A Fishy Dish (A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (17 page)

Leah cradled Sally’s face in her hands. “Did you see anyone else when you were waiting for Jan?”

“Yeah. Chef Belair left the restaurant and talked to the wholesale fish guy.”

“Jerry Sewall,” Hannah filled in. “Jerry said Gavin called for a last minute order.”

“Anyway,” Sally continued, “I stayed behind the dumpster figuring Jan wouldn’t show up with so much going on.”

“But she did?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, and we cut through someone’s yard to avoid all the people on the street, got in her car, and she drove me to a small house in the middle of nowhere.”

Footsteps clumping on the cottage porch made everyone freeze.

Except Nellie. She charged the door, ears forward, barking like mad.

Several loud knocks only got Nellie more riled up. “Leah White? I need to talk to you.”

“It’s Deputy Pam Larson,” Hannah told Leah. “You have to talk to her; let her know that Sally is safe.”

“But is she? What if she saw the murderer? She could be in danger.”

Hannah couldn’t help but notice that Leah didn’t mention her husband’s name but only said
the murderer
.

Sally stood up and quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I’ll talk to her. Now that I’ve told the two of you, it will be easier to face the police. It was stupid what I did and I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Hannah was impressed with Sally’s composure even if she had no clue what mess she faced. Maybe not knowing made it easier.

Leah opened the door.

Pam didn’t wait for an invitation inside. She glared at Hannah as she passed her. “You’re in on this, too, Ms. Holiday?”

“In on what? I’m only trying—”

Pam held her hand up, cutting Hannah’s words off like a bad haircut. Her gaze bore into Sally. “Sally White I assume?”

Sally nodded. Her earlier composure sagged as fast as a punctured balloon.

“What kind of game are you playing? And you?” Pam pointed at Leah, her voice harsh and loud. “When were you planning to let us know Sally was safe and not dead in some ditch on the side of the road? Do you know how many people are searching for her?”

“Listen, Pam.” Hannah put her arm around Sally’s shoulders. “She wasn’t able to talk. She needed some food, some time, some comfort. Yes, she’s safe but she’s scared.”

Pam’s jaw clenched. “Who wants to explain what’s going on?”

“I will,” Sally said. “It’s my mess.”

“
Something
we can agree on. First, how about you start with why you were in the kitchen of The Chowder House at the time of Gavin Abbott’s murder?”

Leah gasped.

Hannah squeezed Sally’s shoulders tighter.

“I . . . I wanted to ask him what he and my father talked about.” She didn’t look at her mother or at Hannah. “The kitchen was deserted.”

“I’m moving this conversation to the police station. Sally and Leah White, you both need to come with me.”

“But—”

“But what, Ms. Holiday? This has nothing to do with you unless you want to explain why you’ve been hiding Sally White here in one of your cottages?” Pam stood with her hands on her hips. “No comment? I’ll deal with you at a later date.”

Pam took hold of Sally’s arm and led her from the cottage. More roughly than needed, Hannah thought.

Leah followed, heavy-footed and biting her lip.

Nellie looked at Hannah, waiting for instructions on how to help. Hannah patted her side. “You did all you could for now, Nellie. Sally has to face the music by herself. But maybe we can get some more information in the meantime.”

Hannah returned to her office. Jack and Samantha both fired questions at her simultaneously.

“What happened? When did Sally show up? Why did Pam take Leah and Sally?”

Hannah held up her hands. She glanced at Olivia who had stopped building her sand hospital to stare at the three grownups with a worried expression.

“How about we go see if your mom has some time to take you for an ice cream?” Hannah held her hand out for Olivia.

Olivia’s concern flipped to joy and she was too busy jumping up and down and clapping to bother with the offered hand. “Are we all going?”

“Not this time. I have to catch up on some work.”

They all walked to The Fishy Dish. A few customers were lounging at the outside tables, enjoying an afternoon meal along with the sunshine and ocean view.

Olivia saw Ruby and sprinted to her. “Mommy! Hannah said you’d take me for an ice cream.”

Ruby looked over Olivia’s head at her sister. “She did, did she? Well, I suppose Meg could live without me helping here while I take a short break.” Besides her spoken words, she sent Hannah an unspoken look, wondering what the heck was going on.

Samantha took Olivia’s hand. “I’ll drive you both. Come with me to my car. Did you know I named it Mini May?”

And just like that, Samantha distracted Olivia so Hannah had a minute to explain to Ruby and Meg about Sally and the latest update about what Sally saw at the restaurant.

“You’re kidding! She thinks her own father killed Gavin?” Meg shook her head. “The good news is, I have a meeting with Chef Belair. He thinks I want his expert opinion on how to improve my clam chowder.
Right
.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I’d ask
him
. Someone who single handedly shut down Gavin’s restaurant because his fried fish platter was so bad.”

“Here.” Hannah stuffed some money in Ruby’s pocket. “My treat for the ice cream. It’s the first thing I could come up with when Olivia heard all the questions about Pam taking Leah and Sally to the police station. She was worried and I needed a distraction.”

“As long as it’s not a regular promise. I try to keep ice cream for emergencies only,” Ruby explained.

Hannah nodded. “This was an emergency in my opinion.”

The blue Mini Cooper with a black racing stripe left the parking lot just as a dark Honda Civic pulled in.

“What the heck?” Hannah stared. “I thought those two would be locked up by now.”

Sean and his imposter accomplice, Jan, approached the snack bar. Sean was all smiles. “You look positively as green as seaweed, Hannah. What’s wrong? Is your fried fish not agreeing with you?”

“To be perfectly honest,
you’re
not agreeing with me, Mr.
Payne
.”

“Now, now. Where did all that hostility come from?” Sean and Jan slid onto two stools at the counter. “How about, hmmm, let’s see,” he scanned the menu hanging above the snack bar kitchen, “a couple of fried fish platters to enjoy here in this gorgeous setting. I hope yours don’t have the same problem that The Chowder House experienced. I did overhear some talk at the police station about further testing on those dinners.”

Hannah didn’t budge from her spot. “Why are you here?”

“Did you forget that I’ve got your cozy Cottage Four rented for one more night?”

“Okay, play cute. How come the two of you aren’t locked up for kidnapping Sally White?”

“Funny thing about that.” Sean flicked a crumb off the counter. “No one is pressing charges. Do you know why?” He stared at Hannah with his head cocked and a sneaky smile distorting his face.

Hannah shook her head and had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like his explanation.

“You see, Ms. Sally White went with Jan of her own free will. She wasn’t kidnapped and she was free to leave whenever she chose. The fact that she left through a window in the middle of the night looks dramatic but doesn’t mean a thing.” He raised his shoulders and flicked both wrists in a
what-can-you-do-about-it
gesture. “Try as hard as your Deputy Larson did, she couldn’t arrest us for lying to the gullible girl. Now, we’re hungry.” He clapped his hands and settled in for a meal. “Are the two fish platters about ready yet?”

Chapter 20

“Why do you think that piece of slime is still hanging around?” Hannah asked Meg as they worked together making the fried fish platters.

“He smells a story. That guy would sell his own mother if it meant he’d get a story out of it. He came here with a goal and the path changed but he’s still working toward his pathetic money-grubbing prize of a sleazy story.” Meg slapped a piece of perfectly golden fried haddock on a plate. “I’d love to sprinkle hot pepper or something like that on here but he’d even manage to turn
that
to his advantage.”

Hannah spread her hands apart as if she was unveiling a banner. She read her invisible headline to Meg. “
Head cook at The Fishy Dish sprinkles cayenne pepper on customer’s fried fish. Accident costs owner Hannah Holiday tens of thousands of dollars in settlement
.”

They both managed to burst out laughing at the thought even though it would most likely be the second worst-case scenario for a restaurant owner. Just behind someone dropping dead after eating at her establishment. The funny part was imagining Sean Payne-with–a-Y choking, clutching his throat, and begging for a cold drink after eating the scorching hot, spicy fish.

Hannah carried the two trays to the counter for Sean and Jan. No harm in pumping him for information while she was at it.

“Hear anything else of interest while you were visiting the police?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” He shoveled a big chunk of the crispy haddock into his mouth and nodded his head. “This is excellent. I’ll give you and The Fishy Dish a plug in my article about Gavin Abbott’s murder.”

As much as Hannah wanted the publicity, she wasn’t sure being mentioned in the same article as a murder was going to be a good thing.

But Sean knew something. Hannah was positive. If nothing else, he loved to goad her with the prospect of sharing some tasty tidbit.

“Oh yeah? You’ve solved the case?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she wiped the counter clean. She had learned enough about him that she expected her tone would loosen his tongue.

“That’s not my job, but I do have a good pair of ears and a knack for being in the right place at the right time.” His fork dipped into the tangy cole slaw. “Perfect blend of cabbage, carrots, onion, and dressing. What’s your secret?” He rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll do a series critiquing the coastal restaurants and snack bars. Find out who serves the tastiest, most delicate, fried fish platter.” He held his index finger up for emphasis. “Especially in towns that
also
specialize in murder.”

Jan snickered as she shoved food into her mouth.

“So,
Jan
,” Hannah rested her elbow on the counter with her chin nested on top of her palm, “or should I call you by a different name?”

“No. I’ve become quite fond of the name, Jan. It’s short, easy to pronounce, and fairly forgettable.”

“Okay,
Jan
. Why are
you
sticking around Hooks Harbor?” Hannah swept her arm to encompass the setting. “A little vacation after your hard work of terrorizing an eighteen-year-old?”

Jan smirked. “Actually, I’m hoping to have a little chat with my client, you know, your fake private investigator friend? In case you forgot, she shot my tire out, causing me to have an accident.” She rubbed her neck. “I have a bill for her for the damage to my car. Plus, she’ll be hearing from my insurance company about my neck injury.”

“You’ll have to take that up with her yourself. But I’d be careful she’s not packing her pistol when you confront her.” Hannah raised her eyebrows.

“That little old lady? Are you serious? She was just lucky when she hit my tire.”

Meg joined Hannah and jumped right into the conversation. “That little old lady, as you refer to her, can hit a tin can at twenty five yards. And she never misses. Shooting tires is no challenge for her talent.” She leaned over the counter so her face was inches away from Jan’s. “And I’ll fill you in on a little secret about that little old lady. She never lets her skill lapse.”

Meg slapped her hand on the counter and the sound was almost as loud as a gunshot.

Jan jumped and almost fell off the stool.

“I’d think twice, maybe even three times, before I said much of anything to
that
little old lady. Her patience is about this long.” Meg held her thumb and index finger about a quarter inch apart. “Got it?”

Sean threw a bunch of bills on the counter. “That ought to cover our meal. Come on, Jan. I’ve got a deadline to meet.” They headed up the path toward Cottage Four but Hannah could hear Sean say, “The people around here are crazy.”

“I regretted renting to that guy from the moment I laid eyes on him,” Hannah said. She cleaned up the remnants of Sean and Jan’s meal, wiped the counter, and returned to the kitchen. “Any word from Jerry about the meeting with Chef Belair?” she asked Meg.

Meg checked the time. “He should be here soon. I’m not sure if Jerry is coming too. He’s been so distracted with worrying about his business I never know if he’ll remember anything.”

Hannah leaned against the sink while she dried the big bowl used for mixing the cole slaw. “About you and Jerry, are you hoping it’s going somewhere?”