Chapter Twenty-five

 

Friday, April 8

8:00 a.m.

 

Meeting Madelyn Conner for coffee, with just forty-five minutes to spare, was a risky move. On the one hand, she should try to get in the habit of eating something before work anyway. But on the other hand, Madelyn liked to talk. And talk. And talk. And talk.

Elise smiled at the hostess and pointed at the slightly plump woman waving eagerly from a booth at the back of the diner. “I’m with her. Thanks.”

“No problem, sugar. Fran will be over to get your order in a few minutes.”

The Ocean Point Diner was a hot bevy of excitement on most mornings—the breakfast spot of choice for the majority of retirees in town. The lunch crowd was primarily comprised of the local workforce, catering to everyone from linemen to attorneys and everyone in between. The dinner crowd was anyone’s guess, with families and singles taking over the place in fairly equal proportions.

Her favorite part? The people watching.

“Hey there, Elise, what’s shaking?” Fran, a longtime waitress and customer favorite, blew a quick bubble with her pink gum, withdrawing it quickly after the snap. “It’s been slow in here today—nobody too special yet.”

Elise and Fran had struck up a casual friendship last summer when she’d been interviewing a subject for a news article. The interview had been conducted over lunch at the diner and had been preceded by people-watching tips from Fran herself. They’d gotten along famously ever since.

“The morning’s still young,” Elise shot back as she made her way over to Madelyn’s booth. When she reached the table, she took off her coat and folded it neatly on the seat. “Hi, Madelyn, how are you?”

“Wonderful! I’m so excited about meeting for coffee today. Have you been working on our latest assignment? How far have you gotten? Anything new on the Daltry murder?”

She grinned at her companion across the table, amused by the woman’s ability to spew questions faster than she ever could. “You should have been a reporter, Madelyn. You’re quick with the questions.”

Madelyn’s face flushed. “Sorry. But you’re not the first one to say that. My dad used to say I should have been a reporter, or a trial attorney. Oh! And he mentioned an interrogator once too.”

Ah. An interrogator. Perfect.

Fran appeared beside their table, order pad in hand. “What can I get you, ladies?”

Madelyn looked down at her menu. “The Farmer’s Special? Do the home fries have a seasoning of any kind?”

Fran tapped her chin with her pencil. “Hmmm, a little. Nothing too overpowering, though.”

“Okay. And the French toast . . . does the cook use vanilla?”

Fran stopped tapping, slid her eyes in Elise’s direction, then looked back at Madelyn. “I’m fairly certain he does, yes.”

“And one more quick one. Your pancakes. Do you have a wheat version?”

“Yup.”

Elise nibbled her lower lip inward to keep from laughing. If there was one person who couldn’t look the other way when it came to Madelyn’s endless talking, it would be Fran.

Madelyn inhaled sharply and set her menu down in front of Fran. “I’ll just take a coffee. Black.”

Fran’s pencil-holding hand clenched into a fist and began moving in Madelyn’s direction. In an effort to save one friend from losing her job and another from certain bruising, she stamped down her urge to forgo food and placed an order.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate and a side order of wheat toast and bacon.”

The waitress’s hand continued its forward motion.

“Fran!”

“Huh?” The redhead shook her head furiously and pulled her arm back to her pad. “Sorry. Overcome by a desire to throttle for an instant.”

“Oh, dear, I can only imagine the difficult customers you must get in here on a daily basis. You have my sympathies,” Madelyn offered.

Fran stared. Elise giggled.

When she managed to pull her jaw up off the ground, she leaned her mouth close to Elise’s ear. “You’ve got the best seat in the house this morning, kiddo.”

While she could offer no argument, she had to admit she enjoyed Madelyn. Sure, the woman was overly talkative and a bit extreme in her enthusiasm over things, but she was sweet. And lovable.

When they were alone again, Madelyn leaned across the table and grasped Elise’s hands. “So what’s new in the investigation? I’ve been watching the news every night and they’ve got nothing different to say. Knowing what kind of a reporter you are, I figured you’d be on top of things more.”

She was flattered by Madelyn’s faith in her abilities, she really was. But she didn’t feel comfortable sharing Sierra’s role in the recent rash of robberies. The girl had enough on her plate right now, she didn’t need news of her mistakes broadcast throughout town before it had to be.

And, with any luck, that time would never come if Mitch’s prediction over the telephone that morning came to fruition. Russ and Gerty Walker at Ocean Point Gifts had declined to press charges against Sierra. Merv had dropped the charges as well. Both employers had been open-minded enough to listen to the story and recall their fondness for the suspect.

Now the only one the department was waiting to hear from was the community college. If they dropped the robbery charges as well, Sierra would be okay. If they didn’t, she could, potentially, serve some jail time.

Elise looked around the diner, desperate for a way to redirect Madelyn’s attention so she wouldn’t have to come right out and lie to the woman. But there was nothing that jumped out at her—

Jacob.

The young man was seated on a stool in the counter section of the diner, his head bent low, his shoulders slumped. A plate brimming with food went unnoticed as he stared at nothing in particular. Her heart ached for him as she noted the sadness in his face. First his dad and now Sierra. It just didn’t seem fair.

“Lookie here, Paul, the two prettiest women in the place are seated at the same table. Must be our lucky day.”

“Oh, Al,” Madelyn giggled.

Elise pulled her gaze off Jacob and trained it on the two men standing beside their booth.

“Hi, Al. Hi, Paul. It’s nice to see you. How are you?” Elise looked from Al’s happy face to Paul’s impassive one. The men were nothing short of Felix and Oscar. Or, better yet, Frick and Frack. “I didn’t know you were joining us.”

“I didn’t know either,” Madelyn said, her face reddening as she dropped her eyes to the table.

Al lifted his ball cap off his head for a moment so he could push a few stray hairs off his forehead. When he was done, he pulled his cap back into place. “We didn’t either. We just stopped in for a little coffee-to-go before our tee time.” He raised his left hand slightly to indicate his golf glove, then lowered it back to his side. “I looked around, saw you two ladies, and decided to stop over.”

“We’re glad you did.” Elise scooted over on the vinyl bench and patted the spot next to her. “Can you sit for a little while?”

The added conversation would surely help get Madelyn’s mind off the investigation. Or at least would distract her long enough that Elise would be able to beg off answering in favor of getting to the office in time.

“We’d love to, but we’ve got to go.” Al raised his left arm again, pulling his coat sleeve back to afford visual access to his wristwatch. “We tee off in twenty minutes.”

Elise slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp that exploded from her mouth as she stared at Al’s arm above the glove line—the scars from his third-degree burn impossible to miss.

In that instant, everything that had eluded her about Hannah Daltry’s death suddenly made perfect sense. The teacher could identify the third robber. She’d remembered—and written about—a detail that she’d associated with a classmate named Sara. A detail that the robber would realize could land him in jail for the rest of his life.

Unless, of course, he eliminated the one person who could put him there.

Hannah Daltry.

She hated to believe that the funny man who’d made her laugh so many times could take another person’s life. But if she’d learned one thing from the fortune-teller murders and her trip to Mackinac Island, it was the fact that seemingly friendly people could change in an instant if it suited their needs.

“Is there something wrong, Elise?” Al asked as he stared at her. “You look like you saw a ghost just now when I looked at my watch.”

“No, I—” She searched her mind for an excuse she could offer that would get her away from the table and in a place where she could call Mitch. “It’s just—uh—well, I just remembered an interview I was supposed to do at eight forty-five and I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now.”

Madelyn’s head whipped upward. “Oh, no, Elise. I was looking forward to our talk.”

Elise reached a shaking hand across the table and patted Madelyn’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s . . . what I get for not checking my calendar when you called. Rain check? My treat?”

The woman’s shoulders relaxed, a smile replacing her frown. “Okay. Sure. Tomorrow? Before class?”

“Before class?” She could hear the disinterest in her voice, could feel Al’s eyes pinning hers. “Um. Yeah. Before class. Sure.”

Grabbing her coat and purse, Elise slid out from behind the booth and slapped a ten-dollar bill down on the table. “That’s for Fran. Please offer my apologies when she returns with my food. I gotta go.”

She tried to walk toward the door as casually as possible, but it was no use. As soon as she cleared Al and Paul’s vicinity, she took off in a sprint, nearly knocking Jacob Brown from his feet as he stepped off his stool.

 

• • •

 

She flipped open her cell phone as she walked, her feet barely hitting the ground as she cut through a series of vacant lots between Beachside Bakery and an empty storefront off Second Street. Bypassing the sidewalk would shave valuable seconds off her time in getting to the office.

“Detective Burns, please.”

“Elise?”

“Mindy, I need to talk to Mitch. It’s super-important.”

“He just stepped out. Said he was heading over to your office with some news about Sierra McDermott.”

“Thanks.” Elise snapped the phone shut and quickened her pace, her heart racing a mile a minute with the discovery of Hannah’s murderer. It all fit so perfectly now. Everything down to the timing.

Less than forty-eight hours after handing out copies of her writing sample, Hannah Daltry was dead. Her words striking awe and respect in everyone who read them. Except one.

For Al Nedley, Hannah’s words struck something very different.

“Stop right there!”

Whirling around, Elise felt her stomach drop at the sight of Hannah’s killer. “Hi, Al, I thought you were going golfing.”

She tried to make her voice sound casual, upbeat, but she failed miserably and she knew it as well as he did.

“I can’t let you tell.” The man pulled his ball cap from his head and tossed it on the pavement at his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “I was forced to stay away for nearly thirty-five years. But I can’t stay away any longer. This is my home.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she squeaked, her feet slowly moving backward.

“Elise, I’m not stupid. And neither are you. When I read that writing sample she wrote, I was floored. I had no idea that kid had been there—none. But once I did, I knew it was only a matter of time before she put two and two together. Her memory was too vivid. So I did what I had to do. Those robberies? They’re just my ticket to freedom in all this.”

A sudden movement behind Al caught her eye and she tried not to react. If she did . . . if she so much as blinked . . . one of them was bound to get hurt.

“Your ticket to freedom?”

Al spun around and faced Jacob. Elise waved her arms behind Al’s head, desperately trying to wave Jacob off. When he didn’t listen, she screamed, “Run, Jacob! Get out of here!”

“There’s no way I’m going to let a scumbag like this get away with murder.”

Elise flipped her phone open and dialed her office. Debbie’s voice filled her ear.

“Good morning, Ocean Point Week—”

“Is Mitch there?”

“Good morning to you too, Elise. As a matter of fact he—”

“Tell him to get over to the vacant lots next to the bakery. Tell him it’s an emergency. I found Hannah’s killer.” She snapped the phone shut, eyed her elderly nemesis, and took off in a run, jumping on Al’s back with all her weight.

The man groaned as she landed, rearing backward as Jacob kicked him in the gut, dropping him to his knees.

“This is my way of apologizing for being such a jerk to you the past few weeks,” Jacob huffed as he bent his knee and drove it into Al’s back. “I’m really sorry, Elise.”

“How’d you know I was in trouble?” she asked, panting.

“I didn’t. But I figured something was up when you nearly knocked me over on your way out of the diner.” He shifted his weight from his knee, bringing his entire body onto Al’s back. “So, since I wanted to apologize for my attitude anyway, I figured I’d be covered if I was off base on your mood and you ended up accusing me of stalking.”

“Aw, Jacob, I’m sorry too. For everything. You’ve been through an awful lot and it stinks.” She dropped onto Al’s back alongside Jacob and extended her hand. “You make a good partner, Jacob Brown.”

The young man laughed as he held Al’s head down to the pavement with his left hand and shook with his right. “So do you, Elise Jenkins. So do you.”