The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (17 page)

I decided to start by sorting through Jimmy’s clothes. Although that wasn’t a job I looked forward to, I knew it needed to be done.

After dumping my cold tea down the sink, I opened the closet in the foyer and pulled items out one by one. I sorted through Jimmy’s jackets as well as some hats and gloves, placing the folded items on the settee in the front living room. Anything still in decent shape would go to charity, while everything else would have to go in the trash.

Fortunately, the majority of what I removed from the closet went into the charity pile, including the sturdy pair of work boots and dark green Wellies that were the last items I sorted through. Even though it wasn’t easy for me to go through Jimmy’s belongings, knowing it meant I’d never see him again, I held back my tears and got the closet emptied.

I didn’t know if I was allowed to donate Jimmy’s belongings to charity before probate—I’d have to ask Mr. Ogilvie about that—but either way, I could at least have everything organized.

As I stood regarding the piles of footwear and outerwear, I decided I needed some boxes. I recalled seeing some in the storage room upstairs and when I poked my head in the upper tower room, I spotted several flattened ones stacked beneath one of the windows. Edging my way around the clutter, my gaze fell upon the antique slipper chair again.

It would go perfectly with the cheval mirror I’d seen in the antiques store, I realized. I could already picture them together here in the Victorian, adding a touch of elegance to the back bedroom currently claimed as my own. If I perked up the walls with a coat of fresh paint and found a queen-sized bed that complemented the antiques, I’d have a beautiful, cozy retreat.

But I was getting way ahead of myself. I’d inherited the Victorian and intended to keep it, but I still had a life waiting for me in Seattle. Did I really want to give up everything that I had in the city to move to Wildwood Cove?

Yes and no. I loved it here in the seaside town, but would I feel the same about it on a long-term basis? I wasn’t sure, and the thought of making such a big change made me nervous.

I pushed aside my musings and grabbed a couple of the flattened boxes. I brushed the dust off them, sneezing in the process, and carried them downstairs. When I reached the living room, I heard the rumble of another vehicle approaching the house.

“Please, no more unpleasant visitors,” I said to the ceiling as I dropped the boxes next to the settee.

I left the living room for the foyer. As I stepped out onto the porch, I was relieved to see that there were no maroon station wagons, yellow sports cars, or silver BMWs in sight. Instead, a black truck pulled to a stop in front of the house, Michael in the driver’s seat.

“Hi,” I said as he opened the truck’s door.

“How are things going?” he asked.

“All right, thanks.”

He climbed out of the vehicle and approached the porch steps.

“What brings you by?” I asked, with an inkling that I already knew.

“I was hoping to find out if you’d given any more thought to my dinner invitation.”

My stomach gave an uncomfortable twist and I was about to pass on the offer when I realized that dinner would provide a good opportunity to ask him some questions and learn more about Daryl. Besides, the thought of spending time in some good company appealed to me in the wake of Goldie and Jonah’s visit. I didn’t want to mislead Michael by accepting the invitation, but I doubted that would be an issue. He knew I was in town for only a few more days. Most likely he was just being friendly.

“Tonight?” I asked, checking to be sure I’d assumed correctly.

“If you’re free.”

“I am, and dinner sounds great,” I said.

Michael grinned. “I’ve got a place in mind, just at the edge of town. Do you like seafood?”

“I love it.”

“Good. That’s settled, then.”

“I just need a few minutes to change.”

“It’s a casual restaurant,” he assured me.

I glanced down at my dusty clothes. “Still, I’d like to put on something different.”

“No worries. I’ll wait out here.”

Leaving Michael on the porch, I dashed upstairs and quickly traded my dusty clothes for clean ones. Hurrying downstairs again, I set out some food and fresh water for Flapjack. Then I grabbed my phone and tote bag and rejoined Michael at the front of the house.

Moments later we were in his truck and heading toward town. During the short journey to the restaurant we chatted about our jobs and where we were from. I learned that Michael had grown up in Southern California and had arrived in Wildwood Cove three years earlier.

“What brought you here?” I asked, curious about how he’d found out about the small seaside town.

“I have relatives here,” he replied as he turned left off Wildwood Road. “Well, just one relative now, but I came here for a visit and decided I liked the place.” He slowed the truck and pulled into a parking space at the curb. “Here we are.”

As I climbed out of the truck, I glanced up at the sign above the restaurant:
CJ’S SEAFOOD HOUSE.
The name wasn’t familiar, and I had a feeling the restaurant hadn’t been around when I’d last visited Wildwood Cove.

Although the seafood eatery didn’t have a beachfront location, it was situated up a bit of a hill and overlooked the ocean. When we entered the restaurant, the hostess led us to a small table near the window so we were able to enjoy the view to its fullest.

As we looked over the menu and placed our orders with the waiter, we continued to chat about the town. I was eager to ask my questions, to find out how much Michael could tell me about Daryl, but I held back for the moment, not wanting to dive into that subject too soon. Once the waiter had brought our meals, however, I decided to give my questions a try. I was still attempting to figure out how to guide our conversation in that direction without being too abrupt when Michael saved me the effort.

“How’s the investigation going?” he asked as he sank his fork into a piece of seared black cod. “Any news from the sheriff lately?”

I swallowed a bite of delicious marinated prawn before replying. “Not much. Jimmy might have been killed on his property before he was taken to Myler’s Point, but I don’t know that the sheriff is any closer to making an arrest.”

“Hopefully that will change soon.”

“Hopefully,” I agreed.

Michael sniffed and rubbed the side of his nose before delving back into his cod.

“Do you have a cold?” I asked.

“Nah. Just allergies. Spring must be coming.”

“Seems to be,” I agreed. “I saw a few daffodils out the other day.” After enjoying another prawn, I asked one of the questions queued up in my mind. “Any word from Daryl?”

Michael took a drink of ice water and set down his glass. “He eventually sent me a text message, saying he planned to stay out of town for a while, but he didn’t say anything more than that.”

I digested that information as I ate another prawn with some seasoned rice. After a moment or two, I decided to fish for further information. “I saw the bracelet Daryl gave Tina. It’s beautiful.”

Michael frowned, his fork poised above his plate. “I don’t think I’ve noticed it,” he said, returning his attention to his food.

I didn’t let that deter me from my quest for clues. “I was surprised he could afford something so nice.”

“Maybe it wasn’t as expensive as it looks.”

“Or maybe he didn’t pay for it.”

Michael raised his eyes from his plate. “You think he stole it?”

I shrugged. “Or maybe it’s a family heirloom.”

“I don’t think he has any family heirlooms, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gone back to his old ways.”

“Old ways?” I echoed, latching onto those words. “Does he have a record for stealing as well as assault?”

“From when he was a teenager, but he hasn’t done anything like that for a long time.”

I wasn’t so sure about that and, despite what he’d told me, Michael didn’t seem so sure either. A troubled expression clouding his face, he returned his attention to his dinner. I went back to eating as well, but my thoughts continued to revolve around Daryl and what I’d just learned about his past. More and more, Michael’s young friend seemed like he could be guilty of at least one crime, if not more than one.

I didn’t get to ponder the issue for long, however. Michael asked me a question about my life in Seattle, and I doubted that he could provide me with any further information, so I did my best to make friendly conversation for the rest of the meal.

After we’d finished eating, we stepped outside and returned to Michael’s truck. As I settled into the passenger’s seat, I noticed a folded copy of the
Peninsula Daily News
on the center console. A headline about the investigation into Jimmy’s death screamed at me from the front page. Not wanting to see it anymore, I flipped the paper over, displacing a dusting of fine white powder in the process.

Michael opened the driver’s door and I glanced up, catching sight of a familiar face in a passing van.

Brett.

My stomach plummeted when his gaze connected with mine for a fraction of a second before he was gone.

“Everything all right?” Michael asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Yes, fine,” I said quickly, wiping the dismay from my face.

I did my best to chat with Michael as we headed for Jimmy’s place, but my thoughts remained with Brett. I didn’t want him to read anything into the fact that I was with Michael, and maybe he wouldn’t, but the mere chance that he might was enough to dampen my spirits. Still, I didn’t want to be rude, so I kept my feelings hidden and tried to stay present during the short drive.

By the time we reached Jimmy’s house, dusk had fallen and the shadows around us were growing deeper by the minute. I’d had the forethought to switch on the porch light before leaving the house earlier and it now cast a warm pool of light over the steps.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said as Michael walked with me to the front porch.

“You’re welcome,” he said, pausing at the base of the steps. “I’m glad we had a chance to get to know each other a little bit.” He half turned in the direction of his truck. “Listen, if you need a hand with anything while you’re here, let me know and I’ll do what I can to help out.” He glanced toward his truck and froze, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

A hum of concern ran up my spine. “What is it?”

“Should anyone else be on the property?”

“No.” My unease intensified. “Why?”

“Stay here.” The terse words were barely out of his mouth when he darted around the hood of his truck and ran toward the grove of fir trees at the front of the property.

Ignoring his last words, I took off after him. Although I was a decent runner, I couldn’t keep up with his longer strides, and he disappeared into the trees and deepening shadows.

“Hey!” I heard him shout.

I plunged into the grove but then slowed my steps and stopped. Michael was walking toward me, shaking his head.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I saw someone prowling around, but as soon as they saw me coming they took off through the trees.” He waved toward the towering firs that hid the street from sight.

“Any idea who it was?”

“I didn’t get a good look.”

“Was it a man? A woman?”

He shook his head again. “Sorry. I think it was a man, but I can’t be sure.”

I frowned, troubled.

“You sure you should be staying here on your own?” Michael asked as we walked back toward the house. “After the intruder at The Flip Side and now this prowler…”

My eyes snapped toward him. “How did you know about the intruder?” When he smiled, I rolled my eyes. “Right. Small town.”

“Whenever the sheriff gets called in, someone around town is bound to know about it. And when one or two people know, everyone knows before long.”

I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to the startling efficiency of the small-town grapevine. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “I had all the locks changed today and if I notice anything out of the ordinary, I’ll call the police right away.”

He rested a hand on the open door of his truck. “If you’re sure…”

I forced a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks again for dinner.”

He nodded and climbed into his vehicle. Seconds later, he had his truck turned around and was rumbling off down the driveway, into the deepening darkness.

With a shiver, I rubbed my arms and retreated into the house, locking the door behind me. The prowler sighting had me on edge, but there was more to my deep sense of unease than that. Maybe I was wrong, but I had a strong suspicion that Michael had just lied to me.

Anxiety and confusion kept me awake again that night, but after much tossing and turning I eventually managed to drift off to sleep. I didn’t wake up until seven o’clock, taking advantage of the fact that the pancake house was closed on Mondays. As soon as I woke, the same concerns took up residence in my mind, troubling me as I ate a leisurely breakfast and set off on foot for The Flip Side so I could catch up on some office work.

As I walked along the beach with the waves crashing ashore and steel-gray clouds overhead, I replayed the previous evening’s events in my mind and tried to figure out why Michael would have lied to me. I believed that he’d recognized the prowler, but if that was the case, why lie about it? Was he protecting someone? Daryl, maybe?

Michael had taken Daryl under his wing. It was possible that he would want to protect him. But to what extent? Would he protect Daryl even if he thought it possible that he was the killer?

As I stepped up on a log and walked along it, I remembered something I’d seen the other day; Logan Teeves had been hanging out with Daryl Willis outside Johnny’s Juice Hut.

I paused on the log. How could I have forgotten about that?

Did it mean anything?

I wasn’t sure.

It seemed like there were a lot of things I wasn’t sure about at the moment. I didn’t know who had killed Jimmy, I didn’t know what Brett thought about seeing me with Michael, and I didn’t know if I should move to Wildwood Cove or return to my life in Seattle.

I jumped down from the log and resumed my progress along the beach. Who was I kidding? Moving to Wildwood Cove was nothing but a fantasy. I had a life waiting for me back in Seattle, one that included a good job and a cozy apartment located only a short drive from my mom’s house. Jumping into the restaurant business would be a huge risk for me, even if my inheritance did leave me with a nice financial cushion. Besides, when I truly contemplated giving up my current life and moving away from the city, little sparks of panic flickered inside of me. My intense focus on my job had kept me together over the years since losing most of my family. The mere thought of letting go of that lifeline terrified me.

Of course, either way, I’d have to let go of something.

My thoughts strayed to Brett, but I wasn’t sure I should let them go down that path. Brett liked me, but that didn’t mean he’d be interested in a long-distance relationship. I didn’t even know if
I’d
be interested in a long-distance relationship. Besides, my last breakup was a difficult one, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to open my heart again, especially when I already had so much going on.

A voice deep inside of me whispered that I’d be foolish not to give a relationship with Brett a chance, and I couldn’t argue with it. He knew about the terrible losses I’d suffered and yet hadn’t shied away from me. That was a stark contrast to my last boyfriend, Ryan. It had taken me months to open up enough to tell Ryan about my stepfather and stepsiblings, and days later he’d dumped me via text message, telling me he didn’t want to deal with someone as damaged as I was. That single message had cut through me so sharply, so deeply, that months later it still stung whenever I thought about it.

I sighed and wished the ocean breeze could carry away all my worries, all my indecision. It would have been nice if it could have blown a few insights my way at the same time. But since that wasn’t going to happen, I’d have to keep muddling along on my own.

Leaving the sand for the paved promenade, I dug through my tote bag for my keys as I approached The Flip Side. Before I reached the front door, I stopped in my tracks, staring at the front windows.

At some point since I’d left the restaurant the day before, someone had taped large signs on the outside of the glass. I stepped closer, unable to believe what I was reading. There was a sign on each window and another on the door. All of them said the same thing:
THE FLIP SIDE HAS BEEN SHUT DOWN AS A RESULT OF MULTIPLE HEALTH AND SAFETY VIOLATIONS. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.

What the heck? That was a complete lie. The pancake house had passed an inspection only a week before I took over the reins from Jimmy.

Was this some kind of prank?

My blood boiling, I tore the signs down, hoping no one else had seen them yet. As soon as I had the door unlocked, I dumped the signs in a pile on the floor and marched straight to the office. The first thing I did was make a phone call to the health department. I paced back and forth across the office as I was put on hold several times, but I eventually got an answer that confirmed my suspicions—The Flip Side had passed its most recent inspection and the department had nothing to do with the signs posted on the building.

I dropped into the desk chair and accessed The Flip Side’s website on the computer. I wanted to make sure the prank—or whatever the heck it was—didn’t go beyond signs on the door and windows. When the website popped up on the screen, my stomach sank and my blood boiled again. The same announcement was on the website.

Yanking open the top desk drawer, I rifled around until I found the piece of paper with all of Jimmy’s passwords listed on it. Maybe it wasn’t the most advisable practice for him to keep them there, but since he was no longer around, it had turned out to be a good thing.

Once I’d found the one I needed, I signed into the web editor and took a look around. I didn’t know a whole lot about designing or updating webpages and I’d never used this specific web editor before, but I managed to find the information I was after. The last updates to the site had been implemented last night. But I hadn’t updated the webpage, and Jimmy sure as heck hadn’t updated it, so who was responsible for posting the announcement and putting up the signs? And why would someone do such a thing?

I didn’t know the answer to either of those questions and I also didn’t know what to do next. My first instinct was to delete the false announcement, to halt the spread of the misinformation, but I stopped myself before I made any changes. Maybe it would be best for me to report what had happened before editing the webpage.

But was this the sort of thing I should report to the sheriff?

Yes, I decided.

Maybe the signs and the message on the website were simply someone’s idea of a joke, but I had no way of knowing if that was the case or not.

Grabbing the phone, I dialed Ray Georgeson’s number, hoping he’d be available. To my relief, he answered on the third ring. When I told him what had happened, he was silent for a moment.

“It might just be someone with poor taste pulling a prank,” he said eventually, “but I’ll get Devereaux to check it out in case there’s more to it. Hold on one second.”

The line went silent for a minute or two before he returned to ask me some questions about the web host and Jimmy’s account. Once he had everything he needed, he said, “I’ll give you a call back after Deputy Devereaux has looked into it.”

“Will he be able to track down who’s responsible?”

“It depends on how skilled the hacker is. To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about computers, but Devereaux says he’ll check the server logs. He might be able to get an IP address, in which case we’d be able to locate the computer that was used. But if the hacker covered his or her tracks, we could be out of luck.”

“All right,” I said without much optimism. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get back to you soon.”

I thanked him again and hung up. Unable to settle my nerves, I left the office and walked over to one of the large front windows that overlooked the promenade. I stared out toward the beach. Since my arrival, the gray clouds overhead had thickened and darkened. The tufts of tall grass growing between the logs at the top of the beach dipped and bent in a stiff breeze.

Although I was doing my best to remain calm, worry left me tense and uneasy. I could only hope no one had seen the signs on the windows or the announcement on the webpage. But what if someone had? News traveled so fast in Wildwood Cove that it wouldn’t take much for the misinformation to spread through town. While it would be obvious on Wednesday when we opened that we hadn’t been shut down for good, there might still be some people who believed the lies about our health and safety violations. If such thoughts lingered in people’s minds, that could be enough to keep them away.

Even if I tried to persuade them that the signs were untrue, they might not believe me. They might simply think I was a business owner desperate to keep the customers coming in, no matter what. After all, the townspeople didn’t know me like they’d known Jimmy. They might have trusted his word, but to many I was just a stranger from the city.

I turned away from the window, rubbing my arms, a chill creeping along my skin. I couldn’t bear the thought of lies damaging the business, possibly beyond repair. It would be like letting Jimmy down, even though it wasn’t my fault.

As I returned to the office, I wondered once again who would have done such a thing. The timing suggested that the malicious signs might be somehow connected to Jimmy’s murder, but I couldn’t figure out how. If someone had a vendetta against Jimmy—someone like Ida Winkler, for instance—why bother ruining his business after he was dead? Was I the target this time? I wasn’t sure why I would be.

I was still turning the possibilities around in my mind when my cellphone rang. Grabbing the device from the desk, I checked the screen. Ray Georgeson.

“Marley, it’s Sheriff Georgeson,” he said when I answered the call. “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to track down the hacker. Whoever it was, they knew how to cover their tracks.”

Even though I hadn’t been too hopeful to begin with, my shoulders sagged with disappointment. “So there’s no way to know if it’s related to Jimmy’s murder?”

“Not at this point, no.”

“Can I go ahead and change the website?”

“Yes, there’s no problem with that.”

“Okay.” At least I could erase the lie. “Thanks for looking into this.”

“How are you holding up?”

I sat back in my chair, considering his question. “All right, but there’s been a lot going on. I feel like vultures have been descending upon me.”

“How so?”

I explained about the visits I’d received from Gerald Teeves, Chantel Lefevre, and Goldie and Jonah Krantz.

“I know all of them to some degree,” Ray said, “and, unfortunately, they aren’t the most sensitive of people.”

I sighed, and hoped that the sheriff had some good news for me. “Have you talked to Emilio yet?”

“I spoke to him yesterday.”

“So is Leigh in the clear now?”

“She is. We’ve established that Jimmy was still alive when she arrived for work that morning.”

Relief whooshed through me, but my curiosity wouldn’t let things rest there. “What about the witness who supposedly saw Leigh’s car by Myler’s Point?”

“To be honest, I always took that information with a grain of salt, considering the source, but I had to look into it. And since other signs were pointing in Mrs. Hunter’s direction at the time, it seemed like it might be reliable information until Emilio Batista’s account came to light.”

Considering the source?

“I don’t suppose you can tell me who the source was.”

“I’m afraid not.”

I’d expected as much, but as long as I had the sheriff on the phone, I decided to find out what he
could
tell me about the murder investigation. “I hear Daryl Willis has left town.”

“It seems so,” Ray said.

“Did Michael Downes tell you that he’d heard from him?”

“No,” Ray said with interest. “When was this?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. All I know is that Daryl sent him a text saying he was going to stay out of town for a while. I don’t think he said where he was or anything like that, though. Do you think he could be the one who killed Jimmy?”

“I don’t know, but he is someone I’d like to talk to.”

“And Gerald Teeves? He sure seems eager to get his hands on Jimmy’s property, and I’m told he and Jimmy didn’t see eye to eye.”

“We’re talking to everyone who might have any information about Jimmy’s death. I know this is a difficult time for you, but I assure you that we’re taking this investigation very seriously.”

I sighed with disappointment, realizing that he was shutting down my questions. “I don’t doubt that,” I said truthfully. “It’s just hard to keep it from consuming my thoughts.”

“I understand. I promise you I’ll be in touch once we have some news.”

After I thanked him and he told me he’d send one of his deputies by to pick up the signs I’d found on the windows, we ended the call. Before doing anything else, I logged into the web editor and deleted the message left by the hacker, hoping as I did so that no real damage had been done to the business. Once I’d changed the password, I sat back and thought over my conversation with the sheriff.

Someone had lied about seeing Leigh’s car at Myler’s Point on the day of Jimmy’s death. Who would do that? The real killer, possibly, hoping to focus suspicion elsewhere. Or somebody with a grudge against Leigh.

With that thought, Ida Winkler’s face popped into my mind. She was definitely a spiteful woman, and her grudge seemed to be directed at Leigh as much as at Jimmy. Plus, she’d threatened Leigh on her way out of the pancake house the other day, telling her she’d be sorry. It wasn’t long after that incident that the supposed witness came forward.

Yes, I decided, Ida Winkler was likely the one who’d provided the false tip. But whether she’d done so merely out of spite or to deflect suspicion away from herself, I didn’t know.

I spent the next hour dealing with business tasks, trying to keep my mind focused on the pancake house. When Deputy Devereaux stopped by, he told me he would check the signs for fingerprints but warned me that chances were slim that they’d manage to track down the culprit through that method alone. By the time he’d given me that less-than-encouraging news and had departed with the signs, I didn’t feel like working any longer.

Wandering through the dimly lit pancake house with its beautiful exposed beams and stone fireplace, I realized just how attached I’d become to the place over the past weeks. Whether or not I decided to stay in Wildwood Cove, I wanted the restaurant to not only survive but thrive. So whatever the reason behind the signs I’d found that morning, I was determined to make sure that The Flip Side would weather any storm arising from the fallout.