CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I WOKE UP A FEW minutes before Scoobie on Tuesday and stayed in bed wondering whether it would be smarter for me to ignore anything related to Aaron’s murder. On the one hand, that would keep me out of Natalie’s business and leave me less to worry about.

On the other hand, as much as I trusted the Ocean Alley Police, people would sometimes talk to me more easily. Maureen Wintergreen hadn’t even thought to talk to Sergeant Morehouse, and it could have been days before he got to her – if ever.

Plus, I wanted to know whether Benjamin Butterfield was a cringe-worthy slime-ball, or a dangerous one willing to kill a potential partner to keep him from dropping out of a deal.

Or keep him from telling others the true purpose of his hotel. People might think what men and women did in a private club was their business. I supposed I did. But most Ocean Alley adults generally agree that tourists need to frequent our businesses. A private club would take up space downtown but wouldn’t help the economy very much.

I switched my thinking to family and helped Lance find his shoes. Scoobie spent five minutes helping Leah decide what to wear. My patience runs thin by the third option.

After Scoobie left for work, two items on the radio related to Sand and Sea. One was that the building was being turned back to its owners for their use, and the other was that police had dropped the charge of obstruction against Natalie.

Both were good news. However, I needed to know more about whether Natalie’s safety procedures would be enhanced before we trusted our kids to Sand and Sea again.

I did wrestle with that. With so few daycare vacancies (if any), should I be picky? Of course I should. Did I want to stay home with my wonderful children all day? Of course I didn’t.

I texted Scoobie about both pieces of news, and told him I’d be at Harvest for All or the office all morning. Weather predictions said a storm was heading in from the upper Midwest. The issue was whether this relatively rare October storm would be freezing rain, sleet or snow. I hoped it held off until we were home this evening.

 

WHEN MARIE ARRIVED, I told her I expected to be home by mid-afternoon, well before we had to be concerned with slippery roads.

“Good. Natalie sent an email to Dolly and me saying she’s going to be over there sometime today, and she’d like us to be available tomorrow.”

“As in the kids can go there?”

She shook her head. “My impression was that it wouldn’t be immediate. I think she wants to do some things to make it look different.”

At my puzzled expression, she added, “Holiday decorations, maybe new curtains in the playroom.”

“Something fresh. I get it. If I see her car there, maybe I’ll stop over after I go to Harvest for All for the morning distribution.”

Marie looked as if she wanted to say something, but changed her mind.

I used one of the kid’s lunch bags for some cheese, grapes, and a leftover chicken strip from last night. Better than a bagel if my day got too hectic.

 

AT HARVEST FOR ALL, Max stood at the outside door, hands in his pockets and sporting a stocking cap with reindeer antlers. Sometimes I felt bad for his injuries. Other times I reminded myself that he had a group of guardian angels in Ocean Alley, and others with brain injuries weren’t so lucky.

“Come on in, Max. I bet we have a busy day before the storm.”

“Big storm. Big storm.” I unlocked the door and he almost scurried in ahead of me.

Aretha and Sylvia would be distributing today. I hadn’t planned to stay for the full three hours. It would depend on the number of clients. By ten-fifteen, I knew it would be a busy morning.

Sylvia sat at the front counter like the regal queen she can be. I broached the plans for the food donation boxes on Halloween. “I know you and I talked about something more than donation boxes for food and money, but the idea sort of took off.”

She waved a hand. “It’s fine. And it means a lot less work for our little group of volunteers. We need to bring in some new blood.”

I smiled to myself. When I took over the committee, Scoobie inserted himself into it and he was the first new member in quite a while. He used to make jokes about Sylvia’s spine being as stiff as a board. And here she was, talking about bringing in new blood.

A crash from near a back shelf took me toward Max. He squatted next to a jar of spaghetti sauce that now graced the floor. Thankfully, it had been in a paper sack and hadn’t spread much.

“Don’t worry about it, Max. I wish everything we gave out came only in cans. I’ll help you clean it up.”

“Max is a mess,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “A mess.”

“No, Max made a mess.” I grinned. “Just like Lance and Leah. There’s a difference.”

He straightened. “Max helps Lance and Leah. Leah.”

“Yes, you do.”

I did most of the clean-up, and rejoined Sylvia at the front counter. She had prevailed on Reverend Jamison’s secretary to make many copies of a half-page flyer about Halloween night donation opportunities. She handed one to each recipient, along with a piece of wrapped hard candy. It made for a festive morning.

 

AT THE OFFICE, HARRY fended calls about businesses’ candy giveaways and can and money donations for Harvest for All. He seemed to be in his element, but I still felt I was shirking some duties, and said so.

“I don’t mind. I have to talk to all these places anyway. Terry and Scoobie are working on arrangements to pick up any physical donations.”

“I knew Scoobie was.”

Harry laughed. “How often do they do things separately? Besides, if Terry gets a few other high school kids involved, it’ll be good for them.”

Home sales tend to decrease from late fall through the holidays, so I called several local banks to remind them we could usually be available on short notice.

Most responses were noncommittal. After a huge rush of sales in the spring and summer, as the pandemic had initially seemed to be winding down, we could afford some slow times.

A looming storm creates a kind of hunker-down atmosphere in any town, but especially one at the shore. At least this time the wind would be from the west and not push surf farther onto the shore, as when it comes from the east.

I left for the B&B at two rather than two-thirty, in part because I felt as if it would get me home earlier, and in part because I wanted to stop at Sand and Sea if Natalie was there. Her old Ford Taurus was in the lot, near the side door.

I walked up the porch steps and tried the door. Unlocked. I shivered. Silly to think anything else would happen.

“Natalie?”

She called from the kitchen. “Hello, Jolie. Come on back.”

Natalie and Dolly were unloading grocery bags of juice, animal crackers, and graham crackers. “Gosh, would you be using Marie if I hadn’t asked her to take care of the twins?”

“She is good with them,” Dolly said.

I wasn’t sure if her tone would be called snarky or sarcastic, but I ignored it.

Natalie hadn’t seemed to notice. “Actually, two people are enough now. I’m going to bring over some more decorations later today and we can work on that tomorrow.”

I felt awkward. “Do you think you’ll be open for the kids the day after tomorrow? I’d be happy to help you make calls.”

Dolly set a jar of apple juice down with a thud. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She walked out, rapidly.

I met Natalie’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause friction by asking only Marie.”

She waved a hand. “We’ve all been kind of raw the last few days.”

“Natalie.” I stopped. Should I ask this? “I wondered if you needed any organizational help the next few days. In a pinch, I can be a bookkeeper.”

Her composure slackened and she leaned against the counter.

Softly, I said, “I know I saw two ledgers one day, and I heard what Aaron said. Was he…I don’t know, encouraging you to use funds in a way you didn’t want?”

“He felt, he thought he should get a reward for helping me secure financing for the building. He knew this had been my dream.”

“And what, you paid him?”

She lowered her voice. “Three hundred a month. I had one more year to go.”

“Did you tell that to the police?”

“Are you kidding?” She almost hissed. “They’d say it gave me a reason to kill him.”

“Did you?”

She glared. “Of course not!” Her expression changed. “Sometimes, I still had feelings for the stupid jerk.”

I shrugged. “From what I hear, you weren’t the only one.”

Dolly entered the room as I said this. “He dated a bunch of people. Oh.” She looked at Natalie. “I shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

“It’s okay. We’d been broken up for a while. I just wish I could figure out why he was here.”

“And how he got in,” I added.

“Too many people had keys, I guess,” Natalie said. “I thought I got his back, but I didn’t have a good inventory system.”

“Aunt Madge switched to security pads a few years ago.” I relayed how that had simplified things for her. “Plus, some systems keep track of when people come in and out.”

“That might be a good idea,” Dolly said.

“At least you know he wasn’t the burglar last Monday. If he had a key he wouldn’t have had to break a window.” My attempt at levity fell flat.

Natalie shrugged. “We know roughly when he got here, just not whether he had his own key.”

“Someone else came in, either with him or without him knowing it.”

“What about that Butterfield man?” Dolly asked.

“He wouldn’t have a key,” I said. “Plus, they were partners. Why would Butterfield want to kill Aaron?”

Natalie’s shoulders sagged, and then she straightened them. “I don’t care who, why, or how. I just want the police to figure it out so they get off my back.”

 

I SAT IN MY CAR for almost a full minute before I started the engine. Unless you made gobs of money, three hundred dollars was a lot to fork over each month. In August, when families went on vacation and fewer kids attended Sand and Sea, it would more than cover the snack costs.

But that wasn’t the main point. Aaron Taylor wasn’t just Natalie’s friend, he’d been her lover when he made that demand. What kind of person would do that? Someone who made people mad enough to kill them.

Sand and Sea was a private business and Natalie was a sole proprietor. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation for how she spent money. Her fees had to be reasonable; if they weren’t, parents would place their kids in another center.

I smiled to myself. She was probably more at risk from the IRS, since she wasn’t accurately depicting her income and expenses. I sobered. Extortion was by far the bigger crime, and I felt bad that she’d had to endure it.

What had she done to get out from under it? And who should I tell?

 

WHEN IN DOUBT, CONSULT Aunt Madge. She wouldn’t be at the Cozy Corner just yet, but I planned to hang around.

The B&B didn’t have guests, which meant I didn’t have to make bread. But with the weather coming, she might be home early and welcome the smell of baking goodies.

Under the watchful eye of Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy, I took a box of baking mix from her pantry and followed the recipe for cinnamon rolls. They were in the oven before I remembered I would need to make frosting. Drat.

Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy tried to push open the pantry’s pocket doors with their noses. “You guys cannot have any prunes.” After successfully gnawing their way into Tupperware to find them in the past, they know when they’re being scolded about it.

I put them on the back deck. Things had been so hectic, I hadn’t brought Jazz over to play with them lately. Maybe tomorrow.

Aunt Madge’s car pulled into the lot at three-fifteen, with Harry just behind her. As they came in, she called, “Jolie? Are the kids with you?”

I greeted them in the guest breakfast room and we went into their great room together. “No, Marie has them. Everything’s fine. I wanted to run a couple of things by you.”

Harry sniffed. “Ah, cinnamon rolls. There’s some leftover vanilla frosting behind the butter dish.” He went to the sliding glass door to let the dogs in and dry their paws.

Aunt Madge turned on the electric kettle. “Great minds think alike,” she said. “I was going to talk to you about a conversation I had with the Poseidon City mayor.”

“You first.” I sat at the oak table.

Harry walked toward their bedroom. “Do you two deal makers need me? If not I’m going to change into jeans.”

“We’ll survive,” Aunt Madge said, and blew him a kiss. She sat next to me.

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“I’ve never met Jim Roberts, the Poseidon City mayor, so I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my questions. But as soon as I said Benjamin Butterfield’s name, he let loose.”

“And not all good stuff?”

“Not at all. I guess the city voted some property tax breaks for Fortuna by the Sea, thinking it would generate revenue for other businesses, perhaps encourage other hotels to build. None of that happened.”

“Can that be blamed on Butterfield?” I asked.

“They simply didn’t realize he was building a club rather than a hotel, and they’ve been sorry they wasted the tax break. It’s a prime location. Plus, the mayor said he’s no prude, but he thinks it’s more an ‘anything goes’ type of place for singles. And maybe some married men with women who aren’t.”

I shrugged. “Distasteful, but not criminal, probably.”

“Since the Fortuna won’t let most people in, who would know?” Aunt Madge got up to pour two mugs of tea. “Anyway, the mayor thinks Butterfield is tired of the atmosphere, that he’s looking to other towns.”

“Great, he found us.”

“Not a done deal. I put I bug in the Ocean Alley Press editor’s ear. Perhaps they should do a story on the range of businesses Benjamin Butterfield operates.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very business-friendly stance for Ocean Alley’s mayor.”

“A daycare center contributes to the economy, too. And I saw the article that said we don’t have enough spaces for preschoolers as it is.”

“I saw that, too. Did you get to hang up on Butterfield today?”

“He won’t take my calls.”

“Smart man. Could you leave a…”

I glanced at my chirping phone. “Message?”

“Just the first time.”

“It’s Sergeant Morehouse. Maybe they found the killer.” I answered.

“Jolie.” His tone was testy.

I mouthed, “Guess not,” to Aunt Madge, and held the phone so she could hear.

“I just talked to Maureen Wintergreen,” he said.

“I told her to call you.” I waited a beat for a thank you.

“Why in the hell were you talking to her about that real estate deal? It needs to be top of your list of things to stay out of.”

“I had to talk to her about Harvest for All on Halloween. It just sort of came up.”

“That’s not the way she described the conversation.”

“Did you find out anything more?”

“I’m not the police public affairs officer. There’s no way to know who you could tick off with your questions. Take care of your kids.” He hung up.

I put my phone back in my purse.

“Why Maureen?” Aunt Madge asked.

I explained learning that Wintergreen wasn’t on the contract itself but was part of the group that wanted to buy Sand and Sea. “She said she thought Aaron might want out of the deal.”

Aunt Madge shook her head. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who would have been bothered by Benjamin Butterfield’s intentions.”

“No, but something Butterfield said after he dropped off the proposal makes sense now. He said someone tried to back out of the deal but he talked them into staying.”

“He told you that here?”

I nodded. “If he hadn’t talked him into staying it might make him furious, but Butterfield told Natalie that Aaron and Maureen were his partners. Butterfield wanted him in the deal, not out of it.”

“I doubt Maureen would hurt you or anybody else, but I have to agree with Sergeant Morehouse. She might say something to Aaron’s killer, not realizing that person would be threatened by your questions.”

“So, you think it was Butterfield?”

Aunt Madge raised her hands as if surrendering. “I haven’t got a clue. I’m just saying you should be careful. I want to know who killed him too, but I’d rather have you around to raise your kids. Scoobie would probably agree.”

“You’re right. Just listen to this one more thing.”

I relayed, without saying what had prompted the discussion, that Aaron Taylor had essentially been extorting money from Natalie Fremont, and that she had another year of payments. “Until his death, of course.”

Aunt Madge stared into space for several seconds. “If she won’t tell Sergeant Morehouse, you have to.”

I nodded. “I know. I thought I’d talk to her one more time. She needs to tell him herself.”

“Do you think she killed him?”

“For some reason, I don’t. But it makes me wonder even more why he was in there and who was with him.”

“And his murderer could be listening.” Aunt Madge studied me. “Are you going to tell Scoobie about what Natalie said?”

“I will.” But I didn’t say when.