Rain and overcast skies dampened the yoga participants’ spirits, but after Noelle led us through the poses, we relaxed and remained on our mats, chatting.
Jane’s popular ventures to promote Sea Side’s tourism produced fruitful results, with local businesses showing substantial increases over the previous year. She blathered on about November and December plans. Even though she’d mentioned my weight in Logan’s presence, which ticked me off, I found her effervescent attitude irresistible. Both her employment and mine would terminate before Christmas, and I’d miss her.
My customers reported that the malaise at Happy Days continued as residents mourned the loss of Betty and her efficiency and direction.
“Noelle, why don’t you apply for Betty’s position? You’re organized, caring, and you like telling people what to do.” I winked to assure her the last part was a joke.
Mary reached for her daughter’s arm. “Honey, that’s a wonderful idea. You wouldn’t have to go back to Boston, and Ladessa is right. You’d be perfect.”
Noelle gave a slight nod. “I might. Will is meeting with Harlan about Sharp’s position. He could handle publicity and presentations to attract new residents for Happy Days.”
“Does anyone think it’s unusual for Betty to be cremated so quickly?” My new topic didn’t stimulate much interest.
Jane shook her head. “I think cremations are done quickly because you don’t embalm the body. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I haven’t made funeral plans, but I’ll either donate my body to a medical school or request cremation.”
“I could never do that,” Mary said.
“Since breast cancer took my mother, perhaps my body holds information that would help researchers.” Jane rolled up her mat. “I had an interesting call today from the DNA website where I submitted my sample. They’re asking for a more detailed test. They’ve found a possible match for a close male relative. I wonder if the man could be my father.”
“Would you meet him?” I asked.
Jane inhaled. “I don’t know. I’m curious, but I still feel connecting with him would be disloyal to my mother. I haven’t even decided whether or not to do the test they requested.”
I recalled Logan’s comment about Trent’s love child named as the estate’s recipient. Could that child be Jane? One glance at Noelle told me our thoughts ran parallel.
Noelle turned to Mary. “Mom, we need to call it a night. I have to return the key to the church office before eight.”
“When you take me home, Noelle, ask for the activities director’s application,” Mary said.
I held the basement door, and Noelle switched off the lights. “I agree with your mom,” I said. “You should apply.”
“I will,” Noelle said. “It seems Trent Sharp is trying to ruin another person’s life from beyond the grave. His crazy disbursements ruined Will’s life. What if Jane is the heir? If she gets the money Will thought would come to him … Well, I don’t know how he’d react.”
Logan flashed the porch lights when I parked. I appreciated him allowing Grandpa to stay in the house. The two men had developed a compatible relationship, and Grandpa no longer called me at work. I hurried across the path with my laptop and tapped on the door.
“Come on in.” Logan’s rich voice sounded as good as the chocolate aroma permeating the house smelled. He lifted a bowl with vanilla ice cream peeking over the rim. “Double chocolate brownies fresh from the oven. Help yourself.”
“No. I just finished a yoga class.”
Logan waved a full spoon toward me. “One bite?”
I scarfed it up before he could change his mind. “Delicious.”
“Your grandpa made them. He adds cinnamon and walnuts. And, before you ask, he’s fine.”
Grandpa looked up. “Have you seen this Ken Burns special on country music?”
“I haven’t. Is it good?” I placed my hand on Grandpa’s shoulder. “Want me to take your empty bowl to the kitchen?”
Grandpa nodded. “Have you seen this show on country music?”
“No, I haven’t.” Was my grandfather aware he’d repeated himself? I took his bowl to the kitchen then squeezed into the space between the two men on the sofa.
Logan leaned and whispered in my ear. “I think you should have his medications analyzed. I have a friend in a Boston laboratory who can do it.”
I grimaced. “I’m still searching for Grandpa’s medical records. I’d like to compare the meds he received before he moved to Happy Days with the ones he’s getting now. His scripts are currently filled by the on-site pharmacy.” I stole a glance at Grandpa. “I think getting those checked is a good idea. Let me know what it costs.”
“I can put it on my expense account. The prescription thing might be a sidebar for my story.”
“When are you going to tell me about your hot story research?” I admired Logan’s physique, which distracted my concentration. Even his winter sweaters fit snugly, showing off his muscular upper body.
“When you tell me about your murder investigation.”
“Murders, plural. I think someone killed Betty too. I’m putting together my suspects and motives.”
“Are you working with Detective Hardy?”
“No. He’s convinced Betty killed Sharp and then suffered a heart attack. Two deaths tied up with a pretty ribbon.”
“I thought the detective might want to keep the case open so he could consult you.”
“Consult me? What are you talking about?” I scooted farther from Logan and bumped Grandpa, disrupting his TV watching.
“Gossip travels fast in a small town. I hear he’s a tea shoppe regular, but I’m not insecure. The lawman is a handsome guy, but not as good-looking as I am.” Logan’s banter was light and funny. He didn’t exude braggadocio, but spoke the truth. Logan Hernandez was one fine-looking man, and I felt as if he had some heavy-duty magnet pulling me toward him.
“The detective is practically family. His brother married my sister.” I pointed to my laptop.
“Oooh.” Logan drew out the sound. “I’ll clean up the kitchen and let you work.”
With Grandpa zoned in on the story about country music’s legendary Carter family, I opened a spreadsheet on my laptop labeled MURDER SUSPECTS. I deleted the word MURDER then deleted the word SUSPECTS and retitled the column SEA SIDE FRIENDS. Unfortunately, all the murder suspects were friends. I listed the deceased Betty Boyd first. Technically, she ranked as a candidate for Sharp’s murder. My headings also included RELATIONSHIP TO SHARP, MOTIVE FOR MURDER, OPPORTUNITY, and MEANS. Then I set up a page for Betty’s murder with the same headings. Were there two villains or one?
Engrossed in my list, I didn’t notice Logan until he sniffed ostentatiously.
“Your hair smells great. Is that a hint of pear? What product do you use?”
“Really? You’re asking about hair products? You’re spying, trying to look at my suspect page.”
Logan feigned hurt. “I told you about my six sisters. I was their judge for shampoos, lotions, and perfumes. The same soaps or body wash smelled different on each one. I have a good nose.”
“You also bragged about your nose for news. Is that why you peeped at my spreadsheet?”
“Ladessa, we should work together.”
“We’re working on two different things. You’re researching Maine fall festivals and senior living facilities. I want to find Trent’s and Betty’s murderers.”
I slanted the laptop’s cover, curious if Logan noticed his name on the list.
“I’m a suspect? If you plan to strap me down and grill me, you should do it soon. I have another lead to chase.” He gave me that melt-your-heart grin. “Do you think your grandfather can manage while you’re working?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Thanks for letting him stay here.”
My grandfather’s rapt attention to the screen seemed to make him oblivious to the discussion between Logan and me.
“Perhaps he should go back to Happy Days,” Logan said. “You could ask Noelle’s mom to keep an eye on him.”
Logan’s practical solution made sense, but the idea raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
“When do you leave?”
He ran his fingers up and down my arm. “Thursday. I need to go, but I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
His consideration earned him more points on the likability meter. I hoped he wouldn’t break my heart. My past assessment of men and their motives was less than stellar. My first love dropped me for my sister. My next romantic disaster involved a man I met at college who charmed me until I discovered he lied about attending college, where he lived, his age, and his recreational hobbies. The following calamity involved a CPA I met on a company retreat then found out he already had a wife. My last love, a church friend, chose seminary over our relationship. Should I trust my feelings for Logan?
I placed my hands over his. Logan might be a deceiver, a liar, a married man, or committed to his career, but right now I needed the kindness and practical advice he offered. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Gramford tomorrow.”
Logan cradled my head in his hands and then bent to kiss my forehead. Surely this gentle and considerate person wasn’t a murderer.
The country music credits ran, and Grandpa turned to me. “Great show. I love those Ken Burns specials. Ladessa, did you see the one about baseball?”
“I think I missed it.”
“Honey, if you want me to go back to Happy Days, I will.” Grandpa had heard our conversation.
“You said you didn’t feel safe there. What changed your mind?”
“I don’t want you to worry about me. Adults worry about their children and grandchildren, not the other way around.”
Logan patted Grandpa’s shoulder. “No need to rush, Mr. Nolan. I’m not leaving for a few days. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and hearing stories about Ladessa.”
I wondered what stories Logan had heard about me but instead addressed Grandpa’s return to Happy Days. “Grandpa, your group visits the tea shoppe tomorrow. I’ll tell Harlan to expect you.”
Grandpa looked from Logan to me. “I’m like a body being spirited away from the crime scene, except I’m still alive.”
I didn’t like that image, and I prayed this decision was the right one.
After saying good night, I went to my apartment, reopened my spreadsheet, and studied the suspects for Sharp’s murder. Betty Boyd, Noelle Rollins, Mary Rollins, Jane Mills, Logan Hernandez, Grandpa John, Will Tomlinson, and Harlan Gramford. Only Logan lacked a motive—that I knew about. All the others had a motive, an opportunity, and the means to kill him. Sharp’s peanut allergy was common knowledge. Any person could have tampered with the spray. Then Sharp administered the fatal dose to himself when he sniffed to clear his allergies.
I closed my eyes and went back to the horrific day I discovered the body. What was I missing?