The two detectives were treating themselves to a late lunch at the island’s only café. Elias took a large bite of a thick ham and gruyere sandwich on a crusty baguette. He always thought better on a full stomach. Rashida dug into a tuna niçoise salad.
“I wish I had a brilliant idea of what to do next,” Elias said. “It’s obvious that someone at Alder house is responsible for this but I’m not sure how much more we’re going to get from interviews. It’s not like any of them is going to confess.”
“Maybe the forensics will show something,” Rashida suggested.
“Like fingerprints on the chocolate?”
“I doubt it. This is a smart killer and I get the sense that this murder was well planned. Is there anyone you feel confident about eliminating?”
“I told the Suttons they could go home,” Elias said. “They arrived after the chocolates mysteriously appeared in the kitchen, and Craig Sutton was negotiating a lease for a restaurant space in Seattle, contingent upon Scott Nilsson agreeing to be the chef. He’s just lost a large amount of money. I can’t see a motive.”
“Agreed. Anyway, if you change your mind about them, you know where they live.”
Elias signaled the waitress to refill his glass of iced tea. “At the moment, my leading suspects are Melanie Wells, Luke Murray, Noel Gunderson, Kylie Evans, and Ilana Flores.”
“What about Daniel Ross?”
Elias disliked big city cops who always looked down on detectives from small jurisdictions. Daniel Ross hadn’t said anything arrogant but Elias was imagining that he was a know-it-all, just waiting for Elias and Rashida to make a mistake.
“I hadn’t considered him seriously until I found out he’d screwed Melanie and was probably the father of her kid. That puts him on the list.”
“I think you’re overreaching because you don’t like him. If he’s about to be hit up for child support, why would he do something to reduce Melanie’s income? Your theory that he wanted to reunite with her and take over Scott’s half of the business doesn’t make sense. He’s on his honeymoon. His wife is smart and beautiful. Why would he bring her here?”
Elias sighed. “You do have a point, but being a suspect will keep him from prying into my investigation, so I’m not taking him off my list.”
“It’s your list. How about we finish lunch and take the next ferry back to the mainland?”
“Good idea. I’m about ready to find a friendly judge and get a search warrant. Tomorrow, we’ll see if the guest rooms yield anything useful.”
“I need a break.” Hannah shut down her iPad and gathered a few pieces of paper on which she’d been writing.
Daniel looked at his watch. “It’s almost appetizer time. Do you want to compare notes?”
“Sure.” What Hannah really wanted to do was lie down and put a pillow over her head. She wasn’t hungry.
Daniel logged out. “What have you learned?”
“There are a great many puff pieces about him in foodie magazines. Apparently, after graduating high school in 1988, he went to the University of Illinois at Chicago on a scholarship and majored in Nutrition Science. He transferred two years later to the Culinary Institute in New York where he got his degree. He did several paid internships in Europe: Paris, Rome, and Florence. According to the articles, he trained in Michelin-rated restaurants.”
“Did any of the articles specify which restaurants?”
“No, but they got specific when he returned to New York and started working at Chez Amis, a small, well-regarded upper Westside French bistro. He started there in ’95, became the top chef two years later, and stayed until 2000 when the restaurant closed.”
“Any idea why it closed?”
“According to one interview he gave, the owner was ready to retire. Restaurants in New York turn over pretty quickly. People always want the newest, hippest place.”
“What then?”
“He took over the kitchen at Century, a boutique hotel in Chicago, and stayed there for four years until he was recruited by Mon Cher in Seattle. In 2011, he went out on his own, opening the restaurant at Alder House. There were lots of laudatory comments about how extraordinarily creative his cuisine was, drawing from the local farms, gardens, and fisheries. What did you find?”
“I looked up all the public documents I could think of and the law enforcement databases. He was born in 1970 in Chicago, at an address that suggests his family was working class. He has a juvenile record in 1986, but it’s sealed so I don’t know what he was arrested for. I also found a marriage certificate. In 1998, he married a woman named Evelyn Brooks.”
“Were they divorced?”
“I couldn’t find a divorce or legal separation agreement, so I looked for a death certificate. She died in 2000 of a drug overdose. It was deemed accidental.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows. Daniel’s search had certainly been productive. “The name Brooks sounds familiar. I think one of the women in the writer’s group is named Brooks.”
She closed her eyes and tried to envision their conversation two nights ago with the four writers. “Vanessa, the young one with the pearls.”
“I hadn’t remembered that. Thanks.”
“She looks as if she’s in her late twenties. Vanessa would have been a child when Evelyn Brooks died.”
“Hang on. Let me see if I can find birth certificates.”
Hannah got up, stretched, and paced the room while Daniel turned back to his computer. If they were going downstairs in a few minutes, she had better change and comb her hair. She rummaged in the closet and replaced her T-shirt with a cinnamon-colored cashmere sweater, and her sneakers with brown leather boots.
“Got it,” Daniel said. “Sisters, ten years apart. Born in San Francisco. Nob Hill address.”
Hannah drew a brush through her tangled hair. “That’s a pretty wealthy end of town. Was there a will?”
“Let’s see.”
She hoped this wouldn’t take too much longer. She needed to go downstairs and stretch her legs. This had been a miserable day.
“There was. She had a trust fund and guess who inherited?”
“Scott Nilsson? I wonder if her family contested the will.”
“I can find that out,” Daniel said.
“Not now,” Hannah said. “We’re both stressed out and tired. I prescribe a glass, or maybe two, of good wine for you and no murder discussions until tomorrow.”
Daniel logged out. “You’re right. I appreciate your help.”
Hannah just shrugged.
When they walked into the lounge, Luke Murray was arranging appetizers and wine glasses. Daniel headed in his direction. The sight of food was making his stomach rumble.
“Should I get you some wine?” he asked Hannah.
“I’d rather have tea,” she said, walking toward the other side of the room where the urns of coffee and hot water were kept.
Late afternoon tea wasn’t one of Hannah’s routines, but Daniel supposed she was limiting alcohol because of the pregnancy. He wondered if she had gotten out of the way to give him a chance to talk to Luke before any of the other guests appeared.
“Those are locally sourced cheeses,” Luke said, pointing out a cheese tray decorated with dried fruit and accompanied by thin slices of French bread.
“Looks good,” Daniel said, helping himself to a large sample. “How are you managing in the kitchen without Mr. Nilsson?”
“Not a problem,” Luke said. “I can cook dinner for seven people with one hand tied behind me.”
“Seven?” Daniel asked.
“The Suttons left this afternoon. I guess the police weren’t interested in them.”
“Do you know why?”
“The cops think that Nilsson died eating some truffles that mysteriously appeared in the kitchen Monday morning. The Suttons arrived Monday afternoon.”
“So did we,” Daniel pointed out.
“Why are you still here? I would have imagined all the guests who weren’t told to stay would have left by now.”
“We’re still here because it’s our honeymoon and we made reservations for a week. Are you going to be out of a job with the restaurant closed?”
Luke shrugged. “The restaurant’s always been closed during the winter season but it’s so busy the rest of the year that, in the past, it generated more than enough money. The B&B stays open, and I always did the cooking for guests so Scott could take advantage of the free time for multiple vacations.”
“Will you take over as chef when the restaurant reopens?” Daniel asked, pouring himself a glass of Malbec.
“I’m thinking of moving somewhere with more interesting opportunities. This is a pretty isolated and boring island.”
“Do you have any idea of who might have wanted Scott Nilsson dead,” Daniel asked, sipping his wine.
“The guy was a prick. The possibilities are endless. I doubt anyone besides Melanie will miss him.”
“Was she in love with him?”
“He was her meal ticket and she was screwing him. Would you call that love?”
“I’d call that self-interest,” Daniel said.
“I’d better get back to dinner,” Luke said.
Daniel walked across the room and sat down beside Hannah, putting a large plate of appetizers in front of her. She was sipping at a mug of tea.
“Luke have anything interesting to say?”
“His story was pretty consistent with Grace’s. Scott was a bastard. Luke’s planning to leave and find a better job. It doesn’t seem as if he has much to gain from Scott’s death unless they have a past history we haven’t uncovered yet.”
“We can do a background check on him tomorrow.”
Hannah cut a slice of cheese, brought it to her mouth and put it down. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go outside for a few minutes.”
“Shall I come with you?”
“Finish your wine.”
Daniel watched her place her mug on the side table and walk to the front door. He’d seen her tense, sad and depressed before, but they’d always been on the same team and he’d always been able to comfort her. This was different and he didn’t know what he could say or do to make it any better.
Hannah stepped out onto the front porch and looked in the direction of the water. The sun was low in the sky and the clouds were tinged with pink over the silver of the bay. A soft breeze ruffled her hair. A creaking sound caught her attention, and she realized that someone was seated in the rocking chair on the corner of the porch. It was Vanessa Brooks.
“Hello,” Hannah said, walking over and sinking into a cushioned wicker chair. “I almost didn’t see you there. Lovely, isn’t it?”
Vanessa smiled. “It is soothing, a balm for a stressful day.”
“Did the police grill you too?” Hannah asked.
“They questioned all of us again. I can’t imagine what they were expecting to learn from me. I never even met the guy who was murdered.”
“This wasn’t exactly how I was planning to spend my honeymoon,” Hannah said. “Are you and your friends managing to get some writing done?”
“We are. I think Ilana, who is a mystery writer, is getting a kick out of observing real detectives in action.”
“Samantha mentioned you were writing a memoir. You seem awfully young to be doing that. I always imagine memoir writers as having gray hair and wrinkles.”
Vanessa smiled, and as Hannah watched, her face settled into a sad, faraway expression.
“Writing a memoir is like therapy, only cheaper. I’m trying to capture what happens in a family when a child dies.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hannah said. “You lost a child, or a sibling?”
“My older sister. She died of what was supposedly an accidental drug overdose when she was only twenty-two. I was twelve when it happened and my parents didn’t tell me the truth until years later.”
“You said supposedly. Do you have doubts about it being accidental?”
“My sister married at twenty-one. That was the age when she got control of her trust fund. My parents had money. When she died a year later, her will left all her money to her husband. What twenty-two year old makes a will?”
“What was her husband like?”
“I never saw him. Evelyn was studying art in New York when she met him, and apparently, they had a whirlwind romance and eloped. I do remember my parents were very upset about it. They knew nothing about his background or family. They flew to New York to meet him and weren’t impressed.”
“Did they think he wasn’t good enough for your sister?”
“My mother described him as good-looking and shifty; the kind of guy who could be charming and lie with a perfectly straight face. My father thought he had the makings of a con man. I think he engaged a private detective to see if he had a record.”
“Did he?”
“My father never said.”
“Did your parents think he had something to do with your sister’s death?”
“They were convinced that he was responsible for hooking her on cocaine, and that she died either because he made her so miserable she committed suicide, or because he deliberately gave her an overdose.”
“Did the police find any evidence to suggest that your parents were right?”
“I don’t think they tried very hard. My parents went to court to overturn the will but they lost. Her bastard husband got a considerable sum of money.”
“Her death must have been devastating for all of you,” Hannah said.
“You can’t even imagine. My parents were so depressed and angry, they had no time for me at all. I missed her terribly; still do. Evelyn was like a second mother to me when I was little. She spent much more time playing with me than my mother did, and I was so upset when she chose to go to New York for college. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to follow her.”
“That’s a lot to write about. Do you have any idea what happened to the husband?”
Vanessa shook her head. “I don’t want to know, but I hope that he’s dead in a gutter somewhere. I think I’m ready for a a glass or three of wine. Are you coming in?”
“In a few minutes. I’m going to stretch my legs before it gets too cold.”
Hannah walked down the driveway, crossed the road to the beach and stood there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths. She still had that horrible knot in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with being pregnant, and she didn’t think she could tolerate trying to make cheerful conversation over dinner. She certainly wasn’t hungry. When she got back to the B&B, she would tell Daniel she was skipping dinner and retreat to their room. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a quiet day without the police.
“I hate this!” Elias Lindstrom slammed down the phone receiver.
He was busy working his way through a list of judges, trying to find one who was still in his office this late in the afternoon, and who would sign off on his stack of search warrants. He was planning to get back to the island with an evidence team first thing in the morning and search Scott’s home, Luke’s home, Melanie’s home, and most of the B&B, including the rooms of all the writers, Gunderson and Daniel Ross. He would also love to search the guests’ homes, but Gunderson was the only one who lived in his jurisdiction.
“No luck?” Rashida asked from the other side of the room.
“Not yet.”
“I’ve got the forensics back. You’re not going to like it.”
“What?”
“There were plenty of fingerprints on the truffle box; Luke, Grace, and Craig Sutton. All of them admitted to eating some, so there’s no smoking gun there. The fingerprints in the kitchen were all staff and Melanie. There weren’t any that couldn’t be explained.”
“Any hair or fibers of interest?”
“Nothing on Scott or his clothes, but you wouldn’t expect any. The killer did this at a distance.”
“Shit. I’ll keep calling. Eventually I’ll find us a judge. What a fricking waste of time.”
Luke had done an excellent job on dinner. The appetizer was an arugula salad with local cherry tomatoes, pine nuts, local goat cheese and a lemon dressing. This was followed by albacore tuna steaks with grilled artichokes, olives, capers and a tomato coulis. Dessert was a butterscotch crème brulée.
Daniel tried to enjoy the superb meal and pay attention to the dinner table conversation, but mostly, he picked at his food and wondered what Hannah was doing upstairs. Clearly there was more to talk about and he was steeling himself for his return to their room.
Turning down the offer of an after-dinner liqueur, Daniel climbed the stairs to the second floor. When he opened the door, the room was dark except for firelight. Hannah was curled up on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. She looked up when he opened the door, and even in the poor light he could tell she’d been crying.
“Sweetheart,” he said. He stood in front of her, afraid to touch her.
“I’ve been thinking ahead,” she said.
“About the paternity test?” He didn’t think anything else would have elicited tears.
“I always assumed that after Annie, and before me, you had lots of sexual partners. I never asked, because once we became a couple, it didn’t matter.”
“I never asked you either about other men. It was hard enough competing with all your memories of Ben.”
“There was no one before or after Ben. I was too busy with Zoe. I didn’t care if there had been other women in your life, but I do care about Melanie. If this paternity test is positive, it changes everything.”
“We’ve faced major problems together before. Can’t we somehow work through this one?” Daniel pulled the other chair close to her and sat down, so they were face to face.
“Have you thought this through, Daniel? Assuming the test is positive, do you intend to do anything other than send Melanie money? Josh is a kid who has never had a father. Do you want a relationship with him? Do you want him to spend time with us? How do I explain him to Zoe? Having a baby brother or sister is going to be a pretty big adjustment for a six-year-old only child. How do I spring a teenage boy on her?”
“Hannah, I can’t answer all those questions. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, if the test is positive, I know I need to take financial responsibility. As for the rest, Melanie may not want to tell him I’m his father and may not want me to have anything to do with him. In order to spend time with him, I might have to take her to court. I don’t need to make that decision until I know the test results. And it isn’t a decision I would make without discussing it with you.”
“So, you do realize that I have feelings about unexpectedly acquiring a teenaged stepson?”
“Of course, I do. I don’t know what I can do to make this better. I just know that I love you, and I don’t want to lose you and our baby.”
“Right now, I’m too upset to think straight. I can’t begin to deal with any of this. Let’s let it be, at least until tomorrow.”