The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (21 page)

I almost told him right then and there that I’d take it, but I wasn’t used to making such large purchases on a whim. “I’ll think about it,” I said instead.

“Of course.” He gestured at the rest of the shop. “Please, take a look around. Let me know if you have any questions or if you’d like a closer look at anything.”

“Thank you.”

Before I had a chance to decide whether or not I’d spend another minute or two browsing, my cellphone rang. I dug it out of my tote bag and saw my mom’s name on the display.

“Hi, Mom,” I said once I’d accepted the call. “What’s up?”

“Hi, hon’. I’m back home and wanted to let you know that I’m planning to head over to Wildwood Cove first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That sounds good,” I said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

“So am I, sweetie. I’m just sorry I couldn’t come earlier.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve been managing all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How’s your day been so far?”

I paused in front of a blue-and-white porcelain vase. “I’m not really sure how to answer that question.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

“I discovered a couple of interesting things,” I said. “It’s a bit of a long story, so I’ll leave it until you get here. But let’s just say I might have an idea about who killed Jimmy.”

Or two ideas. It was still a toss-up between Jonah and Ida in my mind, but I didn’t bother to get into that.

“You’re not in any danger, are you?” A note of worry had entered my mom’s voice.

“Of course not,” I said, hoping that was the truth.

“But if you get the slightest hint that you’re in danger…”

“I’ll tell the sheriff,” I assured her.

“Good.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a sudden clang came from the back room. It was as though someone had dropped something heavy and metallic onto the floor. I glanced toward the proprietor where he stood behind the cash desk. He didn’t seem concerned, so I wandered away from the half-open door and returned my focus to my mom.

“I’d better run so I can do some laundry and get packed for tomorrow,” she was saying.

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” my mom agreed.

We exchanged goodbyes and I hung up.

Tucking my phone away in my bag for the time being, I decided to get going. The sooner I found that feather, the sooner I could call Ray and tell him about Ida.

After dashing through the pelting rain to get inside the house, I dropped my tote bag on the foyer floor and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. In the back bedroom where I’d been sleeping since my arrival in town, I snatched my favorite jeans off a chair and slid my hand into the left pocket. Way down at the bottom, my fingers touched something. When I pulled my hand out, I held the green feather between two fingers.

I clattered back down the stairs and fetched my cellphone from my bag. As I put a call through to Ray’s number, I wandered toward the back of the house. Flapjack jumped down from the couch in the family room and came over to greet me. I gave him a scratch under the chin as the call went to voicemail. I left a short message asking Ray to get back to me. After that, there wasn’t much I could do.

Flapjack mewed at me and I realized it was time for his dinner. I set out some food for him and quickly put a veggie wrap together for myself. As I ate, I kept checking my phone, as if I could somehow will the sheriff to get back to me, but it remained silent. After washing my dishes, I settled on the couch, the blustery wind throwing great splatters of rain against the windows and French doors.

Although I felt strongly that Ida was guilty of killing Jimmy, something about that scenario troubled me. Ida wasn’t a tall woman and she didn’t strike me as particularly strong or fit. She was definitely a lot smaller than Jimmy, and I wondered if she could have moved him on her own. It seemed unlikely. She would have had to hoist his body up into a vehicle and, after driving to Myler’s Point, get him out of the vehicle and over to the edge of the cliff.

So maybe she’d had help?

Oh no. It couldn’t be…

What if she’d called her nephew for help? Michael was strong and fit. Moving Jimmy probably wouldn’t have been much of a problem for him.

I shut my eyes, trying to sort out my thoughts, trying to figure out if there was some way I could connect Michael to the crime.

The glitter!

Retrieving my bag from the foyer, I dug through it until I came up with the card Patricia had given me. I snatched my phone up off the table and quickly dialed the number printed on the front of the card.

Patricia answered after the second ring. “Driftwood B&B.”

“Hi, Patricia. It’s Marley.”

“Hi, Marley. How are you doing?”

“All right, thanks,” I replied. “I have a quick question for you.”

“Of course.”

“When you had that problem with your dishwasher last week, did Michael fix it for you?”

“Are you having a problem with yours too?” She didn’t wait for me to respond, and I was grateful for that. “I called Michael about it,” she went on, “but he was tied up with another job so he sent Daryl Willis, his assistant. Michael’s fixed other plumbing problems for me in the past, though, and he knows his stuff. Daryl can handle the easy jobs, although I have to say he’s not as personable as Michael. Daryl’s girlfriend was hanging around too, which was a bit awkward.”

“Tina?”

“That’s her.”

My thoughts were going a mile a minute. Before I jumped to any conclusions, I decided to rule out one possibility. “Did you visit Jimmy anytime in the days before he died?”

“No, why do you ask?”

I couldn’t come up with anything to tell her other than the truth. “There was some glitter on his shirt the day he died. I was just wondering how it got there.”

“Hmm. I don’t know, but that glitter’s been such a nuisance. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was passed on to him from someone else.”

That was exactly what I now believed had happened.

“Thanks, Patricia.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Jimmy’s memorial.”

“Yes, see you then.”

I hung up, relieved that Michael hadn’t been the one to transfer the glitter to Jimmy. Knowing that I’d had dinner with a killer, and had ridden in his truck with him, would have been chilling.

Standing by the French doors, I stared out into the storm, thinking about what I’d learned from my conversation with Patricia. It seemed I’d been right to be so suspicious of Daryl. Maybe the feather from Ida’s scarf didn’t mean that she was guilty of anything. She’d probably shed the feather while visiting Michael’s house, the same house where Daryl lived. From there it could have stuck to Daryl’s clothes.

As I watched the storm, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I froze, my heart thudding out a rapid beat in my chest.

Was that someone on the beach watching me?

I hurried to unlock the doors and ran out onto the back porch, but the beach was now deserted. Still, I was certain I hadn’t imagined the figure. Someone had been standing on the beach, facing my direction, the hood of a gray sweatshirt pulled up over their head.

I scanned the rainy beach again but still saw no one. Whoever had been there couldn’t have gone far. Maybe he or she was still lurking nearby. With that uneasy thought, I retreated into the house, my hair and clothes damp from the rain. I locked the French doors and then made my way around the main floor, checking the locks on every other door and window. They were all secured, and the board over the window in the office was firmly in place. Still, I couldn’t relax.

What little daylight remained was quickly fading away, and the encroaching darkness along with the sounds of the raging storm only added to my edginess. I called Ray’s number again but, as before, it went to voicemail. I considered calling 911 but rejected that thought as soon as it formed. I didn’t really have an emergency. I’d seen an unidentified person on a public beach, possibly looking in my direction. Even though the sight of the figure had left an ominous feeling deep in my bones, no crime had been committed.

I sank down to sit on the arm of the couch, recalling something Ray Georgeson had told me days ago. He and his deputies suspected that the local burglaries had been committed by two people.

Daryl and Tina?

I pictured the young woman I’d seen standing outside Johnny’s Juice Hut and eating at The Flip Side. My heart kicked into overdrive again as I realized that the hooded figure on the beach was the right size and build to be Tina. Not only that, the figure’s clothes matched those I’d seen Tina wearing that day on Main Street when she was hanging out with Daryl and Logan.

Rushing over to the French doors, I peered through the rain and encroaching darkness, checking to see if the figure had returned, but the beach remained deserted as far as I could tell.

Another memory flashed in my head. Tina’s new bracelet. I’d suspected that Daryl couldn’t afford such a nice piece of jewelry, and now I believed more than ever that he’d stolen it. In a small town like Wildwood Cove, it probably hadn’t taken long for news to spread of Jimmy’s hospitalization. Most likely, Daryl and Tina had figured that made his workshop a good place to store some of their loot. They probably wouldn’t have known until my arrival that Jimmy had a relative coming to stay in his house. Then Jimmy came home and found them trying to retrieve their stash.

That had to be how it played out.

I didn’t know which of them had actually wielded the knife that killed Jimmy, but it didn’t really matter at the moment. They were both guilty and, if I was right about the identity of the figure on the beach, I could be in danger.

Chewing on my lower lip, I decided I didn’t feel safe on my own, even with all the doors locked. Besides, I wanted to tell somebody about everything I’d found out. I wanted that person to be Brett, but I worried that he wouldn’t want to hear from me after our last conversation.

Scrolling through my list of contacts, I found the number Chloe had given me after our dinner at the Windward Pub so we could stay in touch. Selecting that number instead of Brett’s, I paced back and forth as the phone rang in my ear.

“Hey, Marley.”

Just hearing a familiar voice brought me a sense of relief.

“Are you busy?” I asked.

“Not really. I’m just cleaning up my dinner dishes. What’s up?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Sure. On the phone, or do you want to come over?”

I hesitated, knowing there was a good chance that Brett would be there. But when my eyes shifted to the darkening windows, my sense of unease returned full force. “I’ll come over, if that’s all right.”

“Of course it is.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be there soon.”

After pulling on my jacket and grabbing my tote bag, I flipped on the porch light and stepped cautiously out the front door. The pool of yellow light didn’t stretch very far, but it allowed me to see that no one was lurking on the porch or at the bottom of the steps. I locked the door and clutched my keys in my hand as I made my way over to my car, my eyes darting in every direction.

With the gusting wind lashing rain across my face, I unlocked the driver’s door and tossed my bag onto the passenger’s seat. To be extra careful, I checked the backseat before climbing in behind the wheel.

You’re safe,
I told myself as I shut the door.

Still, I didn’t want to linger.

My car bumped along the driveway, splashing through puddles, and I left the warm glow of the porch light behind. When I turned onto Wildwood Road, the only illumination came from my car’s headlights. It wasn’t a great night to be out driving, but I didn’t have far to go. Despite the bad weather, I’d likely arrive at Chloe’s place in less than five minutes.

At least, that was what I thought until the sky really opened up. One moment I could see fairly well with the aid of my headlights and windshield wipers, but the next I could hardly see ten feet in front of my car. I slowed my speed, my hands tightening around the steering wheel. Although I knew the stretch of road well, I had no desire to try to drive it blindly.

I considered turning around but I knew I’d feel safer at Brett and Chloe’s place, and I was almost at the edge of town. I slowed my speed even more, but then bright headlights flashed in my rearview mirror. The twin lights closed in fast. Too fast.

“Slow down,” I said to my rearview mirror.

The lights kept coming.

I tried to swerve, but the impact happened too fast.

Metal crunched and tires squealed.

My body whipped forward and my head hit the steering wheel.

A flare of pain.

The world slipped away for a second or two, but not long enough to miss the sudden bounce and painful jolt as my car left the road. It came to an abrupt stop, flinging me forward again.

I blinked, slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings. The front end of my car tipped downward at a sharp angle. Was I in the ditch?

The driver’s door opened and someone leaned over me. I tried to push the person away, but they unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed my arms, pulling me from the car.

Alarm bells clanged in my groggy mind.

Rain pelted against my face, jolting me into greater awareness.

Whoever it was, this person wasn’t trying to help me.

I struggled, flailing and thrashing as the shadowy figure dragged me up out of the soggy ditch. I tried to yank myself free of the hands gripping my arms. The hands lost their hold on me and I fell, hitting the wet pavement as bright lights blinded me. Even though I couldn’t see, I scrambled to my hands and knees. I had to get away.

A hand grabbed the back of my jacket and jerked me to my feet. I spun around, ready to pound my assailant with my fists. Pain blasted through my right cheek as a hand struck me. I hit the ground again, stunned, barely aware of the pouring rain drenching my hair and clothes.

I blinked up at the figure standing over me, now illuminated by the headlights of the vehicle that had forced me off the road.

I recognized her right away.

Tina.