Two Sleuths Are Better Than One

by Elizabeth Ashby

  "Merle went over to the salsa contest," JT said, retreating deeper into the shade of the stall to escape the heat since there was no one who needed assistance. "He wanted to hear the results of the first-round judging in person."

  "I thought he didn't care about winning."

  JT snorted. "You two are so blind about each other sometimes. Of course Merle cares about winning." His social skills might be as poor as my own assistant's, but unlike Cary, JT had a solid understanding of human behavior. He didn't always pay attention to body language, especially when it was shouting that the listener really wasn't interested in the details of fermentation, but when he paid attention, he could interpret it accurately.

  "I should go over to the contest then, and offer him some support."

  "You should," JT said. "Not just about the contest either but about more important things. He's really worried that your love of travel means you're going to make him choose between you and the orchard."

  "I'd never do that."

  "I know that, but he doesn't," JT said. "I think his wife used to test him sometimes to see how much he loved her."

  "I'm not her."

  "I know that too." He shrugged, his blond hair falling into his eyes to make him look even more like a dreamy boy band member. "It's Merle's blind spot, not mine."

  A customer interrupted just then to ask about the prospects for the upcoming harvest's perry, and JT immediately abandoned the less interesting topic of personal relationships in favor of discussing how the summer's hotter, dryer-than-usual weather was likely to affect the pear crop and the eventual beverages made out of it.

  I left him to his passion and headed down the Memorial Walkway. After passing the first aid tent, I paused to look down the hill at the salsa contest. The crowd had grown even larger, and there were some rowdy but good-natured cheers and boos for various contest entries, but the mayor was doing a good job of keeping everyone happy. I saw two uniformed officers mingling with the crowd, but they looked bored rather than worried about any behavior.

  Despite everything else that had happened recently, the salsa contest was a huge success, something I could mention with pride when I met with the mayor at the end of the season to discuss renewing the manager's contract for another year. I felt less proud of how I'd apparently mistreated Merle recently. I'd been so focused on the market and my travel dreams that I hadn't noticed how much pressure I'd put on him.

  I hadn't intended to make him feel like he needed to choose between me and his orchard. I needed to let him know that I wouldn't pester him about vacations anymore. I could see now that I'd been so obsessed with my fantasy of a perfect life that I hadn't been able to make more realistic plans. I'd been as unreasonable as some of my old clients who'd been so intent on achieving pie-in-the-sky financial dreams that they couldn't see the value of the more modest goals we'd laid out and worked toward. I'd had to show them, over and over again, that they were getting most of what they wanted without sacrificing too much in the way of financial security. Some of them came to see the light and were happy, and some didn't and were miserable. I didn't want to be one of the latter.

  If I were my own client, I'd advise acknowledging that my dream of month-long vacations with Merle every winter was a fantasy and not a real goal. What I really wanted was to spend as much time with Merle without giving up completely on traveling. I could simply adjust some of my travel plans to include some shorter trips when he could go with me and then add in some longer ones without Merle.

  Now that I was willing to consider different options, it struck me that the oldest of my younger sisters might like to go with me on some of the longer trips. Olivia loved to travel, and her job perks included a good amount of vacation time.

  I resumed my walk down the hill and to the back of the crowd where Merle was standing. He wasn't the sort to wear his feelings on his sleeve, but it only took a quick glance at him to know the results of his category had been announced and he'd made it through the first-round judging.

  "Congratulations," I said.

  He shrugged, downplaying his obvious satisfaction. "There were only four entries in the nontraditional category, so all but one of us made it through to the finals. And really, I don't think even the one nonplacing guy thought his raw kale salsa was going to get much love."

  "Still, I'm proud of you," I told him. "You could have bought a kale farm instead of an orchard, but you had the good sense to go with pears. Everyone loves pears."

  "So that's why you like me. For my good sense."

  "Among other things." I gave him a hug and stayed attached to his side to guide him along the back of the crowd in the direction of the beach. "I just had a chat with JT, and he made me understand how difficult I've been recently, not letting you know how much I appreciate you. I've decided to see if my sister wants to take a trip with me this winter while you're tending to your goats. I've never spent much time with my siblings once they became adults, and I'd like to get to know them better."

  "You won't forget about me while you're gone, will you?"

  "Of course not." I gave his side a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I'll be thinking about coming home to you the whole time I'm gone. And I'm still going to hold you to your promise to take some shorter trips with me. I'd love to have you show me around DC sometime, as someone who lived with it in your backyard for so many years."

  "I can do that," Merle said. "And Virginia too. It's a beautiful place. And there's a goat breeder there who I've heard good things about. We could stop there while we're in the area."

  "Just what you need. More goats." I was still laughing when we passed the last of the boulders that separated the area where the salsa contest was being held and the beach where we'd be meeting up with Matt and Keely in just a few minutes to trap the killer.

  The view brought me to a sudden stop.

  Our plan to trap the killer wasn't going to work.

  *

  Before I could take it all in, Keely came rushing over with Matt following more slowly.

  "I'm so sorry," Keely said. "I really thought this would work."

  "Me too." Traps worked in fiction and even in real life. Just apparently not in Danger Cove, where everyone recognized when one was being baited and wanted in on the action.

  We both stared in silence at the scenario we'd inadvertently created, while Matt and Merle had, by unspoken agreement, moved a few feet away to give Keely and me some privacy to figure out what had gone so wrong.

  The beach was dotted with people trying very hard to look inconspicuous. I'd expected Officer Fred Fields to be in sight, and he was, chatting with the lifeguard, the only person who looked like he belonged on the beach. Elizabeth Ashby was seated on a folding beach chair, dressed as if she were attending a book signing instead of sunbathing and pretending to work on her laptop. Cassidi Conti and Meri Sinclair had temporarily set aside their trash-talking about the salsa contest—presumably because they'd both moved on to the finals so neither one could gloat or feel bad—and were seated directly on the sand, chatting and pretending not to look in our direction. Maura Monroe from the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery had a tray of cupcakes with icing that was melting in the heat as she moved among the sunbathers, offering them treats. Lizzie Jones, petsitter extraordinaire, was walking a dog along the grassy edge of the sand. Even Lilly Waters from the Smugglers' Tavern was risking exposure to creepy-crawly things by venturing up to the cliff near the lighthouse, where she was looking down at the beach.

  And those were just the people I immediately recognized. There were at least fifty other spectators I couldn't put names to, although they looked vaguely familiar, perhaps from having seen them in passing on the trolley or at the grocery store. It was like a Where's Waldo? illustration, with the killer being Waldo, thoroughly hidden in the crowd of all the Danger Cove residents who'd ever had any sort of run-in with murder and had apparently turned out to see if the killer would show up for our rumored meeting with the mayor.

  Tess
Abbott and Zoe Costa were on the beach too, along with Jack Condor, but all of them could just as easily have been there to watch the meeting in case the killer showed up, like everyone else in town, and not because they'd killed anyone. Practically the only local resident I knew who was missing from the beach was the mayor himself. I wondered if he'd even heard the story about the supposed meeting with him. Normally he was among the first to hear gossip, but we'd been counting on the fact that since it involved him, everyone would assume he already knew about it, so no one would have mentioned it to him.

  "We should have known this would happen," Keely said, her tone both disappointed and perhaps a little self-scolding. "The town is full of people who loved Coach Andy. They wanted to see his killer brought to justice and were willing to do whatever it took to catch a criminal."

  It wasn't her fault our plan hadn't worked. If anyone was to blame, it was me. I should have anticipated that we weren't the only ones in this town who had both an interest and demonstrated ability to solve a murder. They would have realized that the meeting we'd described would likely draw out the killer.

  In an attempt to cheer us both up, I said, "At least Detectives Ohlsen and Marshall aren't here to see it. I can hear the lecture now. 'It's not so easy to catch a killer, is it? So leave it to the professionals.' And that's the short version. I have a feeling it would go on for hours."

  "Plus Marshall would be gloating the whole time," Keely added, playing along, although she was still obviously upset. "Ohlsen would just sound long-suffering."

  The men seemed to realize we'd gotten over the initial shock of the plan having gone wrong and were ready for them to rejoin us.

  "I'm sorry," Merle said as he came up beside me and put an arm around my back. "You'll come up with a new plan. You always do."

  "I'll need Keely's help," I said, trying to believe we really could do it. I'd never before had such a dearth of suspects though, so the best I could do might just be to help her solve Gabe's death. I'd come to accept that my travel dreams weren't realistic, and I would find a way to live with never knowing who'd committed the latest murder at my market.

  "You don't sound so sure, but I believe in you. You'll find Coach Andy's killer some other way." Merle dropped a kiss on my forehead before adding, "Unless you need me for anything else right now, I'm heading back to my stall to give JT a raise."

  "And I've got to go start my story on the salsa contest," Matt said, letting go of Keely and loping off to catch up with Merle.

  Keely tapped my arm to catch my attention and then nodded toward where Tess was sunbathing on the beach, looking more like a legitimate beachgoer than almost anyone else within fifty yards of us. "I'm going to go talk to Tess," she said, "and see if I can find out why she's still in town. Want to join me?"

  "Sure."

  A few seconds later, I dropped onto the sand on one side of Tess, while Keely lowered herself to sit on the other side. When the woman kept her eyes closed as if she were sleeping, Keely said, "Hello, Tess."

  Tess sighed and gave up her pretense of sleeping. She sat up on the white bath towel, revealing the embroidered logo of a chain hotel situated on the outskirts of town. Her face, free of any make-up, looked even younger than in the picture. She squinted against the sun, and there was a hint of fear in her eyes. "Who are you two? I don't know you."

  "I'm Keely Fairchild, a member of the local quilt guild." She nodded at me. "And this is Maria Dolores, the market manager and a friend."

  "Oh." Tess's shoulders relaxed from their hunched position. "Did those old biddies send you to tell me I couldn't even be in the same town as their stupid quilt show?"

  "No," Keely said. "I wanted to check on how you were doing after your loss."

  Tess blinked. "You mean Gabes?"

  Keely nodded. "I understand you were close to him."

  "I was," she said. "It's just that no one else wanted to acknowledge it. Or me."

  "I'm sorry," Keely said. "But I'm also surprised you're still in town. I thought you lived in Seattle."

  "I do, but I can't leave."

  "I could have a word with Detective Marshall," Keely said, although according to our sources he'd already said Tess could leave, and he wouldn't listen to anyone but his boss if he did want her to stay.

  "Oh, no, it's not him keeping me here," Tess said. "That tool actually thinks Georgia killed him, which is stupider than suspecting me."

  I was surprised into interrupting Keely's interrogation to ask, "So why are you still here?"

  "Marshall's never going to solve the case, and my sweet Gabes deserves justice." Tess hugged her knees to her chest. "No one else really cares about what happened to him, so I've been asking around to see who could have done it. I'm pretty sure whoever did it also killed the other guy and is likely to kill again. I was hoping to catch him when you had your meeting with the mayor, but that didn't exactly work out."

  I adjusted my initial impression of Tess. She was young and immature and shallow, but she wasn't stupid.

  "The quilt guild cares about finding the killer too," Keely said. "I promise you we'll do our best to make sure Gabe's case is solved. You don't have to stay."

  She twisted her mouth in thought for several moments before finally nodding. "I believe you. I still can't leave until it's over. I've been trying to do my own investigation, but it's not easy without a car, and I can't afford to rent one. And the ride service options are terrible. I keep getting this old geezer who stares at my boobs."

  "I'm sorry," Keely said. "It might be better if you went home and left the investigation to the police."

  I was impressed by Keely's ability to keep a straight face while recommending that someone else not do what she herself was doing.

  "I can't just give up," Tess said. "I know everyone thinks he was a jerk, but they didn't know him like I did. He was a really fun person to be with. Always so enthusiastic about whatever he was doing. And he still took the time to make sure I knew how much I mattered to him. No one else ever did that."

  I knew how that kind of attention could appeal to some people. I'd had some clients who were so insecure about their financial skills that before they hired me, they'd fallen for the first con artist to make them believe they could get rich with no effort. Except the void that Tess wanted to fill was emotional instead of financial.

  I was much better with numbers than personal relationships, as evidenced by my not even realizing how I'd been worrying Merle recently, so I didn't know what to say to make Tess feel better. Keely seemed to also be at a loss for words.

  After a moment of silence, Tess said, "You don't believe me either." She got to her feet, grabbing the large generic tote bag to hold it against her chest protectively. Judging by the size and shapes of the lumps in the bag, I could see that it didn't contain anything as sinister as a murder weapon, mostly just sunscreen, snacks and water bottles, and a change of clothes.

  "But it's true," Tess insisted. "Gabes loved me. In his own way."

  "Then why are you so convinced that Georgia didn't kill him?" Keely asked. "Couldn't she have been upset to find out about you coming to Danger Cove with her husband? Enough that she had an argument with him that got out of hand?"

  "Nah. She didn't care about his affairs." Tess gave Keely an irritated glare. "And don't look at me like that. I'm serious. I met the wife. Several times, actually, at events that Gabes hosted in Seattle. She said she was happy for us if we were in love."

  "If she wasn't trying to keep Gabe for herself, why didn't he get a divorce so you could be together?"

  "I never asked him to get one," Tess said. "I loved Gabes, but I was pretty sure it wasn't going to last. I mean, he was fun to be with, but look how he treated his wife. He ignored her and expected her to do all the housework. She didn't seem to mind, but I'm not interested in that kind of life. At least not now. Maybe someday I'll want kids. And Gabes wouldn't have been able to give them to me. He had his tubes tied, or whatever it's called. I'm not good with words.
I'm much better with math, but everyone always laughs when I say it. Anyway, he had the surgery after his kids were born because he didn't want to risk having any more if contraception failed. Said children were too expensive to have more than one. He wasn't all that happy about having had twins."

  In the background, I heard the mayor announcing that the salsa contest's final round of judging was about to start. I ought to be there in case of any problems, but I was convinced that we were running out of time to catch Andy's killer and make sure there wasn't another death at the market. It was looking increasingly clear that Tess wasn't the killer, so we needed a new plan, and I didn't even know where to start. Waiting for someone else to die in the hope that there would be more clues wasn't something I wanted to consider.

  Cary interrupted my thoughts, racing down the hill from the market. "Maria Dolores! Maria Dolores!" He stumbled to a halt, his knobby knees wobbling beneath his shorts. "I found you."

  "You always do." Too bad I couldn't set him the task of finding Coach Andy's killer. I ushered him away from Tess before asking, "Is there a problem with the contest?"

  "No, but Scott Ingell came back, and he needs to talk to you about today's deliveries."

  "Where is he?"

  "In the parking lot," Cary said. "He's unpacking the empty crates from his Sport Utility Vehicle. I was going to help until he asked me to find you."

  "Thank you. We wouldn't be able to do the delivery service without your help."

  "I know," Cary said. "But I like helping Scott Ingell. I'm learning so much about what emergency supplies to keep in a car."

  "Like what?" I asked idly, noticing that the beach had already emptied considerably as people realized there wasn't going to be an arrest. Even Officer Fields had disappeared, and none of the uniformed officers were anywhere in sight.