CHAPTER 28
I trudged up the circular staircase to the second floor of Derrick’s lighthouse with my brain also going around and around. Tim and I hadn’t come up with any concrete wedding plans, while the questions about Annette’s murder were also a swirl. And Pa hadn’t gotten back to me about Elenia. I’d called him as I walked over here, but he hadn’t answered.
In the cozy living room, a purple-pajamaed Cokey was demanding to be allowed to stay up. Derrick said no. He frantically tidied magazines and toys, and Flo stood in intense conversation with Norland, wine glass already in hand.
“Come on, Cokester.” I held out my hand to her. “Let’s go read a book in bed.”
“Will you tell me a story about Princess Seashell instead, Titi Mac?”
“Your wish is my command, my sweet.” Cokey’s real name was Coquille, which meant seashell in French. I shut the door to her room behind us and switched on the seashell night light. I tucked her into bed and lay down beside her.
“Once upon a time there was a brave and strong young princess named Seashell.” I figured part of my job as an auntie was to counter all the comments girls typically got about their looks. I led with “brave and strong” to describe the princess every time.
“She was pretty, too,” Cokey added. She always did. She held a small pink blanket to her cheek and rubbed her thumb on the satin ribbon edging it. It had been her comfort object ever since Derrick had brought her back to Westham to live. “And she had a pet unicorn.”
“She was very pretty. She had a pet unicorn, who had traveled to visit his sister in the next land, and the princess was on her own. One day in the fall Seashell left the castle and walked down to the market in the town. She saw the man who sewed clothes for the local children arguing with the old woman cobbler.”
“Abo Astra made me a berry cobbler in the summertime,” she lisped. “We ate it with ice cream.”
I pictured a little round blue shoemaker. “Berry cobbler is yummy. But a cobbler is also someone who makes and fixes shoes. Anyway, Seashell was good at listening. She asked the two what was the matter.”
“Titi Mac, Kendall’s a good listener, too. She telled me her daddy and mommy were fighting. It was the last time she saw her mommy.”
Uh-oh. Fighting right before Annette was killed? I gazed at my niece. “That’s too bad. Did she say what they were fighting about?”
“She didn’t know. Her mommy went off to work and her daddy made some soup.”
Was this a kindergartner’s non sequitur? “Does Kendall like soup?” Phil didn’t seem like the domestic type, but what did I know?
“I don’t think so. They took some to her grandma, but her daddy left a bowl for her mommy.”
My eyes went wide. Soup? What if Phil added seafood to his wife’s soup? He could have killed her with it. My breath rushed in, but I tried to cover it with a cough so I wouldn’t alarm Cokey.
“He writed a note, too.” Her face brightened. “I’m learning to write in school, Titi Mac.”
“I know.” What had the note said? Had it been a garden-variety couple’s squabble or a more serious conflict? I assumed Lincoln and company would have found the note—if Phil hadn’t destroyed it. Maybe he was trying to cover his tracks or lead the police in the wrong direction. “You showed me your writing last week.”
“I’m gonna write a book about Princess Seashell. Finish the story, Titi.”
I put poisoned soup out of my mind. “The princess listened carefully to both the man and the woman. She asked them some questions, and they realized they weren’t really mad at each other. Her unicorn flew home.” I knew I had to end the story with the unicorn back with the princess and with the two sharing a meal. “The princess ate lunch with him, and they all lived happily ever after.”
Cokey’s eyes had drifted shut. If I didn’t get out of here soon, mine would, too. I kissed her forehead. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep with the angels.”
“’Night, Titi.”
Back in the living room, the crew had assembled. Zane sat next to Gin with Tulia on the other side, and Derrick had set out cheese and crackers, plus a bowl of popcorn and a plate of Thin Mint cookies courtesy of our local Girl Scouts.
“Barbara Ross must really like to cook,” Derrick said. “All the recipes in Fogged Inn are for complicated entrees. I didn’t try to make any of them.”
We liked to make one of the foods mentioned in the cozy mystery we read, whether the book included recipes or not. That plan didn’t always work out for an evening meeting.
“I believe it’s the author’s husband who comes up with the recipes,” Tulia offered. “On a blog somewhere she wrote that she doesn’t cook at all except for baking Christmas cookies.”
“Speaking of husbands,” Gin said. “Before we start, let’s have a toast to soon-to-be-married Mac and Tim. Show them, Mac.”
My cheeks warmed, but I extended my left hand.
“Ooh, girlfriend, that’s a wicked nice ring,” Zane gushed.
Derrick lifted his can of flavored seltzer. “To Mac and Tim.”
I clinked my glass with his drink, and with everyone’s. Even though my brother was in recovery, he’d said he was fine with us bringing wine to book group. I was proud of his progress.
“How did I miss that ring this afternoon?” Tulia shook her head.
“Thanks, everybody,” I said. “Tulia, we had other things to talk about.”
“When is the happy occasion?” Norland gave me his avuncular beam.
“We don’t have a date yet, but you’re all invited. And you might want to reserve New Year’s Eve, just in case.” Had I resigned myself to waiting that long? Apparently.
“I like that idea,” Flo said.
“Tulia, how are you, hon?” Gin asked. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’ve been better. I want to thank you all for supporting me, buying lunches and takeout and so on.” She sniffed and gazed around the circle. “It means a lot. Detective Haskins making an arrest so people around town will stop giving me the stink eye? That would mean a lot, too.”
“Let’s hope he’s getting close,” I said.
Derrick held up a hand. “Wait. Mac, is Cokey asleep?”
“She went right out after she got the obligatory Princess Seashell story.”
“Thank you, as always, for that.” Derrick pointed at me. “You’re a pro with her.”
I guess I was. Cokey made it easy, though. She was such a burst of sweetness and energy. “I love telling her stories.” I frowned. “Do the rest of you know Cokey is friends with Annette and Phil’s daughter, Kendall?”
All except Derrick shook their heads. I continued. “Cokey told me something that might be significant.” I sipped the wine Gin had handed me when I sat. “Kendall told her that her parents were fighting the day before Annette’s murder. She said Annette went to work and Phil made soup.”
“By ‘work’ she must have meant Annette going to the library,” Flo said.
“I’d agree,” I said. “Then they took the soup to Kendall’s grandma but left a bowl for Annette, with a note. What if Phil purposely added shellfish to the soup to kill Annette?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Mac.” Gin gave me a keen gaze.
“And took their daughter to his mother’s for the night because he didn’t want Kendall to witness the death.” Flo said.
Zane swore. “That’s too awful to even think about.”
Norland pointed at Zane. “Somebody killed the poor woman.”
“And somebody left her in my walk-in,” Tulia added.
“What if it’s two people?” I asked. “One poisoned her, and one broke into the Lobstah Shack, dumped her body, and stabbed her.”
“Way to confuse the issue, Mackie,” Derrick said. “Just kidding, but whoever did it must have known she was already dead.”
“I know,” I said. “Norland, at the free dinner earlier, did you send me a silent message about one of the people at that table?”
“I’ve heard a little buzz about that man.”
“His name is Witter,” I added.
“Yes,” Norland said. “He lives at the homeless encampment and has a record of multiple incarcerations. The authorities are looking into whether he had a connection with the murder.”
“That’s too bad. He seemed gracious,” I murmured.
“Gracious doesn’t exempt him from criminal activity,” Norland said.
No, it wouldn’t.
“Now, about Fogged Inn,” Flo began.
Gin sipped her wine. “I, for one, didn’t come close to finishing it. Anybody?”
“I sure didn’t,” Zane agreed. “I wanted to, but it’s been that kind of a week.”
Nobody else had read the whole book, either.
“It’s a great read,” I said. “I didn’t want to put it down, but with Annette’s death and her body at Tulia’s, I couldn’t concentrate.”
By the reactions in the room, everyone agreed.
“We can extend the discussion to next week,” Flo pointed out. “It’s not like anyone but us cares if we read a book a week or not.” She pulled out her signature yellow legal pad and tapped it. “What have we learned about the case?”
“I’ve uncovered a couple more puzzle pieces, even though I don’t know where they go,” I said. “Doris used to coach beauty pageant contestants. She coached Annette. A woman who is a patron of Our Neighbor’s Table competed with Annette when they were younger.”
“Nia Rodrigues?” Norland asked.
“Yes, but her real name is Elenia. Doris coached her, too. They talked about it at the dinner a couple hours ago. Elenia told me she’d tried to see Annette but hadn’t succeeded before she died. Tim knows Elenia, because he gives out free bread when he closes the bakery. He said he saw her lurking around Annette’s house the night she died.”
“Elenia was runner-up the year Annette won Miss New Bedford,” Norland said. “I’ve been digging.”
“She must have been the other girl,” Gin mused.
I bobbed my head. “Elenia said Doris told her she would fix the contest so Elenia would win. She claimed Doris had ruined her life, more or less.”
The group digested all that for a moment.
“So this Elenia is lying, and she killed Annette,” Flo mused.
“How did she get her into my cooler?” Tulia asked.
I shook my head. “I’m sure she doesn’t have a car.”
“Would Doris have any reason to hold a grudge against Annette?” Gin asked.
“She sure holds one against me.” Tulia pulled a wry face.
Flo glanced down at her scribblings, then back up. “All I can say is, what a mess. We’d better hope Haskins is doing a better job than we are.”
Hope and pray and keep our fingers crossed, too.