Chapter Twenty-Two

Sunday morning, I opened my curtains to a true winter wonderland. The snow had stopped overnight, the skies were clear, and the sun was cresting the watery horizon. Everything was calm and still, covered by a blanket of fresh snow tinged orange in the light of the rising sun.

I’d tossed and turned all night, absolutely furious with myself. I knew Connor would be trapped in a potential conflict-of-interest allegation if he tried to intervene in the matter of money for the lighthouse restoration. I knew it, and I also knew he cared very much about the library.

But I’d argued with him anyway.

The library’s closed on Sundays, and I always look forward to my day off. Today I wasn’t looking forward to spending the day brooding. I considered calling Connor and apologizing for ruining our evening, but I decided not to. I’d probably be unable to resist telling him, one more time, that the future of the library was in doubt.

I put the coffee on and popped a bagel into the toaster. When it was ready, I took my breakfast and The Busman’s Honeymoon to the window seat and curled up to read. The view outside was so beautiful—blue sky, dark ocean, sparkling white ground, a light dusting of snow covering the bushes and trees—that I felt some of my anger—directed totally inward—fading away. A good number of people were out in the marsh this morning, searching for birds and wildlife and enjoying a hike in the crisp cold air.

I read for several hours and finished the book. When I emerged back into the real world, I felt much better for it. Lord Peter and Harriet Vane had solved the case, their honeymoon was over, and all was right between them. I stretched mightily, shooed Charles off my lap, and stood up. I had my shower and dressed for the day. I thought I’d go to the beach and take a long, peaceful walk.

Instead, I found myself passing the entrance to the Coquina Beach parking area without slowing and continuing on to Nags Head.

Last night my foolish mouth had gotten me into trouble. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went.

At one thirty I pulled into the spacious lot of Jake’s Seafood Bar. Jake’s is a busy place Sunday lunchtime, with the after-church family crowd and people returning from a morning’s outing, and I hoped the rush would be dying down by now.

The hostess gave me a smile when I walked in. “Good afternoon, Lucy. Are you on your own today or meeting someone?”

“I’m not here for lunch, thanks. I was hoping to have a chance to speak to Jake. Is he in?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pop into the kitchen, if that’s okay.”

“Go on in.”

I found my prospective cousin-in-law up to his elbows in fresh green herbs. Pots bubbled on the stove, cooks stirred and chopped, and waitstaff ran in and out, grabbing laden plates or dumping empty ones.

“Hey, Lucy,” Jake said as he chopped. He wore the standard white chef’s double-breasted jacket with high collar, black trim, and short sleeves above baggy pants with gray and white checks. No tall starched white hat, though. “What brings you here?”

I breathed in the scents of basil and oregano, with maybe a hint of rosemary. “I was hoping you had a minute to talk, but you seem to be busy.”

“Don’t know why, but everyone came in late today. Something to do with the snow, maybe.” He put down an enormous cleaver. “I’ve always got time for you. Things are pretty much under control here.”

I’d rarely seen anything less “under control” in my life. Pans sizzled, steam rose, knives slashed, flame flashed, smoke blew.

I have trouble making dinner in my microwave if the instructions on the packet aren’t detailed enough.

“Take over here, Meg. I’m stepping outside for a couple of minutes.” Jake wiped his hands on a cloth and led the way through the kitchen and out a small door at the back while I nervously dodged cooks wielding pots of boiling water and vicious-looking knives. We emerged onto an edge of the deck that ran around the back of the building to form the summer outdoor bar and public seating area.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” I asked. Jake wore a short-sleeved indoor jacket, whereas I had on my winter coat, scarf, and gloves.

“Nah. It’s nice to cool down for a bit. What’s up? I hear you had a good shopping day yesterday. Thanks for taking Josie out. She needed to be with her friends. Although Josie will never admit she needs anyone.” He grinned. “Today she’s at the bakery. Which is what she needs most of all.”

I shifted my feet and stared over the Sound. A few boats drifted on the water, carrying hardy winter fishermen. Snow and ice clung to the trees on the far shore. “I’m not going to say this is none of my business, because I know it isn’t. I love Josie.”

“Goes without saying.” He leaned on the railing next to me.

“And I love you too, Jake. I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you still involved with Toni Ambrose?”

He let out a bark of laugher. “You’re kidding, right?”

I turned to face him. His expression, surprise mixed with amusement, was all the answer I needed.

“Toni says you’re her alibi for the time the baked goods Josie prepared for the shower were left unprotected in her car.”

“I should be surprised you know that, but I’m not. Josie says you seem to have a way of getting people to tell you things they shouldn’t.”

“It wasn’t Sam Watson, if it matters. Or Butch either.”

“Yarmouth, I’d guess. But it doesn’t matter. Yes, I’m Toni’s alibi. That’s true. Shortly before Christmas, she came into the restaurant looking for me. I assumed she was passing through, maybe heading to Florida on a winter vacation, so I invited her to join me and have a drink at the bar, expecting she’d be on her way soon enough. But that wasn’t why she was in Nags Head at all. She was here, she told me straight out, to ask me to come back to New York City with her. Why she’d think I’d want to do that, I have no idea. We weren’t that much of an item. Not as far as I was aware, anyway. We dated a few times, but nothing serious was ever said between us. When I told her I was breaking up with her, she cried and threw things, but I got the impression she did that because it was expected, not because her heart was really into it. I left New York, came here, made plans to open the restaurant. Shortly after that, I ran into Josie at a party—I’d known her in school—and all of a sudden, standing there that night, I knew what love really is.” He smiled at the memory. “I never heard another word from Toni, or gave her so much as a thought, until she showed up here. She’d heard from mutual friends I’d gotten engaged, decided I must be on the rebound from losing her, and she came here to stop me from making a mistake. Or so she said. I told her, politely I thought, she was wrong. I guess she didn’t believe me. I swear, Lucy, I did nothing, I said nothing, to make her think I want to be with her again. Because I don’t. We finished our drinks, and I told her I had to get back to the kitchen. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and left, and I assumed that was the end of it. Next thing I knew, she came in to tell me she’d found an apartment and gotten herself a job and was, and I quote, waiting for me to come to my senses.”

“What did she mean by that?”

“To break it off with Josie and get back together with her. She said she’d understand if I didn’t want to return to New York, so she’s willing to move here permanently.”

“You told Josie about this?”

“Not at first. But before long Toni starting coming in here once or twice a week, having a drink at the bar, asking the staff about me, and I was afraid she’d start bothering Josie, so I had to warn her. So far Toni seems to have been staying well away from Josie.”

I said nothing about what Josie had told me: that Toni had been hanging around the closed bakery the other day, watching her. “What happened the afternoon of Josie’s shower?”

“Toni came in here, around eleven. Marched into the kitchen, all charming and flirty. She said she wanted a job. I told her I don’t have any openings and she needed to get out of my kitchen because we were busy. She said she’d wait until I had my break, and then we could talk. She loaded the word ‘talk’ with all sorts of significance. She went into the dining room, took a seat, ordered herself a drink and lunch. And there she sat until almost two. I know she was there the whole time, because I asked Ruth, the hostess, to keep an eye on her for me. I cowered in the kitchen, hoping she’d give up and leave. Finally, around two o’clock when the place was mostly empty, I went out and told her to leave and not to come back. I made sure my staff were listening and watching when I talked to her. I told them Toni is no longer welcome here, and she’s not to be allowed in. I said that in her hearing.”

“What did she do?”

“She left, quietly and peacefully. She said she understood that I had obligations and she’d be waiting for me.”

“You’re sure about the time? If she was here from eleven until two, then she didn’t poison Josie’s baked goods.”

“My staff spoke to Detective Yarmouth as well as me. We might be off the time by five or ten minutes either way, but no more than that. We run by the clock in here, particularly on Sunday lunchtime. Speaking of the clock.” He glanced at his watch.

“I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks for talking to me, Jake.”

He smiled at me, and I gave him an impromptu hug.

“I haven’t seen or heard from Toni again,” he said. “I’m hoping the death of Mirabelle and her being questioned by the police—as a suspect—scared her off.”

“Don’t count on it. She’s still in town, still waiting. I think she’s biding her time, hoping Josie’ll be arrested and she can console you in your grief.”

His handsome face twisted in anger.