CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I HEADED FOR THE boardwalk. The Friday afternoon temperature had warmed to fifty degrees. With no breeze to cool the air, it felt more like spring than fall.

Java Jolt is in the opposite direction from Ramona’s gallery, and I enjoyed the brisk trek along the wooden walkway. Part of me longed for the days when I jogged on the boardwalk two or three times a week. The other part of me says I get more exercise pushing a stroller with the twins.

“Jolie!”

I turned to see George approaching from behind me. “What are you up to?”

“Looking for you. You must have your phone off.”

I stopped in front of a closed souvenir shop and pulled it from my pocket. “It’s on, but I had the ringer off when I did an appraisal.” I pushed the volume button up and resumed walking. “Why are you looking for me here?”

George fell into step with me. “Harry said you finished a house visit. I figured you for coffee.”

“I hate being predictable.”

He laughed. “I’ve rarely heard that word used to describe you.”

I slowed, not sure who would be in Java Jolt to overhear us. “I ran into one of Butterfield’s cronies at the Registrar of Deeds Office. The guy was looking at some other sales because Butterfield is thinking of making a lower offer.”

George is pretty quick on the uptake sometimes. “Because he thinks it’ll be worth less after Aaron’s death?”

“Yep, the guy was so embarrassed that he said it out loud that he left the room for a while.”

“What’s his name?”

“Garrison Head. Says he usually works up in Lakewood.”

George pulled a narrow spiral notebook from the pocket of his cargo pants.

“If you’re carrying a reporter’s notebook again, does that mean you’re going to be writing more?”

“Editor’s trying to get me to do a column on businesses in Ocean Alley. Thinks it’ll sell papers.”

“You going to do it?”

He jotted down Head’s name. “I’m holding out for more money.”

I tried not to smirk. “To save for your new house?”

“Ramona says not to talk a lot about moving in together until we do it.”

“Not even to me?”

He put the notebook back in his pocket. “I figure she tells you everything. Doesn’t she?”

“How will I know if I can’t compare what you say to what she says?”

He knew I was teasing, but it still seemed to annoy him. “This is new territory for me, Jolie. Give it a rest.” He opened the door to Java Jolt and made a half-bow that I should precede him.

In the pre-pandemic days, all of the small tables in the brightly-lit shop would have been occupied. Sparse crowds were good for conversation, not good for Megan’s bottom line.

“Jolie.” She waved from behind the wooden counter. “Glad you’re okay.”

“And I’m glad your daughter is so good with the kids.”

George and I walked to the counter. Megan has maintained her predecessor’s habit, in the off-season, of keeping coffee thermoses on the counter and a sugar bowl for regulars to use to pay. I’ve never heard of anyone violating the honor system.

Max came from a back room, donut in hand. “Hello Mrs. Scoobie. I cleared the tables, cleared the tables.”

George poured coffee. “Thanks, Max. You still come by every day?”

He nodded, vigorously. “Just for an hour or two, hour or two. No tourists now.”

Megan’s smile appeared strained.

I had an idea. “On Halloween, Harry’s arranging for some downtown businesses to give out candy and have canned-food drop-offs for the food pantry. I bet you could sell a lot of coffee that night if a couple boardwalk businesses do it, too.”

George said, “I’ll buy your candy.”

She beamed. “What a great idea. I’ll call Harry.”

I got my coffee and joined George at a table. I had wanted to talk to Megan about Aaron Taylor’s behavior, but maybe that would have to wait.

“What’s so important, George?”

“You’ll never guess what I found out today.”

“Climate change means a longer hurricane season.”

“Smart aleck. You know I’ve been watching those apartments a couple blocks off Main Street.”

“Right. For a possible insurance cheat.”

“Yep. Saw him carrying in a big bag of cat food today, too. This is better. You know that woman Dolly who works at Sand and Sea? The one who always gives me the evil eye when I pick up the kids?”

Megan giggled as she refilled a thermos.

“She’s just protective, George.”

“She lives in the apartments.”

I shrugged. “Makes sense, it’s not far from…oh. So, who did she hang out with there?”

“I’ve gotten to know a couple other people who live there. I showed my ID so they didn’t call the cops on me. One old guy, used to work for the city, stops by every day to…”

“George.”

“Oh, right. I casually asked him if he knew the murdered guy from Sand and Sea. He said not really, but he used to date the curly-haired woman who lived in the next building.”

“She did seem more upset about his death than Marie did.”

“They had a big fight when they broke up. She lives on the second floor, and she did the throw-the-guy’s-stuff-from-the-balcony routine.”

I laughed. “Subtle.”

Megan walked over and pulled up a chair. “He was in here a lot.”

I nudged her elbow. “I heard he flirted with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call it flirting. He just thought he was God’s gift to women and he liked to think he was everyone’s buddy. He only flirted with women under thirty.”

“Did he bring dates here?” George asked.

She shook her head. “Not really. I think he was more interested in taking them home. I could always tell when he finished with a woman. He wouldn’t come in as often for a while, then he’d be back and say he couldn’t eat donuts because he needed to stay trim for the ladies.”

“Gag me with a spoon,” I said.

“Please, not in my coffee shop.” She grinned, stood, and lowered her voice. “I need to help Max roll up some silverware in napkins.” She moved away.

George said, “She’s a saint.”

“A very good person.”

Which Aaron Taylor, seemingly, was not.

 

AS I PULLED THE BREAD from the oven at the Cozy Corner Friday afternoon, Aunt Madge came in the side door. She likely knew where I was, but I called out to tell her to follow the bread smells.

She came through the swinging door from the breakfast room with a purposeful stride. “I hoped I’d see you, Jolie.”

She stooped to pet Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy before they wagged their tails off. “Were you helping cook the bread?”

I snorted. “They’re wound up today. I had to put them on the back deck twice.”

Aunt Madge draped a deep purple, cable-knit sweater on the back of one of the oak kitchen chairs. It matched her hair. “Harry only took them for a short walk this morning. He’s lining up businesses for trick-or-treating and the Harvest for All food drive.”

“I haven’t even had a meeting about it, and he’s talking to most of the businesses.”

“He has to talk to them anyway, and I know he doesn’t want anyone giving him a lot of advice.” She grinned. “You know how many opinions will come up in a Harvest for All committee meeting.”

I put the second loaf of bread on a warming rack. “Do I ever. You want some tea before you serve your guest?”

“Two guests. One of Mr. Butterfield’s colleagues is coming with him at four, and he’s going to stay tonight.”

I turned. “Garrison Head?”

“Yes. You’ve met him?”

“Briefly, at the courthouse.” I decided not to tell her what he said. See if he had the gumption to tell her himself. Or Butterfield did.

She sat while I poured her tea and told her about Fortuna by the Sea, which Butterfield had acknowledged was more private club than hotel.

“Private club? We need tourist rooms. Places for families.”

“I agree. I guess the sales contract itself doesn’t have to say what the new owner will do with the property. That gets into zoning.”

She stood to inspect whether the bread had risen to her liking. “That explains something Sergeant Morehouse said when he stopped by my office.”

“What was that?”

“He mumbled something as he was leaving about not needing a hot house at the shore. I was just getting a phone call so I couldn’t ask if he meant something about global warming.”

I laughed and told her about other assets Butterfield paid property taxes on in New Jersey. “Why don’t you ask him why he wants that specific parcel in Ocean Alley?” I glanced at the clock. “I need to head home. Tell me what he says.”

 

MOREHOUSE PHONED JUST BEFORE dinner Friday evening. “I didn’t do you no favors with Natalie.”

I tried not to spill milk as I poured it into the twins’ plastic cups. “What do you mean?”

“She insisted she and Aaron never dated, so I finally told her you and Scoobie gave me that tip.”

I sighed. “I guess the good news is you found her.”

“Yeah. Said she went for some long walks. I told her to keep her phone with her. You think of anything else from when you found Taylor?”

“No. I haven’t heard anything about the medical examiner’s report.”

“Gee, I musta missed briefing you.”

“I did find him. How did he die?”

Morehouse was silent for several seconds. “The report’ll be public tomorrow.”

“We told you about Natalie dating Aaron.”

He grunted. “He had a gash on the side of his neck.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“The formal cause will be exsanguination due to a stab wound to the jugular vein. You lose blood really fast when there’s a wound in a large vein.”

“It didn’t look…I mean, it looked as if he just laid his head on the desk.”

“My guess would be the shock of the injury left him stunned, and he bled out fast. “

“Where was his car?”

His frustration came through the phone. “Jolie.”

“What?”

“You should maybe focus on your kids and read about this in the paper.”

“Did you get any fingerprints from the person who broke into the daycare center a couple days before he died?”

“Don’t think anyone actually got inside. Looked like they broke the window and maybe didn’t want to get cut on the broken glass when they couldn’t get the sash up easily.”

“So, you have a police report?”

“Good-bye, Jolie.”

I looked at my now-disconnected cell phone and stuck out my tongue. “Huh, he said good-bye.”

 

AFTER WE PUT THE TWINS to bed, I called George and told him what I’d learned about Aaron’s cause of death. I tilted the phone so Scoobie could hear without putting it on speaker. George’s voice would attract the kids.

“I couldn’t get that much out of him,” he said. “Did Morehouse say what the weapon was?”

“Nope. And I think Natalie might be mad at me.”

“Imagine that. What did you do?”

Scoobie called, “I think it was both of us this time.”

I explained her reaction to telling Morehouse we heard she had dated Aaron. “She had denied it.”

“Now that’s interesting. Doesn’t make her look innocent.”

“Doesn’t mean she killed him.”

“True, but it’s never a good idea to lie to the police.”

 

AS IF TO PROVE GEORGE’S point, the Friday evening TV news reported that police had arrested Natalie for obstructing their investigation. When she was freed on her own recognizance, Scoobie and I thought that meant the police didn’t think she’d killed Aaron Taylor. Not that we were experts on police procedures.

We also thought it was an extreme response to lying about whether she had dated Aaron. Or maybe we didn’t know everything.

Emails and phone calls flew among Sand and Sea parents. Alexander’s mother decided to try to find another school, while Heather’s was more sanguine. As Teresa put it, “I don’t tell everyone who my boyfriends are. I sure wouldn’t if somebody murdered a guy I used to date.” Her former mother-in-law would watch Heather for a few days while things sorted out, as she put it.

Scoobie and I talked endlessly about what to do. We finally decided to patch together some other options. Alicia said she would help “in a pinch,” but she had a lot of studying the next two days.

As we were going to bed, Terry suggested we call one of the daycare center staff to see if they wanted the work.

I slapped my forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m just more brilliant,” Terry said.

I hadn’t mentioned Dolly’s reaction when we met in McDonald’s, but decided not to in front of Terry. “One of us could call Marie tomorrow. I think the kids know her best.”