In my experience, nothing was more corny yet heartwarming than a hometown parade. Ten minutes ’til ten the next morning found Grammie and me standing outside Ruffles & Bows, waiting for the kickoff of the Lobster Festival. On both sides of the street, visitors and locals were setting up folding chairs, and children wearing face paint ran around, bouncing in excitement. Once the parade ended, the rest of the festival would officially start at the waterfront park, with games, music, vendor booths, and the first big batches of lobsters and clams steaming away.
I spotted Madison strolling down the sidewalk toward us, cup of Belgian Bean coffee in hand and the strap of a leather tote over her shoulder. I raised my own mug of Bean to her in salute.
“How was the rest of last night?” I asked when she reached us. After seeing Jake, Ian and I had skipped out of the pub. We’d taken a ride out to the lighthouse in his truck and—well, enough said about that. But our time together was nice enough that I still had a glow.
After handing Grammie her paper cup, Madison rifled through her tote. “I didn’t stay that long. Not after Dr. Ruben started putting the moves on me.”
I hooted a laugh. “Seriously? He tried to hold my hand but I wouldn’t let him.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” Madison said. “I almost said yes to a lunch date.” She must have felt me staring, because she said, “What? You-know-who hasn’t exactly asked me out yet.” She was referring to Anton. The pair had been circling each other for a couple of months now. The suspense was killing the rest of us.
“Dr. Ruben?” Grammie asked. “Who is that?”
“He’s one of the professors staying at Eleanor’s,” I explained, realizing she hadn’t met Ruben or Lukas. “Part of the seaweed group. Apparently he’s decided that he’s God’s gift to the women of Blueberry Cove.”
Still rooting in her bag, Madison snorted in response to my comment. Then she pulled a booklet out of her bag. “Aha, found it.” She flipped through, then, holding the booklet with one hand, took back her coffee. “I want us to do this.”
I studied the page over her shoulder, seeing that it listed various events taking place during the festival. “Which thing? Not the three-legged race.”
“No, not that. We haven’t entered one of those since my growth spurt.” Madison was about six inches taller than me, which had made for interesting times when we hobbled along together. “The cardboard boat race.”
A block away, the whooping of sirens echoed and a whirl of blue and white lights reflected off storefront windows. The parade was finally starting.
Anton, as police chief, was naturally in the lead, sitting proudly at the wheel of the police SUV. When he passed Ruffles & Bows, he slowed even more, smiling over at us, well, at Madison. Grinning, she gave him a cheery beauty-queen wave in return. If he didn’t ask her out soon, I was going to play go-between and do it.
The fire engine behind Anton gave an earsplitting blat, so he sped up. Behind the fire truck, a color guard of local veterans marched in formation. They got a huge hand and cheers from the spectators.
Once the color guard gave way to a truck pulling a Coast Guard fast response boat, I responded to her suggestion. “The cardboard boat race? Why?” In this admittedly amusing event, people rowed across the harbor in crafts made of corrugated cardboard. Naturally they often fell apart, dropping their passengers into the freezing-cold water.
“Because it will be fun.” Madison turned to look at Quincy, who was watching the parade from the safety of the store’s front window. She blew him a kiss and he touched his nose to the glass in response. “I think we should build a catboat. Shaped like Quincy.”
“Oh, a catboat. Funny.” Actual catboats were small sailboats with the mast up front. “And I have an idea.” I pulled at my apron skirt. “The sail can be an apron.”
Madison snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Perfect. We’re going to win.” She grinned. “The grand prize is a spa day for two at the Sunrise Resort.” The Sunrise, the plushest, most expensive hotel around, had a fantastic spa. They were also one of Madison’s marketing clients.
“That’s not a conflict of interest or anything?” I smiled at a group of children dressed like mermaids and pirates going by on a float. How cute.
“No, they’re not putting on the contest,” Madison said. “Plus there are tons of prizes.” She handed me the booklet.
“Oh yeah.” If we didn’t get the spa day, I saw we might win an oil change from a local garage or a pest-control assessment. We’d definitely have to flip coins for those. I gave her the booklet back. “I’ll do it.”
“Yay.” Madison clapped. “I’ll enter us later. We can start working on the boat tomorrow.” She waved at the Captain’s Pub float, the servers all wearing eye patches and captain’s hats, male and female alike.
“Sounds good.” I took a sip of coffee, almost choking when I saw the next float going by. It held a giant—I mean ginormous—bright red lobster made of foam, metal wiring, and clay. The thing had to be over ten feet long and three or four feet high. The kids around us went ballistic with excitement although one little girl cried. Probably imagining herself snatched up in one of its huge claws. The lobster’s revenge, a Maine coast version of Godzilla.
“Miss?” a voice said. “Are you Iris Buckley?” I turned to see a tall, balding man standing at my elbow.
“I am,” I said. “And this is my store.” I gestured toward the storefront. “How may I help you?”
He handed me a piece of paper, one of the lobster bib contest applications all filled out, I noticed. “I was wondering … is there electricity at this event?” He chuckled. “I mean, for us contestants to use.”
“Um,” I said, to stall. What a strange question, considering this was an apparel contest. I glanced at his name before folding the application and putting it into my apron pocket. “I’ll check on that for you, Mr. Buxton.”
“Great.” He gave me two thumbs up. “My cell number is on the form. Text me.”
“Sure thing.” I couldn’t wait to see what he came up with.
“Look,” Madison was saying. “It’s Eleanor.”
Indeed it was Eleanor, riding in Marilyn’s back seat and wearing a huge sunhat attached with a scarf and huge sunglasses, like an old-fashioned movie star. Lukas was at the wheel, dashing in a chauffer’s hat. From the attic, maybe? Eleanor gave the pageant wave to admirers on both sides of the street.
“Aww,” I said, seeing a line of vintage cars trailing after Marilyn. “I should have entered Beverly in the parade.”
“Definitely next year,” Madison said. “We’ll all dress up in period-appropriate outfits.”
“Is that Dr. Ruben?” Grammie asked. “He’s quite handsome.”
“No, that’s Lukas,” I said. “Sophie’s old college boyfriend. He’s the other professor on the seaweed project.”
Grammie’s brows rose. “Wow. Where can I sign up for a class?”
Madison and I exchanged delighted glances. “Grammie, you’re too funny,” I said. I drank the last of my coffee. “I think it’s time to go in and get to work.”
Down the street, the blat of trumpets and tubas announced the end of the parade, the marching band from the high school. A last police cruiser tailed the youngsters, keeping everyone safe. The onlookers began to fold chairs and chatter about what to do next. Children fought over candy thrown to them by parade participants.
“Same here,” Madison said. “I’ve got a client meeting in ten minutes.” Hitching up her tote, she said goodbye and dashed across the street.
Inside the store, Grammie puttered around, dusting and rearranging some stock. I used the store computer to check our website. Several orders had come in for Eleanor’s basic sheets so I pulled the sets from inventory to be packaged for mailing.
Customers drifted into the shop, usually in pairs or groups of three or more. The colorful summer prints were getting a lot of attention, including from a trio of twenty-somethings who were trying them on and giggling.
A pretty blonde wearing a cherry half apron over her shorts admired her reflection in a mirror. “I love this, but what if Geoff expects me to wait on him hand or foot or something?”
“The apron,” intoned a tall brunette, sliding her hands into the pockets of a lemon and lime bib apron that looked super with her coloring, “is a symbol of feminine oppression.”
“Seriously, Tiff, how true,” said the third, who had caramel curls. “My grandmother wore one like, all the time.” She fluffed the ruffles on the white taffeta hostess apron she was holding up. “But this is so, so pretty.”
Grammie, who was straightening stock nearby, popped around the corner and said in a deadpan voice, “And sometimes an apron is just an apron.”
The young women burst into laughter and, with a few nudges and whispers of encouragement among themselves, each bought an apron. They left the shop with tissue-stuffed Ruffles & Bows bags and smiles on their faces.
At lunchtime, I went down to the Mug Up Deli to pick up an order to go. Usually we brought lunch, either sandwiches or leftovers, but this morning we had been in a hurry. On the way, I passed the Bean, noticing a blue scooter parked outside in the alley. Brendan must have made it to work. Seeing the tiny vehicle reminded me that I needed to tell Anton about my near-accident yesterday. Just in case it did have a bearing on Hailey’s death.
Before I forgot, I stopped right there and called his cell. It went to voice mail, so I left a message. Then I continued on to the Mug Up.
As I opened the door, Bella was coming out, holding a paper sack. “Great minds,” I said after we exchanged greetings. “I’m here to get lunch too.”
“Town is crazy today and the festival barely started,” she said. “We’ve been slammed in the store, plus things have been coming in for the fashion show.” Clothing stores around the area were contributing outfits, both to help charity and for a mention in the program.
“I’ve gotten a couple of entries for the lobster bib portion.” I remembered Mr. Buxton’s query. “Is there power available for the contestants to use?”
She cocked her head, giving me a quizzical look. “I’m sure we can arrange something. But what—”
“I have no idea.” My phone rang so I waved goodbye and ducked into the deli. “Hey, Anton.” I said. “I know you’re super busy but I need five minutes.” I glanced around to be sure no one was listening. “It’s about Hailey.”
“Tell you what, let me grab lunch and I’ll come up to the store.” The sound of carnival music and passing traffic in the background clued me in that he was down at the festival.
I looked at the deli counter, which was miraculously experiencing a lull. “How about this? I’m at the Mug Up and I’ll buy you a sandwich.” I hesitated. “That won’t be construed as bribery of a public official, will it?” I was joking.
He bellowed a laugh. “As long as you’re not guilty of something, we’ll be all set.”
After we hung up, I hurried up to the counter to add a loaded roast beef sub to our order. I also grabbed another bag of salt-and-pepper kettle chips, mine and Grammie’s latest addiction.
Back at the store, I barely had time to set out the food on the side room table before Anton walked in. “I’ll keep an eye on the front,” Grammie said, taking her lunch to the counter. Quincy, torn between her tuna melt sub and my usual classic Maine Italian with ham and cheese, chose to follow Grammie. I wasn’t surprised. He loved tuna.
We dug into lunch for a couple of moments, crunching in silence. “Thanks, Iris,” Anton said. “It’s been a busy couple of days.”
“Everything under control down at the festival?” Thousands of visitors were expected, which meant our small force would be stretched thin. Traffic alone was a nightmare.
“Yeah, we called in additional officers from other towns,” Anton said. “They all appreciate the overtime.” His dark eyes locked with mine, and I sensed his thoughts shift from our chitchat to the much more serious issue of Hailey’s death. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
I put my sandwich down and wiped my hands with a napkin. No sense in beating around the bush. “On my way to the park yesterday morning, on Cliff Road, a blue scooter almost hit me head-on. It was coming from the direction of the park and Shorehaven.” I paused to inhale, knowing that I was putting a nice young man directly in the investigation’s crosshairs. “I believe it was Brendan Murphy, who works at the Bean. He used to date Hailey. And he owns a blue scooter. It’s there right now, you can see it.”
Anton popped a chip into his mouth, his gaze never leaving mine. “You saw his face?”
This was the weak spot in my story, but I was glad to have one. Maybe it wasn’t Brendan driving. I shook my head. “No, he was just a blur when he went by, he was driving so fast. But how many blue scooters are there around here? And I saw the two of them talking at Taste O’ the Sea the night before. Maybe they reconnected.”
Anton pulled out his phone and made some notes. “I’ll certainly follow up on that.” His lips twisted in a rueful grimace. “We don’t have much else.”
My pulse leaped. “You mean besides the jacket? I think that was planted in Lukas’s room.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice so customers walking into the store wouldn’t hear. “And why do you think that?”
“He was wearing a blue jacket when I saw him at the cliffs. After we”—I swallowed—“found Hailey. Would he have really gone back after killing her and changed to a different identical jacket? If my jacket ripped like that, I would have thrown it in the ocean or something.”
Anton considered this. “Unless he wanted to implicate himself and then throw us off the trail by claiming he was framed.”
I put a hand to my head. “Ouch. Maybe you can get some kind of DNA off the coat and figure out who else was wearing it.” Then I thought of something. “Was there any DNA under her fingernails?”
“To answer your first question,” he said, “the jacket was stored next to a lot of others, so any hairs or skin cell samples are probably worthless. And no, there was nothing under her fingernails, unfortunately.”
“I appreciate you telling me this much,” I said. “I won’t blab it around, promise.”
He shrugged. “I trust you to be discreet. And to be honest, we never know where a break in the case will come from.” The rueful expression returned. “Not that I have so much experience with homicide, thankfully.”
Last spring, when helping solve not one murder, but two, I’d discovered that I had a knack for investigating. Not that I should put it to use or anything. But while we were on the topic … “I learned something interesting last night,” I said. “While chatting with Lukas at the Captain’s Pub.”
A crease appeared between his brows. “Iris,” he said in a stern voice.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I said hastily. “At least not much,” I qualified. “But anyway, it’s too late now.” I took a deep breath. “When I was at the Taste O’ the Sea, I saw Hailey and Lukas arguing on the deck. Last night, he told me that she and Theo were competing for a fellowship, and Hailey was trying to criticize Theo’s work. Lukas didn’t like that.”
“And?” Anton’s tone was bland, which made me think that I had overreacted to this information.
I shrugged. “Not sure. Just thought I’d mention it, in case it’s relevant. Theo was on the cliffs that morning. I saw him.” After a beat, I added, “Ruben said he was in his room. But he might have been lying.” Shut up, Iris. In a lame attempt to cover up, I said, “Ruben asked Madison out to lunch.”
Anton’s hand jerked, making his iced tea splash, but he quickly recovered. “Look, I appreciate you passing all this along, but please, don’t play detective, okay? It’s one thing to observe something, but to question people … not a good idea.”
I formed a Girl Scout salute with three fingers. “I’m not, promise. And I really hope you figure it out soon. Her poor family. They must be devastated.”
Sadness flickered in Anton’s eyes. “Both of Hailey’s parents are gone. Cancer, within months of each other a couple of years ago. We haven’t been able to find any other relatives.”
“Oh, how awful,” I blurted. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I looked over my shoulder, hoping the customers hadn’t heard me. But they were chatting with Grammie and not paying any attention to us. “I knew she was an orphan, but I was hoping she had someone who cared.”
“We do,” Anton said softly.
“I know,” was my reply. Of course Anton and his team were committed to bringing Hailey’s killer to justice. It was their job. And they were good at it.
Then a burst of resolve made me sit up straight in my chair. Hailey also had us, I realized, Grammie, my friends, and me. We’d make sure she wasn’t forgotten. And if we could do anything to help solve her murder—without interfering with the investigation, of course—then we’d do it. Hailey didn’t deserve anything less.