My encounter with Melinda Haynes remained on my mind the following morning as I set out for a jog through the residential part of town. I followed a gently curving, tree-lined street, passing charming Victorian houses and enjoying the smell of blooming flowers as I jogged by carefully tended gardens. Although I tried to lose myself in the fresh morning air and the steady rhythm of my footsteps, I couldn’t quite shake my thoughts free of Ida’s murder and the people I suspected might be involved.
I decided I should get in touch with Sheriff Georgeson to let him know that Ida had likely been blackmailing Mr. Haynes before his death. I didn’t know what other suspects the sheriff was looking into, and I wanted to make sure he knew about this angle of the case.
When I reached the outskirts of the residential neighborhood, I looped around, following another shaded road toward the center of town. I slowed to a walk as I left the houses behind and entered the commercial district. Removing an elastic band from around my right wrist, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, wanting my damp curls off of my neck.
As I passed by an alley running behind a row of businesses, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I slowed my pace further when I realized that Deanna Paulson was standing behind a white stucco building, speaking with a dark-haired man. Stepping behind a smelly Dumpster so Deanna wouldn’t see me, I paused, my curiosity piqued by the expression of exasperation and furtiveness on her face.
“We weren’t careful enough,” Deanna said to the man, keeping her voice so low that I barely caught her words. “Mitch figured it out, and he wasn’t the only one.”
The man said something, but he was facing away from me and all I heard of his voice was a low rumble.
“No, we’re finished,” Deanna said, her words firm. “We all have our reputations to think about.”
The man’s voice rumbled indistinctly again. I peeked around the Dumpster and saw him reach out to touch Deanna’s face. She jerked away from his touch and stepped out of his reach.
“We’re done, Rex. My decision is final.”
I ducked quickly out of sight and broke into a jog. When I reached the next corner, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Deanna emerging from the alley, walking briskly, her mouth set in a thin line. Once I turned onto Main Street, I slowed to a walk again, checking the sign above the front of the white stucco building as I considered what I’d just witnessed.
Deanna and the dark-haired man had been standing near the back door of Dr. Rex Orman’s dental clinic. And considering that she’d called him by name, I had no doubt that the man with her was the dentist himself. I didn’t think I was jumping too far to conclude that Deanna and Dr. Orman were having an affair, one that Deanna had now brought to an end.
I glanced over my shoulder, in case Deanna was coming around the corner. I didn’t want her to see me lingering outside the dental clinic. She was nowhere in sight, but her son was. Gavin pushed his way out of the door of a small café and stormed down the street in my direction, a frown on his face. For a split second I worried he’d somehow seen me eavesdropping and was coming to confront me, but as he drew closer I realized he wasn’t looking at me. I wasn’t even sure if he was aware of my presence. He seemed caught up in his own world.
“Gavin,” I said as he almost strode past me.
He stopped short and focused on me for the first time. “Oh, hi…Marley.” His frown disappeared, but I got the sense he’d forced it away.
“Is that a good café?” I nodded at the small restaurant he’d just left.
He glanced back down the street. “I was just there visiting a friend who works in the kitchen, but yeah, it’s good.” He pushed his hair off of his forehead. “Sorry, I’ve got to be somewhere.” This time his smile seemed more genuine. “See you around.”
“ ’Bye.”
I watched him continue on down the street, wondering if he’d seen his mother with Dr. Orman from the kitchen of the café. That could explain his unhappy mood. Something else could too though, so I decided not to read too much into it.
Gavin now out of sight, I continued on my own way, taking my time as I walked along Wildwood Road toward home. Thinking back to the conversation I’d overheard between Deanna and her husband, I wondered if the affair was what she’d said she was sorry about. I also wondered if the Paulsons—or at least Deanna—had fallen victim to Ida’s blackmailing scheme. Taking the two conversations together, I thought there was a good chance that was the case.
When I reached home, I headed for the shower, still thinking as I massaged shampoo into my hair. If Ida was blackmailing a whole host of people, then every single one of her victims had a motive for wanting her dead. I’d identified three likely victims in addition to Chloe, but I had no idea how many more were out there, and there was always a chance that the killer was someone not on my list of suspects, someone I didn’t even know about.
With that frustrating thought still circling about in my head, I dressed and called the sheriff. When I got his voicemail, I left him a brief message, telling him that I believed Ida had been blackmailing Mr. Haynes as well as Kirk Jarvis, and possibly Deanna Paulson as well. I felt a twinge of guilt when I didn’t mention Chloe, but I kept my promise to her.
I couldn’t help but feel aggravated about the fact that I was no closer to identifying Ida’s killer. Even though I knew that the sheriff didn’t consider me a true suspect, my name hadn’t yet been officially cleared and Chloe could still end up under suspicion if anyone found out she was one of Ida’s blackmail victims. Aside from that, I didn’t like the thought of Ida’s killer on the loose. I might not have liked the woman, but she deserved justice, and the people of Wildwood Cove—myself included—wouldn’t be able to rest easy until the murderer was caught and locked away.
To have any hope of helping to make that happen, I needed more information. I needed to figure out which of my suspects belonged at the top of the list and which could be struck off it. At the moment, Melinda Haynes had the dubious honor of prime suspect in my mind, but there were still several other people to consider.
Kirk Jarvis was one of those people. If the rumors about his criminal activities were true, then perhaps it wasn’t such a stretch to think he was capable of taking violent action to eliminate his blackmailer. From my brief encounter with him, I knew he certainly wasn’t the jolliest of fellows. That didn’t make him a murderer, but I strongly suspected that he wouldn’t take kindly to threats from anyone.
Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to truly rest until I’d solved the puzzle of Ida’s murder, I decided to pay another visit to Kirk. I needed to know if he had an alibi for the morning of Ida’s death, or if he’d had an opportunity to kill her as well as a motive. I doubted that he’d be thrilled to have me show up at his shop to question him though, and the thought of doing so made me more than a little nervous, especially with my last encounter with Melinda still fresh in my mind.
I walked into town, but before reaching the junk shop, I paused outside the door to the law office where Lisa worked. Through the window, I could see her sitting at her desk, typing away on her computer. Deciding I wasn’t in a hurry to confront Kirk, I opted to pay my friend a visit.
“Hi, Marley,” Lisa said with a smile when she looked up and saw me. “What brings you here? Do you want an appointment with Mr. Ogilvie?”
Mr. Ogilvie had been my cousin Jimmy’s lawyer, and I’d met with him on several occasions since Jimmy’s death.
“No, I was just on my way by and wanted to say hi.”
Lisa glanced at the clock. “Are you busy? Because I could take an early lunch break if you want to get something to eat and hang out for a bit.”
“That sounds great,” I said.
“Okay, perfect. Give me two minutes.”
I waited in the reception area as Lisa typed another couple of lines and then disappeared into one of the inner offices to speak with her boss. When she emerged a moment later, she grabbed her purse and we were on our way. We decided to order our lunch from the fish-and-chips shop near the marina. Once we had our orders in hand, we settled on a bench that looked out over the water.
Tourists of all ages passed by us, some heading for the marina, others going in the opposite direction, toward the center of town. Seagulls circled overhead, crying out now and then, and the air smelled deliciously salty. Lisa and I dug into our meals of deep-fried cod and coleslaw. As we ate, we talked about her brother Carlos, who was undergoing treatment for drug addiction. I was glad to hear that so far he was sticking with the treatment program, something he’d failed to do in the past. I knew Lisa worried about him a lot, and it was nice to hear some hope in her voice when she spoke about him.
As we finished off our meals, Lisa asked about the state of the murder investigation. I filled her in on what little I knew about the official one, and then I told her what I’d learned through my own efforts, without mentioning Chloe.
“I need to find out if Kirk Jarvis has an alibi,” I said to wrap up.
“How are you going to do that?”
“Either by talking to him or talking to the guy who works in his store.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? From what you’ve told me, he probably won’t like anyone poking their nose into his business.”
“I know. That has crossed my mind, but I’m not sure how else to move forward.”
Lisa finished off her last bite of fish, swallowing before speaking. “Take Ivan with you.”
“Ivan?” I hadn’t expected that suggestion.
“What better bodyguard could you have? He’s tall, muscular, and scary.”
“Ivan’s not scary.” I caught Lisa’s skeptical expression. “Okay, he can be a little scary.”
“No one will dare hurt you when you’ve got him to back you up.”
“True.” While she was right about that, I wasn’t too sure about asking him for that kind of help, mostly because I didn’t think he’d be impressed by the fact that I was conducting my own investigation.
“Promise me you won’t go see Kirk by yourself. Seriously, Marley, I really don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I can’t argue with you there, so yes, I promise.”
Satisfied with my response, Lisa headed back to work. She walked toward Main Street while I perched on the top of a wooden fence, watching boats come and go as I’d done so many times during summers spent in Wildwood Cove.
With the hot sun warming my skin, I closed my eyes, taking a few minutes to simply enjoy the summer weather, the sounds of children laughing and seagulls calling, and the gentle, salty breeze. In time the heat of the day and my full stomach combined to make me drowsy, and I had to force myself to hop down from the fence and get moving. I didn’t know how Ivan would react if I asked him to accompany me on my trip to see Kirk, but there was only one way to find out. I knew which street Ivan lived on, but I couldn’t remember the house number, so I set a path for The Flip Side, where I had his address on file.
Once I had the information I needed, I walked back through the heart of town and into a residential neighborhood. It turned out that I’d jogged past Ivan’s place that morning without realizing it. He lived on Heron Drive, in a one-story cottage-like house nestled between two Victorians. The front yard was tidy, and the house looked as though it had received a fresh coat of white paint in the recent past.
I noted the presence of Ivan’s light blue classic VW bug at the curb in front of the house. Why such a large man had such a small car, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to question his choice. After opening the gate in the white picket fence, I followed the path to the front door, a flutter of nervousness making itself known in my stomach. Although I’d grown used to Ivan’s personality over the last few months, I would have been lying if I’d said I no longer found him intimidating. Still, I knew he was a good man, and the worst that could happen when I asked for his help was for him to say no.
Reminding myself of that fact, I pushed my nervousness aside and knocked on the front door. After a few seconds of silence, I was beginning to think he wasn’t home. But then I heard footsteps, and the door opened so quickly that I jumped in surprise.
“Hi, Ivan.” My smile was met by the chef’s usual glower.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in his gruff way.
“Nothing,” I hurried to assure him. “I just wanted to ask for your help with something.”
His dark eyes stayed on my face for another moment or two, but then he stepped back and opened the door wider.
I stepped into the foyer and looked around, not knowing what to expect. I’d never been able to picture what Ivan’s life might look like outside of The Flip Side, and I was surprised to find that the small house was tastefully decorated, with nice colors and furniture. However, I wasn’t surprised to see that the living room to my left was perfectly tidy, not a speck of dust in sight. Ivan was meticulous when it came to cleaning his kitchen at the pancake house, and I wouldn’t have expected anything less from him in his own home.
As I quickly studied the living room from where I stood, I noticed that Ivan didn’t have much in the way of knickknacks or personal mementos. Aside from a watercolor painting of the ocean hanging on the wall and a thriving potted plant in one corner, two framed photographs sat on the white mantel over the fireplace. They were too far away for me to see in detail, but one seemed to show an elderly couple and the other several young men dressed in combat gear.
Ivan’s parents and his buddies from the military, maybe?
I knew from Jimmy that Ivan had served in the military for years before becoming a chef, but that’s about all I knew about his past. It wasn’t as if he was the type to share his life’s story over a cup of coffee.
Ivan shut the door behind me and I had no more time to study the living room. He started off down a hallway toward the back of the house, and I figured I was supposed to follow him. I did so, soon finding myself in a small but bright and clean kitchen. The door to the backyard stood open, letting in the summer air, and the stainless-steel sink was filled with soapy water.
Ivan went straight to the sink and resumed the job I’d clearly interrupted. As he washed a plate and set it in the draining rack, I drew in a deep breath, gathering my courage.
“I’m pretty sure Ida was blackmailing Kirk Jarvis, the guy who owns the junk shop,” I said. “Actually, I think she might have been blackmailing several people, but I found what looked like part of a blackmail note addressed to Kirk shortly after I found Ida’s body.”
“Did you tell the sheriff?” Ivan asked as he pulled the stopper from the sink, letting the water drain away.
“Yes, but there are a lot of people who might have wanted Ida dead, and I need to find out if Kirk has an alibi. I’m a little worried about how he might react if I ask him questions, so I was wondering if you could go with me.”
For several seconds, all that could be heard was the glugging of the last of the water draining out of the sink. Then Ivan grabbed a towel, drying his hands as he turned to face me.
“Asking questions could be dangerous.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t want to go alone.”
Ivan scowled at me, but since that was a typical expression for him, I couldn’t tell if he was unimpressed with me or simply thinking. He hung the towel on the handle of the oven door before saying anything more.
“It’s not wise, but you’ll still go.”
Even though it wasn’t a question, I felt compelled to reply.
“Yes. I need to figure things out. I can’t relax until Ida’s killer is off the streets. And until my name is cleared, our livelihoods could be at risk.”
I did my best not to squirm beneath his dark gaze, but I wasn’t entirely successful. I waited, still not knowing whether he’d agree to help me. Just as I was beginning to think he was going to stare at me all day, he crossed the kitchen and picked up a hummingbird feeder, freshly filled by the look of it. He stepped out onto the back porch and hung the feeder from a metal hook. I watched him from the doorway, noticing that he had two other feeders out in his yard, one filled with sunflower seeds and the other with mixed birdseed.
When Ivan turned around, I quickly stepped out of the way so he could come back in through the door. He shut and locked it behind him, and then he was off, striding toward the front of the house.
“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed, resonating through the house.
I hurried after him, and by the time we reached Kirk’s junk shop, I was uncomfortably hot from my efforts to keep up with Ivan’s long, brisk strides. He held the shop door open for me, and I stepped into the dim interior. Before my eyes had even had a chance to adjust, I was tempted to turn around and leave. Without air-conditioning, the store was stuffy and sweltering. I could practically feel myself wilting away.
Resisting the temptation to escape from the store, I approached the counter. It was with a mixture of relief and wariness that I realized Kirk himself was behind the counter this time. He was seated on a stool, his attention focused on his smart phone. When I stopped in front of him, Ivan behind my right shoulder, he looked up.
“Can I help you?” He didn’t sound too interested in whether he could or not.
“I was hoping to ask you a few questions,” I said, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible.
“What kind of questions?” Kirk’s eyes narrowed with recognition. “Wait a second. You were in here the other day.”
“That’s right.”
He stood up and shoved his phone into the pocket of his shorts. “I’m closing up for my lunch break.”
Realizing that he was trying to escape, I didn’t waste any more time. “Where were you on the morning of Ida Winkler’s death?”
Kirk froze and slowly returned his gaze to me. “Who the hell are you to ask me that?” His voice was low and menacing now.
Ivan took a step closer to me, and Kirk didn’t miss the movement. His eyes shifted to the chef, and his thunderous expression faltered, although only slightly.
“I’m trying to figure out who killed her,” I explained.
He refocused on me. “And you think I did it? Get out of my store.”
I didn’t move. “Ida was blackmailing you, and that gives you a motive. But she was blackmailing other people as well. If you have an alibi, that would narrow the field of suspects.”
Kirk let out a string of swearwords. In my peripheral vision, I saw Ivan fold his muscular arms across his broad chest. The shop owner looked from me to the chef, then back to me.
He swore again, but then said, “I was here in my store from eight o’clock onward. Ask Jake if you want to be nosy. He’ll back me up.”
“Your employee?” Ivan asked.
Kirk nodded. “Jake Fitzpatrick.”
“Can anyone else confirm your story?” I asked, not convinced that his employee wouldn’t lie for him.
Kirk leaned across the counter, pointing a finger at me. “Listen here—”
Ivan cut him off. “Answer the question.”
The shop owner’s nostrils flared, but he dropped his finger. “A couple of people were in and out early that morning. I gave their names to the sheriff. He’s already asked me these questions. And like I told him, I don’t need an alibi because I didn’t have a reason to kill the crazy woman.”
“But she was blackmailing you,” I said.
“That’s what I thought too. At first, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“I mean,” Kirk said as he continued to glower at me, “Ida Winkler wasn’t the one blackmailing me.”