer would have been.
Yes, mon cherie.
Warmth flooded her chest and she covered her mouth, unbidden tears pooling in her eyes. She knew he would have been happy for them—though if he were there, it never would have been an issue. Part of her felt the old anger surge to the surface.
She’d been so angry at first. At him for leaving. At the police force for not protecting him. For the invisible killer who had taken his life. For the job—always the job.
But with time, the pain had eased and the anger had lessened, although it still raised its head at times. Like now, when she thought about how senseless his murder had been. And the fact that they’d never caught the killer.
Sighing, she stepped back out of the room, pulling the door almost closed to keep the air flowing. She would let the ghosts of the past rest and she would go to sleep. She didn’t know what the next day held, but anger at the past would do nothing more than make her toss and turn.
No, instead she would focus on the things she did know. That James knew more than he was willing to admit about Elliot, and that she was going to find out what that was.
Chapter 12
Margot got to the bakery early, having woken up before her alarm. Her thoughts had coalesced into unformed shapes and had scattered around her like beacons. Their lights cycling on and off at intervals like a lighthouse. Were they, too, a warning for her? To watch where she was going?
Shaking her head, she pulled the next batch of croissants from the oven and placed them delicately on a rack to cool. She was ahead of schedule and she had an idea.
Half an hour later, she was almost done with her morning baking and it still wasn’t time to open the shop. Rather than start the last recipe, she donned her light jacket and a baseball cap, and set off toward the docks.
While mornings in North Bank tended to be lazy affairs, the docks were alive with activity. Fishermen were gearing up to head out to gather the day’s catch as well as others who were selling leftover fish from the day before on the corner where the farmers’ market usually set up.
Though the activity wasn’t particularly loud, the boisterous nature of the morning was starkly different from her quiet, classical music-enhanced workspace. She smiled to herself as a raspy laugh echoed off the buildings. It came from a rotund man who looked as if he’d stepped from the deck of the oldest fishing boat in the marina.
She ducked her head and walked past, though no one really paid her mind. They were caught in their routine, just as she had hers with dough, butter, and sugar. It was a different life down here during the day—one where Elliot would have stuck out like a sore thumb.
Then she blinked. A tall woman—wearing a windbreaker, black workout pants, and a ball cap—stepped from James Peck’s house, if it could be called that. It was more like a shack, but Margot wasn’t going to split hairs at the moment. The woman looked around and then made her way up the aluminum ramp toward the top level of the marina area. Feigning interest, Margot made her way toward the woman on an intercept course. Something about her was…familiar.
Without looking up, Margot accidently/on purpose ran into the woman’s shoulder.
“Oh, goodness,” Margot said, stepping back and adjusting her baseball cap. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—” She stopped when their eyes met. She knew who this was. “Missus Henry?”
The woman blanched and looked around, blinking rapidly. “I…uh, have we met?”
“I actually came to talk to you a few days ago,” Margot said, deciding that to mention she was tracking her son’s killer may not be the best introduction. “I’m Margot Durand. Local business owner. I run the bakery on Front Street.”
“Oh. Yes,” she said, forcing a smile. “How silly of me. Why didn’t we meet?”
“Your housekeeper—Rosa, I believe?—told me you already had a caterer.”
“Oh, she should have asked me. I can always use more pastries.” The woman smiled, easing into the comfortable territory of party planning.
“What are you doing down here?” Margot asked with an overly sweet smile.
“Oh, probably the same as you, getting in my exercise for the morning. I often take out one of our kayaks or paddle boards in the mornings.”
Eyeing the woman’s attire, Margot leaned toward believing her, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that Eleanor had looked uneasy.
“Is James Peck around then?” Margot asked.
Was it Margot’s imagination or did the woman flinch at the mention of James’s name?
“Uh, Ja—Mister Peck? Yes. Yes, he’s in. I— He had my kayak out and ready for me. I swear he as ESP or something. Always knows when I’m coming.”
Margot’s eyes narrowed, looking at the woman for signs of deception. “He’s worked for your family for a long time, hasn’t he?” Margot observed.
“Why do you ask?” Eleanor’s arms
crossed over her chest.
“Oh, no reason. I’m just going to talk with him. Seems like a nice man.”
“Are you interested in lessons then?”
“Lessons…oh, yes. I was thinking about taking some.”
“You can’t find a better teacher than James,” she said, forcing a smile. “Though I don’t know if now’s a good time to talk with him.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“His daughter is coming for a visit. He mentioned it to me this morning—as I was leaving.” She looked down at her phone and shrugged her shoulders in a delicate, practiced way. “Oops, look at the time! I’ve got to get going. Nice to meet you, Miss…Durand, was it?”
“Yes,” Margot said, deciding not to correct her on the suffix of her name, seeing how she had started to tap her toe. She was anxious to leave and likely had another appointment to get to.
The woman waved at her in a dismissive farewell and speed-walked back down the boardwalk toward the parking lot. Margot watched her go until she disappeared. Then Margot turned and walked down the ramp to the floating docks.
While it was still early, it wasn’t by fisherman’s standards and most of the slips were empty for the day. There were only a few workers here and there, but one slender form made her way down the dock in the same direction Margot was about to turn.
“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Mister Peck, are you?” she asked when the young woman reached her.
The girl looked to be somewhere in her early twenties and she grinned at Margot. “I am. My name is Amy. Are you here for a lesson?”
“Nice to meet you, Amy. And, not exactly. Are you here to see him too?”
The girl nodded enthusiastically. “I'm back from college for a short trip and we agreed to go out on the water this morning. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
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