Scones and Scofflaws Read online

  A noise from the next chair turned both women’s attention to the uncurling boy. He stretched and yawned, more of his shirt coming untucked in the process. As he settled into an upright position, he looked back and forth between the two women, the light glinting off his glasses as he did so.

  “Eoin, this is Ms. Felicia Keane, the librarian. Felicia, this is my cousin, Eoin.”

  “Eoin,” he corrected her in his high-pitched voice.

  “Eoin,” Felicia responded. She must have said it correctly because Eoin beamed with delight.

  “Hmm.” Anna frowned. “Felicia, tell me, who are those girls? I’m intrigued.”

  Felicia laughed silently again. “They’re much like you, Anna. Our next generation of geniuses.”

  Anna put up a hand to wave away the compliment and smiled. “How so?”

  “They’re on the high school debate team.” She jutted her chin toward the girls. “They come here every Wednesday, gathering the facts they need to form their arguments. Each week it’s a different topic, but they don’t know in advance what the topic will be, so they have to study everything.”

  “Everything?” Anna asked skeptically. “That’s a pretty big order.”

  Felicia raised one eyebrow. “All current events and hot topics are on the table. Last month the debate was about whether marijuana should be legalized. Before that, they debated transgender restrooms. It really could be anything.”

  Eoin leaned forward in his chair, staring at the group of girls, clearly as impressed as Anna was.

  “Wow,” Anna said. “Do they get to choose a side?”

  “Nope. And they get very little time to prepare. That’s part of the challenge. They get the statement, oh, for example…” Felicia held up a hand and spoke in a monotone, “Resolved, that marijuana should be legalized.” She dropped her hand and shrugged. “They get a set period of time, less than an hour, then they have to argue either for or against the topic.”

  “I’m good at studying, but at least I know my topic.”

  “It’s an amazing club, I’m telling you. Students have to learn about all current events and controversial topics. They carry these note cards around with them, you wouldn’t believe.” Felicia laughed but her laughter was tinged with pride. “Today they researched… let me think... women’s rights and maritime laws.”

  “Impressive.” Anna looked back at the girls with new admiration. “Imagine having to be ready to present a compelling argument on anything.” She folded her hands over her book. “Sounds fabulous, being able to lose yourself in research.”

  “You miss your research?” Felicia asked.

  “I do.” Anna smiled sadly at her. “I miss my lab and my work with the community. I miss the challenges and anticipation of solving a puzzle.”

  “If you go back into it, Anna, what would happen to Climbing Rose Cottage?” Felicia asked softly. “You’ve put so much into getting it up and running again.”

  Anna took a deep breath. “I know. And I don’t know. But after today, I’m not sure the cottage will really be up and running after all.”

  7

  The police had indeed been thorough in their treatment of her house. She tried to be charitable, recognizing their job was vitally important. However George had died, she needed to know. His family needed to know. And that meant the police had to investigate.

  The intrusiveness of their investigation, however, was beyond anything she’d anticipated.

  The police had turned out every cabinet, shelf, nook and cranny in her kitchen. They’d clearly gone through the lounge and dining room and gray powder covered surfaces on the table, chairs and cutlery drawer. They’d gone through the Ocean Room, as she’d expected, but she was unsettled when she entered her own room to find it in disarray from a search.

  Well, she thought, they could at least have put her bras back in the drawer neatly! She suddenly had an image of Patrolman Burley going through her underwear drawer and blushed like a schoolgirl. Then giggled.

  She was losing it again.

  Dropping her underwear, she walked down the hall and tapped on Eoin’s door. “Eoin, are you okay in there?”

  She pushed the door open and peered in. The room was empty and she could hear water running in the adjoining bathroom. Should she be helping him? Could eight-year-olds wash themselves? She really had no idea how to care for this child. She was going to have to pump her mother for more information. She pulled the door shut and waited outside the room.

  Finally, the sound of running water stopped. She waited a few more minutes, then heard Eoin’s light footsteps crossing the room. She tapped on the door again.

  “Come in.” Instead of calling it out, Eoin had whispered the words.

  Eoin stood by the bed, the towel in his hand dragging on the floor. He must have showered, because his hair still dripped, leaving wet patches running down his pajamas. Teddy-bear pajamas, Anna noted with a smile. She crossed the room to Eoin and gave him a big hug. “Hey there, do you feel better after washing up?”

  He nodded but didn’t answer. She took the towel from him and hung it up in the bathroom, taking the opportunity to straighten the soap dish and shampoo bottle he’d left tipped over on the edge of the shower.

  Back in the bedroom, Anna folded back the sheets as Eoin climbed in, yawning again.

  “I don’t know what time you usually go to bed, but you must be so tired after your flight.”

  Eoin nodded, and Anna thought she saw his top lip tremble.

  She leaned forward and enveloped him in another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here Eoin. We are going to have fun together, aren’t we?” To her relief, he hugged her back. She felt his little head pushing against her chest and smiled.

  She left him curled up in the bed, the blankets pulled right up over his ears. She let out a breath as she pulled the door closed. What a day.

  Back in her room, she picked up the phone and called the only person she wanted to talk to at this point.

  “Hey girl!” Sammy answered in her usual, cheerful manner. “How’s the dough rising?”

  Anna had long since got used to Sammy’s bizarre ways of asking how she was doing, each building on Sammy’s undying devotion to the bakery she owned in West Wildwood, the next town up the Jersey shore.

  “Sammy, it’s bad.” Anna felt her voice tremble and swallowed hard. “Someone died.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “It’ll be on the news soon, I’m sure. One of my guests. Here, at Climbing Rose Cottage. He died.”

  “Oh, Anna, how terrible.” Anna heard the sound of a metal mixing bowl hitting the counter, the sudden silencing of a mixer that had been running in the background. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. That is, the police are looking into it.”

  “The police?” Anna heard a stool scrape on the floor and knew Sammy had just stood. “It wasn’t a natural death, not an old man dying in his bed or something like that?”

  Anna shook her head, then added, “he died in the dining room. While eating my scones.”

  Sammy was silent. Which was not common with Sammy. In all the years she’d known her — which was all her years — Sammy had always had something to say. Her best friend since before they could walk, Sammy had shaped Anna’s opinions of the town they’d grown up in, the movies they both loved, the sports they both enjoyed. Anna had done her share of influencing Sammy, too. After all, Sammy had followed Anna’s advice to pursue her passion in baking.

  “Sammy, are you there?” Anna asked.

  Sammy cleared her throat. “I am, sorry. Anna…” Sammy’s voice was hushed, serious. “Do they think your scones killed him?”

  “What?” Now it was Anna’s turn to jump up. “I sincerely hope not. I mean, they didn’t say…”

  “Oh honey, I wish I could come over but I have a wedding I’m working on. I simply have to get this done today. Can I come by tomorrow?”

  “Of course, yes. Thank you, I’d love the
company.”

  “And are you going to be okay staying there in that house by yourself tonight?”

  Anna shook her head. “It’s worse than that, Sammy. I’m not alone.”

  “I don’t get it. Who’s there?”

  “Remember I told you my cousin Eoin was coming to spend the summer with me?”

  “Sure. He’s coming in June, right?”

  “Right. That’s what I thought. Turns out there was a change of plans. He arrived today.”

  “Today? The day a man dies in your house?” Sammy practically screamed the words. “How did you not know he was coming?”

  Anna let out a laugh. “Because I didn’t call my Mom. It was a sudden change in plans. My Dad’s cousins emailed me, but their messages went to my spam folder. My Mom called me, but I didn’t call her back because I was so stressed out about opening Climbing Rose Cottage and I thought she was just going to harangue me again about being too young to take this on.”

  “Oh, honey. What are you going to do? Are you both going to stay there?”

  “What else can we do? This is my house. And he’s my cousin.” She thought of the small boy asleep in the next room and smiled. “He’s adorable, Sammy, I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  “I can’t wait, either. And Anna, I know you’re determined, but it’s all right to need help sometimes.” Sammy’s voice was soft, caring. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Anna walked aimlessly around her house, picking up a book here, straightening a pillow there. The totality of the work that would be required to put the house back into shape overwhelmed her. It was easier to think about small things right now. She could wait until tomorrow to deal with the bigger messes.

  After an hour of straightening up, Anna felt better. At least the lounge and front hall were presentable. She could tackle the kitchen and guest rooms tomorrow. Now, to do something about her own room. Her eyes slid toward the doorway at the back of the hall as she headed to the stairs. Had the police searched Aunt Louise’s rooms, too? Were they now as torn up as the rest of the house?

  A lump caught in her throat as she thought of her Great Aunt Louise, the indignity of strangers digging through her private things. Things Anna hadn’t even been able to face herself yet.

  She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and kept moving up the stairs. At the top, she paused to look down one more time, checking the front door was locked, all the lights downstairs turned off, then turned toward the back stairs up to her own room. A deep, shuddering creak passed through the house and Anna froze. What was that?

  She stood as she had frozen, one foot in the air, afraid to move. But she heard nothing more, saw nothing unusual around her. She laughed out loud to break the silence and resumed walking. Just the house settling. Old houses were always making noise. She was halfway up the back stairs when she heard another noise. This one was higher pitched, more screeching than creaking, but softer and harder to hear. And was followed by a definite thump.

  Now, she could admit to herself, she was scared. Had someone broken into the house? What kind of burglar would break into a crime scene?

  Oh. She froze again. Didn’t they say the criminal always returned to the scene of the crime?

  She shook her head again. She didn’t even know that George had been killed. There was no reason to suspect a killer had broken into her home.

  She grabbed the field hockey stick from her closet and headed back downstairs. She needed to prove to herself there was no one in the house.

  Unless George himself was back, to finish his breakfast. Anna tried to laugh at the ridiculous thought, but her laugh came out as a high-pitched squeak. Not the brave front she was trying to put on.

  “Is anyone there?” she called out. Her voice sounded as weak as her laugh. She coughed and tried again. “Is anyone there?” she shouted as she made her way back downstairs.

  The doorway that led to Aunt Louise’s room was dark. She continued to the lounge, holding the hockey stick out in front of her. Not the best weapon, she knew, but all she had right now.

  She tiptoed into the lounge, sticking her head in and looking quickly left and right before entering the room. Nothing moved. No more creaks or whines. She paced slowly around the room, her breath gradually returning to normal.

  “It was just the house settling.” She spoke out loud, trying to convince herself. “There’s no one else here.” Her foot hit something hard that slid across the room when she kicked it.

  She screamed and jumped back, hitting the switch for the overhead lamp. Light flooded the room and she spun around. “Who’s there? What’s going on?”

  Her eye fell on a book lying on the floor about three feet from the bookcase. Of course, that’s what she had kicked. A book.

  She bent down to retrieve it, carrying it back over to the bookshelf. All the books had been disturbed by the police search. She’d organized most of them, putting them back into order and pushing them safely onto the bookshelf, but she hadn’t done a thorough job, she knew that. This one must have been balanced precariously on the edge of the shelf. And must have slipped off.

  That’s it, she told herself. Nothing to be scared of. She dimmed the lights, deciding to leave them on low just for tonight, and headed back upstairs. Nothing to be scared of, she repeated to herself. Just an old house settling. Just a book that wasn’t secure falling off a bookshelf. Nothing to be scared of.

  8

  Anna did not sleep well that night. She hadn’t really expected to.

  Up early after her restless night, she faced the prospect of dealing with the mess in her kitchen. She was in the middle of scrubbing down her counters, a fresh pot of coffee brewing, when the bell over the door jingled. She didn’t go immediately, taking a minute to remove her kitchen gloves and wipe her hands. As she stepped toward the kitchen door, Patrolman Burley stuck his head through it.

  “Good morning, thought I might find you in here.”

  “Oh, Patrolman Burley. Hi. I mean, um, good morning. I’m just…” she lifted her arms then let them fall in a gesture of despair. “I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

  “Seems like you’ve got quite a mess on your hands.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Sorry about that.”

  “I am allowed to be cleaning up in here, aren’t I?”

  He smiled. “Yes, you are. And please, call me Evan.”

  She felt the tension in her shoulders relax, the edges of her mouth turn up. “Evan, of course.”

  The deep brown of his eyes reminded her of the Scottish hero she’d been reading about yesterday. It would be nice not to have to go chasing around the dark house in the middle of the night with a field hockey stick.

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I have a few minutes, I could help.” Something in her expression caused him to take a step back. “Or not, if you prefer to do it yourself.”

  “Why did you tear apart my kitchen like this?”

  “It wasn’t just me. We had a team going through the whole house.”

  “I noticed that,” she responded, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

  “The thing is, Anna — may I sit?” He gestured toward the marble-topped bar that ran opposite the sink.

  “Of course. Sure. Would you like some coffee?”

  He waited until she’d poured his cup, then continued. “The thing is, Anna, one of your guests died in unusual circumstances and we need to find out what happened to him.”

  “Wait. What do you mean, what happened to him?”

  “I mean, we need to know what killed him.” Evan said, still looking directly at her. “Or who.”

  Anna gulped and looked down at the coffee pot still in her hands. She turned her back on Evan to replace it on the burner and realized her hands were shaking. She took a few breaths.

  “So you think he was murdered?” she asked once she felt sure her voice would sound normal.

  Evan shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee. “Well, this is a police investigation. But it’s t
oo soon to say if it was an accidental death or intentional. We still need to determine the exact cause of death. That’s why we searched the house. We were looking for anything that might have been used.”

  Anna dropped onto the stool next to Evan. “Murdered. I mean, murder. That can’t be a common thing in Cape May.”

  “It’s not. Detective Walsh is running the investigation for now, but it won’t be long before this attracts attention from the higher-ups. We need to get to the truth, and fast. Walsh has some experience with this sort of thing, so…” He toyed with his mug and Anna realized there was more. The worst was yet to come.

  “So?”

  “So we have to consider the possibility that you may have been responsible.”

  “Me?” Anna heard the shriek in her voice and shut her lips tight.

  Evan seemed focused on his coffee, giving Anna the time she needed to take a few breaths.

  She tried again. “Me? Why would I kill my own guests?”

  Evan raised his hands in what was probably meant to be a calming gesture. “Not on purpose, I’m sure. But we don’t yet know what killed him. We need to consider all options.”

  “I see. So I’m a suspect. In a murder investigation.”

  “Don’t overreact. Suspect is too strong a word. What if something in this house killed him — either an allergy, or something poisonous you didn’t realize he might encounter.”

  Anna shook her head, flabbergasted. “I’m a trained scientist. I know what’s poisonous and what’s not. There’s nothing here that could—”

  “Okay, okay. Look, you’re simply a person of interest at this point, that’s all.”

  Anna’s brain spun through possibilities. “Who else is a ‘person of interest?’” Her voice betrayed her skepticism of the term.

  “I can’t talk to you about the investigation. As much as I trust you, you must understand that.”

  She examined his face, trying to figure out how to handle this. His nose was wide and lopsided, as if he’d been in a fight once. His mouth curled up on the sides. But somehow the unevenness of it all made him look honest. Trustworthy.