CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MY FIRST CALL ON Saturday was to Natalie. Her tone would have frozen a mug of hot chocolate.

“Sergeant Morehouse said he thought you were annoyed that Scoobie and I mentioned you dated Aaron. If we’d known you didn’t want it discussed, we would have let you know we told him.”

“But you still would have mentioned it,” she said, coolly.

“Natalie, we love you and so do the kids. But we aren’t lying to the police. Besides, Scoobie heard it at the hospital. Morehouse would have found out.”

“I suppose. But they arrested me. No one will take their kids to Sand and Sea now.” Her voice caught.

“It might not be that bad. If they can quickly solve his murder, the parents will probably understand why you wanted to keep your private life private.”

“I’m afraid it makes it more likely I’ll have to sell the building. I had to pay for a damn lawyer.”

“It would be a shame to sell the building.” With a note of hope, I asked, “Would you try to open somewhere else?”

“Maybe. It’s so hard to find a place, buy it, get set up. I could work with kids by substitute teaching. Low pay, but I wouldn’t have to spend a dime of my own money.”

The Ocean Alley Press reference to no vacancies in other child care centers came to mind. “Do you know Lester Argrow?”

“Realtor, short, looks like he stepped off of a mafia move set?”

“That’s him. He’s bought and sold houses for us, and he’s a friend. Kind of a loudmouth, but he really knows Ocean Alley. You could talk to him about options. But you’d have to tell him he could only bug you once a week or something.”

She grunted a laugh. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

I broached what I hoped was not another difficult topic. “Since I guess you haven’t been told you can open the center, we’re going to ask Marie if she can sit for the kids on Monday.”

“It irritates me that they won’t even let me in my own building. They say it’s because it’s a big structure, and they’re still looking in other parts of it for fingerprints or other signs someone hid after they attacked Aaron.”

“That’s a scary thought, since I was there when the person could have been hiding.”

“I forgot about that. Well, I don’t mean I forget…”

“It’s a lot to put together. Anyway, I hope you can have a restful weekend.”

I hung up and sat staring at my computer screen. Really, all Scoobie and I had to be concerned with was finding suitable care for the twins. I shouldn’t be worried about whether Natalie had trouble with the police or had to find another location.

I reminded myself it wasn’t my business to solve Aaron’s murder. I told myself I wasn’t trying to do that. But it mattered a lot.

If our kids were to go back to Sand and Sea, and I hoped they could, we needed to understand what was going on. I found it hard to believe Natalie would kill anyone, but Aaron’s comments about “the books” and her not wanting to admit she had dated him or had a second ledger troubled me.

What was she hiding?

 

SUNDAY MORNING, I COULD tell that Scoobie was making plans behind my back. Generally, he does this to surprise me with something he knows I like, so I wasn’t about to be overly inquisitive.

When the twins quietly ate cereal and watched TV in the living room, he sidled up to me at the coffee pot. “Mom, can you pack some things for a picnic, and we’ll pick up a bucket of chicken along the way?”

“Sure. Any preferences?”

“You still have those brownies hidden in the back of the freezer?”

“Unless you ate them.”

Terry looked up from the toast he was lathering with peanut butter. “I stole one Friday. The rest are there.”

“Sure. Unless there’s time to make deviled eggs, I’ll put in mostly chips, apples, rolls, and the freezer item.” I didn’t dare say ‘brownies’ out loud, because I had become aware of quiet from the living room.

Scoobie turned to Terry. “I think a drive along the parkway would be a good distraction for Jolie and Madge. You game?”

He shook his head. “Kevin and the guys are getting a pick-up soccer game together. Otherwise, I would.”

Just what every sixteen-year-old wants. A long ride in the car with four-year-olds. I rinsed out my coffee cup and gestured with it to Scoobie. “Did you talk to Madge and Harry?”

“Harry. He’s going to surprise Madge. Says she needs to get out of town for a diversion.”

 

FIRST PREZ WAS LESS crowded than usual, probably because the beautiful weather meant people had lots of other things to do. I was glad about that. Most people didn’t know I’d found Aaron Taylor’s body, but some did and I didn’t want more questions.

I met Scoobie the first weekend of 11^th grade, when my parents had unceremoniously left me with Aunt Madge for my junior year. They said they needed to “work things out” in their marriage.

I had planned to try out for cheerleaders at my high school in Lakewood and was mad at the world for being stuck in Ocean Alley. Scoobie came up to me at church my first weekend as we prepared to eat donuts after the service. Aunt Madge told me later he liked the food at First Prez best, so visited her church most often.

Later, I learned his mother was not the type to fix breakfast, so he fended for himself most of the time. I figure this is why he loves to make pancakes for our family.

Leah’s voice cut through my reminiscing. “Mommy. Can me and Lance have another donut?”

“No, Daddy’s taking us for a car ride.”

“We could wrap it up and bring it with us,” Lance said.

From behind me, Scoobie laughed. “I used to do that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“But it’s a long drive,” he said, quickly. “You don’t want an upset tummy in the car.”

Leah and Lance exchanged a look of seeming annoyance. “Mommy’s a buzzkill,” Lance said.

Scoobie coughed into his napkin and went in search of Harry.

 

WE SETTLED INTO OUR van at eleven-thirty. Aunt Madge insisted that Harry sit in front with Scoobie, and she and I sat in the third row, behind the twins.

Lance twisted to look at us. “Aunt Madge could sit between us.”

She smiled. “But I might be squished.”

“Guys,” Scoobie said. “When we get to the Garden State Parkway, I want you to count all the trees with red leaves.”

“It isn’t school,” Lance said.

“Why aren’t we counting yellow leaves?” Leah asked.

“You can do those next,” Harry said.

I still wasn’t sure where we were going, but knew the car’s rhythm would have both twins dozing after ten minutes on the parkway. To encourage this, we responded to all of their questions and pointed out a hawk that soared by, but none of us initiated conversations with them.

By the time we had driven the few miles west to the parkway, both were dozing, heads against the sides of their car seats. Scoobie glanced in the rearview mirror and his eyes met mine. “They’re out.”

Harry turned toward Aunt Madge. “Peaceful enough for you?”

She smiled. “Very nice. A good idea.”

I took this to mean she might have protested the trip. She likes her Sundays at home, and city staff are encouraged not to bother her that one day.

I leaned back in my seat and turned to her. “Do we have to be back in time for tea with your guest?”

“Mr. Butterfield? He and Mr. Head checked out yesterday morning. I’ve been so busy I didn’t think to tell you.”

“Did Butterfield find another partner to buy Sand and Sea with?”

“Now that he knows your ties to the real estate business, he’s been playing it closer to the vest. He still acts as if he’ll soon be building a hotel.”

She leaned forward in her seat and called softly to Scoobie. “As long as we’re heading north, why don’t we stop in Poseidon City and look at Butterfield’s Fortuna by the Sea?”

Harry turned his head. “I thought we were getting away from work.”

“We are. Doesn’t hurt to see what the place looks like, does it?”

Harry didn’t appear to like the idea, but he didn’t say so. Instead, he opened his phone to guide Scoobie to the exit for State Highway 33.

Poseidon City is about the same size as Ocean Alley, but it’s not as much of a resort town. It seemed an odd place for a hotel that was more of a private club.

Fortuna by the Sea was two blocks from the shore, and was easily the most elegant building in a multi-block area. Its brick façade was painted a light tan and all trim was Navy blue. It looked more like a corporate headquarters, and didn’t advertise itself as a hotel.

Scoobie drove by it slowly and pulled into a small public parking lot half a block away. “I take it you two want to go in and check it out.”

“Yes,” Aunt Madge said, firmly. “A mayor should know what her town is getting into.”

“Do you mind if her husband chooses to keep his head in the sand?” Harry asked.

Scoobie looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Do we need a signal for when we send in the cavalry?”

I unfastened my seatbelt and leaned forward to wake up the sleepy twins. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see us.”

 

AFTER A SHORT CONFERENCE, we decided that Scoobie and Harry would take the twins for a stroll on Poseidon City’s short boardwalk. Aunt Madge and I would see if we would be allowed into Fortuna by the Sea.

We entered with no problem, but the lobby was unlike any other hotel I’d visited. Instead of a front registration counter, there was a large wooden desk, more like what a bank president might have.

Aunt Madge introduced the two of us. “We’ve been talking to Benjamin Butterfield a great deal about his plans in our town of Ocean Alley. Jolie and I decided we’d drive up to see one of his properties.”

The woman, dressed more like a senior manager in a law office, seemed unsure how to handle us. “Perhaps Mr. Butterfield didn’t explain that Fortuna by the Sea is more of a private club.”

From down the hall came muted laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. I nodded in that direction. “Sounds like fun.”

“He did,” Aunt Madge said. “That’s what he has planned for Ocean Alley. We don’t really know what that means, in terms of a hotel. How about a tour?”

Flustered, she picked up her desk phone. “Just a moment.” After a few seconds, someone must have picked up, because she said, “Sir, a woman who says her name is Mayor Madge is at the main entrance…Yes, Mayor Madge. Fine. I’ll tell her.”

She replaced the receiver and smiled broadly. “Well, Mr. Butterfield certainly knows who you are.”

“He’s very fond of me, too,” I said, with exaggerated politeness.

Aunt Madge and I strolled on the plush lobby carpet, another feature unusual for a hotel, to a grouping of two loveseats and several deluxe chairs. We had just sat down when an elevator opened and Butterfield stepped out.

Today the pocket of his charcoal gray suit sported a navy-blue handkerchief, as if he were coordinating with the building’s motif. “Ladies, what an unexpected surprise.”

I noted he didn’t say it was a pleasant one.

Aunt Madge extended her hand. “We’re on a Sunday drive with Jolie’s family and realized we were close to Poseidon City. Too great a temptation not to stop. How about a look around?”

I admired her for avoiding chit-chat.

Butterfield almost stammered. “Unfortunately, we have two private events today. It’s not a good time to have a tour.”

Aunt Madge waved a hand. “We don’t need to go into any party rooms. Just a look at some common areas.”

His smile, while broad, held no warmth. “A weekday would work much better.”

Aunt Madge and I exchanged a look, and I said, “Is this how people would be greeted if they came into your establishment in Ocean Alley? You could get a fair bit of foot traffic.”

He raised an arm in an unmistakable gesture to guide us toward the door. “That will be something I’ll have to consider. I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a good time.”

We accepted defeat and stepped outside.

“It will be an interesting call,” Aunt Madge said.

“At least he held the door for us.”

After we’d gone a few steps, Aunt Madge said, “That may be the classiest place I’ve been thrown out of.”

“What will be so interesting about the call?” I asked.

“I plan to hang up on him.”

We’d gone only a few paces when a middle-aged man approached us. “Excuse me, I saw you come out of Fortuna by the Sea.” Though the October breeze had brought an afternoon chill, the man wore loose-fitting jogging shorts and a tee-shirt.

“Yes.” Aunt Madge put on her campaign persona and introduced both of us. “My niece and I are interested in Benjamin Butterfield’s ideas for a similar hotel in Ocean Alley.”

“And did you see enough of the place to get a sense of what your new hotel would be like?”

“No,” I said. “He seemed anxious that we leave.”

His smile was brief and thin-lipped. “They don’t accept all those who apply for membership, so only a couple local people belong. They don’t say much, but it seems like a high-end brothel to me. Not even a restaurant.”

“Good heavens.” Aunt Madge steadied herself on the back of the bench we stood next to. “Can you be certain?”

“No, that’s why I stopped you. I doubt he would have let you see those aspects, so I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Can’t you get it inspected or something?” Aunt Madge asked.

“Since we haven’t documented illegal gambling or nefarious dating practices, the hotel gets notified that an inspection is coming. Everything’s always ship-shape.”

“Mr. Butterfield always seems very professional,” Aunt Madge said.

“We keep the spotlight on him.” He put his shoe on a bench to retie it. “We’re hoping he’ll get tired of the scrutiny and go somewhere else.”

 

AUNT MADGE DIDN’T TELL Scoobie and Harry about our reception at Fortuna by the Sea, or how fond the community seemed to be of Butterfield’s business. Scoobie gave me a couple questioning looks, and I finally just shrugged.

At least the brownies were good.