Scones and Scofflaws Page 12

  She pulled out her phone yet again, scrolling through emails and messages, hoping for a reservation, even an inquiry about prices. Anything positive she could latch on to. There were no new requests for rooms, but on the plus side, no one had left a negative review and no one else had cancelled yet. Thank goodness for that, at least. She still had six other reservations. The next set of guests were due to arrive on Thursday.

  Would this death still be hanging over her then? What if the police never did find out how George had died?

  Don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself. They’ll find out, one way or another. Whether he had a heart attack, an allergic reaction, or really was killed by someone, the police would find out. But then the question remained, would people still blame her — and Climbing Rose Cottage — for his death?

  The wind had picked up slightly. She pulled out the scarf she had shoved into her pocket, wrapping it around her neck and tucking her hair in. She needed to think. To figure out what she should do. For her, the beach was the best place to do that.

  She stayed as close to the water’s edge as she could without getting wet, walking on the hard-packed sand. Dunes rose out of the beach to her right, offering a protective shelter to the bird sanctuary that lay beyond. A few tufts of long grass waved from the top of the dunes.

  “Eoin, come look at this.” Anna stopped and pointed down to the sand.

  Eoin trotted over to her, squatting down to get a closer look at where she was pointing. Small bubbles were popping all over the wet sand, leaving pinprick size holes.

  “Did you know there are clams under there?” Anna asked.

  “Clams?” Eoin repeated. “Under the sand?” He looked up at Anna as if she were crazy then turned to stare at the sand again.

  “Yep. Look.” Anna scooped up a large handful of wet sand. As the sand sifted through her fingers, two tiny clams were left in her palm.

  Eoin’s mouth opened wide and he gasped with delight. “Those are clams?”

  “They are.” Anna laughed as she placed them back onto the wet sand and the clams immediately dug their way back under ground. “They’re still tiny now, but they burrow under the sand while they grow.”

  Eoin couldn’t take his eyes off the sand. As they continued to walk, he would squat down every ten feet or so, his face so close to the sand she thought he’d inhale a clam or two. Every now and then he’d let out a squeak and raise a hand to show her his catch before dropping it back down.

  She loved walking in this kind of weather, even with the wind. She could breathe easy, relax, let the spirit of the sea uplift her. She shut her eyes as she walked, knowing there was no one around, nothing to trip her up or get in her way. Just her, the sand, the sea and the gulls.

  Opening her eyes again, she pulled on her dark sunglasses and considered that with her sunglasses and scarf, she finally looked more like she should have done last night at the bar. What an odd experience that had been. She was glad she went, glad to find out about the club and glad to learn a little bit more about George. But where did it leave her? George was still dead. She had found a few reasons why people might have been mad at him, but mad enough to kill him?

  Even more important than why George was dead, she needed to figure out how she was going to move forward. Should she try to dig more into George’s death? Was she really helping or only hindering the police? Could she really sit back and let the police do their jobs, knowing that the survival of Climbing Rose Cottage was on the line?

  Come on, Anna, she told herself. You’re good at analyzing complicated situations. Gather all the evidence you can then figure out how it fits together, what it’s telling you. Don’t just look at what happened but at what might have caused it.

  Waves broke far out from the shoreline, diminishing to nothing more than rolling mounds as they made their way onto the beach. Anna easily side-stepped the incoming surges, keeping her feet dry. Seaweed and driftwood gathered along the water’s edge where the waves had abandoned them, drying and bleaching in the sun and the wind. Anna picked up a thick piece of driftwood, wondering if she could think of something artsy to make of it. Sadly, she didn’t have that kind of talent. She turned and threw the stick far out into the ocean, watching it plop into a still patch between the waves. A passing gull glanced down, perhaps wondering if a fish had jumped. Another gull, not as easily distracted, had kept its eyes on the real prize and dropped into a sudden dive, swooping down into the water then sailing back up into the air, the silver fish in its beak glinting in the sunlight.

  Trawlers shimmered on the horizon, almost too far away to make out. Closer in, a group of sandpipers raced along the beach, running along the path of the waves, pecking at the clams below the surface. Anna laughed at the speed of their tiny legs before the whole group took off into flight, looking for fresh hunting grounds farther along the beach.

  Twenty minutes later, the magic of the ocean had done its trick. She felt lighter, more relaxed. She slowed her steps to examine the sand, helping Eoin search for Cape May diamonds.

  She knew who she was, she couldn’t help that, couldn’t change it, anymore than Jason could change who he was and what he wanted. She had a vested interest in how this turned out and she wasn’t someone who could simply sit back and let other people make decisions that would have such a dramatic affect on her life, her business.

  As much as it felt like prying, like digging through old memories that didn’t belong to her, she was doing the right thing by trying to learn more about George and his life.

  The figure coming toward her shimmered through the distance and the light. She blinked and tried not to stare at it. It would come into focus eventually.

  They had made it down to the bunker and halfway back. Her legs were tired from the long walk on the sand but she felt good. She needed the exercise. And it’s not like she had anything else to do that morning. She’d run into a few neighbors on her walk and a few more tourists she didn’t recognize. The beach was mostly deserted, and she was glad for that. She loved it in the off-season, feeling like it was just her and the sky and the sea.

  The figure was becoming clearer now, a man walking alone. He wore jeans and a dark blue windbreaker and his brown hair ruffled in the breeze, showing a hint of redness where the sun hit it. His eyes were hidden behind his aviator sunglasses, but Anna knew he was watching her. Just like she was watching him.

  Eoin clearly was not tired, despite the long walk. As soon as he recognized the man, he ran toward him, full of youthful energy. Still at a distance, Anna saw them greet each other, then saw Eoin being lifted into the air, his little legs swinging around him. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

  “Anna,” Evan said when he was close enough to be heard. “How are you?”

  “Hi Evan,” she replied. “Out for a walk?”

  “Just taking a break.” He grinned as he got closer. He stopped, waiting for her to reach him, then turned and walked along next to her, Eoin trotting along next to him.

  “Aren’t you on duty?” she asked.

  “I am. But even cops get a lunch break.” He took a breath and looked out at the ocean. “Sometimes I need to get up and walk away for a few minutes, you know? To clear my mind.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the sights, sounds and scents of the Jersey shore in spring.

  Eventually, she had to ask. “How’s the investigation going? Are you any closer to finding out what really happened to George?”

  “What really happened? What do you mean?” Evan asked.

  “I mean, that I didn’t kill him. That he didn’t die just because he was staying at Climbing Rose Cottage,” Anna said, annoyed that Evan didn’t understand how important this was to her.

  He stopped walking, grabbing her arm to turn her to face him. “Is that what you think? That you were responsible for his death?”

  “Well…” she raised her eyebrows and lifted her arms in des
pair. “Didn’t you say that was a possibility? That I might have accidentally killed him?”

  Evan let out a breath, then took his sunglasses off to look her in the eye. “I did say that, yes. And I’m sorry, but it is still a possibility. We don’t have the toxicology report back yet. We’ve ruled out a few things — he didn’t choke, he didn’t have a heart attack. We do think it was poison. But Anna, even if it was an accident, that doesn’t mean you were responsible.”

  Anna frowned and turned back to her walk, picking up her pace in her anger. Didn’t he realize, that’s exactly what it meant? He kept up with her easily.

  “Are you looking into anything else, besides my murderous B&B?” she asked. “If he was poisoned, then maybe someone intentionally poisoned him.”

  “We are looking into that, of course.”

  She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the distant horizon. They were approaching the main beach now and more tourists were out, walking on the beach, some camped out on beach chairs wearing sweaters or wrapped in towels.

  Eoin had shifted his attention from the wet surface to the dry. He stumbled along the beach trying to catch a seagull before shifting his attention to a crab scuttling across the sand. Fortunately, he failed to catch either.

  “There are things about George you might not know,” Anna said, keeping her voice low. “Have you even thought about why he was here in Cape May?”

  “Why he was here? He was here on business.”

  Anna gave him a withering look, making her disbelief clear with her eyes. “Oh yeah? And what about the Pink Passion Club?” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. It hadn’t been her plan to expose George’s secret like that. But Evan had gotten her so worked up.

  “Tell me about that. What is it?” Evan asked.

  “Just a club.” Anna shrugged. “George went there a lot, it turns out. He knew some people there. That’s all.”

  “So why are you mentioning it?” Evan asked, confused.

  “I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

  “Look, Anna, I’m heading up here.” Evan gestured toward one of the streets that ran up from the beach, lined with hotels, B&Bs, cafés and stores. “But you have to believe me. I know you didn’t kill him.”

  She was still frowning but she let herself look at him. The concern on his face melted her anger. Mostly. “But you still think it could have been an accident? Something in my house that poisoned him?”

  “It could have been an accident, yes. But we don’t know it was something in your house, right? We simply don’t know. And it’s pointless to guess.”

  Anna looked down at the sand, where a little sand crab scooted away. “Will you tell me when you do know?”

  “Anna, I can’t really talk to you about the case,” Evan cautioned. “But, hey—” He took her hand and looked her in the eye. She swallowed and looked back. “I will tell you as soon as we know you’re off the hook. Okay?”

  “Thank you Evan. For everything.” She watched him make his way up the beach, knowing that as much as she trusted him, she couldn’t simply sit back and wait. She turned north again, with a new destination in mind.

  27

  Instead of heading home, Anna walked a few more blocks up the beach and turned up onto the street that led to the library. She’d been hoping to pop in for a quick chat with Felicia, but even better, she caught Felicia leaving the library.

  “Anna, Eoin.” Felicia waved. “I’ve been seeing a lot of you lately.”

  Eoin smiled brightly at the librarian.

  “This isn’t actually a coincidence,” Anna admitted. “I was looking for you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” Felicia waved her over. “Walk with me. I only work mornings on Saturday, so I just finished my shift.”

  Anna and Eoin joined her and the three of them strolled toward the main street, enjoying the scent of spring, the fragile blooms budding in front yards, the trills of songbirds enjoying the warm weather. Felicia took a deep breath and smiled. “I do love this time of year, don’t you?”

  “Usually.” Anna agreed. “This year has been a little stressful.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” Felicia tucked Anna’s arm under her own. “It’s great that you were out yesterday with your brochures. I’m sure that will help. Your house is gorgeous. As soon as people see those pictures, those rooms, they’ll be calling by the dozen to make reservations.”

  Anna laughed at the thought. “I sure hope you’re right, Felicia.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Tell me, you talk to people in town, what are the other B&B owners saying? Are they getting more calls than usual?”

  “Eoin, be careful!” Felicia’s call drew Anna’s attention to the boy. She hadn’t noticed when he’d stopped following them and instead trotted into a neighbor’s yard. Now he was on his toes peering into a birdhouse, his hands gripping the edge of the metal base that held the house.

  “Eoin, you shouldn’t be there,” Anna called, running over to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, dropping back onto his feet and taking her hand. “I just wanted to see the birds.”

  “Of course you did, honey. Tell you what, why don’t I find a birdhouse for our yard, too?”

  Eoin’s eyes lit up and he nodded as the two of them returned to where Felicia waited on the sidewalk.

  “You’re wondering if people are booking elsewhere, afraid to stay with you?” Felicia responded to Anna’s earlier question. “I don’t know. People are still calling, booking rooms. This is Cape May, after all, and the summer season is coming up. But are they getting more than usual?” She shrugged again. “I haven’t heard that, but who knows.”

  They passed a couple walking in the other direction, nodding hello. The couple greeted Felicia by name but simply nodded back at Anna.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. “Am I already being blackballed by the neighborhood? Did my questions about Richard Gormley really turn everyone against me?”

  Felicia ran a hand through her cropped hair as she turned her piercing gaze to Anna. Anna felt uncomfortable under her stare, as if Felicia could see everything she’d done wrong.

  “No, Anna. They have not. You’re a business owner, doing what you need to do to stay afloat. Everyone understands that. But”—she held up a finger as Anna started to respond—“I did find out something that you should know.”

  Anna nodded with excitement. “Great, thank you! I learned last night that George Hedley was working for a private equity firm at one point. I think he must have done a, what’s it called, a hostile takeover—”

  She bit her lip when Felicia stopped walking to laugh out loud.

  “Oh, honey,” Felicia spoke between laughs. “Don’t let your imagination run wild on you.”

  Anna felt her face burn as her embarrassment returned. “Why? What do you mean?”

  Felicia grabbed her arm again and resumed their walk. “First of all, a hostile takeover can only happen to a publicly traded company. Richard hadn’t gone public. He was a one-man company, just working out deals with local shippers.”

  “Oh.” Anna said. That was an important point she hadn’t considered. “But then how did George take over his company?”

  “He bought it, pure and simple.” Felicia explained, her eyes wide. “No big secret, no big deal.”

  “But—”

  Felicia cut her off yet again. This was getting annoying. “No buts. Richard didn’t want to sell, it’s true, but it was time. His wife convinced him of that. They were ready to retire, George made a great offer, so Richard was convinced to take it. He might have been grumpy about it”—Felicia shrugged—“not everyone likes growing old gracefully. But it was his choice. He wasn’t forced to sell.”

  “Oh,” Anna said again, trying to focus on the beautiful spring day that had entranced and buoyed her only hours earlier. It was hard to do. “So how did you find this out?”

  Felicia grinned with a wink. “Gossip, the
best type of research there is. It’s a small town, everyone knows everyone’s business, don’t they?”

  Anna smiled, picturing Jason in his dress and wig. Did they really, she wondered?

  “The Gormleys are friendly with everyone, even though they moved away,” Felicia continued. “They still stay in touch. With the parish, with local families. I’m sure everyone in town knows them or knows something of them, and vice versa. A couple of women from the local parish were in the library this morning so I chatted with them.”

  Anna shuddered. “Oh no, not Mrs. Santiago and Mrs. James?”

  “None other. You already know this town so well.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “They think I’m crazy. They probably think I killed George.”

  “Hmm.” Felicia wagged her head back and forth with a smile. “They might at that.”

  “Felicia!” Anna stopped walking. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Felicia dropped her head. “Of course it’s not. I’m sure they don’t think you murdered him. No one thinks that.”

  “But they think something in my house killed him?” Anna asked. “How could they? I mean, what could do that?”

  “The gossip is it was something you cooked for him.” She offered Anna a sad smile as she took her hand once more. “I’m sorry. I’m being honest with you, Anna, telling you what I heard. I figured it was better for you to hear it from me than someone else.”

  Felicia was right, it was better to hear it from her. But it would have been best not to have to hear it at all. She needed to prove that nothing in her house had killed George Hedley. She chewed on her lip again, thinking. She needed to prove it to herself, as well.

  28

  “Stupid flour. Stupid sugar,” Anna muttered under her breath as she opened each plastic container, dumping their contents into a black plastic trash bag she’d hooked over a chair. “Stupid baking powder.”