Murder at Redwood Cove (15 page)

“Thank you. I had no idea people cared so much.”

“We are the Silver Sentinels. We care. We protect.” He patted her awkwardly on the back. Then his chest puffed up. The bravado that had slipped away during the boyfriend confusion flowed back. “We care. We protect.”

“Right, then,” Scott said. “Now that we've gotten that straightened out, where should I put my things?”

Oh my gosh. My deer-in-the-headlights look tipped Scott to the situation.

“Okay. I'm guessing there
is
nowhere for me to put my things.”

“I'm . . . I'm so sorry. It . . . it all happened so fast. Your coming here, I mean. And besides, there hasn't been room for weeks because of the festival. And . . .”

“Kelly, no problem,” Scott said. “We'll figure something out.”

“But how? The company policy says we both need to be on site.”

“He can have my room,” Tommy piped up.

The room silenced. No one said a word.

Right. House a top executive administrator in a little boy's room. The proverbial pin could drop, and we'd all hear it.

“And where do you live, Tommy?” Scott knelt down and scratched Fred's ears.

“I live in the little house over there.” He pointed at the cottage visible through the back door window.

“That's very generous of you. Where will you stay?”

“Miss Kelly wants my mom and me to stay in her room tonight.” He faltered a bit. “Because of what happened to me.” Tommy sat on the floor and put his arms around Fred's neck and held him close.

Scott looked at me. “And where are you staying, Miss Kelly?”

“In Helen's room.” I paused for a moment. “In the cottage.”

“Perfect, then.” Scott straightened up. “You and I will share a small bed-and-breakfast.”

Two bedrooms.

One shared bathroom.

Small.

Very small.

M
y throat was suddenly tight. “That should work.”

Helen glanced at the clock. “There's enough time before I put out the beverages and hors d'oeuvres for me to change sheets and put out towels for you two.”

“I'll take care of the food,” I said.

“Are you sure? That's part of my job.”

“You have plenty to do with packing for the night.”

“Thanks. That's sweet of you. Everything is prepared, waiting in the refrigerator, and ready to go.”

“C'mon, Mr. Scott,” Tommy said, “I'll show you my room. You can even play with my Legos if you want. But please don't take apart the ones on my bookshelf.”

“That's very nice of you, Tommy.” Scott gave me a wink. “Let's go.”

Tall man, short boy, and trotting dog left for the cottage. Helen and Allie followed closely behind.

“I go now. Enough people here,” Ivan said.

“Ivan, please thank the Silver Sentinels for their vigilance.” I looked at him with affection. “It's greatly appreciated by all of us, and I'm going to let my boss know how much your group has done.”

“You welcome.” He placed his black wool fisherman's cap on his head and gave it a strong tug on the brim, securing it against the ever-present coastal winds.

Daniel flipped through the notes he'd taken at the cottage. “I'm going to order pizza tonight for Helen, Tommy, Allie, and myself. We'll eat at their place. That way I can stay with them while they're getting their things together.”

“Thanks for all of your help.” I sighed. “I hope they catch the person soon.”

“Me, too.” Daniel filed his papers in a plastic tray on the wall. “Would you like me to order a pizza for you and Scott?”

“No thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I've been enjoying way too many wonderful things not listed on my usual low cal diet.”

“I'll walk Helen and Tommy over about eight.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Daniel left to join the others.

I spied a tray with two empty cups on the counter. That explained why Stanton and Charlie hadn't joined the ruckus. Had the deputy learned anything helpful? I doubted he'd tell me if he had. Was there any way I could get Charlie to tell me about their discussion? Unlikely, but I'd try to find him tomorrow and give it a shot.

I went back to my room to finish packing.

Scott. What an awkward situation. While I struggled to keep him at a distance, Fate kept throwing us together. Should I be paying attention to the murmurs of the Universe?

I shook my head. No, not now. Someone had tried to kill Tommy, and I believed Bob was murdered. Finding out who was responsible was where my focus needed to be.

Sitting down on the window seat, I pulled out the two pieces of paper and unfolded them. Putting the list of suspects down on the couch, I studied the deciphered notes. They were similar to the ones I'd already seen. The Navajo words
BESH-LAGAI
and
CH-CHIL-BE
had silver and gold written next to them followed by
3P
. Spidery handwriting under them read:
money? color? Three PM.
It would seem likely it had to do with money because of how much the abalone poachers were raking in. Maybe the time was when the money changed hands. But why two words? Was it something to do with how the payment was made? If they were colors, what did they refer to? Someone's clothes? Jewelry? Color of cars? I could check on the vehicles tomorrow.

I shook my head. Enough for now. Time to get ready. My light blue fleece hung from the back of the wooden chair at the table. I grabbed it and put it on top of my duffel bag. I reached under the pillow, pulled out my pajamas, and paused. They were my favorite ones—navy blue with running, cream-colored horses. Perfect for the ranch but probably not executive administrator wear. While I didn't intend to parade around for anyone in my nightclothes, things could happen. I found a terry-cloth robe in the closet and tried it on. It stopped at my knees. Still lots of equines showing. Better than nothing. I threw it on top of the bag.

The bell rang, announcing the arrival of a guest. After I checked in a young couple from Berkeley, I walked back to my room, got my things, and carried them to the kitchen. I could see Scott walking toward the inn with a large bundle in his arms. I put my bags in a corner and opened the door.

“Thanks,” he said.

Now I could see he was carrying a large, forest-green dog bed.

“My new job—Fred's butler.” He held up the bed. “Where should I put it, madam?” he asked with a prim and proper English accent.

“My room's open. You can put it anywhere in there.”

He walked by, and I did a double take. He wore faded jeans, a tan flannel shirt, and lightweight hiking boots. That wasn't what he'd worn when we worked together in Colorado. Where was the perfectly attired business executive?

I started pulling out plates for the evening treats, wondering about this new side of Scott.

He returned, announcing, “Mission accomplished. I hope my new boss won't be too demanding.” He grinned. “Baked dog treats? Heated kibble?”

I smiled. “Fred's pretty easygoing. I don't think you need to worry.” I glanced at him as I arranged the plates on trays. “When we worked together at Keane Manor, you only wore ironed khakis, pressed crease down the front, starched white shirts, and loafers. I didn't know you even owned blue jeans.”

“When Michael called about the situation in Colorado, I was on my way back from an extensive series of business meetings. I had casual wear, but it wasn't a jeans-type trip. I only had time to change flights and fly straight to the resort.”

Bemused, I sat at the counter and leaned back into its rounded edge.

“So, yes, Ms. Jackson, I wear jeans. I even have denim shirts, work boots, T-shirts with logos on them, old tennis shoes, caps from various events, sweats . . .”

“Okay, okay.” I laughed. “I get it.”

“Three days in Colorado dealing with the situation we had isn't exactly the best way to get to know someone,” Scott said.

“Agreed.”

“Speaking of which, I'd like to hear about what's been happening here and learn more about the Silver Sentinels.” He grabbed a loaner jacket from a peg by the door. “I can go to Shadelands Market and get a roasted chicken. They also have prepared salads and side dishes. I'll put something together for us. We can talk over dinner.”

“Great idea.” This was a different Scott than the one I had met previously. Casual. Easygoing. Relaxed. And in jeans, no less.

The doorbell rang as Scott left. The final guests for the weekend had arrived. After checking them in, I went back to the kitchen and finished assembling the wine and appetizers. As I took them to the parlor, the suspects paraded through my mind yet again. Could I get Stanton to tell me anything? I picked up the bottles of wine from the counter that had been opened and took them to the parlor. What excuse did I have for calling him?

Bingo!

The Professor's list and their investigation. I had more information for him. I could also tell him about their watching over Tommy.

Perfect.

I punched in Stanton's cell number, memorized by now.

“Deputy Sheriff Stanton.”

“Hi, it's Kelly Jackson.”

“Hello, Ms. Jackson. What can I do for you?”

Did I catch a hint of reserve? Maybe wondering what I was bringing his way this time?

“I thought you might like to know what the Silver Sentinels have been up to, and I have more news for you.”

“Right. What are my active seniors into now?”

I explained about the Professor's plans and the watch group.

“Sounds like something they'd do. And I agree with the Professor. We've been pursuing the same line.”

“Were you able to find out anything from Charlie?” I forced a light, happy voice that was becoming all too familiar.

His sigh traveled clearly over the phone. “Ms. Jackson, you know I can't talk to you about that.”

Rats. “Can you tell me if he has an alibi?”

There was a long moment of silence. “If what he told me checks out, he has an alibi.”

“Thanks for the information. Do you know what kind of vehicle he drives?”

“A small Chevrolet pickup with a white camper shell. Why?”

“It goes back to the Professor's and my theory the abalone poachers have to work with someone who has connections in San Francisco. Charlie's family is there, and he visits regularly. They also have to have a vehicle that could transport the bags of abalone.”

“Good thinking, Ms. Jackson,” the deputy sheriff said.

“What color is his vehicle?” No reason to miss an opportunity to gain as much information as possible.

“Silver. Why do you ask?”

“The latest page of notes the Sentinels deciphered has the words
silver
and
gold
. It probably refers to money, but someone jotted down color with a question mark. I'm keeping an open mind.”

“Again, good thinking. What else was in the notes?”

I filled him in. “Do you know what the others on our list drive?”

“Andy's got a gold van, and Jason's is white. I'm not sure about Phil.”

“Thanks for the information. I can find out what Phil drives.”

“Anything else?”

“That's it. I hope you don't have any unpleasant surprises this evening.”

“Me, too.” He hung up.

Silver and gold. Interesting. My car list was well underway. If the colors were connected to vehicles, that would eliminate Jason.

I felt good about providing some information that might prove useful to the investigation. I hummed as I finished putting out the evening's offerings, started a fire, and began to set the counter for Scott and me. I pulled silverware and napkins from the drawer and dishes from the cupboard. My mind kept churning. Charlie had a vehicle that would work for delivering abalone. Deputy Sheriff Stanton hadn't yet checked the alibi. Charlie was still in the running.

Scott opened the door as I was putting out wineglasses. He put a large paper bag down on the counter, and we worked together to unload the contents. The chicken was a perfect shade of brown and smelled divine. He'd put together a large green salad with a myriad of additions. I could see small yellow and red tomatoes, green onions, and black beans, among other things. Several small containers of salad dressing appeared. A box of herbed potatoes rounded out the dinner. I liked his choices.

I pulled a bottle of Rose Winery 2006 chardonnay from the refrigerator, took out the cork, and poured some for us.

We both sat with a mutual sigh.

“It's good to see you again.” He held up his wine, and we clinked our glasses together. “Please catch me up to speed with what's been happening.”

We ate, talked, and took occasional trips to the parlor to check on provisions and the fire for the guests. By the time we finished dinner, he knew what I knew. By the time we'd cleared dishes together, he knew what I suspected.

“What are your next steps, Kelly?”

Before I could answer, Tommy, Helen, and Fred came in. Daniel and Allie waved from the door and said their good-byes.

“My room's open. Here are the keys.” I handed them to Helen. “Everyone's checked in. The fire is dying down. However, there are still a few trays to pick up.”

“I'll take care of them. Tommy can help me.” Helen's eyes looked larger than usual due to the dark circles under them. “Thanks again, Kelly.”

“Happy to help.”

“Time to be off to our B&B.” Scott grinned at me.

Inwardly I groaned. Outwardly I smiled, picked up my bags, and grabbed a flashlight from the ones by the door.
Here we go
.

We let ourselves out the back and heard Helen slide the dead bolt home.

I turned on the flashlight and lit the path to the cottage a short distance away.

The lights were on when we entered. I had only been in the home once. It had been clear Helen was a meticulous housekeeper, and that hadn't changed. We walked down the short hallway off of the living room. Helen's room was on the left. A dark oak double bed with matching bureau furnished the room along with a vanity table and chair. I put my bags down.

Tommy's room was on the other side. I looked in. A plethora of stuffed animals, books, and models filled every corner and shelf. The bed had a pile of fluffy dogs on it, with one bearing a resemblance to Fred at the front of the heap. The Legos occupied a special area all to themselves on a large bookcase.

Posters of all kinds of dogs papered the wall. German shepherds, bloodhounds, Chihuahuas, and poodles were among the many. While dogs were clearly his favorite, the ceiling had images of soaring eagles, majestic white cranes, and a pair of quail with a passel of fluff balls following them. The bedspread rained cats and dogs. Animal eyes peered from every nook and cranny.

“Are you sure about this? We could fix the couch for you.”

“What? And miss this opportunity to regain my childhood by sleeping in the lad's room?”

“Thanks for being such a good sport.”

“No problem.” He gestured to the tiny bathroom separating the two rooms. “Ladies first to the facilities. I'm going to read for a bit.”

We said our good nights. After I brushed my teeth, I changed into my flannel pajamas and folded the floral-patterned bedspread down to the foot of the bed. Nestling under the down comforter was heaven.