A sporadic breeze that could almost be classified as wind had kicked up, and it seemed to get stronger with each step. Rather than weave through the activity on the wharf, I glided down Pickford Way for a shortcut to the lighthouse. A light green Volkswagen Bug, a cute one with a soft top, was parked right in front of the path leading out to the point where the Pickford Lighthouse, with its squat black hat and big yellow light, loomed over a jagged cliff of rocks. Marty was next to the cute, little keeper's house with its powder white siding and brick red roof shingles. A young woman stood nearby leaning down to a camera that was propped up on a tripod. Marty was wearing a nice gray sweater, blue scarf and a proud grin as the woman took his picture next to his lighthouse.
I stood out of the way and watched as she snapped a few more shots. A sharp gust of air that could definitely be categorized as wind shot across the point causing the woman to straighten from the camera. She reached into her faded jeans and pulled out a hair band to tie back her curly, strawberry blonde hair. She began to readjust her tripod. With his photo session paused, Marty took the time to wave to me.
I decided it was invitation enough to talk to him. I walked toward Marty.
Marty Tate had the kindest gray eyes, like smoke curling up from a cozy fire. "Lacey Pinkerton, I haven't seen you around for a bit." His voice was a little more creaky than the last time we spoke, but he was just as lively as ever. He waved his arm around. "Can you believe this? The Pickford Lighthouse is going to be in a book."
"Really? How exciting, and well deserved, I might add. There is no finer lighthouse on this coast."
Marty beamed at the compliment. "I have to agree. By the way, this is Heather Houston, the talented photographer who is creating a book totally dedicated to lighthouses."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Lacey, town florist and ardent fan of Marty and his tall lady here."
Heather pushed forward her hand. "She is a beauty and Marty is pretty great too." Heather was twenty-something with round blue eyes and the kind of looks that suited life on a California beach. She also had to deal with the same hair issues as me. The next burst of wind sent our curls into a frenzy. I pushed mine behind my ears, and she tightened the band she had just tied into her hair.
She looked out toward the water. "Seems like the wind is really kicking up. I'd like to try for a few more shots, Marty, before we wrap up for the day."
"I'm not going anywhere and neither is my tall lady." Marty winked at me.
"I'll get out of your way," I said. "Marty, I just dropped by to ask you a few questions about your mom, if you don't mind. I had two customers this morning. I believe one was an old friend of yours, Mary Russel?" I ended in a question to see if the name rang a bell. It did.
He chuckled. "Mary and I used to play hopscotch right there on that pathway." He pointed to the cement path I'd just walked. "I suppose she's getting flowers for her birthday party. Just got my invite in the mail."
"Yes, her daughter ordered some lilac centerpieces." The photographer seemed to be ready for the next shot, so I had to move along my request. "Do you think we could meet this evening? I want to ask you a few questions."
Perfectly charming laugh lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. "You're still trying to solve that Hawksworth murder, eh? James mentioned you were hot on the trail."
"A murder?" Heather said, sounding slightly stunned. "In this quiet town? I find it hard to believe."
Marty chuckled. "Lacey, here, is quite the detective. She has helped solve quite a few murders. And, yes, it's a quiet town, but you know sometimes it's those quiet ones that have the most secrets." He winked at me again, although this time I wasn't exactly sure why.
Heather seemed somewhat stunned. I wasn't sure if she found it hard to believe that I'd helped solved murders or that there were actual murders in Port Danby, but I decided to turn the conversation away from death.
"What kind of book will this be? A travel guide?" I asked.
"Huh? Oh, yes, the book." She was slightly flustered. I wondered if she would add a mention of Port Danby's propensity for murder under the photos of our lighthouse. That might not be good for tourism or business. Then I quickly reminded myself that our main point of interest was the Hawksworth mansion precisely because it was the site of a grisly family murder.
Heather adjusted the lens on her camera. "It will be one of those coffee table books," she continued. "Lots of glossy photos and descriptions. Now, Mr. Tate, if I could get you to move just a little to your right." She motioned with her hand to direct him.
I stood back and watched as Marty grinned for the camera. The camera clicked just as a brisk gust ruffled Marty's thin white hair. He reached up to smooth it down. "Sorry," he said. "My hair doesn't want to cooperate in this wind."
Another gust pushed against all of us causing Marty to lose balance and take a side step. His laugh was deep and a touch hoarse. "Seems like mother nature is not going to cooperate either."
A low, fluffy line of gray clouds had gathered far out on the horizon. "Looks like we might get a bit of weather," he continued.
The next gust sprayed us lightly with sand from the beach. Instinctively, I shaded my eyes and turned from the onslaught.
Heather snatched her camera off the tripod. "I agree. The weather is not cooperating."
Marty pointed with a gnarled finger toward Heather's black leather camera bag. "You should pack that camera away, or you'll end up with sand in the lens. It's spraying pretty good now."
Heather hung the camera around her neck. "No, it'll be fine. I guess we should continue this tomorrow. Will noon work for you?"
"Sure thing," Marty answered. He smiled my direction. "And you and I have a date this evening. How about seven?"
"Seven is perfect," I said. "I'll bring one of Elsie's lemon and poppy seed pound cakes."
"Oh, that Elsie." He turned to Heather. "If you haven't stopped by the Sugar and Spice Bakery yet be sure to make time for some of Elsie's treats. They are superb." He sent his crinkly smile my direction again. "Lemon and poppy sounds good. I'll put on a pot of coffee and pull out some old photographs. They might be of use in your investigation." Another wink. I really couldn't get enough of Marty's winks. They were adorable.
"Nice meeting you, Heather. By the way, is that your Volkswagen?" I asked as I headed back toward Pickford Way.
"Yes it is. I've had it forever. Nice meeting you too and good luck with your investigation," she called.
I pulled my coat collar up around my ears to protect them from the cold wind and hurried my pace to get back to the warmth of the shop.