I yawned as I approached my small blue house in the twilight.
Two days had passed since I’d reopened the Starlight Cafe, hoping that the locals would be drawn in by my father’s mish-mash aesthetic, the scents of freshly roasted coffee beans, and intrigue about what had happened to Angela.
So far, my only customers had been Gran and Sue, and while I loved the quality time, it was just confirmation that the cafe had a huge battle ahead. And so did I. Assuming I could clear my name before Detective Freedman decided to bring me in for questioning.
I opened the picket gate and entered.
Waffle thumped over to me from his bunny hutch, and I bent and scooped him into my arms.
“Hello, sweetheart.” I stroked his furry ears and nuzzled the top of his fluffy head. “I missed you.”
Waffle gave me an affectionate nibble and lick on the hand.
“Yes, did you have a good day?” I asked. “Lots of carrots, grass, and sunshine?”
Another lick-nibble.
“Let’s go inside and have supper.”
It was nice to enter my cozy home after a long day of nothingness at the cafe. I prepared a quick TV dinner for myself and put out some bunny food for Waffle before heading into the living room and plopping down on my sofa.
I’d been racking my brain over the case for the past few days, and I had come to a conclusion. I needed to know more about the boaters in town. If Angela had been going into business in that sector, that was a motive for one of the boaters to attack her, especially with tourist season winding down, and the sheer number of boating tour companies that serviced the lake. They didn’t need more competition.
The TV dinner, a Salisbury Steak, was less than appetizing so I placed it on the coffee table and brought out my phone.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Binkins Boating Tours.
The search brought up the website for the boating tour business as the first search result. I opened the web page and scanned it, reading the jovial copy.
“At Binkins Boating Tours, we care about giving you the best vacation experience possible. Enjoy the sun and water on our guided tour of the lake or hire us to take you out fishing. Whatever your boating and touring needs, we’re happy to help!”
The picture on the “About Us” section showed five staff members in total, with Bob and his wife, Marie, arm-in-arm. Everyone wore bright smiles and smart uniform t-shirts with the Binkins Boating Tours logo on the breast pocket.
Why had Bob been attacked? Who had been out to get him? And how was it connected to Angela’s death?
I opened another browser tab. Maybe Bob’s social media profile would give me a clue.
Bob Binkins.
The search results popped up, and I inhaled sharply.
The first article bore a harrowing headline.
Local businessman dies of injuries in hospital. Murderer still at large.
Bob had succumbed to his injuries? That was terrible news. And it elevated the investigation into what had happened to him. Could Freedman really handle two cases at once?
I had to find out what had happened at the lake. And how Angela and Bob’s cases might be connected.
After a night spent tossing and turning, I woke up bright and early, gulped down some coffee, gave Waffle breakfast and a kiss, and then set off.
Bob’s death, sad and terrible as it was, had lit a fire under my booty. I had become increasingly convinced that the two deaths were linked. The coincidences were too great, and if I’d learned anything, it was that in investigations there were no coincidences.
I took a leisurely stroll through town and down to the lakeside, glancing up at my grandmother’s cabin with a smile. It was early, but the circular attic windows were open. She was up there painting again.
I’d stop by after I’d spoken to Mrs. Binkins.
Assuming Mrs. Binkins was down at the shore rather than grieving her husband. Either way, someone would know where the Binkins lived.
The lakeside was quiet compared to the day of the big blowout, but there was still activity. Folks out on the water or moving around near the boathouse and jetties.
Binkins Boating Tours’ glass front doors were closed, but the lights were on inside revealing sea green walls, white chairs, pictures of the lake and boats on the walls and... A figure moved around within. Marie Binkins herself.
I knocked on the glass, and Marie jumped, her curly, blonde hair bobbing. She spotted me and pressed a hand to her chest, letting out a breath, then came over and opened up.
“You scared me,” she said, quietly. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Is there something I can help you with?”
She didn’t recognize me? Then again, she’d been through a lot over the past week. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“We’re closed today, I’m sorry.”
“No, I meant I was hoping to talk to you about what happened to Bob,” I said. “You don’t remember me, but we spoke at the hospital? I was the one asking about Bob’s… attacker.”
“Oh right. Tilly?”
“Milly,” I said. “Milly Pepper. I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for your loss, Mrs. Binkins.”
Marie clung to the door as if it would help keep her upright. She didn’t open it or invite me in. “Thank you.”
“I was hoping that you might help me figure out what happened. You see, I’ve heard that Angela Sampson might’ve had dealings with people in the boating community. Or that she was interested in opening up a boating tour company in competition with—”
“What has any of this got to do with Bob?” Marie asked, closing the door more, so there was only a sliver of a gap with her peeking out at me.
“Well, if Angela was opening up a business in direct competition with the boaters then it stands to reason that one of those boaters might’ve taken exception to that. And if that’s the case, then that same person might be responsible for Bob’s passing.”
Marie shook her head, slowly, as if moving it through molasses. “You’ve got some nerve coming out here. All you care about is yourself and your stupid little cafe. You don’t actually care about the people in this town. Not about Angela or Bob. No wonder nobody likes you.” She slapped the door shut in my face.
Ouch.
She might’ve had a point. My reason for pressing for answers was selfish in one respect. But I really did want to find out who’d taken two lives. I wanted to help protect the community too.
I knocked on the door one last time, but Marie ignored me, exiting into a back office.
So much for that lead. Nobody in town would talk to me, which made my job that much harder.
My phone rang in the pocket of my shorts, and I extracted it, grateful for the distraction. Sue’s number flashed on the screen.
“Hey, Sue,” I said. “How are—?”
“You won’t believe what just happened to me.”