I was just about to leave the beach area altogether when I remembered that Mary had told me to talk to Marty Tate about his mother and her possible friendship with Jane Price. I pulled out my phone and texted Ryder.
"Is the shop busy or can I extend my lunch break another fifteen?"
Ryder wrote right back. "Just helped a customer with some of the potted herbs, and now I've got the place to myself. I haven't seen Kingston. Should we be worried?"
I lifted the phone for a selfie. "Smile, Kingston." I took the picture and sent it.
"Ah ha, I see the two of you are doing your pirate and parrot impression. See you soon."
"I'm going to send this bird to the shop before he destroys my coat. Keep an eye out for him." I texted back.
"Will do."
I swung my arm toward Harbor Lane. "Off you go. Ryder will have a treat for you when you get back." The word treat was all the encouragement he needed. His talons poked my shoulder as he pushed off and headed toward the shop. I, on the other hand, spun around on my heels and headed toward Pickford Lighthouse.
Chapter 5
A sporadic breeze that could almost be classified as wind had kicked up, and it seemed to get stronger with each step. Rather than weave through the activity on the wharf, I glided down Pickford Way for a shortcut to the lighthouse. A light green Volkswagen Bug, a cute one with a soft top, was parked right in front of the path leading out to the point where the Pickford Lighthouse, with its squat black hat and big yellow light, loomed over a jagged cliff of rocks. Marty was next to the cute, little keeper's house with its powder white siding and brick red roof shingles. A young woman stood nearby leaning down to a camera that was propped up on a tripod. Marty was wearing a nice gray sweater, blue scarf and a proud grin as the woman took his picture next to his lighthouse.
I stood out of the way and watched as she snapped a few more shots. A sharp gust of air that could definitely be categorized as wind shot across the point causing the woman to straighten from the camera. She reached into her faded jeans and pulled out a hair band to tie back her curly, strawberry blonde hair. She began to readjust her tripod. With his photo session paused, Marty took the time to wave to me.
I decided it was invitation enough to talk to him. I walked toward Marty.
Marty Tate had the kindest gray eyes, like smoke curling up from a cozy fire. "Lacey Pinkerton, I haven't seen you around for a bit." His voice was a little more creaky than the last time we spoke, but he was just as lively as ever. He waved his arm around. "Can you believe this? The Pickford Lighthouse is going to be in a book."
"Really? How exciting, and well deserved, I might add. There is no finer lighthouse on this coast."
Marty beamed at the compliment. "I have to agree. By the way, this is Heather Houston, the talented photographer who is creating a book totally dedicated to lighthouses."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Lacey, town florist and ardent fan of Marty and his tall lady here."
Heather pushed forward her hand. "She is a beauty and Marty is pretty great too." Heather was twenty-something with round blue eyes and the kind of looks that suited life on a California beach. She also had to deal with the same hair issues as me. The next burst of wind sent our curls into a frenzy. I pushed mine behind my ears, and she tightened the band she had just tied into her hair.
She looked out toward the water. "Seems like the wind is really kicking up. I'd like to try for a few more shots, Marty, before we wrap up for the day."
"I'm not going anywhere and neither is my tall lady." Marty winked at me.
"I'll get out of your way," I said. "Marty, I just dropped by to ask you a few questions about your mom, if you don't mind. I had two customers this morning. I believe one was an old friend of yours, Mary Russel?" I ended in a question to see if the name rang a bell. It did.
He chuckled. "Mary and I used to play hopscotch right there on that pathway." He pointed to the cement path I'd just walked. "I suppose she's getting flowers for her birthday party. Just got my invite in the mail."
"Yes, her daughter ordered some lilac centerpieces." The photographer seemed to be ready for the next shot, so I had to move along my request. "Do you think we could meet this evening? I want to ask you a few questions."
Perfectly charming laugh lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. "You're still trying to solve that Hawksworth murder, eh? James mentioned you were hot on the trail."
"A murder?" Heather said, sounding slightly stunned. "In this quiet town? I find it hard to believe."
Marty chuckled. "Lacey, here, is quite the detective. She has helped solve quite a few murders. And, yes, it's a quiet town, but you know sometimes it's those quiet ones that have the most secrets." He winked at me again, although this time I wasn't exactly sure why.
Heather seemed somewhat stunned. I wasn't sure if she found it hard to believe that I'd helped solved murders or that there were actual murders in Port Danby, but I decided to turn the conversation away from death.
"What kind of book will this be? A travel guide?" I asked.
"Huh? Oh, yes, the book." She was slightly flustered. I wondered if she would add a mention of Port Danby's propensity for murder under the photos of our lighthouse. That might not be good for tourism or business. Then I quickly reminded myself that our main point of interest was the Hawksworth mansion precisely because it was the site of a grisly family murder.
Heather adjusted the lens on her camera. "It will be one of those coffee table books," she continued. "Lots of glossy photos and descriptions. Now, Mr. Tate, if I could get you to move just a little to your right." She motioned with her hand to direct him.
I stood back and watched as Marty grinned for the camera. The camera clicked just as a brisk gust ruffled Marty's thin white hair. He reached up to smooth it down. "Sorry," he said. "My hair doesn't want to cooperate in this wind."
Another gust pushed against all of us causing Marty to lose balance and take a side step. His laugh was deep and a touch hoarse. "Seems like mother nature is not going to cooperate either."
A low, fluffy line of gray clouds had gathered far out on the horizon. "Looks like we might get a bit of weather," he continued.
The next gust sprayed us lightly with sand from the beach. Instinctively, I shaded my eyes and turned from the onslaught.
Heather snatched her camera off the tripod. "I agree. The weather is not cooperating."
Marty pointed with a gnarled finger toward Heather's black leather camera bag. "You should pack that camera away, or you'll end up with sand in the lens. It's spraying pretty good now."
Heather hung the camera around her neck. "No, it'll be fine. I guess we should continue this tomorrow. Will noon work for you?"
"Sure thing," Marty answered. He smiled my direction. "And you and I have a date this evening. How about seven?"
"Seven is perfect," I said. "I'll bring one of Elsie's lemon and poppy seed pound cakes."
"Oh, that Elsie." He turned to Heather. "If you haven't stopped by the Sugar and Spice Bakery yet be sure to make time for some of Elsie's treats. They are superb." He sent his crinkly smile my direction again. "Lemon and poppy sounds good. I'll put on a pot of coffee and pull out some old photographs. They might be of use in your investigation." Another wink. I really couldn't get enough of Marty's winks. They were adorable.
"Nice meeting you, Heather. By the way, is that your Volkswagen?" I asked as I headed back toward Pickford Way.
"Yes it is. I've had it forever. Nice meeting you too and good luck with your investigation," she called.
I pulled my coat collar up around my ears to protect them from the cold wind and hurried my pace to get back to the warmth of the shop.
Chapter 6
It was an hour until closing. Ryder was sweeping up debris from around the potting station, and I had finished with my dull paperwork for the day. I had texted Elsie to put aside a poppy and lemon pound cake for my visit with Marty. I couldn't wait to see the photographs of the early days in Por
t Danby. With any luck, I'd uncover more clues in the Hawksworth mystery, but even if that wasn't the case, it would still be fun to listen to Marty's tales about the past.
I headed out of the office and plucked my coat off the hook. The rowdy breeze had pushed the offshore clouds over the town, and the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees.
"Ryder, I'm just heading over to Elsie's to pick up my lemon pound cake before she leaves for the day."
"All right," he called as I walked out.
Elsie was just finishing putting the final gleam on her already spotless glass cases when I walked inside. One lone pink bakery box sat atop the counter.
Elsie glanced over her shoulder but kept shining the glass. "I was just about to drop that off. I've got to head home and help Britney pack." She lowered her cloth. "I'm happy she got this internship. It'll be a big boost for her career. On the other hand, I'm back to square one. No one to assist me in the bakery. Although, I'm also glad she's getting away from Dash. Her head was always in the clouds when it came to that man." She added an aggravated head shake.
"Well, just between you and I, I think that man is hurting about this whole thing."
Elsie put her hands on her hips. "Do you mean to tell me after all this acting aloof and indifferent, Dash is actually heartbroken? Good," she said, before I could respond. "But I won't tell Britney. She's liable to change her mind and give up this great opportunity."
I picked up the bakery box. "Hmm, smells good and citrusy. Put it on my tab, will ya?" I laughed. "Boy, if that doesn't just spell out everything about me, a woman with a bakery tab. Guess it's better than a bar tab. Maybe."
"Are you having a romantic dinner with James?" Elsie asked as she finished her polishing task.
"Nope. Marty Tate."
Her face popped up. "So you've tossed aside the handsome Detective Briggs, the town's most eligible bachelor, for the century old lighthouse keeper?" She shrugged. "Marty does have that charismatic smile."
"Doesn't he? I'm hoping he has some pieces to add to my Hawksworth puzzle." I headed toward the door.
"Oh wait, I nearly forgot. I need my taste testers to give my new chocolates a try. I'm making them for the holidays, that is, if you and the other notorious sweet tooth across the street approve." She motioned toward Lola's Antiques.
I feigned a teenage sounding groan. "If we have to. You know how I hate these taste testing chores."
"Well, I could get—"
"Oh my gosh, total sarcasm, woman."
"I know. Just wanted to see how you reacted." She flicked her dusting cloth at me like a guy's locker room towel smack. "I'll get them. They taste like caramel, but they don't contain butter or sugar."
"Is that a nod toward Lester? He looks good, by the way. The dictator sister diet, as he calls it, has been working."
"Yep, he's lost about ten pounds since his last doctor's visit." She disappeared into her kitchen and walked out with a cellophane wrapped plate, cold from the refrigerator. Six perfectly round chocolate coated balls were covered with various toppings like crushed nuts and coconut flakes.
I saluted her before taking the candy dish. "I will fulfill all my duties as a taste tester and report back soon." Taking my task very seriously, I headed straight across to Lola's. Mostly, I worried that if I didn't take half of the chocolates directly to Lola, I risked eating them all myself.
Lola's red hair was all I spotted behind the front counter. She popped up to see who had entered. "Oh, it's you."
"Yes, happy to see you too, best friend. And here I made the journey across Harbor Lane to bring you chocolate treats from Elsie."
"Yummy. Perfect timing." She reached under the cellophane for a nut covered chocolate. "I had lunch too early today, and I was starting to really slide into a low blood sugar slump."
I plucked out a coconut covered treat, and the two of us moaned in unladylike fashion as we nibbled the decadent, gooey treats.
"Wow, that magical baker has done it again," Lola cooed. "There must be a pound of butter in this one tiny ball. How does she condense all that buttery goodness into one chocolate coated ball?"
I smiled, pleased to provide Lola with a surprising fact about the confection she had just pushed into her mouth. "No butter or sugar," I said succinctly. "She doesn't want to spoil Les's diet."
Lola shook her head emphatically and reached for another. "Impossible. This tastes like caramel."
I held up two fingers. "Scout's honor." I grabbed out a pistachio covered chocolate. The front door opened as we both commenced with the second part of the taste test. I pointed out a bit of chocolate on her lip before she rounded the counter to help the customer.
"How can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm looking for a vintage necklace," the deep voice responded.
I finished gobbling up the second chocolate and spun around to see who was attached to the nice baritone voice. It took me only a second to realize I'd seen the man before. Even though I'd only seen him on a small phone screen, I was sure the tall, fit and perfectly postured man standing in Lola's shop was Kate's new boyfriend. He never came in to buy flowers, as Kate had anticipated. Indeed, it seemed he had decided on something far more shiny and lasting than roses. I pretended to be interested in a set of porcelain dishes on an oak antique Hoosier cabinet while surreptitiously continuing my survey of the man.
Lola led him over to the glass cabinet that contained all the vintage jewelry. Lola had some truly dreamy pieces with pink pearls, silver woven like lace and pendants that sparkled with color.
Lionel, an unusual name that was easy to remember, leaned into the cabinet to peruse the necklaces. Lola was holding back a pleased smile. Generally, the antique jewelry, especially pieces made with real silver, gold and gemstones, went for a pretty price. It seemed Kate hadn't been overzealous when she bragged that her new boyfriend was rich. She hadn't been dating him long, but it seemed he was already buying her something extravagant. There would be no living with the woman, but I hoped, this time, she had found her true match.
Lionel was sporting slightly grayed temples, a requirement for older rich men, apparently. His sweater and well-pressed slacks fit his impressive physique perfectly as if they had been custom made or, at the very least, fitted at an expensive department store.
A sneeze threatened and I rubbed my nose to push away the tickle. It seemed Lionel liked to wear a great deal of cologne. It had taken a few seconds to circle the various pieces of furniture and waft my direction, but now, it was overwhelming my sensitive, little snout. Boomer lifted his drowsy head from his pillow and released a sneeze of his own.
"Bless you," I said without thinking.
Lionel and Lola looked my direction. I picked up a pale blue teacup. "I think I'll probably end up with this one. It'll match my—my tea set, which is blue." I forced a smile. Lola stared at me past her customer's shoulder as if I'd just lost my mind, but being my best friend, who knew me quite well, she immediately deduced that something was up and that it had to do with her distinguished looking customer.
I continued to show great interest in the porcelain tea cups as Lola found a box for what appeared to be a yellow gold Edwardian style pendant, complete with a tiny diamond and pearl lavaliere. Kate was going to swoon. I wondered how quickly she'd find an excuse to prance into my flower shop to show off her new bauble. I wouldn't blame her. It was beautiful. Although, if I was being totally honest, it seemed a little more suited to an older woman and not young, mod, chic Kate. That might have been the reason for her earlier subdued attire and hairstyle. Maybe she was trying to put on a more conservative, mature woman facade for her new boyfriend.
Lionel's expensive looking watch sparkled as he fished through a series of credit cards looking for a particular one. He pulled it out and handed it over. In the interim, he glanced back over his shoulder and flashed me a brilliant white smile, almost too white.
I returned the smile and fumbled with the tea cups, knocking one off its plate. It clinke
red.
"You break it, you buy it," Lola chirped with an impish grin.
I held up the cup. "Not broken."
She handed the box with the necklace to Lionel. He nodded politely to both of us before gliding on expensive loafers to the door. We both stretched our necks to see past Lola's window displays. He climbed into a silver Porsche and drove off. I released the series of sneezes I'd been storing up from the heavy cologne.
"Well, Miss, did you decide which blue teacup would fit with your tea service?" Lola asked when I'd finally stopped sneezing. She yanked a tissue from the box on her counter and handed it to me.
"I was trying to look nonchalant so he wouldn't see me checking him out," I confessed unnecessarily.
"Gathered that, but why? I mean he was nice looking for an old guy. And rich, apparently. That necklace was the most expensive one in the cabinet. Which is why I kept trying my subliminal advertising by touching it and moving it about while he browsed the necklaces. Guess I'm pretty good at the old sleight of hand stuff. Geez, you're not thinking of giving that gorgeous man of yours the boot to try something more vintage. I mean Porsches are nice but—"
"Oh, would you stop," I said sharply. "Of course I'm not thinking of giving James the boot, and who says the boot anymore? That man is Kate's new boyfriend. She came in this morning to brag about him, mostly because Dash was in my shop. But she said he was rich and she mentioned that he'd probably be in to buy her some roses, her favorite. She also admonished me to make a fresh bouquet." I rolled my eyes.
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