The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (4 page)

I nodded, but I was too distracted to fully register his words. I could hear a car approaching the house.

“That’ll be Ray,” Brett said, getting to his feet.

I stood up too and rubbed my arms. Even with my hoodie on, the weather wasn’t quite warm enough for sitting outside. As I heard a car door shut with a thud, I shifted my eyes to Brett. He stared out at the ocean, his face serious.

A sudden rush of gratitude flooded my chest as I watched him. I touched his wrist to get his attention.

When his blue eyes met mine, I offered up a weak smile. “Thank you. For checking on Jimmy, for sticking around. I’m sorry this wasn’t a better reunion.”

His smile, like my own, was tinged with sadness. “Not great circumstances, but I’m still glad I came by when I did.”

“So am I.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer and then nodded at his uncle, who was now climbing the short flight of stairs to the porch. “Ray, this is Marley McKinney.”

“Ms. McKinney,” the sheriff said with a nod in my direction. “Sheriff Ray Georgeson. I understand you’re related to Jimmy?”

“Yes,” I said. “He was my grandmother’s cousin.”

Georgeson removed his hat and ran a hand through his brown hair. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?”

“Yes, of course.” I gestured to the chair Brett had vacated.

“I’ll be on my way.” Brett took a step back toward the stairs but then stopped and addressed his uncle again. “Marley found Daryl Willis hanging around the property a few minutes ago.”

“He didn’t do anything except trespass,” I said, not wanting to make a big deal of it despite the fact that the guy had made me nervous. “It was just a bit odd.”

“Hm.” Georgeson set his hat on the arm of the chair. “If you see any other suspicious behavior, it’s best to report it. There’s been a string of break-ins in the area recently.”

Those break-ins had been the talk of the pancake house since my arrival in Wildwood Cove. A couple of regular customers had fallen victim to the thieves, losing cash, electronics, and other valuables. If Daryl was casing Jimmy’s place, I hoped he’d decided it wasn’t a worthwhile target.

Georgeson changed the subject. “I might need to talk to you later,” he said to his nephew.

Brett nodded. “I need to run a few errands, but you can reach me on my cell.” He shifted his attention to me. “Take care, Marley.”

“Thank you,” I called after him as he jogged down the stairs.

When he’d disappeared around the side of the house, I sank back down into my porch chair. Georgeson angled the other chair toward mine and sat down as well.

“You came to visit Jimmy?” he asked.

“To help him with the pancake house for a few weeks.”

“Because he’d been in the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t realize he was home from the hospital.”

“You know Jimmy?” I caught myself. “Knew him, I mean?”

“Sure,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “We went fishing together from time to time. He was a good man.”

I swallowed as my throat tightened, determined not to cry.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” he asked.

I let out a breath. “No, I don’t.” I explained to him how Jimmy had called The Flip Side that morning to say he was heading home in a taxi. “I have no idea why he would have been up at Myler’s Point or how he managed to get there. He didn’t have all his strength back yet and his truck is here at home. If someone was with him when he fell over the cliff, wouldn’t they have called for help?”

Georgeson tipped his head to one side, as if considering my question, but he didn’t answer it. Instead, he asked another one of his own. “Do you know if Jimmy was having any problems with anyone lately? Any disagreements or conflicts?”

I shook my head, confused by the questions. “He didn’t mention anything like that. Why are you asking me this?”

Georgeson’s gray eyes held mine and their solemnity sent a shiver of worry down my spine.

“Ms. McKinney,” he said, his voice serious, “I’m afraid we’re treating Jimmy Coulson’s death as suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” My brain didn’t want to process the word. I had to repeat it in my mind before it clicked. “You think someone killed him? Someone pushed him over the cliff?” I tried to rein in my rising distress. “Why? Why would someone want to hurt Jimmy?”

“I hope to find out,” Georgeson said.

I realized that my hands had a tight grip on the arms of my wooden porch chair. Finger by finger, I forced myself to loosen my hold.

“I’ll try to get in touch with the taxi driver who brought him home,” Georgeson continued. “See if I can find out exactly when Jimmy arrived and if he got dropped off here at the house or somewhere else. I’ll talk to the neighbors as well.”

“There’s something about the taxi that doesn’t make sense to me.” I explained how Jimmy didn’t trust taxi drivers and the reason behind his lack of trust.

“Maybe he made an exception,” Georgeson said. “If he wanted to get home badly enough and he knew you’d be busy, it’s possible.”

“I suppose.” The idea still didn’t sit quite right with me. “What’s going to happen to Jimmy?”

“There’ll be an autopsy. At this point, I can’t say when his body will be released.”

My throat burned. I stared hard at the horizon until the threat of tears lessened.

“Brett tells me you’re from Seattle.”

“Yes.”

“How long are you planning to stay in Wildwood Cove?”

“I was planning on staying another week or so, but now…I’m not sure. A few days at least.”

“Do you have a cell number?”

I rattled off my phone number and he copied it down in his notebook. He snapped the book shut and handed me a business card. “My contact information.” He got to his feet. “I might need to ask more questions later.”

“That’s fine,” I said as I stood up from my chair and pocketed his card. “I’ll help any way I can.”

Georgeson placed his hat on his head. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

I thanked him and he descended the porch steps. I wandered after him, lingering at the base of the steps as he climbed into his car and drove away. When I turned back toward the porch, I stopped, a dark mark on the bottom stair catching my eye. I crouched down for a closer look.

My stomach turned. Was that blood?

There was only a small splatter of it on the wooden step, but upon closer examination, I discovered more of the dark red-brown substance in the scuffed, sandy dirt at the side of the steps. I told myself that I had no reason to be disturbed. Jimmy had died on Myler’s Point. Even if the dark substance was blood, maybe it was from a nosebleed or a minor injury. Whatever the source, it couldn’t have anything to do with Jimmy’s death.

Even so, I folded my arms over my chest in an attempt to ward off the chill creeping through my skin and into my bones. Tearing my eyes away from the dark stain on the stairs, I made my way down to the beach, not knowing where else to go. It was as if the events of the morning had set me adrift, leaving me lost and out of sorts.

As I walked across the soft sand, my gaze strayed toward Myler’s Point. Although I was too far away to see anything in detail, I was able to pick out a van parked up in the picnic area above the rocks. The medical examiner’s vehicle, maybe?

I hoped the sheriff’s office and medical examiner would uncover vital clues, ones that would lead them to Jimmy’s killer. I still couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to harm Jimmy, but apparently someone had.

My thoughts meandered back to the questions Sheriff Georgeson had asked me. I wished I could have provided him with more helpful information, but maybe it wasn’t too late for that. Even though I didn’t know if Jimmy had problems with any of the locals, I could talk to people who would know. Jimmy worked with Leigh and Ivan five days a week and had known both of them for years. Surely they’d have some idea of what was going on in his life. I needed to find out what had happened to Cousin Jimmy, but first I had to take care of a difficult task.

As much as I didn’t want to, I had to let my mom know what had happened to Jimmy. She was in Boston visiting her fiancé’s family and I didn’t want to spoil her trip, but I knew she’d want to know about her cousin as soon as possible. He was one of our few remaining relatives and my mom was fairly close to him. She’d known him her entire life and she’d always made an effort to visit him at least once a year, also keeping in touch by phone on a regular basis. No matter where she was or what she was doing, I knew she’d want me to call her about this.

Angling myself away from Myler’s Point, I sat on a log and focused on the ocean, watching the waves break over the sand. Some of my tension eased away as I took in deep breaths of fresh, salty air. Bit by bit, my shoulders relaxed and I found it easier to breathe. After a time, I pulled out my cellphone and put a call through to my mom.

“Hi, honey,” my mom’s voice greeted after three rings. She sounded so cheery, so normal. “I’m glad you called. How are you?”

My breath hitched in my throat and the ache in my chest intensified. The relaxation I’d achieved moments earlier had disappeared in an instant, and I had to take a second or two to compose myself. In that short time, my mom clued in that something was wrong.

“Oh, sweetheart. What is it? What happened?”

“It’s Cousin Jimmy,” I said, pulling myself together. “He’s dead.”

Maybe I should have delivered the news differently, less bluntly, but those were the only words I could come up with.

“Dead?” my mom echoed. A second of stunned silence came over the line. “I can’t believe it. I thought he was getting better.”

“He was. But he didn’t die of pneumonia.” I told her about finding Jimmy’s body on the rocks of Myler’s Point.

“Oh, hon’. That’s terrible.”

“It gets worse,” I said.

I related what Georgeson had told me about his suspicion that Jimmy had been murdered.

When my mom had recovered from the initial shock of that news, she asked, “Do you want me to come out there?”

“What about Grant and his family?”

“I’m sure they’d understand if I left a few days early.”

I was tempted to agree to that plan, but I really didn’t want to ruin her trip.

“No, you don’t need to do that,” I assured her. “You enjoy your time in Boston and I’ll look after things here.” I wasn’t entirely sure what looking after things meant, but I’d have to figure it out.

“But are you safe there? If Jimmy was murdered…”

She left the sentence hanging, but I finished it in my own mind.

If Jimmy was murdered, his killer could still be around.

I swallowed back a lump of fear and forced myself to sound unconcerned. “Of course I’m safe, and I’ll be extra careful until the murderer is caught. Really, Mom, it’ll be fine.” Before she had a chance to voice any more fears, I tried to distract her with a question. “Did Jimmy have any enemies that you know of?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “Everybody loved Jimmy. Although…”

I pounced on her hesitation. “Although what?”

“He had a problem with one of his employees a few years back, but I don’t know the details. And anyway, that was ages ago.”

“Which employee?” I asked, desperate for more information.

“I don’t know. Like I said, it was years ago. It probably has nothing to do with his death.”

Maybe that was true, but maybe it wasn’t. If an old grievance had resurfaced…

I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that Leigh or Ivan had harmed Jimmy. Even if the problematic situation had involved someone who no longer worked at the pancake house, it seemed unlikely that something that transpired years earlier would have led to Jimmy’s murder.

My mom’s voice brought me back to our conversation. “We’re going out for dinner with Grant’s daughter in a few minutes, so I’d better run, but stay in touch, okay? And if you change your mind and need me there, just say the word and I’ll make the arrangements.”

I assured her once more that I’d be fine and asked her for the name of Jimmy’s lawyer, which I recognized as the name of Lisa’s employer. We exchanged a few more words and hung up. For a minute or two, I simply sat there, at a loss. What was I supposed to do next? I couldn’t seem to grasp a clear thought.

Briefly, I considered calling my friend Cassidy in Seattle. Although we’d exchanged a few text messages over the past week or so, I hadn’t actually spoken with her since the day before I’d left the city, and a sense of loneliness currently held me in a tight grip. But as I stared at her name on my list of contacts, I gave up on the idea. As much as I missed my friend of fourteen years, I wasn’t up to more conversation at the moment. Besides, with twin two-year-old boys, she always had her hands full and I didn’t want to unload my problems onto her.

I closed my eyes and wished I could erase everything from existence except the sound of the ocean. That was impossible, of course. I couldn’t hide away from the fact that Jimmy was gone and likely murdered. I couldn’t stop all the desperate questions in my head from spinning around and around.

Why Jimmy? Who killed him? Was it a random attack? Targeted?

I had no answers, but I was determined to find some.

Unable to sit still any longer, I got up and took a walk along the beach, toward the opposite end of the cove from Myler’s Point. As I made my way across the sand, something glinted in the sun to my right and drew my eyes toward it. On the property next door to Jimmy’s sat a two-story, ultramodern glass-and-steel mansion. I’d first noticed it within hours of my arrival in Wildwood Cove two weeks earlier and it still seemed just as garish and out of place as it had then. I remembered the charming Victorian house that used to be on the property and wondered why anyone would have wanted to tear it down and replace it with such a monstrosity. Fortunately, the next house along the cove still had its original Victorian charm and character, as did its next neighbor, the yellow-and-white house where Patricia Murray lived and ran the Driftwood Bed and Breakfast.

Although I’d planned to walk all the way to the eastern end of the cove, I decided I didn’t feel up to it. Instead of continuing on past the Murray house, I cut my walk short, reversing my direction so I could return to Jimmy’s place. As I passed by the modern house again, I wondered once more why anyone would build anything so unsightly. Even if the original Victorian had been in a state of extreme disrepair, there were so many nicer options the new owners could have gone with.

Turning my attention to the ocean view on my other side, I forgot about the garish house within seconds. My thoughts had strayed back to the terrible events of the day, reminding me of the reason for my sorrowful mood. When I reached Jimmy’s property, I left the beach behind me, entering the house through the back door.

As soon as I stepped inside, Flapjack mewed at me and wound a figure eight around my legs.

“Hey there, Jack,” I greeted the tabby.

I bent down and scooped him up into my arms, burrowing my face in his orange fur. As he purred away happily, I had to blink back another rush of threatening tears.

“What’s going to happen to you, buddy?” I asked as he continued to purr.

I’d grown attached to the tabby over the past two weeks and didn’t like the thought of sending him off to live with strangers somewhere. I wanted to keep him, but my apartment building back in Seattle had a strict no-pets policy. Maybe my mom would take him in. I’d have to ask the next time I talked to her.

When my eyes cleared of tears, I set Flapjack back down on the floor. He mewed at me again and I remembered then that he’d finished off the last tin of cat food that morning. There wasn’t a whole lot of human food left in the fridge, either. I let out a heavy sigh. I’d have to get some groceries before the end of the day, but I wasn’t eager to go anywhere at the moment.

Instead, I surveyed the room around me. The family room was exactly as I had left it that morning. There was nothing new, nothing moved. I turned my eyes to the kitchen, which opened to the family room. That area, too, remained undisturbed.

If Jimmy had made it home that morning, surely I’d be able to find some sign of his presence. Deciding to search the rest of the house, I started with the closet in the foyer. A green, mid-weight jacket hung between a denim one and a rain slicker. I didn’t think the green jacket had been there before, but I couldn’t remember for sure.

Next, I checked Jimmy’s home office, located off the foyer on the lower level of the hexagonal tower. Again, I couldn’t find any sure signs that Jimmy had been there recently. The same was true of the formal living and dining rooms across the hall, but as soon as I turned for the stairway to the second floor, a dark object caught my eye.

A black gym bag sat on one of the wooden steps, halfway up the staircase. I recognized it as the bag of belongings Jimmy had had with him at the hospital.

I fetched it off the stairway and unzipped it so I could peek inside. It held only the items I expected it to: a bathrobe, a pair of slippers, a paperback novel, some toiletries, and Jimmy’s cellphone.

So Jimmy had made it home before encountering his killer.

The middle of the stairway was an odd place to leave the bag, though. Maybe someone had interrupted Cousin Jimmy as he was on his way upstairs. The murderer, possibly, or a potential witness who might be able to shed some light on Jimmy’s movements that morning.

Leaving the bag in the foyer, I climbed up to the second floor to complete my search. I didn’t expect to find anything up there, and I didn’t. Nothing had changed in any of the three bedrooms and I knew the upstairs tower room was used only for storage. I opened the door and poked my head in the room anyway, not wanting to miss any potential clues.

Years ago, the upstairs tower room had served as a quiet reading room for Grace, but only the shelves full of books remained the same. A muddle of old furniture—some pieces broken—and odds and ends took up the rest of the room. One piece of furniture in particular caught my eye, and I moved farther into the room to get a better look at it.

I shifted aside a box of old casters and doorknobs and knelt down next to my find. It was an antique slipper chair, made of mahogany and from the Victorian era, as far as I could tell. Although upholstered in hideous gold fabric worn thin in some places and faded in others, I loved its elegant shape. I could already picture it reupholstered in nice damask, either with a traditional or more modern design.