The next morning, I opened The Flip Side at seven o’clock as usual. Patrons trickled in at first, but it didn’t take long for business to become steadier. The day before, I’d been distracted by my discovery of the illegal dump site and hadn’t put much thought into how to find Ida’s killer and clear my name. Now I itched to get started on my investigation, but there wasn’t much I could do while serving meals and pouring coffee.
In the early afternoon, as the lunch rush petered out, Lisa Morales came in the door and claimed a small table next to one of the front windows. She waved to me from her seat, and I smiled and returned the wave before jotting down another patron’s order.
Lisa was one of the first friends I’d made when I’d arrived in Wildwood Cove back in March. She worked as a legal assistant—my previous profession—and typically came by The Flip Side for breakfast or lunch once or twice each week.
Once I’d relayed an order for bacon cheddar waffles to Ivan and Tommy, I ran my eyes over the dining area, assessing how things were going. With The Flip Side currently only at a third of its capacity, I knew Leigh and Sienna had everything under control. Tucking my notepad and pen into the pocket of my apron, I crossed the room and slipped into the chair across from Lisa just as Leigh finished taking her order.
“How are things going?” I asked as Leigh headed for the kitchen.
“Great,” Lisa replied, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. “Especially since you’ve got air-conditioning in here.”
“Another scorcher out there?”
“Yep. I thought I’d melt on the way over here, but the thought of Ivan’s delicious cooking kept me going.” She took a sip of ice water, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “How are you doing?”
From the way she asked the question, I suspected she already had an idea.
“What have you heard?”
She set down her glass. “That somebody killed Ida Winkler and you found her body.”
“That’s it?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“It would have been plenty. Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it.” Even though no one else was close by, I lowered my voice. “At the moment, I’m considered a person of interest.”
Lisa’s brown eyes widened. “That’s nuts!”
“But still true.”
“All because you found the body?”
“Remember how I mentioned last week that the building was vandalized and I thought Ida was responsible?” When Lisa nodded, I continued. “There was more vandalism this week. Plus Ida was prank calling The Flip Side and she stole an antique lamp base off my front porch the other day. I went over to her place to talk to her, and that’s when I found her body. It also doesn’t help that the lamp base was most likely the murder weapon.”
“So they think you might have killed her because she’d been causing trouble?”
“It seems so.”
Lisa frowned. “Do you need a lawyer?”
The mere thought tied my stomach into knots. “I sure hope not.”
“If you do, I can give you a few names.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
“I’ll be hoping the exact same thing.”
We paused our conversation as Leigh delivered a plate of strawberry banana crêpes and a glass of iced coffee to Lisa. As I eyed the crêpes—my favorite kind—my stomach rumbled with envy.
“I’ll get a plate of those made up for you too,” Leigh told me with a smile.
“Thanks, Leigh,” I said as she left our table.
Lisa cut into her crêpes. “Any idea who actually did kill Ida?”
“Not at the moment, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she had a whole host of enemies. She wasn’t exactly a pleasant woman.”
“She definitely wasn’t.”
“You knew her?”
Lisa chewed and swallowed her first bite. “I live across the alley and two houses down from her place.”
“Oh, right.” I hadn’t made the connection before, but I’d been to Lisa’s cute white-and-green house a couple of times and could now picture where the two houses were in relation to each other.
“I didn’t know her well,” Lisa went on, “but we crossed paths now and then, and I can’t say I wanted to know her any better.” She paused for a sip of iced coffee. “Still, it’s sad that somebody killed her, and to tell the truth, I’m a bit creeped out by the fact that a murder happened so close to my home.”
“I don’t blame you, but hopefully Sheriff Georgeson will catch the killer soon. Preferably before my business goes down the drain.”
“Are you really worried about that?”
I didn’t reply right away, because Leigh appeared with my crêpes and a tall glass of iced tea. I thanked her and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fruit, cream, and crêpes. When I took an experimental sip of the iced tea, I smiled. Leigh had filled the glass from my private stash of sweetened peach tea.
“If people really start to believe that I could be a murderer, then the restaurant could suffer.”
“It won’t come to that,” Lisa said with confidence I wished I could match.
I took my first bite of the crêpes and savored the delicious taste, letting it distract me from my worries. We ate in silence for a minute before Lisa spoke up again.
“You know, now that I think about it, a couple of funny things happened at Ida’s place recently.”
That piqued my curiosity. “What kind of funny things?”
“Four days ago I was taking the trash out to the alley in the evening when I heard her arguing with a man. I wasn’t close enough to hear much of what was said until Ida yelled at the guy to get off her property. The man yelled, ‘I won’t let you get away with this.’ Then a door slammed, and that’s all I heard.”
“Do you have any idea who the man was?”
“None. I didn’t even see him.”
I chewed thoughtfully on a forkful of crêpes. “If he threatened Ida, he should be on the suspect list.”
Preferably above my own name, I added to myself.
As I took a sip of iced tea, I remembered Lisa’s earlier words. “You said a couple of funny things happened.”
Lisa nodded as she swallowed a bite of food. “My next-door neighbor Joan told me that her dog was barking like crazy the night before Ida’s death. Apparently there’d been a prowler in the alley. When she went out to see what her dog was barking about, she saw some guy peering through Ida’s back gate into her yard. When he realized she was there, he took off.”
“Did she report the prowler to the sheriff?”
“I’m not sure.”
I considered the story. “I wonder if it was the same guy she argued with earlier.”
“Could be.”
“Do you think Joan would talk to me?”
“I don’t see why not. Just tell her I sent you. She lives in the yellow house to the north of mine.” Her crêpes polished off, Lisa drank down the last of her iced coffee. “I have to get back to work, but you can call or text me anytime. I’m sure your name will be cleared soon.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I stood up, and Lisa gave me a quick hug before heading to the cash counter to pay Sienna for her meal. I cleared up her dishes along with my own and took them to the kitchen, thinking over everything Lisa had told me. If I could figure out who the prowler was—and who had argued with Ida, if he wasn’t the same person—I could put Ray onto his scent and hopefully move the official investigation in a direction that led well away from me. It wasn’t yet closing time, but as soon as I could, I’d see if Lisa’s neighbor was willing to have a chat with me.
The dining area had quieted down, only four tables now occupied. My gaze wandered to the front windows and the people dressed in shorts and tees who walked and jogged along the promenade. The foot traffic was heavier than usual, and I remembered then that it was the first day of the farmers’ market. Usually the market took place on Saturdays, but because Wildwood Cove’s annual flower show—a big draw for tourists—was this coming weekend, the market was running for two days rather than one.
Maybe I’d take a few minutes to browse the stalls and clear my mind. It would help me pass the time until I had a chance to head over to Lisa’s neighborhood and get to work on clearing my name.
Leaving Leigh and Sienna to take care of the diners, I shed my apron and stepped out into the bright sunshine. The rows of stalls lining the promenade started only a stone’s throw from The Flip Side, and within seconds I was browsing the goods on offer. The displays included crafts, local produce, natural skin-care products, jams and jellies, and baked goods. One stand offered churros and another hot samosas. The delicious smells mingled together, tempting me despite the crêpes I’d finished mere minutes ago.
I took my time going from stall to stall, occasionally chatting with a familiar vendor. Halfway along the row of stalls, I found Patricia Murray seated at a table displaying several of her driftwood carvings.
“You made it,” Patricia said with a smile when she saw me.
“The Flip Side’s not busy at the moment, so I thought I’d come take a look around.”
“There’s a lot of great stuff to see here.”
“So I’ve found.” I focused on Patricia’s art pieces. “These are incredible.”
There were birds and sea creatures, along with a few land animals like cats and bears. A seahorse drew my eye almost immediately. I’d always been fascinated by seahorses and knew I wouldn’t be able to resist this one. I checked the price on its tag and dug my wallet out of my tote bag.
“I definitely need the seahorse,” I told Patricia.
As I handed her some bills, my gaze settled on a delicate hummingbird carving. I loved hummingbirds and knew Lisa did too. She had a birthday coming up in August, so I decided to get that one as well. Once I’d paid Patricia for both carvings, she wrapped them up for me and I placed them carefully into my tote bag. We chatted for another moment or two about her artwork before Patricia asked how Sienna was doing with her job at The Flip Side.
“Great,” I said with enthusiasm. “She’s wonderful to work with, and having her there makes my life a lot easier.”
I remembered what Sienna had said when I’d asked her and Leigh if they knew Sheryl Haynes. Maybe I didn’t have to wait until the end of the workday to start my investigation after all.
“Do you know Sheryl Haynes?”
“Sheryl? Sure. We’re not close, but we have a few friends in common. Why do you ask?”
I didn’t answer right away because two women approached Patricia’s stall and spent a moment looking at her carvings and chatting with her. One of the women purchased a driftwood orca, and the two of them moved on.
“I guess I’m more interested in Sheryl’s daughter,” I said, quietly enough that my voice wouldn’t carry beyond Patricia. “Did you hear about Ida Winkler’s death?”
“I did. I also heard that the sheriff might be conducting a murder investigation.”
“Yes, that’s true. I was the one who found her body.”
“Sienna mentioned that. It must have been a terrible experience.”
“It definitely wasn’t pleasant.”
I paused as a middle-aged couple strolled past the stall, their eyes roaming over Patricia’s goods before they continued on.
“Anyway,” I said, “I met Sheryl while I was waiting for the sheriff to arrive at the scene. But before that, one of the other neighbors told me that Sheryl’s daughter had been pounding on Ida’s door that morning, screaming and yelling.”
“Hmm. I don’t know what that would have been about, but it doesn’t really surprise me that she and Ida had some sort of conflict. You know what Ida was like, and Melinda…well, she’s always been a bit of an angry girl. As I remember, she got in trouble at school on more than one occasion for fighting with other kids.”
“Really?”
So she had a violent streak. Had her anger toward Ida boiled over and led to murder? Perhaps after her mother had taken her home, Melinda circled around the back and found Ida in her garden shed, the confrontation ending with Melinda grabbing my lamp base and swinging it at Ida’s head.
“She’s been out of school for a few years now, of course,” Patricia went on, “and I haven’t heard of her getting into any trouble recently, but she probably still has quite a temper.”
“Sounds like it.”
“She and her mother haven’t had an easy time of it lately. Douglas—Sheryl’s husband—died of a heart attack three months ago. I’m not sure Sheryl’s going to stay in Wildwood Cove much longer.”
“She’s not from here originally?”
“No, she moved here from Florida after she met Douglas. She’s never made a secret of the fact that she wants to go back to her home state. I don’t know if Melinda will go with her or not, but I won’t be surprised if Sheryl’s gone before the end of the year.”
That gave me some insight into Melinda and Sheryl Haynes, but I didn’t know if anything other than Melinda’s temper was relevant. Still, I was certain now that Melinda belonged on my suspect list.
More customers arrived at Patricia’s stall, so I said a quick goodbye to her and moved on to say hello to Brett’s mom, Elaine, and his aunt Gwen. They occupied neighboring stalls, Elaine selling her pottery and Gwen her watercolor paintings. I admired their wares and spent a few minutes chatting with them before heading back in the direction of The Flip Side.
On my way I noticed a colorful poster advertising the upcoming flower show, which would open to the public at ten o’clock on Saturday morning. I’d heard several regular customers at the pancake house talking about the show over the past week or so, and I knew there were many avid gardeners in town who looked forward to the event each year, entering their flowers in the hope of winning a prize or two. I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to check out the show, but I tucked the idea away at the back of my mind.
I returned to The Flip Side shortly before closing time and soon said goodbye to the last of the day’s diners. Once I’d closed the restaurant and had cleaned up, I set off for the bank.
As I stood in line waiting for a teller, my gaze wandered over the pictures on the wall to the front window, where a familiar head of curly blond hair caught my eye. I took a step toward the door, my first instinct to intercept Brett as he walked past the bank so I could spend some time with him, even if only a minute or two. But after that single step, I hesitated, all my fears from the day before rushing back to the surface. I still hadn’t decided whether to stay or go when a fifty-something bald man in a business suit paused in front of me on his way across the room. I recognized the young man with him as Sienna’s crush, Gavin Paulson.
“Good afternoon,” the older man said to me. “Ms. McKinney, isn’t it?”
I forced myself to focus on him rather than the window. “That’s right.”
He offered his hand. “Mitch Paulson, bank manager, and this is my son, Gavin.”
I shook Gavin’s hand as well.
“I knew Jimmy Coulson for years,” Mitch went on, “and I’m glad to see you’re carrying on his business. Things are going well?”
“They are,” I said, hoping that wouldn’t change as a result of the sheriff’s investigation.
“Glad to finally meet you. Have a nice afternoon.”
“You too.”
Gavin smiled at me before following his father into a nearby office. Alone again, I hurried for the door, my desire to see Brett now stronger than my fears. I pushed my way out into the bright sun, but Brett had vanished. I shaded my eyes and scoured the street, but I still didn’t spot him. Disappointed, I went back inside to finish my banking business.
Minutes later I was out on the sidewalk again. I paused outside the bank’s front door, once more searching the street for Brett. There was still no sign of him, and I couldn’t see his truck or work van parked anywhere in sight. If I wanted to talk to him, I’d have to call him. I pulled my phone from my tote bag, my thumb hovering over the touch screen, but I slipped the device back into my bag without selecting Brett’s number. Again my fears took hold, exerting their power over me.
I’d hurt Brett the last time we parted—or at the very least had confused him—and I didn’t want to do that to him again. At the moment, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do otherwise. I’d talked to him on the phone without a problem, but seeing him face-to-face was another matter. He might see something in my eyes that would make things worse, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to find the words needed to reassure him. My thoughts and emotions were all jumbled together and I couldn’t untangle and sort out the mess. I’d have to soon, because I wasn’t willing to jeopardize our relationship more than I already had, but I needed some time to think first.
Probably the best place for me to get in some good thinking was at home, or while relaxing on the beach, but I had other pressing things on my mind as well. Instead of heading for home, I set off in the opposite direction and arrived on Lisa’s street after a short walk. The trees lining the street provided some welcome shade, though I still wished I were wearing shorts instead of jeans.
When I reached the house next to Lisa’s, I climbed the three steps leading to the front porch and knocked on the door of the cute yellow house. A dog barked excitedly on the other side of the door, but I heard no other sounds. As I waited for a non-canine response to my knock, I turned around and admired Joan’s yard. Rose beds lined the walkway leading to the front porch, and the grass and bushes were all neatly trimmed. Flower boxes beneath the front windows overflowed with colorful blooms and made the house seem even more charming.
When several seconds had passed without anyone opening the door, I knocked again and listened carefully this time for any human sounds within the house. I heard nothing other than the barking. Disappointed, I decided I’d have to try again another time.
I walked slowly along the shady street, considering my options. Although eager to get home and change into some cooler clothes, I decided to make a stop along the way. I followed a side street out of the residential neighborhood and into the town’s commercial center. Although my destination was the small junk shop situated next door to Marielle’s Bakery, I didn’t make it past the bakery’s display window without pausing.
Now that it was late afternoon, the display of cookies, cupcakes, and biscotti wasn’t nearly as full as it would have been that morning, but what remained still looked delicious. I knew Brett loved butter pecan tarts and I was terrible at baking. The one time I’d attempted to make pastry had ended in disaster, so I knew that if I wanted to treat him to his favorite tarts I’d have to rely on a professional. I was feeling bad for hurting him the other day and hoped the sweet offering would help to make up for that the next time I saw him.
Stepping into the blessedly air-conditioned bakery, I asked if there were any tarts left.
“Only two, I’m afraid,” the twenty-something, rosy-cheeked baker said in response to my query.
“I’ll take them.”
The door opened with a jingle behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Gavin Paulson come into the bakery.
“Hi, Marielle,” he said with a big smile. When he noticed me, he added, “Hi, there. Marley, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Home for the summer?” Marielle asked Gavin as she set the two butter pecan tarts in a small box and tied it up with string.
“Yep. I’ll be around for a few weeks.”
Marielle accepted the money I handed her. “We should catch up sometime,” she said to Gavin, and I thought her cheeks had flushed a deeper shade of rosy red.
Apparently Sienna wasn’t the only one with an interest in the college student.
“Definitely,” Gavin agreed.
Marielle turned her attention back to me and I thanked her before leaving the bakery, slipping out the door just before a large family of sunburned tourists piled into the establishment, three generations eyeing the goodies on display with delight.
Out on the sunbaked sidewalk I nearly ran into Sienna, who was standing outside the door, talking on her cellphone.
She smiled at me and said into the phone, “I’ll be hanging out with friends for a while, but I’ll be home in time for dinner.” After saying goodbye, she ended the call. “Hey, Marley. Are you here for some treats too?”
I held up the bakery box. “Butter pecan tarts for Brett.”
“Yum. We’re having cookies.”
“We?”
Her eyes flicked to the bakery’s large front window, beyond which Gavin could be seen talking to Marielle as she put cookies into a paper bag.
“You’re here with Gavin?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
A hint of pink showed on Sienna’s cheeks. “You won’t tell my mom, will you? She’d freak if she knew I was on a date with a college guy.”
“Maybe with good reason,” I said, my protective feelings toward the teen back in full force.
“We’re going to eat cookies on the beach. Totally romantic, but nothing to worry about.” She shot an anxious glance at the window. Gavin was on his way out. “Please, Marley?”
As Gavin stepped out of the bakery, she fixed her beseeching brown eyes on me.
Not the least bit sure I was making the right decision, I said, “Have fun.”
Sienna’s face lit up. “Thanks, Marley. See you tomorrow.”
She waved as she joined Gavin, and they set off toward the beach. I watched them for a moment before heading for the junk shop.
The bell jingled overhead as I stepped inside, the door falling shut behind me. Unlike the bakery, this shop didn’t have the benefit of air-conditioning. An old fan sat on the cash counter, creaking as it slowly swiveled from side to side, doing its best to create a welcome breeze, but it was fighting a losing battle.
Brushing aside the curls the fan had half-heartedly blown across my forehead, I stepped deeper into the shop. Piles of odds and ends cluttered the shelves along the narrow aisles and a few old light fixtures hung from the ceiling, price tags dangling from loops of string.
A man in his late thirties with greasy dark hair sat on a stool behind the cash counter, flipping through a magazine that looked like it had something to do with vintage cars. He glanced up without much interest as I passed by.
“Help you with anything?” he asked in a flat voice.
“Are you Kirk?”
“Nah, I’m Jake. Kirk’s out back.” The man jerked his head toward an open door at the rear of the store, the bright rectangle of sunlight a stark contrast to the dim interior of the building. “Want me to holler for him?”
“No, that’s all right,” I said quickly. “I’m just here to browse.”
The man nodded and dropped his eyes back to his magazine.
I wandered along the aisle, slowly making my way toward the back of the shop. As I drew closer to the open door, I heard the rumble of an angry voice. Pretending that I wanted to examine a display of dusty glass doorknobs, I edged my way along the shelf next to the doorway.
“What are we supposed to do with it?”
I leaned sideways and peeked out the door. It opened out onto a small courtyard, scraggly grass and weeds growing up through the cracks in the paved surface. A stocky man in a paint-splattered red shirt paced up and down in front of an old wooden chair, half white and half pink. He held a can of spray paint in one hand and kept his cellphone to his ear with the other. He had almost no neck, and his shaggy, dull brown hair was in need of a trim.
Since no one else was out in the courtyard, I figured the man had to be Kirk.
“You’d better be right about that,” he said into his phone. “If this doesn’t work out…”
I caught a glimpse of his stormy scowl before he turned on his heel and paced in the other direction.
“Fine,” he spat out a moment later. “You’d better be.”
I ducked out of sight as he lowered the phone from his ear, turning back my way. He let out a string of curses, punctuated by a resounding crash. Startled, I chanced another quick peek out through the door. The half-painted chair lay scattered in pieces. Judging by the smears of white paint on the brick wall enclosing the courtyard, Kirk had either thrown or kicked the chair. He cursed again and I retreated a few steps away from the open door.
I grabbed a glass doorknob off the shelf, feigning interest in it. Half a second later, Kirk strode in from the courtyard. He stopped short when he saw me, the angry glower still on his face.
I smiled his way as I set the doorknob back on the shelf. “Hi. You must be Kirk.”
“That’s right. Do I know you?”
“No,” I said. “I just heard that the owner of the shop was named Kirk. I understand you knew Ida Winkler.”
His glower had faded slightly, but now it swiftly returned, darker than ever. “Who told you that?”
“Oh,” I said, pretending to be confused. “I’m not sure. I heard it around somewhere.”
“Yeah? Well, someone doesn’t know what they’re talking about. I never met the woman.”
He strode past me, aiming for the front of the store. As he passed by the man at the cash counter, he said without slowing, “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Then he was out the door and gone from sight.
I remained rooted to the spot, surprised by the brief encounter. A few seconds later, I shook it off and forced myself to move. I no longer had any reason to hang around.
The man behind the counter didn’t so much as glance up as I hurried by and left the store. Out on the sidewalk, the bright sunlight momentarily blinded me after the relative darkness of the junk shop. Blinking and shading my eyes, I didn’t linger, instead setting an immediate course for home.
Although I’d hoped that visiting the cluttered shop would prove enlightening, it had only left me with more questions. Even if I hadn’t found a note addressed to Kirk on Ida’s porch, I still would have believed that he’d lied to me when he said he didn’t know her. The words had rung false, and his eyes had skittered to the side as he spoke them.
He had known Ida, at least to some degree.
So why wouldn’t he admit that?