Chapter 18
“We've got some trouble,” Jenn said to me the next morning.
I had just come up to the office to take a break from fudge making to make myself presentable for Trent and his investigator who were coming by for an eleven
AM
lunch.
“What's up?” I asked as I hung my chef's coat up on the coat tree by the office door.
“I just got off the phone with the yacht club.” Jenn put her elbows on the top of her desk and her chin in her hands. She watched me as I pulled the office chair away from my desk and sat down. Our desks faced each other in the center of the room so that when we worked together we saw eye to eye.
“And?”
“The yacht club committee has decided it's best if we don't continue on the committee.”
“What?”
“They don't like the bad publicity,” she said.
“But we didn't do anything.”
“They don't like the fact that you fished a body out of the bay and worse that the Jessops are basically withdrawing from us. No one has seen you with Trent since the incident.”
“You would think that would be a good thing, since Paige is accused of Carin's murder.”
“No, it's bad,” Jenn said. “Apparently the Jessops have a lot of clout at the club. A rumor is going around that you are the one who is the eyewitness placing Paige at the scene.”
“But that's ridiculous,” I said. “In an hour, Trent is coming over with his investigator to let me know what is going on ... to see if I can help them build Paige's defense.”
“Well, the ladies at the club didn't know that,” Jenn said. “I tried to tell them you two made up on the phone last night, but they didn't believe me.”
“What about the chocolate centerpieces for tomorrow night's end of race gala?”
“Cancelled,” Jenn said.
“What do you mean
cancelled
? The pieces are almost all done. Sandy has been working a week on them. Plus the pieces at the opening ceremonies were well-received. Sandy has three new clients because of the centerpieces and favors we had that night. And they saw me with Trent that night, which was after I dragged Carin from the water.”
“Yes, well that was before Paige was arrested,” Jenn said. “I couldn't argue them into letting us stay and taking the centerpieces. They told me we could keep the fifty percent down money.”
“It's good-bye and good riddance?”
“Seems that way,” Jenn said.
“That's just wrong.” I wanted to stomp around but instead, drummed my fingers on the desktop. “Have you told Sandy?”
“I thought you should . . . since you're her boss.”
“It's going to devastate her.”
“You can still sell the pieces,” Jenn suggested. “Put them in the shop window. People will pay good money for them.”
I frowned. “Tourists, you mean.”
“Yes, tourists, not islanders . . . but that's not altogether bad. It's the tourists who buy most of your fudge.”
“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “That's true. Is it only the yacht club?” I held my breath.
Jenn shook her head and frowned. “No. The Festival of Horse committee just called and asked us to step down from that as well.”
“But we were going to make those great hollow horses. Sandy's been working on the molds.”
“They claim that we've been hogging the social calendar this year and they want to bring in a more diverse group of volunteers.”
“That's silly,” I said. “Seriously. Some of the same people have been on these committees for years.”
“Yes, but they are longtime islanders and they have a lot of money,” Jenn said. “We are just now breaking into the island society. I'm surprised we've made the headway we have in the few short months since I've been here.”
“Why would you turn down volunteers?” I asked, shaking my head. “Crazy.”
“Well, if you're seeing Trent today, maybe that will help squash the rumors and get us back on track.”
“One can certainly hope.” My desk phone rang and I picked it up. “McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop, this is Allie. How can I help you?”
“Hey Allie, it's Rex.”
“Rex”âI tilted my head in curiosityâ“why didn't you call my cell phone?”
“I'm at my desk doing paperwork and don't have your cell phone programmed. I was looking over my report on the bear trap incident and I wondered if you had any more insight into who might have done that and why.”
“Oh, no, I still don't know.” I sat back in my chair. It creaked and for a brief second I was reminded of Papa Liam sitting in this chair doing the same thing. It was a brief memory that warmed my heart and left me with a moment of grief over his passing.
“No other notes were found?” Rex said, breaking into my emotion. “No message left on any of the phones?”
“Well, I haven't talked to Frances in depth about it, but I don't think so. I'm sure if she had had any type of threatening message she would have told me.”
“All right,” he said. “Keep me updated should anything else happen.”
“I will. Any clue as to where the trap came from?”
“I've sent it to the lab, but it's low on the list of things to go over. It might be a month or two before we find out anything.”
“Huh,” I said.
“It's not like a rape kit or a dead body,” he said. “Those things take priority. This is more of a threat than an actual crime.”
“So it would have been a bigger priority if someone had been hurt,” I surmised.
“I'm afraid that's true, Allie,” Rex said.
I could hear him run his hand over his face.
“What I can do besides assign it a case number and send the evidence to the lab is ask that we patrol your alley twice a day. Once in the evening and once in the morning.”
“Okay. I guess that will have to do.”
“Be careful, Allie. It's the best I can do right now.”
“I understand. Thanks, Rex.” I hung up and Jenn looked at me. “There's nothing he can do about the trap.”
“What?”
“Since no one was hurt and there's no further evidence, he's at a loss,” I said. “All he can do is send what he has to the lab where it will take a low priority.”
“Because no crime was committed,” Jenn deduced.
“Crazy, right? Anyway, he said to be careful and report anything else that comes up as suspicious or threatening.”
“That's comforting.” Jenn's tone was sarcastic.
“He's going to see that they patrol our alley twice a day. In the meantime, I'm going to suggest to everyone that we be very careful using the back doors. It means going out of our way, but it will be worth it if it keeps us safe.”
“I say this is proof you are closing in on the killer.” Jenn picked up a pen and absently tapped the end on the desk.
I shrugged. “Maybe. I can't figure out who it is or what the motive is.” I pursed my lips. “The killer may think that someone I spoke to already told me everything and I'm close to putting it all together.”
“Or maybe they just don't like your line of questioning,” Jenn said.
“No one has liked my line of questioning,” I said. “Even me.”
Jenn laughed.
“Seriously, I have no clue who the killer is. I feel like I'm just going around in circles.” I sighed. “Maybe I'll find out more in a few minutes when Trent and his investigator come by.” I glanced at my watch. “They should be here any minute. I'm going to serve them coffee and snacks in the apartment. Can you keep things running here?”
“Sure,” Jenn said. “I'm helping Frances turn over the rooms on the third floor. I'll tell Sandy the bad news about the yacht club and the horse celebration committee. She'll watch the fudge shop. Do you want her to do the twelve-thirty demo?”
“Yes. I don't know how long I'll be meeting with Trent.” I stood and gathered up two pens and a legal pad of paper.
“Promise you'll tell me everything,” Jenn said.
“I promise,” I replied and left the office. I was so lucky to have Jenn as my second in command this season. It didn't hurt that Frances was practically on autopilot when it came to maintaining the hotel part of the McMurphy and I could trust Sandy to take good care of the fudge shop. It left me time to rest and to look at my business investment returns and strategy for next year.
I opened the apartment door and Mella met me. She wound her way around my legs and meowed for attention. I reached down and gave her long strokes from head to the end of her tail then hurried to the kitchen where I washed my hands, pulled out a tray, and started heating water in the teapot. I set out a plate of cookies and a small plate of fudge. Teas and coffee finished the tray and I placed it on the coffee table between the couch and the chairs. Mella draped herself across the window sill hogging the light.
There was a knock at the door.
I opened it to have Mal come bounding in as if she'd brought me the best present ever. And she did. Trent stood there in all his handsome gloryâover six foot tall with dark hair cut in an expensive style. His square jaw, dark eyes, and patrician nose gave him the look of good breeding and centuries of wealth.
“Hi.” That was usually all I could say whenever I saw him. He took my breath away and my brain basically fell to my feet.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, reaching down to hug me and give me a good solid kiss on the lips.
I put my hands around his neck and enjoyed the taste of him, the weight and feel of his warmth against me.
Someone cleared their throat and Trent pulled away from me. Mal jumped up on me looking for attention as mine was drawn to a short man with a round jaw, sparse brown hair, brown eyes, and an equally drab brown suit.
“Right,” Trent said. “Allie, this is Tom Hartman. Tom, Allie McMurphy.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” I said and shook his hand. “Won't you come in? I have tea, coffee, and snacks.” I picked Mal up to keep her from jumping on me. She settled her head under my chin like a little baby.
“Sure,” Tom said.
I held the door open for the two men as they entered the apartment. Trent always filled the room with his presence. Tom seemed smaller in comparison, but he was taller than me so he might have been five foot ten in height and medium build. If we were on the street or in a crowded restaurant, I wouldn't even notice him. He was that average. I bet that worked in his favor as an investigator.
“Please, have a seat.” I waved toward my two wingback chairs and the couch.
Tom took one of the chairs. Trent sat on the couch. He wore black jeans, deck shoes with no socks, and a crisp white striped dress shirt with the collar open. Even with no tie, he somehow still managed to look dressed to kill.
I went to the counter and took out a dog teat. I set Mal down and ran her through her tricks before I gave it to her. Then I poured out three tiny cat treats for Mella. She had gotten up from her spot and bounced up on the bar to see if there might be something of interest in it for her.
“Thank you for coming,” I said as I washed my hands again, dried them carefully, and then took a seat beside Trent on the couch.
“I understand you've been asking some questions about the Moore case,” Tom said and got out a small notebook and pen. “Do you mind going over what you've been thinking?”
I took Trent's hand. “No, not at all, as long as you let me in on what the police have in their case. I simply can't imagine what they have against Paige that isn't circumstantial at best.”
“Why do you say that?” Tom asked.
“I've talked to everyone I know who might have known something about where Paige was that night. That led me to understand that she didn't have any motive. I looked for who might have motive and I followed through Carin's last day. There doesn't seem to be anyone with motive to kill her. I know the police have the murder weapon, but they can't put it in Paige's hands, can they?”
“They have a credible witness,” Trent said.
“Who?”
“Harold Jones,” Tom said. “Apparently Mr. Jones is an avid stargazer. He was out at three
AM
when he saw two women on the pier who appeared to be arguing.”
“I don't understand,” I said. “Is he saying he could identify one of the women as Paige?”
“Yes,” Trent said. “He claims that Paige stepped into a circle of light and he saw her clearly.”
“If he saw her hit Carin with the oar, why didn't he report it right away?” I asked.
“He claims that a meteor caught his attention and when he looked back at the dock both women were gone,” Tom said.
“Rex's case is built on the oar and this man's claim that he saw Paige arguing on the dock that night?” I asked.
“Yes,” Trent said. “Apparently the DA thinks that, along with the public knowledge that there was no love lost between Paige and Carin, it is enough to convict.”
“It's ridiculous,” I said. “I learned that Paige and Carin were actually getting along.”
“Yes, that's what Paige contends,” Tom said. “I need someone who will collaborate that. Can you give me a name?”
“Yes, try Janet Biggs.” I turned to Trent. “How does the prosecution explain Paige getting from the
Scoundrel,
which was out on the lake, to the dock and back?”
“That's where the oar comes in,” Trent said. “They claim she had time to take a lifeboat, row ashore, argue with Carin, kill her, and row back.”