CHAPTER EIGHT
AT THE APPRAISAL OFFICE, Harry was sympathetic. “I’m so sorry you had to find him, Jolie. Madge is beside herself. What if you had run into the person who killed him?”
I turned on my computer. “I’ve thought about that.”
“You didn’t see anyone else?”
“Nope. No car in the parking lot. I can’t imagine where Aaron parked.”
Harry pointed to his computer monitor. “I looked up his name in a couple of property databases. He owns at least three multi-family properties in town, but they aren’t big. Four or five apartments each, conversions from larger homes. It looks as if he lived in the one at F Street and Conch.”
“So, he could’ve walked over. It’s only four blocks.”
Harry nodded. “Not a long walk. Most people would drive, especially at night, but maybe he wanted some exercise.”
I thought about that. “Or didn’t want Natalie to see his car pull up.”
“She didn’t expect him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so, but she and I didn’t really talk. Police had us in separate rooms.”
“Like TV,” he murmured.
“Guess so. I haven’t read the article George wrote. Have you?”
He nodded. “I emailed you the link.”
I opened the Ocean Alley Press article. George must have burned up the phone lines for a few hours before he wrote.
Commercial property owner Aaron Taylor was found dead inside the Sand and Sea Daycare Center at approximately eight PM Wednesday evening. He did not appear to have been dead very long.
I stopped reading. For George, the wording was imprecise. Likely I was the source of the time the body was found.
Members of the center’s board were to gather for a quickly-called 8:30 PM meeting to discuss a proposed sales contract to purchase the building at the corner of Main and Seashore in Ocean Alley.
In several conversations with parents of children who attended the center, its director, Natalie Fremont, had told them that she had no plans to sell or close the center. However, because the offer she received was a fair one, she wanted to gauge parents’ reactions to a possible relocation.
Fremont worked late, and went home to let her dog out about 7:30 PM. When she returned about 8:10, she found rescue and police vehicles in the parking lot. Upon learning about the discovery of Taylor’s body, she briefly required medical attention herself.
Taylor was a co-owner of the property, along with Fremont (who owned half), Frank Fitzpatrick (best known as the owner of the salt water taffy store on the boardwalk), and retired businesswoman Sylvia Parrett. Taylor had not been expected to be at the Sand and Sea Center yesterday evening.
The unsolicited sales offer came from Seashore Boutique Hotels, a limited liability corporation. It is said to include several partners, though only one signature -- that of Benjamin Butterfield – was on the proposed offer. Butterfield could not be located for comment.
A local real estate agent disclosed that Butterfield has been in Ocean Alley in search of a lot for a small hotel. Plans were to tear down the daycare center to build a four-story, thirty-room inn. Officials at the Economic Development Office had been providing information to Mr. Butterfield, but were not available for comment as this story was prepared.
The Press is not providing the name of the individual who discovered Taylor’s body until the Ocean Alley Police release that information.
Parents of children who attend Sand and Sea Daycare were shocked to learn of the apparent murder in a place they believed to be safe for their children. One mother, who asked not to be named, said that she had, “No idea people who did not work there could easily enter the building.” She planned to learn more about future security precautions before returning her child to the center’s care.
This story will be updated.
I supposed I should be grateful my name did not appear in the article. It would be in one, eventually.
Even though he no longer works as a reporter, when he smells a story, George Winters remains like a dog who needs to bury a bone. He has to dig.
Probably that was why he became a private investigator after being fired from the Press. Scoobie thinks the editor regrets having let him go, which is why he asks George to do some freelance stories from time to time. Of course, George brought this one to him unsolicited.
I glanced at Harry. “Does George know that Butterfield is staying at the Cozy Corner?”
“Doubt it. He hasn’t pestered Madge or me.”
I leaned back in my desk chair. “Natalie was mad at Aaron. She said she brought him into the Sand and Sea building purchase, and he was her friend. She thought his cooperation with Butterfield wasn’t right.”
“Huh. I doubt there’s a law against it, but I’m not sure it meets my smell test for a current owner to work with another firm making a bid for a building – without bringing the other owners into the discussion.”
“He’d certainly have a lot of inside information about Sand and Sea’s mortgage and probably overall financial footing. Might make somebody furious that he took advantage, but mad enough to kill him?”
Harry’s eyebrows went up. “You actually think Natalie would do that?”
“Not really, but…I found him at her desk. If he hadn’t expected to see someone else, wouldn’t he have gotten up? If it was a burglar, maybe even knocked over a chair or something?”
“Hard to say. I wasn’t going to ask, but could you tell how he died?”
I shook my head. “His body leaned over the desk, and I think the blood I saw came from his head. I suppose it could have come from his shoulder. I didn’t…really hang around much.”
“I should hope not.”
My cell phone chirped and I looked at it. “Scoobie. Probably checking on me.”
Harry nodded and turned back to his keyboard.
“Yo, Jolie. Everything go okay when you took the juice and graham crackers to First Prez?”
“Yep. Lance was engrossed in coloring books and didn’t even notice me. They know the place so well, it looked to me as if Leah thought she was a tour guide.”
“Sounds like her. How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better, but I’m at the office with Harry now. That’s good.”
“Hear anything about whether the center will open tomorrow?” he asked.
“No, but that reminds me to ask Morehouse if they’ll let people in. Oh, he asked me to stop by this morning.” I relayed our conversation.
“I remember you told me about overhearing that.” He lowered his voice. “I heard that Natalie and Aaron used to date, but they broke up about six months ago.”
“Whoa. She never mentioned that.”
“Not that it’s our business. You don’t think she did it, do you?”
I thought about that for the umpteenth time. “Can’t imagine it. Aaron went in there with someone on the staff, unless he had a key. I suppose she could have left a door open and someone came in after he did. It’s just…odd that he would have settled into her office like that.”
Scoobie didn’t say anything for several seconds. “If he didn’t know she’d called a meeting, he could have figured she left for the night and gone in to look for something.”
“I hadn’t really focused on his perspective.” I sighed. “I need to stop thinking about it.”
“Yeah. Let me know if you find out about tomorrow. Can you stay home with the kids if the center’s closed tomorrow?”
I glanced at Harry. “I think the man I work with would let me work at home tomorrow.”
Harry kept his eyes on his computer, but he grinned as I hung up. “Probably the man’s wife would want your children to visit so she could give them a hug.”
I CALLED SYLVIA PARRETT about ten-thirty. I didn’t understand why she’d never told us she owned part of the center’s building. Not that I planned to ask such a blunt question.
“Jolie. I’m glad to hear from you. I’ve been worried about you since Sergeant Johnson called early this morning. I stopped by Java Jolt. Megan says you should call her if you need anything.”
“Thanks. It was a shock, but I’m okay. I’m glad today isn’t a distribution day at the pantry. Did you hear the kids are over there?”
“I thought you might be there, so I stopped by. Father Teehan and Reverend Jamison were acting out ‘The Little Train that Could’ for the kids. You know how they always try to one-up each other.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Did the twins seem okay?”
“Oh, yes. Lance was pretending to be the train.” She didn’t miss a beat. “I suppose you want to know why I never mentioned being a partner for the purchase of the building.”
“Curious, but I assumed you had your reasons for not talking about it.”
“Dana called me because I’m on the loan, but I couldn’t tell her anything about Aaron Taylor. You know Frank Fitzpatrick, he owns the salt water taffy store. He and Aaron wanted to do twenty-five percent each, but Aaron was stretched pretty thin with some other properties. Frank didn’t exactly say so, but I think they thought I’d put up some money but not be too involved.”
“That was…good of you. Sergeant Morehouse’s nephew, Kevin, used to work at the salt water taffy store.”
“Yes, Terry’s friend. It was only ten thousand dollars. Frank and I used to play bridge. Somehow, he knew Aaron and Natalie Fremont.”
She hadn’t told me anything useful. “Did you know Aaron well?”
“I didn’t actually meet him until the closing. He’s quite charming, but he never struck me as very genuine. He certainly didn’t deserve to be killed.”
I thought of George’s comment that Aaron could stab someone in the back. “Of course not. I heard he owned a few small apartment buildings.”
Harry cleared his throat. I glanced at him and he shook a finger at me.
“Oh, yes. He tried to get me to invest with him in another one. I had to tell him no several times before he stopped calling.”
“Sylvia Parrett, real estate mogul.” I stuck my tongue out at Harry. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to go in with him on this deal.”
“I met his Mr. Butterfield at Arnie’s Diner. Very overdressed.”
I laughed. “He’s staying with Madge and Harry.”
“He mentioned that. You should tell Madge he was implying that she agreed with the idea of him tearing down the daycare center and building a hotel.”
“Oh, she won’t like that.”
Harry turned in his chair, eyebrows up. I covered the phone and mouthed, “In a minute.”
“On another topic, Jolie. I think we need to raise some money for Harvest for All before Thanksgiving.”
“You’re right. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it. Do we need to do more than solicit donations and do a can drive?”
“Since the pandemic, we have so many more customers. Scoobie can be in charge of it. You have too much else to do.”
“You sure you trust him to pick the type of event?”
“Tell him no hotdog eating contests or cornhole tosses.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t want Sylvia thinking of any more tasks for Scoobie or me. “I should probably get back to work.”
“Will I see you at Harvest for All Tomorrow?”
“It depends on whether I have the kids all day.”
“I see.” Sylvia hung up.
“What won’t Madge like?” Harry asked.
“Apparently your B&B guest is letting people think Aunt Madge approves of the Sand and Sea location as the site of a new hotel.”
“He better watch it or he’ll be on the street.”
I WENT HOME AT one o’clock Thursday to put chicken in the crock pot. While I did, I put my phone on speaker and called Megan at Java Jolt. “Is your lunch rush over?”
“Jolie. I’m glad to hear from you. Wish I could call it a rush. We still aren’t back to full business. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Not much to tell. Thanks to George, most of it was in the paper. I’ll stop by for coffee in the next day or two. We may have to figure out what to do with the kids for a few days.”
“I’ll tell Alicia to email you her schedule. You know how much she loves your kids.”
“Great. I may take her up on that.”
When I got the chicken in the pot, I headed to city hall to see if Aunt Madge was in her office. I wanted to know whether Benjamin Butterfield had let her know he was using her name in vain, so to speak. I also wondered what she thought of him, and didn’t think it a good idea to ask her that at the B&B.
Aunt Madge’s job as mayor is part ceremonial, part ambassador for new business, and part cheerleader for the town. She chairs the town council, but a city manager handles the administrative duties and supervises most of the staff. She says Hank Godfrey is worth every dime the city pays him.
She was in her office, a three-ring binder open in front of her. I knocked on the door jamb, taking in her light red hair, which changes color monthly. “Is the mayor available?”
She stood to give me a hug. “Goodness. Such a shock.” She held me at arm’s length. “You don’t look too bad.”
“Thanks. You don’t look too old.”
“I’m the youngest eighty-plus mayor you’ll ever meet.” She pointed to a chair at the small conference table. “Harry told me Sylvia said my name is being bandied about as approving tearing down Sand and Sea for a new hotel.”
“That’s what she said. You don’t, do you?”
She sat across from me. “It wouldn’t take a zoning change, but construction would be very disruptive. Aside from wanting a daycare center downtown, I’d hate to see it get built and fail. Tanya says it would probably need constant full occupancy to be profitable.”
I smiled. “Unlike the Cozy Corner?”
“I don’t have a mortgage. Harry and I have the place on automatic pilot most of the time.”
And they did. Aunt Madge received a small salary as mayor, and she used most of it to pay for services she used to do herself. She hired a laundry service and a weekly cleaning crew, though she still changed the guests’ sheets and kept the breakfast room ship-shape herself. With Harry’s help, of course.
“Are you going to tell him not to imply your endorsement?”
“I’ll find a way to let him know. I’m not sure why he’s still in town. Seems as if any sale negotiations would be on hold for a good while.”
“Where does he live?”
“You know, he’s kind of vague about that. I should probably make people show a driver’s license. He said Cape May, New Jersey, but for all I know he could be from Timbuktu.”
“Do you know who his other partners were? Or are?”
“He was ambiguous, deliberately, I thought.”
I decided not to mention Maureen Wintergreen. “He’s hiding something.”
She shrugged. “It seems that way, but I suppose he thinks of it as protecting an investment idea.”
“I haven’t looked him up. I’ll at least do a Google search.”
For once, she didn’t tell me to mind my own business.