Taking a detour on my walk home, I headed for the waterfront. Right off the boardwalk, a long wooden building housed several businesses, including Julie’s store, Bookwaves.
Peering into the picture window of the bookstore, I saw only silent shelves and shadows and remembered Julie’s comment about the store being closed on Mondays. So much for a chance to talk with her again in person.
I strolled along the boardwalk, appreciating the bright splashes of color the flowers in the over-the-rail flower boxes lent to the grayed timber railing that separated the walkway from the boat slips. As usual, the harbor was filled with boats of all types and sizes, from small dinghies to sailboats boasting towering masts. The Rowleys’ yacht, the Celestial, was docked at the end of one wharf. Its pristine white hull glittered in the bright sunlight, outshone only by the chrome fittings. Indigo and turquoise stripes swept from bow to stern in an undulating pattern that mimicked the waves.
Leaning on the top rail for a moment, I wondered how it would feel to have enough money to buy something so beautiful—and so expensive to maintain. I supposed owning a yacht was like most things—if you had to ask how much it would cost, you couldn’t afford it.
Not that I had any reason to complain, since I owned property that was worth over a million dollars. Yet I was almost always short on cash. I pushed a lock of hair behind my ears. That wouldn’t be the case if I sold Chapters, of course. I could make a great deal of money, and without a mortgage to pay off, it would all be profit.
But I had no intention of doing that. Great-Aunt Isabella had bequeathed me the bed-and-breakfast for some reason. Perhaps because she’d realized that, since I was widowed and childless, I’d be the one family member willing to uproot their life to move to Beaufort.
Or maybe, I thought, as I turned away from the railing and resumed walking, it was that conversation I had with her after Brent’s funeral. When she caught me in my old kitchen, weeping silently, unable to continue to make small talk with the people who’d come to pay their respects.
When she told me that what I needed was a new start, somewhere far from the home I’d shared with my husband. When she said that sometimes you have to reinvent yourself in order to survive.
I thrust my hands into the pockets of my shorts, allowing my purse, swinging from its shoulder strap, to bang against my thigh. Isabella had been over ninety at that point, yet she was still talking about new beginnings. I only hoped I could remain as positive throughout my life.
Reaching the end of the boardwalk, I crossed Front Street and walked a couple more blocks to reach another side street. Since I couldn’t talk to Julie, I decided to stop by the Dancing Dolphin café and question Pete and Sandy Nelson about what they’d seen at the costume party.
Of course, I reminded myself, you need to be careful. Pete is still on the suspect list.
But he wasn’t at the top of my list, and even if he had been, I doubted he’d take any action during daylight hours, especially with Sandy present. Reaching the old house that had been converted into the Dancing Dolphin, I realized that since it was past two o’clock, the café would be closed. But since Pete and Sandy lived above the restaurant, they might still be at home.
I walked around to the wooden staircase that hugged the side of the house. Having visited Pete and Sandy before, I knew the staircase led to the upper level of the building, where they’d created a spacious apartment.
Knocking on the peacock-blue door, which matched the house’s wooden hurricane shutters, I considered the best way to broach the subject of whom they’d seen where at the party. I knew Pete had been in the house, arguing with Damian in the kitchen, right before I left, but he had headed back outside before I went to get the ice. So I hoped that either he or Sandy could tell me more about the movements of the other guests while I was gone.
Sandy answered the door. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?” she asked, wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing over her T-shirt and shorts.
“Sorry. I was out walking and thought I’d stop by. Just to talk through some stuff related to the party.”
“To the murder, you mean.” Sandy opened the door wider and motioned for me to enter. “I guess that’s been on all of our minds a little more than we’d like.”
As I walked into the apartment, a blast of cold air from a nearby vent washed over me. “Big change from outside,” I said, clutching my upper arms with both hands to quell a sudden shiver.
“Oh, I know. Pete keeps it so cool in here. He says he needs that after standing in a hot kitchen most of the day, but I think he just likes it cold.” Sandy shook her head as she directed me to one of the fan-backed wicker rockers in the living room. “I tell him all the time he’d be better off in Antarctica than Beaufort, but he just says there isn’t much call for a café there.” Sandy flashed me a smile as she headed for the kitchen.
I sat down, allowing my gaze to wander. The Nelsons had removed most of the walls on this upper floor, creating an open-concept living space. A wide island, with bar stools creating seating along one edge, separated the large, white-on-white-toned kitchen from the dining and living areas. Everything was meticulously clean and bright, with only a few decorative elements lending color to the rooms. I knew from previous visits that beyond the kitchen lay a large bedroom with an en suite bathroom, as well as a guest bathroom and an office that doubled as a guest bedroom.
A perfect amount of space for two people, especially since these two people spent much of their time working in the café below. I sighed, again coveting the coziness of the space. Like the Sandberg sisters’ cottage, this setup was more to my liking than my much older, rambling house. But, I reminded myself, Chapters is your business, not just your private home. Even if Isabella did live there, all alone, for many years before she converted it into a bed-and-breakfast.
That was something I found hard to imagine. When filled with guests, Chapters didn’t feel too large and echoing, but when no one was there … I set my purse on the polished wood floor beside my chair. At least in the slow winter months, I had Alicia living at the bed-and-breakfast with me. We didn’t share a lot of confidences, but she was another human being I could talk to from time to time. For many years, Isabella had been totally alone.
Or was she? I forced a smile as Sandy returned with a glass of water.
“You want anything else, you just ask,” she said, pulling up another wicker chair to face me. “And Pete will be out in a minute. He was taking a little nap. He needs that sometimes, after the lunch rush.”
“I can imagine,” I said, after taking a sip of the water. “It’s hard work, running any type of restaurant.”
“Yes, but we love it. Usually.” Sandy settled in her chair. “Although I sometimes wonder how long we’ll be able to keep up the pace. We’re only in our mid-fifties now, so it isn’t too tough, but as I told Pete, I don’t plan to be doing this when I’m in my seventies.”
“And who do you think will take it over?” Pete appeared in the doorway to the master bedroom, rubbing at his right eye with one finger. “Neither Shawna nor Liza will likely move here to run a café.”
“No, of course not. They have their own families to think about now.” Sandy leaned forward, and added in a conspiratorial tone, “Second grandchild is due in the fall. Liza this time. We’re thrilled, of course.”
“That’s nice. I guess it’s a time for such news. I just found out my younger sister’s wife is having a baby too.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Sandra said, clapping her hands.
“When I talked to her the other evening, Mel sounded so happy. She’s been waiting a long time for this, so she’s thrilled. As are my parents, of course.” I waited until Pete had taken a seat in the rocker next to mine before diving into my inquiry. “Changing the subject to something less pleasant, I just wanted to check with you both about a few things.”
Pete shot me a sharp glance. “About the party?”
“Yes. I know you don’t have all the answers, but I thought perhaps you’d seen something that might help me understand the situation better.” I lifted my shoulders in a what can you do? gesture. “I have to live with some of the guests, you know. I’d like to be sure I’m not under the same roof as a murderer.”
Sandy shared a look with her husband. “Well, as to that, we are a bit concerned for you, honestly.”
“Why’s that?” I took a long swallow of water before setting my tumbler on the glass-topped wicker table next to my chair.
“That Scott Kepler fellow,” Pete said. “He’s still at Chapters, right?”
“Yes, and in the house proper now, since the carriage house isn’t available.”
Pete drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. “That’s … unfortunate, in my opinion.”
“What do you mean? Surely you don’t suspect Scott of being the killer.”
“He doesn’t seem like the type, but”—Sandy twisted the hem of her apron between her fingers—“we’ve just wondered, because Pete says he saw Scott arrive back at Chapters some time before he said he did.”
I sat up, swinging the rockers of my chair so far forward that I had to slam my heels against the floor to stop their movement. “You did?”
“Yeah.” Pete scratched at the side of his nose; his gaze focused on the string of cobalt-blue glass balls caught up in a fisherman’s net that hung on the opposite wall. “I heard him tell the police he had just arrived back at the carriage house right before he discovered Lincoln Delamont’s body. But I saw him messing around the side of the carriage house at least ten minutes before that.”
“Near the old garden bin?” I asked, recalling Alicia’s mention of the trench coat and hat found stuffed in it.
“Looked like it. I couldn’t really see what he was doing, ’cause those hollies blocked the view, but I did see him walk back there and then heard something like a door opening. Might’ve been the lid to that storage box, I guess.”
I sank back against the back of the rocker. “But he was on the property at least a little while before he claimed he was?”
“Yep. And then there’s the stuff we heard him saying once.” Pete turned to look at his wife. “You remember that conversation, don’t you, Sandy?”
“Like it was yesterday,” she replied. “Although I guess it was a year or so ago now.” She met my inquisitive gaze with a little lift of her chin. “We weren’t eavesdropping or anything. It’s just that Scott has been a regular customer at the Dolphin when he’s in town. While we don’t claim him as a friend, we have chatted a few times when he was getting breakfast or lunch.”
“What did he say that makes you think he might have had some hand in Lincoln Delamont’s death?”
“It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it. He mentioned Delamont, you see, and not in flattering terms.” Sandy released her grip on her apron and smoothed the wrinkled fabric over her knees.
“Really ticked off, is what she means,” Pete said. “Lots of anger in his tone.”
“Because Lincoln swindled his dad?”
Pete gave me the side-eye. “That was it. How did you know?”
“He mentioned something about it to me. Just briefly,” I said, considering my next words. “Did he say anything threatening?”
“Not really. That Delamont fellow had simply stopped by to pick up a sandwich he’d ordered over the phone, so he wasn’t in the Dolphin long. But Kepler spied him at the register and asked who he was. I guess he maybe had an inkling of what the guy looked like, or something. When Sandy told him it was a visitor who was a bookdealer, Kepler lost his temper just like that.” Pete snapped his fingers.
Sandy nodded. “It was like night and day. I was chatting with Mr. Kepler and thought he was very pleasant; then as soon as I said bookdealer, he sat up and slammed his fist onto the table.” She fanned her face with one hand. “Scared me to death.”
“I poked my head out of the kitchen after I heard the bang and noticed Kepler’s face. He looked so enraged, I headed over to his booth.” Pete gave his wife a little smile. “Had to protect my girl, you know.”
Sandy waved this comment off. “Oh, I knew I wasn’t in any real danger. Mr. Kepler calmed down quickly, but not before he said a few things about Lincoln Delamont being a swindler and crook.”
Pete leaned forward, clasping his hands together on his knees. “Yeah, but that initial anger was pretty dramatic. We’ve wondered, ever since the other night, if maybe Kepler had it in for Delamont, and used the confusion of the party to kill him.”
“Which makes us worry a bit about him staying at Chapters with you and Alicia and poor Mrs. Delamont and her daughter still there,” Sandy said.
“Oh, I don’t know. I can’t picture Scott Kepler as a killer.” I fiddled with a loose piece of wicker poking out of the arm of the rocker. Even though he admitted he laid some of the blame for his father’s death at Lincoln’s door … I shook my head to clear this thought. While it was true that Scott had a motive, so did others. Perhaps even Pete Nelson.
“Did you know him, then? Lincoln Delamont, I mean,” I asked, fixing Pete with an intense stare. “Had you encountered him in Beaufort before?”
“A few times. He visited several times over the past few years, and had a few meals at the Dolphin before. Not always alone,” Sandy added, with a swift glance at Pete.
“With a woman. Well, different women, actually,” Pete said.
“Anyone you recognized?” I asked, thinking of Julie.
“No, they weren’t locals,” Pete said, speaking so rapidly that I wondered if he was telling the truth. “Or if they were, they weren’t ones who often frequented our café.”
Sandy shifted her feet. She looked so uncomfortable, I decided not to press her about whether they’d ever seen Julie lunching with Lincoln at the Dancing Dolphin. “Never his wife and daughter, though?”
Pete wrinkled his nose and sniffed, as if the thought of Lincoln’s behavior disgusted him. “Nope.”
“We didn’t even know he was married, much less had a child, until the other night,” Sandy said. “He was either alone or with some woman or another. Ones we didn’t know,” she added, a little too quickly.
“A real ladies’ man.” Pete’s expression darkened to a glower.
I glanced over at him, curious at his obvious distaste for Lincoln’s behavior. Of course, it wasn’t praiseworthy, but I was sure Pete had encountered many other less-than-honorable men in the course of running his restaurant. Why did Lincoln’s behavior disgust him so?
“When did you first see him in Beaufort?” I asked as a thought flashed through my mind.
“About five years ago, I guess,” Sandy said. “I remember Liza talking about him once, and she’s been gone for around three years.” Sandy looked at me with a smile. “She only worked at the Dolphin over the summers until she finished college. Then she moved on to bigger things.”
Pete stirred in his chair. “I think she only met him the once.”
I cast him a side-eyed glance. I’d never met Liza, but I knew from photographs that she was a lovely girl. Although I remembered Ellen commenting that she had been a bit wild, at least until she’d left Beaufort to marry a naval officer.
Just the sort of girl Lincoln Delamont might’ve hit on, despite their age difference. I surreptitiously studied Pete, noting the tension in his jaw. I knew Pete was very protective of his girls. Had Lincoln incurred Pete’s wrath by messing around with his daughter? There had been something in Ellen’s voice when she had mentioned Liza that had made me wonder if there was more to the girl’s story than just a little natural teenage rebellion.
And Julie had mentioned a woman who’d contacted her to warn about Lincoln’s proclivity for violence. It was entirely possible that Liza had seen Julie dining with Lincoln at the Dolphin during one of her visits home. Was Liza one of Lincoln’s former girlfriends?
Victims, I thought. And if Lincoln had mistreated Liza in any way, that alone could have been Pete’s motive for killing the man. I tightened my lips and decided to ask Ellen to share more, if she knew it, about Pete’s daughter’s past.
Sandy, who seemed oblivious to this undercurrent, stood. “Sure I can’t get you something else to drink? Or a snack?”
“No, no.” I grabbed my purse and rose to my feet. “I should be getting along anyway. I know you must be tired, and I need to think about helping Alicia with some dinner for our guests.” I twitched my lips into a semblance of a smile. “There’s not many of them left, so I thought we’d offer some additional meals, if they’re interested.”
We said good-bye and I beat a hasty retreat, my mind racing with thoughts of Scott or Pete as the killer. Either one might have had a motive and opportunity, I thought, as I descended the stairs to the street.
I definitely needed to discuss my latest information, and my suppositions, with Ellen. Maybe she could help me make sense of it all.
Or maybe, I thought, setting off at a fast pace for Chapters, there is no sense to it at all. Maybe I’m just chasing an imaginary butterfly, like Shandy often does. Running in circles that lead nowhere.
I thrust back my shoulders as I reached my block. I couldn’t let my muddled thoughts derail my pursuit of the truth, especially if I could help Julie in any way. My sleuthing was still worth the chase, despite all the dead ends and detours.