Romeow and Juliet (6 page)

After I dropped Tara at her house I went back to my cabin and took another shower. Luckily, it appeared that both Max and Romeo had behaved themselves while I was gone, so maybe my string of bad luck was at an end. I pulled my unruly hair into a knot, slipped into my most comfortable pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed into the kitchen to pack up my offering for my reclusive friends.

Mr. Parsons’s property was to the left of my aunt’s. He lived alone in the house, as he had ever since I was old enough to remember. I’m not sure why he never married or had children, but most of the time he seemed content to hang out alone in the huge old house his grandfather had built. I brought him food a couple of times a week and he’d listen politely as I rambled on about whatever it was that was happening in my life.

Although Mr. Parsons had no pets, he seemed to like Max, so I made a point of bringing him along on most of my visits.

“Mr. Parsons, it’s Cait and Max,” I called after I’d both buzzed the intercom and knocked on the door.

“You can come in,” Mr. Parsons answered. “I’m in the study.”

I could hear the lock give as he remotely opened the front door. The house Mr. Parsons lived in was large and drafty. I have no idea why his grandfather had built such a monstrosity. As far as I knew, the man had only had two children, but the cavernous house must have at least ten bedrooms.

Mr. Parsons lived on the bottom floor, and I was fairly certain he rarely ventured to the second or third story of the house. The bottom level featured a large living room that, based on the dust layered on the furniture, was rarely used; a study that was really a warm and cozy library; a ballroom that had never hosted a ball in my lifetime; a kitchen, several bathrooms, and a single bedroom behind the kitchen that had most likely been designed to accommodate the hired help.

Mr. Parsons had made a home within a home by utilizing the downstairs bedroom, the nearby bath, the kitchen, and the study.

“I brought you some enchiladas,” I greeted the man, who smiled when Max trotted over to say hi. “Would you like me to heat some up for you now?”

“No. Just leave them in the refrigerator. I’ll have them later.”

I left Max with Mr. Parsons while I headed to the kitchen to do as he’d asked. The room really could use a good cleaning. Maybe I’d come back to straighten up before I left. I opened the refrigerator and frowned. The shelves that should have contained food were almost barren. I closed the door and returned to the study.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” I said.

“Depends.”

“I really need to run to the grocery store to pick up a few things. Do you mind if I leave Max here with you?”

“I guess that would be okay.”

“I noticed you were out of eggs. I’ll get some for you while I’m there. Is there anything else I can pick up?”

Mr. Parsons hesitated.

“I really don’t mind, and you’re taking care of Max for me,” I encouraged.

“Guess I could use some bread, and maybe a nice piece of fish for my dinner.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can find. And thanks for watching Max. I won’t be but a few minutes.”

“Take your time. Max and I will be fine.”

I paused. “If you really don’t mind keeping an eye on Max I do have a couple of other errands I could see to.”

“Like I said, take your time. Max and I are going to see what’s on television this morning.”

“Then I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

I decided to stop in at Mrs. Trexler’s before heading to the store, where I planned to buy enough groceries to fill up Mr. Parsons’s refrigerator and pantry. I knew he would enjoy spending some time with Max, and Max always enjoyed spending time with Mr. Parsons. I’d unsuccessfully tried to talk him into adopting one of our cats, but maybe a dog? I’m not the sort to try to second guess everyone’s motive for doing what they do—okay, maybe I am—but I did think Mr. Parsons’s lifestyle could only be enhanced by the addition of a pet.

After I dropped off Mrs. Trexler’s enchiladas and sat down to visit for a while, I decided to stop by the Bait and Stitch, the shop my aunt owns with her best friend Marley, to ask about the lab mix Marley’s neighbor was trying to find a home for. The Bait and Stitch is located in the tourist town of Pelican Bay, and while the eclectic little shop has a local following, its location near the wharf, where the ferry docks, brings in a good amount of tourist traffic as well.

“Mornin’,” I greeted the occupants of the brightly lit shop, which included Marley and five other women sitting at a large, round table working on the quilt I knew they intended to donate to the church bazaar.

“Mornin’, Cait,” the group answered back.

“Where’s Aunt Maggie?” I asked. Normally, you would find her working the counter at this time of day.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she decided to stay home,” Marley informed me.

“I didn’t realize she was worse today,” I said. “Francine stopped by early this morning to read me the riot act after Romeo decided to sneak under the hedge and romance Juliet, and somehow the day got away from me. I’d better stop in to check on her.”

“I would feel better if you did,” Marley told me. “I have to say, I’m really getting worried about her. Every time I think she’s getting better she has a setback.”

I frowned. “I know what you mean. She seems to have settled into this pattern where she’ll become really ill, miss a week or two of work, start to feel better, resume her normal routine, and then get sick again. I think she overdoes things when she starts to get better and then has a relapse.”

“I agree.” Marley looked worried. “I’ve tried to talk to her about taking things slowly, but you know Maggie.”

“I talked to Siobhan, who promised to talk to her. I’m hoping Maggie will go to Seattle for some additional testing.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help with your campaign just let me know,” Marley offered. “By the way, did you get the message I left for you about that out-of-town whale watching group?”

“No. I’ve been running around all morning and haven’t stopped to check my messages.”

“A group of men came in early to buy some bait and we got to talking. They were asking about a whale watching tour for this evening. I called Danny, but he didn’t answer, so I left a message, and I left one on your cell as well. They’re fishing this morning, but I told them to check back this afternoon.”

The whale watching tour boat Danny runs maintains a regular schedule during the summer, but during the off-season the charters are run on a reservations-only basis. Right now the reservations are taken via cell phone and referral, but once Tara and I open Coffee Cat Books, we plan to provide a permanent reservation desk near the coffee bar.

“I’ll stop by Danny’s boat to see if I can track him down,” I promised. “The main reason I stopped by was to ask you about that lab mix your neighbor is trying to find a new home for. Is he still available?”

“You looking to get another dog?”

“No. But I have a friend who might be interested.”

“As far as I know the little guy hasn’t found a home yet,” Marley said.

Marley had already told me that the dog’s owners had recently gotten divorced and the wife wanted nothing to do with the dog, while the husband had plans to sign on with a fishing boat for the summer.

“Do you think they’d let me take him for a trial?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not. Hang on and I’ll see if I can get him on the line.”

I chatted with the women’s quilting circle while I waited for Marley to make her call. The Bait and Stitch was not only a unique shop with a welcoming feel but a gathering spot for the locals as well. The quilting circle met several times a week, and most days at the beginning and end of the day local fishermen gathered to drink the free coffee and shoot the breeze as well. In addition, both the Mystery Lovers Book Club, of which I was a member, and the Romance Readers Book Club, which Marley attends, met at the shop after-hours. Tara and I had already spoken to both clubs about relocating their gatherings to Coffee Cat Books once we got up and running.

“My neighbor is fine with you taking Rambler for a trial,” Marley came back to tell me. “You can pick him up right now if you want.”

“I need to run by the store, but I’ll stop by to get him after that.”

I said my good-byes and was headed out the door when Patience Tillman, one of the women who was part of the senior women’s group at the church walked in.

“Mornin’,” I said.

“Caitlin, how are you?”

“Fine, and you?”

“Worried, actually.”

“Worried?” I asked as all eyes in the store settled on us.

“Francine was supposed to do a presentation at the women’s group this morning but never showed up. I called her phone and she didn’t answer, so I stopped by her house and there was no answer there either.”

“Maybe she had a last-minute emergency and had to go out,” I suggested. “I just saw her this morning and she seemed fine. Maybe she forgot about the meeting and went somewhere with a friend.”

The woman frowned. “I just spoke to her yesterday and she was very excited about having the opportunity to have the women’s group back her as a candidate for the island council. Our group wields quite a bit of influence, as you know.”

“Yes, I know.” It occurred to me that these women, who regularly met at the Bait and Stitch for free, ought to be backing Maggie, but I didn’t say as much.

“When you spoke with her yesterday did she indicate that she wasn’t feeling well or that something was wrong?” I asked.

“No, she seemed perfectly fine.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry. If I run into her I’ll have her call you,” I assured the woman.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

I left the Bait and Stitch and headed to the marina to see if I could track Danny down. That, I would soon find out, turned out to be my fourth really bad idea of the day.

The marina, where Danny keeps his boat, was located in the harbor where the old cannery Tara and I hoped to turn into Coffee Cat Books was located. I parked my car and started down the boardwalk toward the water, noticing as I went that there were several men walking around inside the building. There are misinformed people who will tell you that my impulsive nature coupled with my natural curiosity can be a lethal combination. While I’ll admit that my tendency to act first and think later has gotten me into some less than ideal situations, I’ve also found that acting on my thoughts can occasionally be a perspicacious thing to do. This, unfortunately, wasn’t one of those times.

A quick glance told me that Camden Bradford was with the men who had gathered inside, to investigate the crime scene, I imagined. To be honest, I’m not sure why he was included in the fact-gathering group, but perhaps the fact that the bank he worked for owned the property played into the equation. I found that my urge to listen in on the conversation the men seemed to be embroiled in was more than I could control. Upon further investigation, it didn’t appear that the men were from the sheriff’s office, as I had first assumed. Could these men actually be responsible for Keith Weaver’s death? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Mr. Bradford made an excellent suspect.

Bitzy had said that Keith Weaver was trying to block the condo development, which Mr. Bradford’s bank was backing financially. Kim had indicated to Tara that Weaver had expressed his intention to not only support the project but to push it through at the council level. What if Weaver had agreed to work with Powell and then changed his mind?

Keith Weaver was found dead in a building Mr. Bradford had access to. I knew it was a bit of a reach, but I suddenly felt fairly certain that Mr. Bradford had lured Keith to the cannery, where he’d then hit him over the head. The thing I couldn’t figure out was why he’d killed him in a building to which he was connected.

I realized that the answer to this question could very well be the topic of conversation among the men who suddenly looked more like gangsters than law enforcement personnel. If Tara were here she’d say that my perception of the men had changed to accommodate my theory, and perhaps she’d be right, but there was no way I was going to find out for certain if I couldn’t get closer to the group so I could listen in.

The men were standing at the back of the building, near the water side of the structure. I couldn’t very well walk through the front door, but I certainly could sneak around behind it. I noticed that one of the windows was cracked open just a bit, so if I could get close enough I was certain I’d be able to hear what they were saying. The problem was, the only thing on the water side of the building was . . . water.

I took a moment to consider my options. The old cannery had been built atop the wharf, which was actually quite a bit above the waterline. There were beams between the decking of the wharf and the water. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that I could use the beams to make my way across the water and access the small ledge on the exterior of the building. Making the decision that my plan would work, I climbed onto the first beam. The thing I really hadn’t thought through was that sea lions tended to nap on the beams during high tide, making for a very slippery surface. (Yep, the beams were covered in sea lion poop.) Somehow I managed to make my way to the far side of the structure and was planning to climb up onto the ledge when a playful sea lion came up out of the water and nipped me in the butt.