by Nicole Ellis
Their incessant questions buzzed around me like bees swarming from a hive. I stood still for a second, trying to make sense of it all. Why were there so many reporters here? I knew it was a small town, but we’d found Declan’s body the day before, and it wasn’t like there was the notoriety of murder associated with his death. While tragic, it was clearly an accident.
I pushed through the crowd to reach the front door, not giving them any statements. Before I could unlock it, I felt a hand on my arm. I turned, and regarded the owner of said arm with distaste. It was Niely MacDonald from the Ericksville Times. Our past interactions hadn’t been pleasant, but I had to give it to her, she had guts. She’d managed to shove her way to the front of the crowd, getting to me ahead of all of the Seattle reporters.
“Mrs. Andrews,” she said. “Do you have anything to tell me about the murder of Declan Becker?”
“No comment,” I said as I fought with the lock. It finally gave, and I opened the door then hesitated. Had she just said murder? I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What do you mean murder? It was unfortunate, but Mr. Becker drowned. I found him myself. He was tangled in the mooring lines of his own boat.” I shuddered, remembering how pale his skin had been above his red shirt.
Her eyes danced—she was obviously thrilled to have the upper hand. “Haven’t you heard? The police have determined that Declan Becker’s death wasn’t accidental.”
My mind spun out of control. He was murdered? I’d seen the beer bottles on the dock myself. It seemed pretty clear to me that he’d taken his boat out on the Sound, then docked it at the Boathouse and stayed for a few drinks.
“I can’t discuss this now.”
“Can’t you give me some sort of statement?” she wheedled. Niely tugged at my arm again.
“No.” I pushed open the door and hastily locked it behind me.
The Boathouse was quiet inside, and I didn’t think any of the other staff had arrived yet. I wondered if I should send a text to them to alert them to the reporters outside. When I was out of sight of the front windows, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.
Could Declan really have been murdered? Here, on the docks, right outside this building? Obviously, I felt bad for Declan’s family and for him, of course, but I couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect the Boathouse. The event center was Beth and Lincoln’s livelihood, as well as Adam’s and mine, and I didn’t know how the bad publicity would affect our bookings. With Adam striking out on his own, we sorely needed the income that I earned from working there. Not to mention, it would always hold a special place in my heart as the location where Adam and I were married.
With my thoughts still swimming around me, I pushed myself up from the ground and walked down the hallway to my office. As I walked, I dialed Desi.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Jill, what’s up?”
I didn’t take time for pleasantries. “Have you heard anything from Tomàs about Declan’s death?”
“No, why?”
“Because there’s a passel of reporters here in front of the Boathouse, and they’re saying that he was murdered.” I heard her suck in her breath.
In a shocked tone, she said, “I hadn’t heard anything about that. Why do they think that? He was fine when you left, right?”
“Yeah, at least I think so. Can you maybe ask Tomàs about it?” I sat in my desk chair and pulled my knees up to my chest. Desi’s voice sounded far away, even though I knew she was just down the street at her café.
“I’ll call him and find out. I’m sure there’s a big misunderstanding.”
I tried to get through as much work as I could, but thoughts of that fateful rehearsal dinner and Declan storming out of the Boathouse kept reverberating through my mind. Ten minutes later, Desi called me back.
“I talked with Tomàs.”
“What did he say?”
She cleared her throat. “The reporters are right. The police have released a statement that Declan died under suspicious circumstances.”
I pushed away from my desk. “Why are they saying that?”
“Apparently he had a gash on his head.”
“Well that would make sense if he hit his head on the dock or his boat. What makes them think someone killed him?” I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair.
“Apparently it was ‘inconsistent’ with an accidental fall.” I could hear her making air quotes at the word “inconsistent.”
What did this all mean for the Boathouse? Would we be liable for Declan’s death? We had allowed him to tie up to our docks and that was where he’d been killed. I made a note to call Beth again and see if I needed to update the insurance company.
The phone on my desk rang, and I told Desi I needed to go.
“Call me back later, ok?” she said. “I want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I will.” I disconnected from the phone call with her and picked up the landline phone’s receiver.
“Hi, this is Lily Choi from the Seattle Times. I was hoping you might have time to answer a few questions for us.”
“What do you have questions about?” I was afraid I already knew, but I needed to first make sure that this wasn’t regarding any Boathouse business.
“I was hoping you might know something about the death of Declan Becker. Did you know the deceased? Was he a client?”
“No comment.” I set the phone back in its cradle. It rang again immediately. I went through the same routine with another reporter. As soon as I hung up from that call, the phone rang again. I pushed the button to send all calls to voicemail. I figured if somebody wanted us for actual Boathouse business, they would leave a message. Right now, I couldn’t deal with any more reporters.
Someone knocked on my door. I stared at it, wondering who it could be. The staff wasn’t due to arrive yet. Could one of the reporters have managed to get into the Boathouse somehow?
I tiptoed over to the door and opened it slowly, afraid that there might be a long line of reporters in the hallway.
“Oh, it’s just you.” I stepped aside to allow Desi to enter my office. She held out both hands. In them, she clutched a bag that I hoped contained something sugary and a to-go cup of coffee.
“I thought you might need these. You sounded really stressed on the phone.”
“I am.” I chomped down on one of the powdered sugar jelly donuts she’d brought for me, savoring the rush of comforting carbohydrates. When I’d finished the first donut, I wiped my face with a napkin and said, “Your mom goes away and everything falls apart. What’s it going to be like when she cuts back on her hours on a regular basis?”
Desi laughed and scrunched up her face. “I don’t think these are ordinary circumstances. It’s not every day that there’s a murder investigation going on in Ericksville.” She reconsidered her statement. “Well, more than you’d think, but not focusing on the Boathouse.”
I sipped the coffee she’d brought. “I’ve had two reporters call already. This isn’t going to go away any time soon, at least not as long as people think there’s a murderer on the loose.”
“I’m sure it will blow over quickly.” She didn’t sound terribly confident. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I thought for a moment. “There is something.”
It was one of the last places I wanted to go, but I needed to speak with Becca and Bill about a few details for their wedding—if they still intended to have it.
“Can you go with me out to the cabin on Lake Elinor? I have to talk to Becca, and I don’t think she’s fond of me at the moment for ruining her rehearsal dinner. You can be my buffer.”
She appeared to mentally assess her day and consulted her watch. “I guess I can see if Andrea can stay longer at the café. I would like to give Lindsay my condolences about Declan’s death. They may not have been on the best of terms recently, but they were married for close to ten years.”
“Thanks.” I smiled gratefully at her. “I was thin
king we could leave in two hours? Does that work for you?”
“Perfect.” She hugged me. “Don’t worry. It will all turn out ok. It always does.”
“Thanks, Desi. I’ll call Becca and let her know we’re coming.”
She turned and left, leaving me alone in my office. I wasn’t so sure everything would be ok this time. When our current and prospective clients got wind of the murder investigation, who knew what they’d do?
9
I stopped to pick Desi up at the café two hours later, and she climbed into my car while handing me another cup of coffee. Although the weather was warm, the intrusion of reporters had chilled me.
“You know me so well,” I said, sipping it gratefully. “But you may be enabling my caffeine addiction.”
“There are worse things.” She grinned and sipped her own drink.
“Do you think Lindsay will be devastated by Declan’s death?”
Desi leaned back in her seat and fidgeted with the headrest behind her. “I don’t know; it’s hard to tell. They’ve always had such a rocky relationship. But they were married for a long time, so I would think it’s affecting her at least a little bit.”
“Do you think that the publicity surrounding Declan’s death at the Boathouse will die down soon?” I flipped on my turn signal and pulled onto the freeway on-ramp.
“I don’t know that either. I hope so.” Desi stared out the window. “Can we talk about something else?”
In my tizzy about how the bad press would affect my immediate family and my livelihood, I hadn’t given much consideration to how it would affect my sister-in-law. The Boathouse had been a big part of Desi’s life from childhood, and she’d only recently given up her part-time position there to go full-time at the BeansTalk Café.
“Did I tell you that Nancy Davenport e-mailed me this week?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn sharply toward me.
“No, you didn’t.” She gulped her iced coffee. “What did she want?”
I sighed. “I guess I volunteered to help lead a summer camp next week. I’d totally forgotten about it until she reminded me.”
“Whoa. That’s not great timing. Do you think she could find somebody else to do it?”
“Do something nice for somebody else?” I laughed. “That’s not really in Nancy’s wheelhouse. I did ask though. I pretty much got laughed out of the room.”
“Ouch.” She was silent for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t need any help with Becca and Bill’s wedding? After all, they are my friends. I’d be happy to help with whatever you need.”
I wasn’t sure that I didn’t need her assistance, but I didn’t want to impose on Desi either.
“I’m sure it will be fine.” I changed the subject, and we talked about our kids for the rest of the way out to Lake Elinor.
When we pulled up in the driveway, there were several cars at the cabin that I recognized from before. It looked like there was a full crew at the house. Above us, a slight breeze blew fluffy clouds across the sky. Far off in the distance, somewhere on the other side of Puget Sound, ominous dark spots obscured any sign of blue sky. I hoped we’d be home by the time the storm hit Ericksville. We knocked on the door and Becca answered it. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, and she seemed puzzled to see us there.
I smiled at her. “No, we didn’t have plans—I just thought I would stop by and confirm a few details with you and Bill.”
She raised her eyebrows but recovered quickly. “Sure, that’s fine. Everyone’s out on the deck. We’re all in shock about what happened to Declan. I have to warn you, Lindsay isn’t taking it well.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe it.”
Desi elbowed me as we walked into the house. “You never told her we were coming, did you?”
“No, I forgot. Do you think she’s mad that we just stopped by?” I didn’t want to tell Desi that I needed to find out if the wedding was still on.
“No, I don’t think they care, but it’s not like we would just drop by Lake Elinor. It was a forty-five minute drive from Ericksville.”
As we had the first day I met Becca, we followed her through the spotless house onto the back deck. However, the mood today was much more somber. Bill and Jared were deep in conversation near the deck railing. They gave no indication they’d noticed our arrival. I didn’t see Isabel today, but Orson was sitting in a patio chair near the fire pit. He looked up and waved at us. Lindsay was busy pouring herself a drink at a bar that hadn’t been present the last time I’d been there. When she saw Desi and me, she clenched her drink and stumbled toward us. It obviously wasn’t her first alcoholic beverage of the day.
Desi and I looked at each other. “I guess Declan’s death affected her more than I figured it would,” she said in a whisper.
“Yeah, no kidding.” I pasted a sympathetic smile on my face as Lindsay approached us.
The expression on her face was anything but pleasant. “What are you two doing here?”
“I had a few things to go over with Becca, and Desi wanted to see all of you.” I made an effort to keep my words peaceful and unprovocative.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Lindsay’s drink sloshed a little as she brought it to her mouth and drank deeply from it. “We attend one dinner at your event center, and now my husband is dead.”
I noticed she called him her husband, and not her ex-husband as she had on previous occasions. I wondered if his death had brought about a change of heart. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking.
I looked around, but Becca had gone inside the house for something. Desi and I were left alone with Lindsay. We stared at each other in awkward silence until Desi spoke.
“Lindsay, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am about Declan. Truly, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
The widow glared at us. “I don’t need your condolences. I don’t know what my husband was doing there at the Boathouse so late, but I do know that your dock is a safety hazard, and I intend to speak to my lawyers about it.”
Bill came up behind Lindsay and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, but her scowl decreased by a notch.
“Lindsay’s been through quite a shock. We all have.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
She looked at him gratefully then swigged from her drink again.
“I’m sure Lindsay realizes that this wasn’t your fault or caused in any way by your business.” He turned toward her again. “The police have determined that Declan’s death was caused by another person. It wasn’t anything to do with the event center.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lindsay said. “If he hadn’t taken his boat out there, this never would’ve happened to him. It was probably some random act of violence, and he was caught up in it.”
I was probably poking the bear, but I had to know. “Why did Declan move his boat out there so late at night? I don’t remember seeing it there the day before.”
Desi nodded her head in agreement. “I didn’t see it either.” She touched my arm. “I’m going to go say hi to Jared, ok?”
I nodded. She walked away and I turned back to Bill and Lindsay.
Lindsay blushed, whether from the alcohol or from uncertainty, and said, “I’m not sure when, but if he hadn’t been drinking after that debacle of a rehearsal dinner, I’m sure he never would’ve brought the boat out there last night. It’s all your fault.”
I stared her straight in the eyes. “Wasn’t Declan arguing with some woman in the parking lot before the rehearsal dinner?”
Lindsay looked up sharply. “He was. Janelle Dixon. How did you know?”
I shrugged. “Oh, someone told me about it.” I didn’t want to tell her that someone was me or she’d think I’d been spying on her.
Bill’s face blanched. “Janelle? What was Janelle doing there at the Boathouse?
“Who’s Janelle?” Desi asked as she rejoined our conversation.
They ignored her.
“I d
on’t know why she was there. How would I know?” Lindsay slurped down the remains of her drink and stomped off toward the bar cart.
I wondered if anyone had told the police about the woman in the parking lot. In all the chaos surrounding the discovery of Declan’s body, I hadn’t remembered it. Now I wondered if it was even important. Lindsay didn’t seem terribly concerned, and Bill didn’t seem to know anything about it. However, judging by his reaction, he knew Janelle.
“Bill, who is Janelle?” I watched his face closely.
He shifted a little and ran his fingers along the condensation on the outer rim of his highball glass.
“Janelle went to dentistry school with Declan, Jared, and me. We’d planned for the four of us to start our own dentistry practice after graduation. But, right before we graduated, Declan decided that he didn’t want Janelle to be part of our practice.”
“Why not?” Desi tilted her head to the side and stared at him. Evidently, she’d never heard this story before.
“I don’t know, he never really said. But he was quite adamant about it, so Jared and I gave in.”
“That must’ve been devastating for Janelle,” I observed.
He sighed and his gaze shifted to the wood planking of the deck. “I’m sure it was. I never intended to hurt her, but Declan and I had been friends for years before I even met her. When he decided that he didn’t want her to be part of the practice, I had to go along with it.”
A thought occurred to me. “Was he dating Janelle at the time?” Could his abrupt reversal be due to a lover’s quarrel?
“No, he was already dating Lindsay. And he was faithful to her in the beginning.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t until he became more successful that his attention wandered.” His eyes clouded over as though he were remembering that long-ago decision to oust Janelle. “In fact, it may have been Lindsay’s influence that caused him to not want to include Janelle in the practice.”
“So Lindsay didn’t like Janelle?”