Dying to Celebrate. Lynn Cahoon
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wouldn’t lead us back to his job or mine, for that matter. “Oh, yeah, Sasha. I’m not totally sure, but she did mention Kyle.”
Greg stirred sugar into his tea. “Well, I hope that’s not true because I know Kyle has a girlfriend in Bakerstown. I ran into them there one day when I had to testify at the courthouse. She works there in the prosecutor’s office. I think she might be prelaw.”
“I don’t believe it. Kyle, South Cove’s version of the tattooed man, has a girlfriend in a justice career? What do they talk about?” When the kid first showed up for his volunteer gig with Antiques by Thomas, he’d had so many visible piercings he probably set off all the alarms at the airport just by walking through the front door. “I guess it’s good to have close connections in the legal field.”
“You date a cop. What do we talk about?” Greg must have anticipated the answer because he held up his hand. “Don’t even go there. Besides, our food is coming.”
Carrie dropped off our lunches. “Have you . . .” A crash in the kitchen interrupted her thought. As she turned toward the sound and headed out of the dining room, she said, “Sorry, enjoy.”
“Aunt Jackie brought over food last night after her shift. She thought I was all upset over being at the scene of the fire yesterday. Am I that easy that all I need is food to make me feel better?” When Greg didn’t answer, I looked up from arranging my french fries. “What?”
“Discretion is the better part of valor. Or something like that. Who said that anyway?” This time it was me who didn’t respond. “Seriously, I’m not even touching that comment. How’s your aunt doing? She seems to have settled into life here in South Cove easy enough. That must have been a hard transition, coming from the city.”
“She seems okay. I think sometimes it’s difficult because of all she left behind. But she has Mary here and they seem to do a lot together.” I dipped a fry into Lille’s special sauce, which looked a lot like her Thousand Island dressing. “And the quote is from Shakespeare. Sometimes your knowledge of literature surprises me, Mr. King.”
“I don’t just read the sports page, darling.” He took a bite of his burger and groaned. “And to broach your other question, there isn’t anything wrong with finding pleasure in food when it’s this good.”
That’s why we got along so well. He got me. I cut my own burger into two halves and took a bite. “Oh, she did say one thing that was strange. And before you go all ‘stop investigating’ on me, I didn’t ask her to tell me this.”
Greg sat his hamburger down. “Am I going to even want to know?”
“I think so. Although I can’t imagine how it would be important to your case.” I glanced toward the kitchen where I could just see Tiny’s head through the warming station. “I still don’t think any of the men on your short list could have killed Barry. I was mad enough at him to spit nails, but killing him? Yeah, that’s a whole ’nother level of angry.”
“So what did your aunt say?” Greg’s question brought me out of my mental wanderings.
“Oh, yeah. She said she ran into Barry at the doctor’s office. Well, not at her doctor, but in the lobby of the building. The whole building is different medical providers. She sees both her primary doctor there and her rheumatologist.” I could see by Greg’s look that he thought I was getting off point again. “Look, that’s all I know. She and Mary were getting in an elevator and Barry came busting out. Aunt Jackie said she called to him, but he didn’t answer. Mary thinks he’s deaf.”
A twist of a smile curved Greg’s lips. “Mary always sees the good in people.”
His phone beeped and he pulled it out to read the text. I could see that the news wasn’t good.
“Crap. I need to run to Bakerstown and see Doc Ames. The autopsy results are in.” He pushed away his half-eaten burger as he put his phone back in his pocket.
“You should finish eating. I know how you get on investigations; you don’t take time for yourself at all. Besides, it seems like a simple report. Barry died in the fire.” I shivered, thinking about how painful that must have been. “Why can’t he just fax it over?”
Greg took cash out of his wallet and set it on the table. Then he stood, kissing me on the top of the head. “Because Barry was already dead when the fire was started. This wasn’t an accident. I’ll call you when I have a chance.”
I watched as he walked out of the restaurant. And then I realized, someone else was also watching Greg leave. Tiny, the cook, stood at the doorway to the kitchen, his face showing no emotion as he watched Greg. Then he glanced my way and flushed. Before I could figure out what that all meant, he disappeared back into the kitchen.
I grabbed my notebook out of my tote and, as I finished my lunch and a few of Greg’s fries, I made notes about what I knew about Barry Gleason. I’d already talked to Bill, who had to be on Greg’s list of suspects, but wouldn’t be for long. Tiny, one of the other fire fighters who was there that day, was working and there was no way Lille would let me go back into the kitchen. So that left one person I could talk to about Barry’s death. And as long as Darla wasn’t there to protect him, I should be able to find him at the winery. Matt Randall was new to our little town, as he’d arrived as part of our internship program last winter. Not saying it was always the new guy who was guilty, but I wondered what he might have to say about the training incident gone wrong.
I finished my meal and tucked my notes back into my tote. I could walk to the winery, talk to Matt, and then be back at the house by two to let Emma out. I really needed to think about getting a dog door for her, but I wasn’t sure about having her loose in the backyard without me there.
Instead of heading to the winery, though, I turned west and headed to the house. I’d let Emma out, then come back to talk to Matt. The plan set, I walked home, enjoying the midday sunshine as I thought about anyone else who could have wanted Barry dead. The problem with that line of thinking was, I’d have to include everyone in town who he’d “inspected” over the last couple of weeks. I’d wanted to kill him but I knew I didn’t act on that instinct. What if someone with a business he’d threatened did?
But then I went back to the scene of the crime. There were only four people there when Barry died. Barry, Bill, Tiny, and Matt. I was pretty sure Bill hadn’t reacted to a threat to South Cove Bed and Breakfast. He could have just changed the council’s grant of power to the fire chief. Besides, Bill wasn’t the killer type. Which left Tiny and Matt top on my suspect list.
Chapter 4
I’d let Emma out to do her business, grabbed a bottle of water for the walk, and was on my way back to town when I was sidelined by my neighbor. Esmeralda waved me down and quickly crossed the street. She wore her other uniform, a fortune-teller outfit, so I assumed she had reading appointments scheduled for the day. During the week, Esmeralda was South Cove’s police dispatcher, so if I didn’t run into her at home, I usually saw her at the police station when I visited Greg.
“Jill, I’m so glad I caught you this morning.”
I didn’t point out it was already after noon; instead, I smiled and nodded. “I’m actually on my way back into town.”
“I figured you’d be snooping around today. Too bad about that poor man. He was a flirt every time he came into the station. Definitely not my type, too pushy and controlling. I like my men more pliable but it didn’t stop him from trying to take me out.” Esmeralda glanced down the street. My gaze followed but I didn’t see anything.
“You have clients coming?” I wasn’t sure if “client” was exactly the term to use for people who paid Esmeralda to do her mumbo-jumbo stuff, but I did know that people came on a regular basis. The woman was busy, for someone who had set up shop in a small town out in the middle of nowhere. South Cove got a lot of tourist traffic, but Esmeralda would have had a lot more repeat customers if she lived closer to the city. Her driveway was full most weekends with people who wanted to either talk to the dead or