Brian Henderson, with his shortly cropped gray hair and stocky build, wasn’t someone you’d expect to find wearing a woman’s dark purple silk robe. When ordering the robe online, Heather had accidentally selected the wrong size. She didn’t bother sending it back because she could still wear it, even though it was several sizes too large. On Brian, it was a little snug.
Brian had stopped over at Heather’s on Wednesday night and had stayed over. Early Thursday morning, Brian, wearing the purple robe, sat with Heather at her kitchen table, drinking coffee while his uniform finished drying. He had intended to go home and change into a clean uniform before work but stayed for breakfast while washing his uniform at Heather’s house.
“Sorry I messed up your jogging routine.” Brian took a drink of his coffee.
“You didn’t. I intended to run later this morning, anyway.”
“What about work?” Brian set his cup on the table.
“I don’t have to go in until eleven this morning.” Heather grinned.
Brian arched his brows. “Wow. Cushy job.”
Heather let out a sigh. “I know. I love my job.” She leaned back in the chair and sipped her coffee.
“I used to love my job, too.” Brian absently fidgeted with the handle of his coffee mug.
Heather frowned. “Is it that bad now?”
Brian looked up at Heather. “Bowman’s a jerk.”
“Yeah. I know. But it’s not forever. The chief should be back in a few months.”
“Yesterday, when someone mentioned the chief would only be gone a couple of months, Bowman told them not to expect the chief back for at least six months, or longer. I swear, he acts like the chief retired and isn’t coming back. He’s not running the place like someone who’s simply holding down the fort—maintaining the status quo. He’s actively making changes.”
“Like the name tags and checking IDs of all visitors?” Heather asked.
Brian nodded and picked up his mug, finishing the last of his coffee.
“Oh my!” A familiar voice entered the room. One that only Heather could hear. The ghost of Marie Nichols now stood by Heather’s table, curiously looking Brian up and down while suppressing laughter.
“Ghost warning,” Heather said dryly. “Marie’s here. Morning, Marie.”
* * *
Brian dressed and left for work not long after Marie’s arrival.
“I probably shouldn’t have told Brian you were here,” Heather said as she straightened up the kitchen before going upstairs to change her clothes.
“Why?” Marie asked.
“He looked embarrassed.”
“It was cute, both of you wearing robes and playing house. So, tell me, dear, when is he going to make an honest woman of you?”
“I thought you said he was too old for me?” Heather started for her bedroom, Marie following alongside.
“Yes, he is much older. But you two do seem to get along well.”
Now walking up the stairs, Heather paused a moment and looked over at Marie. “I already told you I don’t want to get married. Ever.”
“I am a little surprised he doesn’t keep some of his clothes here,” Marie said. “Or a shaving kit, at least.”
“I bought him a toothbrush. I don’t want to be responsible for his teeth decaying because he sleeps over.” Now on the second floor, Heather continued to her bedroom.
“There was a time I didn’t approve of unmarried people cohabitating, but I know the world has changed. And if two people care about each other, like you and Brian, I suppose I can understand when they move in together.”
“We’re not moving in together.” Heather walked into her bedroom. “He simply stays over some nights.”
“I imagine you eventually will. Or do you want to wait until you get married?”
Heather let out a sigh and turned to Marie. “You are not listening. I told you, Brian and I, we’re not getting married. Never. Ever. Brian has already been married twice. Didn’t work out too well for him. Personally, I don’t have a desire to get married. Maybe, if I wanted kids, I’d consider it. But I don’t.”
“Really? Never?”
Heather shook her head.
“You want to live alone forever?”
Heather looked at Marie. “You lived alone for years after your husband died. Why didn’t you remarry? Was it because the love of your life died, and you couldn’t replace what you had?”
Marie rolled her eyes. “Okay. Point taken. My husband was a putz. And I did rather enjoy living alone after he died. Being able to do what I wanted. Of course, I had Adam, who was always there when I needed him.”
Heather grinned and then walked to her dresser and took out a pair of jogging pants. “I also enjoy living alone and having my own space. And I told Brian, when we first got together, that I’m not looking to marry anyone—or live with anyone.”
“But he does spend the night here frequently,” Marie reminded her.
Heather looked at Marie and grinned. “I like sleepovers.”
* * *
Camilla sat with her siblings at Pier Café, waiting for their breakfast order to arrive. Instead of feeling sad that Ted and Lucy planned to head home on Saturday, she counted down the hours. After they left, she would no longer have to endure their constant badgering, trying to get her to change her mind about selling Uncle Homer’s house. Although she imagined she would receive constant phone calls and letters, but calls could go unanswered and letters unread. She silently sipped her coffee while Ted again recounted all the benefits of selling the house now and buying something smaller. All the while, Lucy interjected her opinions, supporting Ted’s perspective. Camilla felt a brief sense of relief when her cellphone rang, but when she picked it up and saw who was calling, she momentarily considered ignoring the call.
“Good morning, Flora,” Camilla eventually answered. Ted and Lucy sat quietly, listening to Camilla’s side of the conversation. “We went out to breakfast… Your door was closed… I’m not sure when I’ll be back… We’ve already ordered our food. We’re waiting for it… No, I’ll be coming directly home… I don’t know what we need to talk about… Don’t bother waiting. I’m sure you have things you need to do. Not sure when I’ll be there… I’m walking… Along the beach, of course. It’s only a couple of miles… Yes. I know… it’s a nice day…” After a few more minutes of conversation, the phone call ended.
“Lord, that woman is persistent,” Camilla muttered as she set her cellphone on the tabletop.
“She claims you offered her some sort of pension,” Ted said.
Camilla arched her brows. “Did she? The woman only took care of Uncle Homer for… what was it… six years? Pensions are something people get after maybe twenty years.”
“So she was lying?” Lucy asked.
Camilla shrugged. “We discussed a lot of things when I hired her. But I certainly did not promise to give her a share of Uncle Homer’s estate. I wouldn’t have the right to do that, now, would I?”
“What is this about you walking home? Were you just saying that?” Lucy asked.
“No. It’s a lovely day. I thought after we have breakfast, you can take my car back to the house, and I’ll walk home. I’ve missed walking along the beach.” Homer’s house was a block from the ocean and about two miles down the coast from the pier.
* * *
Marie told Heather that one reason she had stopped by her house was to check on her, because she had looked down the beach early that morning and didn’t see Heather jogging, which was her routine. When she arrived at Heather’s house, she saw Brian’s car and decided there was no reason to check on Heather. She didn’t intend to go inside. But before leaving, she peeked in the kitchen window, and after seeing Brian sitting at the table in Heather’s robe, she couldn’t resist popping in.
Marie ended up joining Heather on her run, as she wanted to discuss Danielle’s upcoming baby shower. With Heather wearing her dark green jogging pants and sweatshirt, they headed down to the beach, and Heather ran south toward the pier. Yet, once they reached the pier, Heather grumbled something about drinking too much coffee, and then told Marie they needed to stop at Pier Café so she could use the bathroom. While there were other public bathrooms on the pier, Heather said they all smelled like fish and were disgusting.
* * *
After Heather entered Pier Café, she walked straight to the restroom without paying attention to who sat at the tables and booths in the diner. She didn’t notice Carla, the server, who looked her way.
Inside the women’s restroom, someone was in the first stall, and the second was empty. Heather entered the empty stall while Marie stood by the sink, waiting and looking into the mirror while thinking how odd it was that she no longer had a reflection.
A few minutes later, Heather stepped out of the stall at the same time as the woman in the other stall walked out. To Heather’s surprise, it was Camilla Henderson.
Upon seeing Heather, Camilla stopped abruptly and demanded, “What are you doing in here?”
“What do people usually do in bathrooms?” Heather turned her back to Camilla, walked to the sink, and started washing her hands.
“You’re following me!” Camilla accused.
Marie looked at Camilla and shook her head. “Don’t be a twit. You’re lucky I can’t smack you again.”
“Why would I follow you?” Heather asked. “I don’t even know you.”
“But I know all about you. Typical opportunist, preying on vulnerable older men. But your time taking advantage of Brian is over!”
* * *
“What took you so long?” Lucy asked her sister when she returned to the table.
“You’ll never believe who I ran into in the bathroom.” Camilla scooted onto the bench seat and picked up the napkin she had left on the table. “That ridiculous little tramp Brian has been seeing.”
“The vampire?” Ted grinned.
Camilla glared at her brother. “Whatever she is, I told her she might as well pack it up. I’m going to make sure Brian sees how foolish he’s behaving.”
“Why do you care?” Ted asked. “If Brian’s happy, let him be.”
“He’s not happy,” Camilla insisted. “He never remarried, and Brian is the type of man who needs to be married. But he’s remained single since the divorce. Which can only mean one thing. He’s never gotten over me. And now this little opportunist has gotten her claws into him, well, there is only one thing I can do.”
“Which is it?” Ted asked. “Is she Brian’s girlfriend or someone he paid to pretend to be his girlfriend? Because if it’s someone he hired, then she doesn’t have her claws into him. You need to make up your mind.”
* * *
Camilla left her brother and sister to drive home in her car, while she walked south down the beach. She breathed in the fresh ocean air and was grateful for the jacket she had brought along, considering April’s cool air. Overhead, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, nor had there been any clouds when they had first arrived at Pier Café, which was one reason she had decided she would walk home after breakfast.
* * *
The driver had pulled up to one of the parking lots along Beach Drive and noticed someone jogging north along the beach. Aside from the driver’s vehicle and the jogger, both the beach and parking lot were empty. The driver pulled out a pair of binoculars and had a closer look. Heather Donovan. The driver put away the binoculars and headed toward the pier. A few minutes later, the driver noticed Camilla Henderson’s car pulling out of the pier parking lot. But Camilla was not in the vehicle.
The driver pulled into the parking lot and parked. Walking down the pier, binoculars in hand, the driver looked north. He spied Heather Donovan in the distance. She had turned around and now headed his way. He then looked south and spied a familiar person, Camilla Henderson. No one else was along that section of the beach. Getting back into the car, the driver drove out of the parking lot and headed south.
* * *
Camilla had been walking for about thirty minutes when she realized she needed to go to the bathroom, and there was no way she would make it all the way back to the house. Fortunately, she remembered there was a public restroom up ahead.
When Camilla reached the public restroom, she had the uncanny feeling someone was watching her. But the parking lot was empty, and there was no one else on the beach. There were houses along this section of the shoreline, but all their blinds were shut, and there were no people or vehicles in sight. She stepped into the women’s bathroom and found it empty. When she was done, Camilla walked to the sink, washed her hands, and headed outside. She took a few steps and then felt a sharp pain hit the center of her back. Camilla cried out and lunged forward. She fell to the ground before all went black.
The person wielding the knife leaned over Camilla and checked her pulse. The killer pulled the knife from Camilla’s back, removed Camilla’s cellphone from her purse, and wrapped both items in a handkerchief before dragging Camilla’s body into the women’s bathroom.
After returning to the hiding space, the killer used the binoculars to look up the beach. The killer smiled when Heather Donovan came into view, jogging toward the public restroom. But a few seconds later, instead of continuing all the way to the restrooms, Heather turned and started back toward the pier.