The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (10 page)

Despite Chloe’s assurance that I didn’t need to take anything to the barbecue, I put together a quinoa salad with a lemon Dijon vinaigrette. When that was done, I flopped down onto the couch and tried calling my mom to tell her about Jimmy’s will. Maybe my inheritance would seem more real once I’d talked it over with her. But it wasn’t to be. Not then, at least. All I got was her voicemail, so I left her a quick message letting her know that I wanted to talk to her but that I’d be out for the evening. If I didn’t hear from her before six o’clock, I added, I’d call her tomorrow.

Noticing that I had a new text message, I brought it up on the screen. It was from my friend Cassidy, a general inquiry into how I was doing. I typed out a reply, telling her about Jimmy’s death but not the fact that he was murdered. When I didn’t receive an immediate response, I set my phone aside.

I had some time to spare, so I settled into a chair on the back porch to read, immersing myself in a fictional mystery rather than the real-life ones that had been occupying my thoughts lately. There was something comforting about knowing that the mystery would be solved by the end of the book, all loose ends tied up, justice prevailing.

A gentle tap-tap at my leg pulled me out of the story a few pages later. Flapjack batted his paw against my jeans once more before hopping up into my lap. I set my book aside and spent a few minutes cuddling him while taking in the ocean view. As Flapjack purred, I closed my eyes and focused on the way the light breeze played across my face, tickling my cheeks with stray strands of my hair.

The smell of the fresh ocean air and the sound of water rushing over a sandbar as the tide crept in helped to ground me, to settle my hectic thoughts. Muscles I hadn’t realized were tight slowly relaxed and I found myself breathing more deeply, more freely.

What was it about this place that had such a calming effect on me? Even finding Jimmy’s body farther along the cove couldn’t spoil the tranquility the beach brought to my spirit.

A seagull cried out and I opened my eyes as the bird landed on the water, tucking in its wings to float and bob about on the waves. I drew in a long, deep breath of air full of the smells of the beach. As I exhaled, I stood up, holding Flapjack in my arms, and cast one more look out at the ocean before retrieving my book and going inside.

I’d decided to use my remaining time to go for a run. Back in Seattle, I’d made a habit of running two or three times a week, but since arriving in Wildwood Cove I’d failed to keep up that routine. Now I was itching to get back to it. I figured that wasn’t a bad thing, especially since I’d indulged in Ivan’s delicious cooking a number of times over the past two weeks. I had a particular weakness for his crêpes—sweet or savory—and I’d already sampled several varieties.

After changing into my running gear and spending a few minutes stretching, I set off along Wildwood Road. Almost immediately, any stress the ocean hadn’t soothed out of me ebbed away and I fell into a steady rhythm.

In the trees around me, birds chirped and sang, their music keeping me company. I jogged past several houses and rounded a bend in the road. A car drove past and the driver raised a hand in greeting. I waved back. It wasn’t anyone I recognized, but the locals were generally friendly enough to wave at anyone. That was one of the many things I loved about Wildwood Cove. No matter what I decided to do with my inheritance, I was glad I’d returned to the seaside town, if only for a while.

Conscious of the time, I reversed my direction so I could head back to the Victorian and get ready for the barbecue. Once I’d returned to the house, I took a quick shower and considered my clothing options. The barbecue was most likely a casual affair, but I figured I could do better than jeans that were frayed and faded. I grabbed my newest pair of jeans and pulled them on, adding a shirt and light sweater to complete my outfit. Once I’d tamed my curly hair, I set out some dinner for Flapjack. While he happily gobbled up his food, I grabbed the bowl of quinoa salad from the fridge and checked the clock on the microwave. Six o’clock was only a few minutes away, so I wasted no more time. I gave Flapjack a quick pat goodbye and set off on foot, heading along Wildwood Road and into town.

At the corner of Saratoga Street and Sea Breeze Drive, I found the green-and-white house Brett had described. It had an attached garage, but two sedans were parked in the driveway behind a white cube van with green lettering on the side.

As I passed the truck on my way toward the house, I got a closer look at it and saw that the letters spelled out
COLLINS LAWN AND GARDEN CARE
. Brett’s work truck. Maybe the sedans belonged to other barbecue guests. I wondered how many other people would be present, but figured I’d find out soon enough. No matter how many guests would be there, I was looking forward to spending the evening in the company of others. It would be a good distraction, a nice break from thinking about unpleasant things like Jimmy’s death.

I climbed the steps to the front porch and rang the doorbell. High heels clicked a hurried beat on the other side of the door and it opened a second or two later.

“Marley!” Chloe said with a bright smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come on in.” She stood back so I could enter the house.

“I brought a salad.” I offered her the bowl after she closed the door.

“You didn’t have to do that, but it looks delicious. Thank you.” She accepted the bowl from me and led the way down a hall toward the back of the house, her high heels clicking on the light-colored hardwood floors. “We’re all out on the porch. Let’s get you a drink and then I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

At the back of the house, a bright and modern kitchen opened onto a cozy family room. Sliding glass doors led out onto a large porch where a handful of people had already gathered. Brett was the only one I recognized. He spotted me through the glass and came inside.

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile as he slid the glass door shut behind him.

“This is a nice place,” I said as I took in everything around me. “Is it yours?”

“Yep,” Brett said.

“But I live here, too,” Chloe put in as she peeled the plastic wrap off the bowl of quinoa salad.

Brett grinned. “She’s my lowly tenant.”

“Please. More like the best tenant anyone could ever ask for.”

Brett opened his mouth to retort, but Chloe cut him off.

“What would you like to drink, Marley? We’ve got wine, beer, coolers, and soda.”

I settled on a black cherry cooler and Brett popped the top off for me before doing the same to the bottle of beer he’d selected for himself. After Chloe picked up her own half-finished cooler, we all headed out onto the porch. Three adults in their fifties and a young woman with long brown hair sat in chairs or on the wooden bench that ran along one side of the porch.

“Everyone,” Chloe announced to the group, “this is Marley.” She pointed out people one by one. “Marley, this is my mom, Elaine; my dad, Frank; my aunt Gwen; and her daughter, Jourdan.”

We all exchanged hellos and I settled into a seat between Jourdan and Chloe as Brett headed over to join his father at the grill.

“We’ve got burgers, shrimp skewers, and…some sort of vegetarian thing,” Brett said as he removed the lid of a plastic container and peered at the contents.

“Soy burgers,” Jourdan said with a roll of her big brown eyes. “I made them myself.”

I requested a soy burger and the others voiced their preferences as well. I sipped at my drink and chatted with everyone while we waited for dinner to cook. Our conversation consisted mostly of expressions of sorrow over Jimmy’s death and questions about my life and career in Seattle.

“The shrimp skewers are ready,” Brett announced after a short while. “And the burgers will be too in a few more seconds.”

Jourdan shivered. “Maybe we should eat inside. It’s getting cold out here.”

“Not quite barbecue weather,” her aunt Elaine agreed.

Brett stayed by the grill, but everyone else got up and headed into the kitchen. I considered hanging back with Brett but found myself swept along with the others.

“Where’s Uncle Ray?” Chloe asked as she set out plates on the kitchen table. “I thought he’d be here by now.”

“He promised he’d try not to be too late,” Gwen said. “But he had to take care of some things in Port Angeles first.”

A car door slammed somewhere nearby.

“Maybe that’s him,” Jourdan said.

A moment later, Ray Georgeson appeared on the back porch, still wearing his uniform. He slid open the glass door and came inside, Brett close behind him with two plates laden with grilled food.

“You’re just in time, Dad,” Jourdan said to Georgeson.

The sheriff removed his hat and set it on the back of the couch. “Evening, everyone.”

“You’ve met Marley, right, Dad?” his daughter asked as she and I sat down.

“I have,” he said with a nod in my direction. “Although I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

Chloe handed him a plate. “You look like you could do with a good meal.”

“It’s been a long day,” he admitted.

Brett set the burgers and shrimp skewers on the table and claimed a chair next to me. Fixings and condiments were set out along with my quinoa salad, a bowl of potato chips, and hamburger buns. Everything got passed around and once we all had full plates, we started in on our food.

The conversation continued as we ate, touching on different topics. I learned that Chloe was an elementary school teacher in Port Angeles while Jourdan was in her senior year of high school, hoping to become a teacher herself one day. Both Gwen and Elaine were artists, with Gwen focusing mostly on watercolors and Elaine on pottery.

It wasn’t until I’d swallowed down the last bite of my soy burger that the conversation veered back to Jimmy’s death, putting an end to the pleasant but temporary distraction.

“Have you made any arrests yet, Dad?” Jourdan asked.

“Not yet.”

His daughter shuddered. “It’s freaky to think there could be a murderer lurking around town.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure Jimmy was murdered?” Elaine asked.

Georgeson’s eyes met mine as he added a handful of potato chips to his plate. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “I received confirmation of that shortly before I left Port Angeles.”

I lowered my eyes to my empty plate. I’d known almost right away that Jimmy’s death was most likely the result of foul play, but having it confirmed caused a heavy weight to settle in my stomach. I finished my cooler, relieved that I’d already polished off my burger. My appetite had disappeared in a flash.

“That’s so terrible,” Chloe said from her seat beside me. She put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do for you, okay?”

I tried my best to give her a grateful smile. “Thanks.” I could feel Brett’s eyes on me from my other side but I couldn’t raise my own from my plate.

“Do you have any leads?” Frank asked.

“We’re following a few lines of investigation,” Ray replied vaguely.

“Is Leigh still a suspect?” I asked.

“What?” Brett cut in. “Leigh Hunter? Really?”

“I’m afraid she is,” the sheriff said in response to my question.

“But there’s no way she killed Jimmy,” I protested. “Why would she? I get that Jimmy left her fifty thousand dollars, but still…”

“Mrs. Hunter’s family has been under some financial strain since her husband lost his job last year.”

“I thought he found a new one,” Elaine said.

“He did, but he’s working at the hardware store for barely more than minimum wage. It’s nothing close to what he was earning before his previous employer went under.”

I frowned at that information. “I still don’t think Leigh had anything to do with Jimmy’s death,” I said. “I haven’t known her long, but I like her. Besides, Jimmy was alive when she arrived at The Flip Side, remember? He phoned a few minutes after she got to work.”

“Unfortunately, we only have Mrs. Hunter’s word for that at the moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“The phone records indicate that the pancake house did indeed receive a phone call at that time, but the call didn’t come from the hospital or from Jimmy’s cellphone.”

That piece of information surprised me. “Then where did it come from?”

“Another cellular phone. We’re attempting to track down the owner so we can speak with them. Also, none of the local cab companies have any record of a taxi picking up a fare at the hospital around the time Jimmy discharged himself.”

“But…” I couldn’t make sense of that.

Had Leigh lied to me about the phone call? No way. There had to be another explanation.

“I heard a rumor that Leigh’s car was seen at Myler’s Point that morning,” Chloe said, looking unhappy about what she was sharing. “Is that true?”

“It can’t be,” I said, but my stomach sank when I saw Ray’s face.

“A witness did come forward and make a statement to that effect,” he said.

“But her car wasn’t working!”

“Again, we only have Mrs. Hunter’s word for that.”

Crestfallen and confused, I stared down at my empty plate. Brett gave my hand a squeeze and I realized how stunned and dejected I must look.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” I asked Ray, hoping for some information that might work in Leigh’s favor rather than against her.

“Not much, I’m afraid. We’ve narrowed the time of death to somewhere between seven thirty and ten on Thursday morning. Beyond that I really can’t say much.”

“What about Jimmy’s house and The Flip Side?” Jourdan asked as she helped herself to more quinoa salad. “What will happen to them?”

“I don’t know yet,” I replied.

“Hopefully Gerald Teeves won’t get his hands on the house. Otherwise he’ll tear it down and put up some ugly mansion.”

“Gerald Teeves…” I recognized the name from my conversation with Michael. “The guy who owns the property next to Jimmy’s?”

“That’s him.” Brett picked up his bottle of beer but before taking a drink he added, “He’s a local developer.”

“If he had his way, he’d turned this entire town into a high-class getaway for the rich and famous,” Frank said.