The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (8 page)

The rest of the workday passed in a blur of serving meals, talking with customers about Jimmy, and cleaning up after departed diners. When two o’clock finally rolled around, I flipped the sign on the door so the
CLOSED
side faced outward. For good measure, I locked the door as well. I knew now that not all unexpected visitors would be as welcome as Brett.

On my way back toward the office, I met up with Leigh as she came out of the break room, zipping up her jacket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Marley,” she said when she saw me.

I didn’t miss the lines of worry creasing her forehead or the distraction in her eyes. I put a hand on her arm to stop her as she passed me. “I meant what I said earlier, Leigh. We’ll work things out.”

She blinked back tears and gave me a quick hug. “Thank you.”

I watched her leave before I got back to work, tidying the dining area and sweeping the floor. An hour later, with the pancake house cleaned up, I finally untied my apron and sank down into the desk chair in the office. While busier than usual, the day had taken a toll on me that went beyond the physical, thanks in part to Ida Winkler. I felt emotionally drained, almost wrung out. But I couldn’t rest. Not yet. I still had things to take care of on Jimmy’s behalf and I had a promise to keep.

Pushing myself back up out of the chair, I headed for the kitchen.

Ivan stood at the large sink, washing his hands, his back to me. I hesitated inside the doorway but stepped forward as he turned around and dried his hands, his dark eyes zeroing in on me.

“Ready to head home?” I asked in an effort to get a conversation going.

He nodded and untied his apron.

After three seconds of silence ticked by, I knew I’d have to jump right in or watch him leave without another word.

“You’ve known Jimmy a long time.”

Ivan still didn’t say anything, but at least his eyes flicked my way again.

“Do you know if he had any enemies, anyone who might have had a reason to kill him?”

Those dark eyes of his drilled into me. “Ida. You saw what she was like.”

I nodded and fought the urge to fidget beneath his direct gaze. “But why kill him after all these years? Didn’t he fire her ages ago?”

Ivan hung up his apron and strode past me and out the kitchen door, leaving it swinging in his wake.

I didn’t know if it was wise or not, but I followed him, catching up to him as he reached the break room.

Without glancing my way, he finally responded to my question as he opened his locker. “Maybe her grudge has festered.” He grabbed his jacket and slammed his locker shut. “Or maybe she’s just happy someone else killed him.”

“But who? Did Jimmy have any other conflicts? Any other enemies?”

Ivan gave his head a curt shake as he pulled on his jacket. “Jimmy was a good man.”

“He was,” I agreed. “But unless his murder was random, somebody had an issue with him.”

“Somebody who might not like you asking questions.”

His statement took me aback for a second. “I just want the murderer to be caught.”

“The sheriff will do that.” Ivan headed for the break room door and I had to dodge aside so I wouldn’t get trampled.

“But the sheriff thinks Leigh did it,” I said as I hurried along behind him. “We can’t let her go to jail for something she didn’t do.”

Ivan slowed his steps as we passed the storage room. “Sheriff Georgeson is a smart man, and he knows this town better than you do. He’ll figure out that Leigh is innocent.”

His reminder that I was an outsider stung a little, even though it was true. He picked up his pace again, leaving me standing near the storage room.

When he reached the back door, he paused. “Be careful.”

With those final words, he left the pancake house.

I remained standing in place as he disappeared from sight, his warning echoing inside my head and sending an icy chill whispering down my spine.

After locking up the pancake house, I made a quick stop at the bank to deposit the cash earned that day and then set off on foot for my appointment with Hugh Ogilvie. It was only as I turned the corner onto Main Street that I realized I hadn’t dressed that morning with my appointment in mind. If I’d thought farther ahead, I probably would have worn something a little less casual than a graphic tee and jeans, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. Even though I was a bit ahead of schedule, I didn’t have enough time to walk to Jimmy’s house, change, and get back to the center of town. So I kept walking and hoped that Mr. Ogilvie wouldn’t mind my jeans, which were worn and frayed in places.

Although I didn’t have an exact address for the lawyer’s office, I didn’t doubt that I’d find it without any trouble. Wildwood Cove’s Main Street consisted of only two blocks and the second block, the one farther from the ocean, was home to the fire station, a medical clinic, a mechanic’s garage, and the town’s grocery store. Everything else with a Main Street address was situated on the block closer to the beach.

Halfway along the street, I spotted the real estate office across the road and next to it the office of Ogilvie Groves LLP. I had close to fifteen minutes to spare, so I decided to do a little window shopping to pass the time.

The first shop I stopped at was a little antiques store. A quick glance through the display window was enough to see that the interior of the shop was packed with odds and ends. A pretty cheval mirror caught my eye and I decided to pop inside to take a closer look at it. Not that I had room to haul it back to Seattle with me in my little car, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.

Unfortunately, as I turned for the shop’s door, two people waylaid me—Goldie Krantz and her son, Jonah.

Goldie bustled toward me wearing even more strands of chunky beads around her neck than the day before. Jonah lurked behind her uncomfortably, looking out of place.

“Miley!” Goldie cried out as she reached me.

I grimaced. “Marley,” I corrected. I hated it when people made that mistake.

Goldie flapped a hand as if my name was of no concern to her, which it probably wasn’t. She produced a lace-trimmed handkerchief from somewhere beneath her blouse and dabbed at her dry eyes.

“Is it true?” she practically wailed. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me dear Jimmy is still alive and well.”

“I can’t, because he isn’t.” My voice lacked any of the sympathy it might have had when confirming such news for anyone else, but her grief seemed so fake and over the top that it turned my stomach.

She covered her face with her handkerchief, probably to hide her lack of tears, and let out a great sob that shook her plump body. “The poor, dear, sweet man. It’s such a tragedy. A terrible, terrible tragedy.” She sniffled loudly and patted at her eyes again. The generous coating of mascara on her eyelashes hadn’t smudged in the least.

Still lurking behind his mother, Jonah frowned, but his eyes seemed distant, as if his mind were elsewhere. He certainly didn’t seem focused on his mother’s theatrics.

Goldie put a hand on my arm and I resisted the urge to step back out of her reach. “Jimmy put his heart into the pancake house. What will happen to it now?”

Although she managed to sound concerned, I didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. Did she really think Jimmy had left her something?
Had
he?

“I have no idea what will happen to The Flip Side,” I said.

Goldie dropped her hand from my arm and some of the tension in my shoulders eased away. “But it needs to be looked after,” she said, crumpling her handkerchief in her hand. “We wouldn’t want the business to flounder. That would have broken poor Jimmy’s heart.”

“I’m sure someone will take care of it.” I took a step back, eager to escape. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

I didn’t give Goldie a chance to say anything more. I hitched my bag up over my shoulder and cast a swift glance both ways before darting across the street and into the lawyer’s office. Despite the unpleasantness of my recent encounter, I gave Lisa a genuine smile once inside the office. She got up from her desk and hurried around it to give me a hug.

“I’m so sorry about Jimmy, Marley. How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing all right under the circumstances.”

“Can I get you some tea or coffee while you wait for Mr. Ogilvie?”

I declined her offer as the phone on her desk rang. While she answered the call, I settled into an armchair in the waiting area and set my tote bag at my feet. From my vantage point I could see out the large front window, and I observed with relief that Goldie and Jonah Krantz had moved on. I had no desire to run into them again after my appointment with Mr. Ogilvie.

Although Goldie was out of sight, her question about the pancake house circled around in my mind. What
would
happen to The Flip Side?

I’d probably get an answer to that question in a few minutes. Knowing that sent a flutter of nerves through my stomach. The thought of handing over the business to anyone other than Jimmy wasn’t a pleasant one. Even though my time in Wildwood Cove was meant to be only temporary, I found I had no desire to dwell on the prospect of leaving.

With a sigh, I let my gaze wander out the window. A banana-yellow sports car parked at the curb caught my eye. Only my single-minded eagerness to escape from Goldie and Jonah could have kept me from noticing it as I’d approached the lawyer’s office. It was hard to miss. Considering the size of Wildwood Cove, I would have bet a decent sum that it was the same car that had nearly run me over outside the grocery store the day before.

A moment later, Lisa hung up the phone, and I nodded out the window. “That’s quite the car.”

Lisa leaned forward over her desk to follow my line of sight.

“Ah, yes. It belongs to Chantel Lefevre, the local real estate agent. She does like her fancy things.”

“Blond hair?”

Lisa nodded.

“She nearly ran me down the other day.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. She’s always rushing from one place to another. Time is money, I guess.” Her tone suggested that she wasn’t Chantel Lefevre’s biggest fan.

“Is she from Wildwood Cove originally?” I asked, curious.

“No, but she’s been here a while now. I think she’s from somewhere in Nevada, but she came here about fifteen years ago when she married a local man, Rex Orman. I was a year ahead of her stepdaughter in school. The marriage didn’t last all that long. Maybe five or six years. But after the divorce, Chantel stayed here and became a real estate agent.” Lisa lowered her voice. “It’s a common belief that she only married Dr. Orman for his money. He’s a dentist and comes from a wealthy family.”

She cut off her delivery of town gossip when a door across the room opened and a gray-haired, bespectacled gentleman in a suit and tie stepped out into the reception area.

“Ms. McKinney?” he asked as his gaze settled on me.

I stood up. “Yes.”

“Please, come in.”

He held the door open for me and I passed into his office, leaving Lisa to her work. Once he’d shut the door behind us, Mr. Ogilvie shook my hand and offered me a seat in front of his desk. As I settled into it, my eyes swept over his office, taking it in.

It didn’t look all that different from the offices at the Seattle law firm where I worked. Several filing cabinets and shelves holding legal reference books lined the walls. Mr. Ogilvie’s desk was made of polished dark wood and all of the furniture appeared to be of high quality. Although I was quite sure that the colored glass lamp sitting on an antique side table wasn’t a Tiffany, it was still beautiful.

The main difference was the view. While the seventeenth-floor offices of my employers looked out over downtown Seattle, the large window in Mr. Ogilvie’s office faced the street at ground level and was currently shuttered with blinds, likely for the privacy of his clients. Most people probably wouldn’t like to be stared at by passersby as they conducted business with their lawyer.

Mr. Ogilvie repeated Lisa’s offer of tea or coffee and I declined once again. With that out of the way, he sat down at his desk and rested a hand on a file folder that sat in the middle of his blotter.

“I was very sorry to hear of Jimmy’s passing. My sincerest condolences.”

“Thank you,” I said, folding my hands in my lap. “I’m guessing you’ve heard that the sheriff’s department is treating his death as suspicious.”

“I did, yes. I spoke with the sheriff yesterday.”

“Did you know Jimmy well?” I asked, curious.

“Yes and no. I’ve been his lawyer for almost three decades now, but we haven’t socialized all that much over the past ten or fifteen years. We used to get together to play bridge now and then, but both our wives passed away within two years of each other and after that we mostly only saw each other here to deal with business.”

Not for the first time, guilt gnawed away at me. How many others had Jimmy seen less frequently after Grace died? I’d only been a teenager at the time of her death, but I still wished I’d made more of an effort to keep in touch with him since that time.

I clenched my hands together and tried to keep my thoughts on track. “I know there’s going to be an autopsy and Sheriff Georgeson told me he wasn’t sure when Jimmy’s body would be released, so I’m not sure what steps—if any—I should be taking in terms of arranging a funeral or memorial service. I was hoping you could tell me something about Jimmy’s wishes.”

“Absolutely.” Mr. Ogilvie opened the file in front of him. “He stated quite clearly that he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes buried under the memorial tree planted over his wife’s ashes.”

Hearing that brought me a small measure of peace. It seemed only right that Jimmy would be close to Grace again. “What about a service? Did he leave any instructions about that?”

“Simply that he didn’t wish for a traditional funeral and that he would prefer a celebration of his life rather than anything too morbid. Those last two words were his own.”

A hint of a smile made an attempt to pull at my mouth. I could picture Jimmy sitting in the chair I now occupied, giving those instructions to Mr. Ogilvie.