Murder at the Rusty Anchor

I moseyed on toward my shop. I was so relieved Tim hadn’t hurt his ankle worse than he had. He knew how to take care of himself, as evidenced by sitting while he worked. And I knew he’d ask for assistance if he needed it, as he had by requesting that Isaac bake the anniversary cake. I hadn’t even asked him about flavors. The cake would be heavenly whether it was white with lemon or a super-triple-dark chocolate. Knowing Tim, he probably already knew what Mom and Pa’s favorite cake was, or he’d asked my grandma.

Nearing Mac’s Bikes, I slowed at the sight of Zane about to unlock his store across the street. Did I have time for one more detour? Sure.

I crossed over. “Good morning, Zane.”

He jerked, dropping his key, and whirled. “Mac, you startled me.”

“Sorry.” He was not his usual dapper self. His bow tie was askew, and part of a shirttail hung untucked.

“What’s bothering you, my friend?” I kept my tone gentle. “You haven’t been around, and it seems like the last time we spoke, you were avoiding my gaze as well as my questions. Is everything okay?”

“Not at all,” he whispered. “Almost nothing is okay.” He fumbled on the ground for the key, but his hand shook when he tried to insert it into the lock.

“Let me.” I held out my palm and waited for the key, then easily opened the door.

He stepped in. “Thanks, Mac. Come in, and please lock the door behind you.”

I followed him inside, turning the dead bolt once I was in. He kept going, into the back, so I did, too. I’d only ever been in the retail section. Behind the Employees Only door were shelves and stacks of boxes with labels indicating all kinds of wines and spirits. Cases of beer paraded in rows, and the cool air was scented with hops. A counter against the wall appeared to be dedicated to shipping. Unlike many storerooms, in here the walls were painted a pale yellow, and framed posters from quilt shows decorated bare stretches of wall.

I joined Zane in a small office, where he sank onto a swivel chair at a desk.

“Have a seat.” He pressed his hands together between his knees and rocked.

I handed him his bunch of keys, then sat on the other chair. “Is there a problem with the babies, Zane?”

“What?” He stopped his back-and-forth rocking. “No. As far as we know, the pregnancy is healthy. The twins have good weight gain and strong heartbeats.”

“That must be a relief.”

“Yes, naturally.”

I waited, but all he did was rock. “Zane? Please tell me what’s going on.”

He raised his gaze. “The babies are fine. It’s our friend, the mom, where the problem lies.”

“Is she sick?” I hoped she wasn’t an addict like Jamie.

“No. Leilani is fine,” he said. “I mean, it’s not her exactly, but you’re not going to believe who her sister is.”

How long was he going to drag this out? I loved Zane, but I also had a shop to open. I cleared my throat. “Try me.”

“Her sister is Sita. Sita Spencer.”

Whoa. I sat back. “Did you know that earlier in the week when we met?”

“No.” He kneaded his hands as he gazed at me with troubled eyes. “Mac, what if our babies’ auntie is a murderer?”

“That would be dreadful.” I leaned forward and laid my hand on his knee. “But as long as the mom—what did you say her name was?”

“What a beautiful name. Anyway, as long as Leilani had nothing to do with the homicide, everything will be fine for her and for the twins. But tell me, did you pick up some new information to make you think Sita was involved in Byrne’s death?”

“Maybe.” He wrapped his arms around himself.

“What does ‘maybe’ mean?”

“Yesterday Stephen and I went to Leilani’s house to pick her up so we could all go to her midwife appointment together. Sita and Carl were coming out of her house together, and they were arguing. I couldn’t help overhearing. When Carl realized I might have heard him, I tell you his glare could have nailed me to the wall. It was terrifying, Mac. Nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

“What exactly did he say to her?” I asked.

“As far as I could hear, it was him saying they couldn’t leave, that they’d be fine if they stayed, that nobody had anything on them. Sita seemed super worried, though.”

“I don’t really know why he was glaring at me. We didn’t hear any details at all.”

I thought the problem was that Carl didn’t know how much Zane and Stephen had heard. He might have assumed they’d picked up more than they had.

“We waited until those two left. When Leilani came out of the house, she told me Sita was her older sister.”

“She must be much older, if Leilani is of childbearing age.”

“She is. I only hope Sita isn’t doing anything to upset Leilani. We need her to be calm and happy so the twins don’t pick up any bad vibes.”

I smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Zane. Those little ones are sheltered and cushioned in there. They’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks for listening, Mac.” He sat up straight and relaxed his shoulders. “I feel so much better getting all that off my chest. Stephen thinks I’m fretting for no reason.”

“And you probably are. But don’t go walking through any dark alleys, okay?”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t venture into a dark alley under any conditions.”

“Good. And keep your doors locked.” I stood. “Now, I have to open my shop, and so do you.”

A quick hug later, I was out the door and on the sidewalk. Except now I was the one fretting on Zane’s behalf.

My destination was only yards away, across the street. The back of my neck prickled. Why? I glanced all around. It definitely felt as if I was being watched. I couldn’t see anyone lurking. Tourists strolled past the shops holding covered cups of hot drinks. A cycling club whirred by in matching neon-pink shirts. A big pickup full of lobster traps clunked over a pothole. Was there a person clandestinely peeking around a corner at me?

I squared my shoulders and checked for traffic. As soon as I crossed and put a foot on the curb, I spun around. Nope. I still couldn’t see the cause of my goose bumps. I was in somebody’s sights, and I didn’t like it.