Scones and Scofflaws Page 9

  “So”—Felicia replaced the bottle on the table and leaned in, looking at each young woman in turn—“you’re here talking about who murdered George Hedley.”

  Sammy’s eyes widened in surprise and Anna put a hand over her mouth.

  “Oh no,” Anna said, “were we really being that loud?”

  Felicia laughed. “Indeed you were. And remember, it’s not just the other guests here who might be listening. The staff have ears, too, you know.”

  Anna looked over at the counter near the door. Two young men in winery shirts were talking together in low voices. One of them looked over at Anna, then quickly looked away. Anna gulped.

  “Oh fudge. What if they tell Richard Gormley we’ve been talking about him.”

  “Exactly,” Felicia replied. “It’s not a good business practice for a B&B owner to gossip about her guests.”

  “Okay, but you know that people already think Anna was somehow responsible for George’s death, right?” Sammy jumped in. “Let’s keep this in perspective. It’s not a good business practice for B&B owners to let their guests die, either.”

  Anna shook her head and slumped lower in her chair. “You’re not helping, Sammy.”

  “It’s all right.” Felicia leaned closer in. “Now, tell me why you’re talking about Richard Gormley and George Hedley’s death.”

  Anna shrugged, embarrassed now that they had been. “We were just trying to figure out if Richard might have … somehow… for some reason…” She noticed that Eoin was writing furiously. She leaned closer to him, hoping to see what he was writing, but as she moved he pulled the book closer to himself. Humph.

  “You think Richard Gormley might have killed George Hedley?” Felicia whispered, looking around the room as she said it. “Why would he do that?”

  Sammy leaned forward conspiratorially. “Think about it. Richard didn’t want to sell his business to George, everyone knows that. So maybe he just got so angry about it and killed him.”

  “He was in the house at the time,” Anna added.

  Felicia frowned as she looked back and forth between them, then nodded. “I understand. You need to get people to stop thinking you were responsible for George’s death. And to do that, you need to find out who really was responsible. Why you don’t trust the police to figure that out, I have no idea.”

  “It’s not that—” Anna said.

  “No, it’s just—” Sammy said at the same time.

  Felicia held up a hand to cut them off. “Okay, okay. Well, you’ll need a lot more than just the suggestions that Richard Gormley might have been angry and had opportunity if you want to convince the police to look at him as a suspect.”

  “True,” Anna said glumly as Sammy nodded. Then Anna brightened. “And what about Paul Murphy, George’s business partner? Do you know him?”

  “A bit.” Felicia nodded. “He’s worked in town for a few years now.” She stared out the windows at the vines beyond. “I suppose I could ask around about him, see what I can find out.”

  Anna grinned. “You’re the best, Felicia.”

  “And what do we do?” Sammy asked, the excitement back in her voice.

  Anna chewed on her lip, thinking. “I’m not sure. But we definitely need to learn more about George Hedley.”

  Sammy nodded. “I’ll look him up online. There’s always crazy amounts of information available about people.”

  Anna sat back in her chair, wondering if she could finally relax for the first time in what felt like ages. “You two are the best, thank you.”

  “You’ll get through this Anna.” Felicia patted her shoulder. “I promise. Cheer up.”

  19

  Friday morning, Anna woke to a day that looked as depressed as she was. She lingered in bed, watching the barely budding trees outside her window moving in the wind. A quick rain shower tapped against the glass then drifted on. She shivered and pulled her blanket up over her shoulders. Maybe she should just stay in bed today.

  Everything had seemed so positive yesterday in the winery, but now that she’d had time to think about it, she knew she was fooling herself. What could she and Sammy really find that the police couldn’t?

  She closed her eyes, listening to the wind and rain. A memory flashed through her mind. Another morning much like this. But on that morning, she wasn’t alone. She had cuddled up next to Steve, resting her head on his shoulder. He’d wrapped an arm around her, keeping her warm. They’d stayed in bed late that morning, chatting about life, talking about their plans for the future. Academics was a tough career. She knew she had to be willing to move around the country, to take jobs at universities when they were offered to her. And he’d have to move around, too. There was no guarantee they’d always be working in the same town.

  At the time, it had made her sad to think about that. She didn’t like the idea of being on her own. She loved the feeling of him next to her. He made her feel loved, made her feel safe.

  She opened her eyes and sat up. He hadn’t kept her safe, had he? It had all been an illusion. In the end, he’d been the very one who hurt her.

  She jumped out of bed, determined to do something useful today.

  She prepared a simple breakfast — no point in wasting money on anything fancy — but Eoin seemed to enjoy his cereal. A few quick calls settled the boy’s plan for the morning. The Cape May Center for Community Arts had a youth program that would be perfect for him. He didn’t seem overjoyed at the prospect, simply blinking up at her with his big eyes.

  “One day, Eoin—”

  “Eoin.”

  “— you are going to feel comfortable enough around me to chat with me the way you seem to do with everyone else. And then you can tell me what you really want to do.” She smiled at him as he finished off his cereal, then helped him get settled in the lounge with one of his books.

  She brought a cup of tea out to her desk in the lounge and got to work. Her focus right now needed to be on getting more guests, not on investigating George’s death. Guests who weren’t afraid to stay here. She couldn’t hide the fact that someone had died here, Anna knew that. It was in the newspapers, it was hardly a secret. But the news would pass, she was sure. Other events would catch people’s attention. Other events, good or bad, would make headlines. She needed to move on.

  Anna started with her social media presence, spending hours lining up a series of posts and videos that she scheduled through a service. Keeping in line with the general theme of Cape May, she posted images of Victorian women in fancy dresses, beautiful old photographs of the Cape May historic houses, and of course a few funny cat videos. Just for the laugh. She interspersed notices about her room availability and prices, including one post focusing on the importance she placed on safety and cleanliness. Then another cat video, to lighten the mood.

  After social media came emails, her newsletter, then the various websites that promoted hotels and inns, updating her information and responding to their requests for updated information.

  She sat back and stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and arms. Scheduling these posts was all well and good, but she’d have to keep a close eye on her phone so that she could reply to any comments the posts received. She hated how much time she had to spend on marketing, but it really wasn’t optional.

  And it couldn’t all be done online, either.

  Her mind was on her ads and marketing efforts as she grabbed her rain hat from the hall closet and a wool sweater that could withstand the slight drizzle that had started up, but the movement she saw out of the corner of her eye brought her back to the immediate present with a start. Had she really just seen something, or was her mind playing tricks on her?

  She dropped her hat onto a chair and moved toward the still darkened doorway that led to Aunt Louise’s rooms. Anna had not yet ventured into these rooms, despite being in the house for three months. They held too many memories, too many tears. She knew she needed to get in there and start going through Aunt Louise’s things.

 
She could picture the rooms perfectly, memories from her many visits throughout her life still vivid in her mind. They were full of mementos Aunt Louise had picked up over the years, everything from fine art to local tchotchkes. Whenever Aunt Louise had had the time, she’d traveled the world. She’d picked up wooden boxes and jade statues, lace and tapestries, scarves and jewelry. It was a haphazard collection, but at the same time, Aunt Louise kept her private rooms pristine, a place for everything and everything in its place. Just like the rest of her life.

  So what, then, had made Anna think she’d seen a movement?

  She tiptoed closer to the doorway, then scoffed. Why was she tiptoeing? She intentionally stepped louder as she approached the doorway, then stuck her hand around the corner to flip on the overhead light.

  Nothing moved. The short hall was empty, bar the two portraits hanging on the wall of Aunt Louise’s mother — Anna’s grandmother — and someone Anna didn’t know. Two doors led off the hall, one straight ahead, the other to the right. Anna knew that straight ahead lay Aunt Louise’s bedroom; to the right, her private sitting room. It was a good setup. It allowed Aunt Louise private space while still keeping her nearby in case she was needed by the guests.

  One day soon, Anna was going to have to open those doors. Revisit her memories of her favorite Aunt. Go through her belongings, sort through what could be kept and what needed to be given away. Probably clean up the mess left by the police when they searched. Anna grimaced at that thought.

  One day soon, but not today. She wasn’t ready yet. Not until she could be confident that she would be successful in running the business Aunt Louise had built. She had some more work to do first.

  She flipped the light back off. It was time to get to work and to get Eoin to the community center.

  20

  Eoin safely, if somewhat morosely, enrolled in the creativity lab, Anna wrapped her wool sweater more tightly around herself and headed out to Washington Mall with the flyers and brochures she’d had printed up for Climbing Rose Cottage. The main street in the town, it had been pedestrianized years earlier and housed lines of shops and restaurants on either side with pretty gazebos, benches and flowerpots along the center. The stores along this street offered something for everyone, including works by local artists, creative clothing boutiques, toy stores, kitchen goods and, of course, fudge.

  Crowds of visitors thronged the street, despite the weather. A few folks fought with umbrellas that weren’t strong enough to withstand the wind, but most were wrapped in coats and hats. Even the gray skies couldn’t hide the attraction and beauty of the street — or get in the way of business.

  A young woman stood outside a fudge shop, ducking under the awning, holding a tray of samples covered in plastic to protect them from the rain. Anna smiled and nodded as she grabbed a sample. She’d be back later to buy more, no doubt. The restaurants were crowded, guests lingering in the warmth and out of the rain. The stores were busy too, as wet shoppers jogged from one to another, looking over the jewelry, clothing, books, paintings and keepsakes that were on offer.

  Anna joined the crowds, moving from one store to the next. She knew most of the shopkeepers by now, having worked this route before. In each store, she asked to talk to the manager, then requested permission to leave her brochures near their registers and post a flyer to their bulletin boards if they had one. Almost all of the managers and owners agreed. It was in their best interest to keep her business running, too. After all, they all shared a dependency on tourism to Cape May to keep their stores afloat.

  Finally feeling a little upbeat about the future of her business, Anna pulled open the glass door to Bric-N-Brac. The antique-slash-odds-and-ends store located just off the main street and run by Jacob and Emily Ahava, carried everything from top-of-the-line antique chairs to a kite in the shape of a pirate.

  “Hi Jacob, how are you doing?” Anna asked as she entered, seeing the owner working behind the register. “And how’s Emily?”

  “We’re doing well,” Jacob answered, his nordic accent still recognizable despite their many years in the country. “I hear you’ve been having some problems, though.” He frowned down his nose at her.

  Anna took a breath. “Yes, of course you’ve heard. It’s a tragedy.”

  Jacob nodded then turned as his wife came in from a back entrance. “Anna, how nice to see you.” She smiled, but the smile seemed somehow cold to Anna, not her customary effusive greeting.

  She figured she should just get down to business. “I’m here to see if I can leave some of my new brochures with you.” When neither of them responded, she added, “For your customers to pick up?”

  Emily took one of the brochures and looked it over. “Very nice.” She handed it back without agreeing to let Anna display them.

  “Is something wrong?” Anna finally asked.

  The couple shared an expression, then Jacob frowned at her again. “I have heard, from some friends, that you have been saying things about Richard Gormley.”

  “Oh.” Anna’s hand flew to cover her mouth to hide her surprise. And her guilt. She nodded. “I see. I mean, I understand. But no, it’s not that…” she petered out, not sure how to defend herself against an accusation that was true.

  “He is a good man, Anna,” Jacob continued. “A strong man. He was a good neighbor. I don’t like to hear bad rumors about him.”

  “No, of course not.” Anna shook her head. “I’m so sorry. You’re right, I was talking about him. But not to say anything bad, I promise.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she spoke, but it didn’t assuage her guilt. “I just wanted to learn more about him. I met him for the first time when he stayed in Climbing Rose Cottage. You know, when…” she paused, once again lost for words.

  “When poor George Hedley died,” Emily said, nodding. “It was a tragedy, for sure.”

  “I am surprised you don’t know Richard,” Jacob added. “He lived in Cape May for many years.”

  Anna nodded. “I’m surprised, too. Do you know why he moved away?”

  Jacob shrugged and frowned. “I suppose it was his time to retire, to pass the baton on to another generation.” He glanced at his wife. “Something we have been considering ourselves.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Anna said.

  “He didn’t want to retire,” Emily chided her husband softly. “He wasn’t ready to sell his business.”

  Anna waited, but Emily only stared at her husband, while Jacob simply looked down at his hands folded on the counter.

  “So why do you suppose he sold his business?” Anna finally asked.

  “Who can know?” Jacob answered. “Maybe Susan convinced him it was time. His wife,” he added when he saw the confusion on Anna’s face.

  “Maybe George made him a really great offer,” Emily chimed in. “They did buy that big house in New York.”

  Anna glanced around the store, still holding on to the brochures she hoped to place there. “I don’t suppose you know Paul Murphy, do you? He runs Richard’s business now.”

  Jacob and Emily both shook their heads. “He lives in Villas,” Jacob said, mentioning a town a few miles north on the bay side. “We don’t see him down here so much. He works here, that is all.”

  “I’ve heard that George partnered with Paul because he knew he’d need someone to deal with clients,” Anna said. “I guess he wasn’t the most outgoing of people.”

  Jacob frowned yet again. “We don’t know George at all. Just the name, from Richard talking about him.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, when he got going.” They both laughed.

  “You mean, talking like he was angry at George?” Anna asked.

  Emily and Jacob both clamped their mouths shut. Jacob put out a hand and took the brochures from Anna. “You can leave these here. But you must stop saying things like that about Richard Gormley.”

  “Right, sorry.” Anna grimaced. She really needed to work on her diplomatic skills if she was going to keep aski
ng questions like this. “Thanks for taking those,” she said with a wave as she left the store.

  21

  The drizzle had picked up and was now definitely rain. Anna could feel cold drops rolling from her hat down into her collar. She shivered and pulled her sweater tighter around her, pulling the collar up. She still had a few more stores to visit before calling it a day.

  Coming from Bric-N-Brac, she walked another block on the side street that ran parallel to Washington Mall. She was just turning the corner to head back to the main street when she heard her name.

  “Felicia.” She smiled at the older woman. “How are you? Did you have a good time last night?”

  Felicia put an arm around Anna’s shoulder. “I’m fine, but more to the point, how are you? You look like a drowned rat.”

  Anna laughed but couldn’t disagree. That’s kind of how she felt.

  “Come on.” Felicia turned her away from Washington Mall. “You can use a break. Come home with me for a hot cup of tea.”

  Anna gratefully followed her friend back around the corner then up one more block. Even in this weather, the bright colors of the imposing Victorian houses looked cheerful and warm. Some of these houses were B&Bs, just like hers, but others were private residences. Through the lace curtains Anna could glimpse shining wood floors, sparkling chandeliers and walls lined with art and books.

  Felicia led her up the steps to one such house. Its pale blue exterior was trimmed with a brighter blue, a wide covered porch wrapped around from one side of the house to the other. Windows shone brightly in the gray light of the day, looking warm and comforting. Anna shivered one more time as she followed Felicia into the entrance hall then through a door in the back of the hall into the kitchen.

  Completely modernized, the kitchen wouldn’t have matched the style of the house except that Felicia had somehow made it seem a natural fit. A silver wood-burning stove sat in one corner, putting out a flickering heat that drew Anna toward it. As she stood warming her hands, she glanced around the rest of the kitchen. Sleek metal appliances were balanced with dark walnut cabinets and marbled counters. Overhead lights kept the work surfaces bright but smaller lamps dotted the room, emitting a mellower cast.