CHAPTER 4

Logan visited with Betty, Mary, and other residents while Grandpa showed me his apartment. The considerate and handsome Puerto Rican reporter might have aroused my romantic interest if I hadn’t seen him with Jane.

Grandpa’s place was smaller than I expected. Chairs, a sofa, and side tables, which belonged in a larger venue, competed for space and lost. Seeing his apartment prompted the recollection of how I felt when I saw him at the airport. He’d appeared diminished, and his apartment surroundings elicited the same cramped, restrictive feel.

“Grandpa, where are your drawings, your awards, your precious mementos?” He’d worked as a researcher at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution for decades and earned accolades galore. He also invested in marine biology first edition books and drawings, but they weren’t evident.

Grandpa scanned the room, bewildered. “Could they be in the garage? I moved so quickly. I didn’t go through all my things.”

“What was the rush? You knew I planned to help.” Grandpa’s baffled expression tugged at my heart.

“Mr. Sharp had a renter for a furnished house. The movers gave me three boxes and told me to pick things I needed. They crated the rest and stored them in the garage.” Tears filled Grandpa’s eyes.

The process he described bordered on cruelty. How could anyone say a quick goodbye to a lifetime of memories? How can one earmark what to pack in a day?

“We’ll sort through each box in the garage.” I glanced at the petite bookcases, not generous enough to house the books on marine biology, model shipbuilding, and regional recipes he’d collected over the years.

“I saved some personal things.” He motioned to photos on the top shelf. In decorative frames, Grandma tossed bread into the air for seagulls, I worked on a sandcastle in my Minnie Mouse swimsuit, my cousin Martin waved a diploma, and in the last, my sister kissed her groom. My throat caught when I saw the couple’s sunshiny faces with my squall-like countenance on their right and Devin Hardy, sporting an impish grin, on their left.

Grandpa sighed. “Ladessa, what happened between you and your sister?”

I pointed to the groom. “He happened. I thought he cared for me. Then Aletha showed up, and they became engaged within months.”

Grandpa’s face betrayed astonishment. “He was my colleague. I can’t imagine him acting inappropriately.”

I shrugged, shocked at the naked pain etched on my face in their wedding photo. “I was young and naive. When Devin Hardy showed up in the tea shoppe today, I tumbled back in time. He looks exactly like his brother.”

Grandpa smiled at the photo of the couple. “They complement each other. They have a good marriage. You should be happy for them.”

Grandpa showed no befuddlement now, so I asked the question nagging me. “Grandpa, why did you invite me here?”

“You’re my favorite grandchild.” Grandpa touched my nose. “But I really need your intuition, practicality, and puzzle skills. Remember that Shakespeare quote about something not being right in the state of Denmark? Well, something isn’t right in Maine, specifically Sea Side, and you’re the one to figure it out. My mind tricks me. Sometimes I see things clearly. Sometimes I don’t.”

His admission offered an entry for my concern. “Let’s visit your family doctor. Maybe your meds need adjustment.”

“I don’t see my old doctor. The Happy Days medical staff cares for us.”

A persistent tapping on the door stayed my response.

Logan jangled his keys. “Sorry to interrupt, but Detective Hardy asked Will to claim his uncle Trent’s body, and Will asked me to go with him.”

Grandpa motioned for me to leave. “Run along, Ladessa. Detective Hardy is a stickler for the rules. His brother was a colleague of mine. Did you know him?”

My heart constricted. Grandpa had conversed so lucidly just moments earlier. “Yes, Grandpa. That brother married my sister.” I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder. “Can you come to town with the Happy Days group tomorrow? We’ll go to the garage apartment, unpack a few boxes, and see what we find. I’ll cook dinner.”

“Why don’t I cook?” He searched the bookcase. “Where are my cookbooks?”

“We’ll look for them tomorrow. Don’t forget.” I kissed his cheek.

Logan shook Grandpa’s hand. “I’ll see she gets home safely, sir.”

Before Logan eased the car from the parking space, he began interrogating me. “What is your grandfather looking for?”

“Cookbooks and other things.” I faced him. “What did you learn?”

We sparred for information until Logan said, “I’m interested in your grandfather’s relationship with Trent Sharp.”

I reciprocated. “Sharp insisted on a sudden sale and property transfer. The man serves as one piece in my grandfather’s upheaval. My puzzle-solving skills impressed Grandpa when I was a kid, and he wants me to employ them again.”

Logan stopped by Will’s car. “I’m a puzzle master. We should work together.”

“Sure you wouldn’t take all the credit?”

Logan rubbed his chin and asked in a playful tone, “If I do the majority of the work, shouldn’t I take the majority of the credit?”

“Then I think I’ll work alone,” I answered in an out-of-practice flirtatious manner.

When we arrived, Will and Noelle descended the steps from Grandpa’s wraparound porch. I cringed, mentally correcting myself. The beautiful blue two-story trimmed in white served as Logan’s rental house, not Grandpa’s home.

“Sorry to disturb your evening, Logan, Ladessa.” Will chewed on his lip. “I don’t want to go to the morgue alone. Noelle offered, but no lady should see a dead body.”

“And you had no trouble asking me?” Logan teased.

“You’re the strong, manly type. I knew going to a morgue wouldn’t bother you.” Will’s kidding didn’t fool me or anyone else. He was anxious, uncomfortable, and scared.

“Do you have an appointment?” Logan asked.

“Eight thirty,” Will said.

Noelle grasped Will’s hand. “Ladessa and I will go with you. We’ll wait in the car. We can get coffee after.” Noelle turned to me for confirmation.

I nodded, happy she suggested waiting in the car. I’d been in the same room with Sharp’s corpse longer than I’d wanted.

Our wait in the car for Will’s official identification took less time than the drive to the morgue. Both men showed somber faces as they walked across the parking area.

Logan spoke. “The doctor says the death was anaphylactic shock, a horrible way to die, but fairly quick. He wouldn’t have been able to breathe. It happened while we watched the punkin’-chunkin’ exhibition.” Logan’s words trailed off as he fastened his seat belt. “Is the pancake place on Fir Trail okay for coffee?”

Will blew out a long breath. “My uncle always carried an EpiPen because of his peanut allergy. Why didn’t he use it? My grandparents are arranging the cremation and memorial service. Glad they’re doing it, because I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Noelle touched Will’s shoulder. “When Dad died last year, I went through the grief stages of denial, anger, and depression while Mom handled the funeral and estate details. I was useless when she needed me. I returned to Sea Side to make up for failing her during that time.”

“I don’t know much about your uncle. Would you like to talk about him?” I felt it was a lame suggestion, but Will responded.

“Uncle Trent was my mom’s only sibling, and they weren’t close. My grandparents give …” Will paused. “I should say they gave Uncle Trent an allowance every month, and he was over fifty years old. The man had plenty of money from all his endeavors, yet they gave him a monthly stipend, which he banked.”

“Did your grandparents give your mom an equivalent allowance?”

“She refused it. My parents have plenty, and Mom wasn’t close to her little brother. Trent flitted from school to school growing up. My grandparents would arrange admittance, but he’d mess up, and they’d find somewhere else. They stopped educating him and created jobs for him in their philanthropic endeavors. He reveled in the galas and the big events, but routine administration bored him. He always had a get-rich-quick scheme going, which usually worked.”

Logan edged his RAV4 into a front-row parking spot. “Not too many people eating pancakes tonight, no nosy eavesdroppers.”

After our drinks arrived, Will circled his spoon in his coffee until the dark liquid sloshed out on the saucer. “My parents think I’m like my uncle. Maybe I am. It’s hard to measure up in a type A family that socked away millions. My mother resented her brother mooching off their parents, so she and Dad adopted a tough-love policy for me. I’m to receive none of the family money until I’m forty. Forty! They want me to earn my own way. In one way, I am like my uncle Trent, I guess. I never met family expectations.”

Noelle stopped him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You handled this land development deal by yourself.”

I listened without contributing. I remembered Mary’s comment earlier about how talkative people could be, and I was learning a lot about Trent Sharp. My fingers itched for pen and paper to jot down salient points.

“Will has faced a setback, Noelle,” Logan said.

“More than one,” Will added. “Jane Mills has it in for me. She blocks my every suggestion with the city council. I can’t get the permits or zoning changes. At breakfast Uncle Trent told me my building requests had been bumped again, but he knew whose palms needed to be greased.”

“Will, you wouldn’t do anything illegal.” Noelle gazed at Will, who squirmed.

“Noelle, small gifts or favors are considered business expenses.”

“Can you get the project funded without giving gifts? Greasing palms sounds like bribery,” Noelle said.

“Uncle Trent promised seed money for the project.” Will gave us a wry smile. “Actually, my uncle may contribute a sizable investment. I expect to be his beneficiary. He has no one else. The family can’t withhold proceeds from a death.”

“Whoa!” The exclamation escaped my lips before I realized I’d said the word aloud.

Noelle and Will hadn’t heard me, but Logan mouthed, Whoa, which made me snicker, and I spilled my coffee.

Will’s comment whooshed me to the tea shoppe and the medical man’s comment that Sharp’s death didn’t feel right. Would Will resort to murder to fund his pet project and to gain access to the family money he considered his birthright?