by Grace Palmer
“Classic Brad. You can’t get him to commit to anything.”
“But the Honorary Mayor, Myra Gambol, and District Attorney Matthew Galliert are coming,” Pete added. “That’s something.”
Holly looped her arm through his and patted his arm. “That’s a very big something, Pete. You should be proud of what you’ve built.”
Her husband looked down at her with pure pride and love shining in his eyes, and suddenly, Holly wasn’t self-conscious about her dress or worried about her hat.
She may not be the prettiest woman in the room.
But with this man on her arm, she was darn sure the luckiest.
By the time they got back to the car after the party, Holly was buzzing with champagne and pride in Pete’s achievements. A belly full of lobster cakes helped matters.
“You were right about Cecilia,” Holly said as soon as they were safely in the car and away from prying eyes and ears. “I can’t believe she had on a full-length formal gown.”
“I can. That cruise they’re taking next week is being catered by a Michelin-starred chef.”
“And stopping at four different islands.”
“Oh, right. How could I forget? She only mentioned it to everyone who would listen.”
They both laughed and then fell into an easy silence. Holly looked out the window at the familiar roads and neighborhoods they’d both grown up in.
It felt good to be back on the island. More than that, though, it felt good to see Pete doing so well. To actually witness how respected he was by his employees and his clients.
“Today was really fun,” she said, leaning back against the headrest with a sigh. “I knew you were doing well, but seeing you in action like that was…”
Pete turned to her and wagged his eyebrows. “Irresistible?”
Holly laughed but then shrugged, bobbing her head back and forth. “Something like that, actually. You looked like a boss out there. It was fun to see.”
Pete whistled. “Well, the kids are gone the rest of the afternoon, you know. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”
The car rolled to a stop at a stop sign. Rather than answer her husband with words, Holly took the opportunity to lean across the console, grab his face, and kiss him.
Pete murmured in surprise and then kissed her back, looping his hand around her neck.
For a second, Holly could forget they were stopped at an intersection in the middle of the day. It felt like they were teenagers again, kissing clumsily in the back of Pete’s car in the dark.
When they pulled apart, Pete smacked the steering wheel. “Giddy up!”
Holly laughed.
She was still laughing when they rounded the corner of their block and pulled into the driveway.
Then, at the sight of her front door, her smile died on her lips.
“Who is that?”
It was broad daylight, but their porch was shrouded in shadow from the large oak in their front yard.
In that shadow, a dark silhouette separated from the wall.
It appeared to be a large man, dressed all in black. Holding a suitcase and leaning against the house casually.
Almost as if he was waiting for them.
Pete shoved the car into park and squinted towards the porch. “I have no idea. I’m not expecting anyone.”
“Me either,” Holly said, fear fluttering in her chest. Her champagne buzz had dissipated like fog under a hot sun. She felt stone cold sober. “Should I call the police?”
She wouldn’t request a squad car be sent out right away—though, given the kind of activity the Nantucket Police Department dealt with, they probably had a squad car or two to spare. But it would be nice to have an operator on the phone just in case something wasn’t right.
“No, no. He has a suitcase.”
Holly snorted. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“What kind of criminal carries a suitcase?”
“The kind of criminal who wants somewhere to stash the bodies!”
Pete turned off the ignition and grabbed the key. The man on the porch seemed to notice them now. Holly could feel his eyes on them even if she couldn’t see them.
“A body couldn’t fit in that suitcase.”
But a gun could. Or a knife. Or a bomb. Or, or, or…
Holly’s imagination was running wild with possibilities. She was so distracted that she didn’t realize Pete had opened his car door until he was swinging his legs out, dress shoes clacking against the pavement.
“Are you crazy? Don’t get out!”
Pete turned back, shoulders raised. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait?”
“Yes!” Holly knew it wasn’t much of a plan, but it had to be better than confronting the stranger. “We have no idea who this person is.”
“That’s why I’m going to go talk to him.” Pete said it like it was the easiest thing in the world to understand, but Holly couldn’t have disagreed more.
Before she could say anything else, Pete shut his door and walked towards the front porch.
Pete and Billy had refrained from giving themselves any awards at the luncheon. It made sense. The bosses clapping themselves on the back would have felt bizarrely self-congratulatory. Still, Holly knew which award she’d hand to Pete if she could: “Most Stubborn Man Alive.”
Holly grabbed her phone and punched 9-1-1. Just in case.
If something went wrong, she’d hit the Call button. Someone could be here in a flash.
But just as she finished entering the numbers, she heard the men laugh.
It didn’t sound like an ominous noise, but Holly wasn’t taking any chances. She eased out of the passenger seat, phone still clutched in her hand.
Outside the car, she could now hear conversation. Animated conversation.
Friendly, animated conversation.
Pete turned around and waved Holly onto the porch. “Holly, come on up here. Meet Rob.”
Rob?
Who was Rob?
As she got closer to the porch and her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Holly was shocked to see Pete was hugging the man. With both arms!
If Pete was hugging a man he’d just met, Holly expected Rob to be with Publishers Clearing House, here to announce they’d won some kind of sweepstakes. His suitcase better be full of cash.
The man was tall, maybe six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, black hair, eyes so brown they seemed black, and a week’s growth of scruff on his face and top lip. His hair flopped to one side and hung to mid-cheek in a careless tumble that might have been cute if he had been, oh, say fifteen or sixteen.
But this man was at least forty, maybe even forty-five by her estimation. He had deep lines around his mouth and creases across his forehead. His skin looked tanned and dry.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Pete said, shaking his head.
So Pete did know him.
Holly tried to wrack her brain for a mention of a Rob, but nothing came immediately to mind.
Maybe he was someone Pete knew from his old job? Though that wouldn’t make sense. He’d hated his old job. He hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, as far as Holly knew.
“Doing a little traveling,” Rob replied, lifting his suitcase with one arm.
“And decided to drop in on your favorite cousin?” Pete asked, smile wide. “About time. It has been ages.”
Cousin?
Holly wanted to be surprised she hadn’t recognized Rob’s name, but she wasn’t. It made sense, actually.
When Pete and Holly were dating in high school, they spent most of their time with Holly’s family. Pete’s parents didn’t go out of their way to visit family members off the island, and even when they did, they didn’t have many holiday traditions. Not the same way the Bensons did.
Come to think of it, Holly had still hardly met anyone outside of Pete’s most immediate relatives. If she strained her mind, Holly could vaguely, maybe-maybe-not remember a few old tales Pete had shared that she thought might’ve
had something to do with a cousin. Most of them involved playing Ding Dong Ditch or taking the air out of other kids’ bikes. Harmless, delinquent stuff.
“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about, Petey. I’ve been out of circulation for a bit.” Rob winced. “I was sort of… Well, no easy way to say this: I was in prison.”
“Sort of?” Holly bleated, speaking her first words since she’d joined the group.
Rob turned to her and shrugged. Pete shot her a warning look.
“Oh no, man. I’m sorry,” Pete said. “But you’re out now?”
He better be, Holly thought. Otherwise, they might be on the hook for harboring a fugitive.
“Yeah. All clear,” Rob confirmed. “Free man.”
“That’s great. Awesome.” Pete looked genuinely pleased for Rob, and Holly wondered if Pete had ever even stepped foot in a prison.
This whole day had shifted from delightful to bizarre so quickly. Holly felt like she was in a dream.
“Unfortunately, I’m a bit too free. I don’t even have a roof over my head right now. I’m couch-surfing, you could say. Trying to find what’s next for me.”
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no, no, no.
Holly barely resisted the urge to violently shake her head.
Absolutely not. This ex-con could not stay with her family. With her children.
Pete nodded sympathetically. “Of course. That’s a tough transition, I’m sure.”
As if Pete would know anything about the transition from prison to normal life. He’d never even gotten a speeding ticket before.
“It is,” Rob agreed. “I’m hoping to line some work up on the mainland soon, but until then, I was wondering if I might take advantage of your kindness and spend a little time with you and the ocean.”
How many different ways could a person say no? No, non, nein…
Holly braced herself for the awkward conversation to come. The one where Pete would inform Rob that unfortunately, he couldn’t stay with them and would have to hop back on the ferry. But we of course wish you the best of luck and know that you’ll land on your feet wherever you do go next; it’s just that there’s no vacancy here because of this and that and the other…
Instead, Pete’s next words stunned Holly into awed silence.
“Of course, you can, Rob! Anything for family. Stay as long as you need.”
Before Holly could formulate words or even breathe, Pete unlocked the front door and let his cousin and his suspicious suitcase over the threshold. Into their home.
Looks like they wouldn’t have the house to themselves anymore.
Cousin Rob was coming for a visit.
6
Sara
Little Bull Restaurant
Sara’s outward layer of cool, calm professionalism cracked as soon as she heard the back door to the kitchen open.
“Smells good in here!” Casey called to the staff on duty. “Like always.”
“What are you doing here, chief?” Jose asked. “You pick up a shift?”
“Talking to the boss. I’ll be in tomorrow, though.”
“Well, before I forget, Gabby wanted me to tell you thanks for the card and gift you sent over,” Jose said.
Casey dismissed him with a pfft. “It was just a gift card. The least I can do now that you have a new baby at home.”
“Gift cards are gold, man,” Jose said. “So much better than another ridiculous outfit she’ll never wear. We’re going to buy diapers.”
Casey laughed. “Happy to help. And congratulations again!”
Sara wanted to bang her forehead against her desk. He had gotten Jose a gift card to celebrate his new baby? And a card? Sara hadn’t even done that, and Jose was her right-hand man. Her go-to kitchen partner. Mr. Dependable.
There was no way Casey could be the thief.
Except that Sara had gone over and over the read-outs and the list Patrick had compiled. She’d hoped to find some huge mistake she and Patrick had both made in the comparisons. Some form of exoneration or an alibi in the data. Anything that would keep her from having to confront her employee with a crime.
But the evidence was damning from top to bottom.
When Casey knocked on her office door, Sara did not feel like a little bull at all. She felt like a little mouse, scared of the smallest noise.
She flinched and then straightened quickly. “Come in.”
The door opened. Casey stood there with his usual cheerfulness. He sauntered into the room and gave her a friendly wave.
“Good afternoon, Chef.”
Was it a good afternoon? Sara didn’t think so. It felt like the walls of her office were slowly closing in on her.
“Have a seat, Casey,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “I know you’re in a hurry, so let’s get started. I’m sure we’ll have this cleared up in no time.”
She’d looked online for some kind of script to follow. A way to navigate this situation that wouldn’t dissolve into a screaming match. But there hadn’t been anything helpful.
All of the advice felt too cold. Too stiff.
Sara knew Casey. She’d been working with him for over a year. She couldn’t lead with the bad news and then shut down any of his attempts to explain himself.
More than her employee, Casey felt like a friend. Her entire staff did.
He frowned for the first time since entering the room. Maybe for the first time since she hired him, actually, come to think of it. “There’s something to clear up?”
Was that guilt in his eyes? Sara searched his face for any sign that he knew what she was about to say, but she no longer trusted herself. Her people-reading skills were on the fritz, apparently.
“Casey, there have been some …” she sighed, looked at the papers for a moment to gin up her courage again, and continued, “some discrepancies in the register read-outs and the deposits. I called you in to see if you’d know anything about them.”
Nice delivery, Sara. Direct and to the point. Like ripping off a bandage. Just like the internet had said.
And when was the internet ever wrong?
Casey’s eyes narrowed further, brow furrowing. “What kind of discrepancies? I don’t know what you mean.”
Okay, maybe she’d ripped off the bandage too quickly.
As a kid, her mom had always run warm water over their bandages and then worked the edges loose with a cotton Q-tip and baby oil. Within five minutes, the bandage fell off on its own.
So forget the rip-it-off method. Backtrack. Try again, with a Q-tip and baby oil. Ripping off bandages was overrated.
“Patrick and I were going over reports today. While doing the Z-outs, I noticed some money went missing from the register.”
“And you think I have something to do with it?” Casey looked awestruck. And not in a pleasant way.
“Patrick looked at the reports, too. He found the same thing,” Sara explained. “It has been going on for a few weeks.”
Casey leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “And you’re asking everyone on staff about this?”
Sara blinked. Unsure what to say.
She didn’t want to answer and admit he was the only suspect. But she didn’t want to lie, either. That would be an easy fib to catch her in. As soon as Casey texted Josh or Haylie or anyone else on staff, he’d know he was the only other person who’d been interrogated about the missing money.
She didn’t have to answer for him to put the pieces together.
“Just me, then.” Casey’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
Sara sighed. “I called you in today because every time the money went missing, you were on shift.”
“Because I pick up more shifts than anyone else,” he retorted.
“Your PIN was used to open the register.”
“Because I’m always helping everyone else out when they’re closing tabs.”
“That still puts you behind the register,” Sara said softly. “I’m ju
st following the trail of technology.”
“I can’t believe this.” Casey flopped back in his chair.
“I’m sorry.”
Sara really was sorry. She hated this.
He snorted. “Sure doesn’t seem like it. You’re treating me like a criminal.”
“That’s not what I’m… I’m not trying to do that. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“And I’m trying to tell you,” Casey said, leaning forward, eyes wide, “that I have no idea what is going on here. But it isn’t me.”
Sara looked at the stack of papers in front of her. At the list Patrick had made. At the clear evidence that something strange was going on.
“I don’t know what to tell you. All I have to go on is the reports and—”
“And the reports don’t know me like you do,” Casey said. “C’mon, Sara, are you serious? You have to know this isn’t me.”
Sara’s stomach flipped.
She’d expected Casey to be upset. Maybe even angry.
But she hadn’t expected him to appeal to her better judgement. To fight for his job. She should have, but she hadn’t.
And now, she didn’t know what to do.
The guy was likable. He was organized. Prompt. Consistent. Dependable. The last person she’d suspect of this.
And yet, all the evidence pointed to him.
“All the waitstaff have PINs and yours pops up way more than anyone else’s.” Sara flipped over one of the reports and runs her finger down the line of PINs. “With Josh, Augustine, Bonita, and Serena all serving with you last Friday, you couldn’t have waited on seventy-two tables.”
“I didn’t! Of course I didn’t.”
“Then how do you explain—”
“I help them out because they’re slow as molasses!” Casey practically shouted. “If customers had to wait for the others to ring them out, you’d be getting a pile of complaints every night.”
“Well…”
“Augustine would rather stand up at the hostess stand and flirt with Margaret,” Casey accused. “And everyone else looks for any excuse to pull out their phones and take a break. Serena spends half of dinner service in the bathroom.”