The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (15 page)

Getting through the appointment at the funeral home was easier than I had anticipated, probably because of the kind professionalism of the staff. While some of the arrangements couldn’t be finalized until Jimmy’s body was released, we still managed to take care of a number of important matters. Cousin Jimmy’s obituary would be published in several newspapers in the state over the coming days and a celebration of his life would be held at The Flip Side on Tuesday afternoon. I could have arranged to have the gathering at the funeral home, but I knew Jimmy would have approved of my choice, and it seemed only right to celebrate his life at the place where he’d invested so much of his heart and soul over the years.

On my way across the parking lot, I sent a text message to my mom, letting her know the date and time of the memorial. She responded as I unlocked my car, assuring me that she’d be in Wildwood Cove by late Tuesday morning.

With that all taken care of, I climbed into my car and drove away from the funeral home. As I passed through town on my way back to what I still thought of as Jimmy’s house, a weight seemed to ease off my shoulders. I felt as though I’d jumped over a large hurdle. There would still be some difficult tasks to take care of, like sorting through all of Jimmy’s belongings, finding his killer, and proving Leigh’s innocence, but a major job had been ticked off the daunting to-do list.

In fact, I felt almost cheery as I followed Wildwood Road along the coast. My mood improved further when I spotted two deer in a clearing to the side of the road. With no cars behind me, I was able to slow down and get a good look at the beautiful creatures. They stared my way warily for a moment or two and then bounded gracefully off into the bushes.

I continued on along the road, a smile on my face, but when I turned into the driveway and spotted a banana-yellow sports car parked next to the blue-and-white Victorian, my smile slipped away.

What now?
I wondered, tension creeping back into my muscles.

As I shut off my car’s engine and climbed out of the vehicle, Chantel Lefevre came bustling around from the back of the house, a little unsteady on the uneven ground in her black pumps. Instead of the pale pink skirt and blazer I’d last seen her in, today she wore a gray pantsuit with a cream blouse and a string of pearls.

“Ms. McKinney, I presume?” she called out as she approached.

I pushed my car door shut. “Yes.”

She extended her hand and I shook it with a quiet sigh of resignation. I could guess the reason for her presence, but I figured I was unlikely to get rid of her until after I’d heard her out.

“Chantel Lefevre.” She whipped out a business card and handed it to me.

Like Gerald Teeves’s business card, it was printed on expensive paper. Aside from that observation, I didn’t take much notice of it, letting my hand fall to my side.

“I understand you’ve inherited this property from Jimmy Coulson,” she said.

“That’s right.” I wondered how she knew that. The small-town grapevine at work again?

“As you might know, I’m Wildwood Cove’s top real estate agent. I can help you get a good price for this place. And quickly, so you don’t have to be burdened by it for long.”

“I don’t view it as a burden,” I said, a hint of steel in my voice. “More as a generous gift.”

Chantel flashed me a brief, impatient smile. “Of course, but a young thing like you doesn’t want to waste away in a dead-end town.”

Waste away? Dead-end town?

She gestured out toward Puget Sound. “There are so many other great opportunities out there waiting for you.”

I assumed she meant in Seattle, not out in the water. Either way, I was less than impressed by the woman.

“I’m not sure if I’m going to sell the house.” I felt like I was repeating myself. Probably because I was. I’d already gone through all this with Teeves.

“I understand,” Chantel said with insincere sympathy. “You’re still in mourning, and of course you don’t have to make any decisions right at this moment. I’m sure it will take a bit of time for the estate to be settled. But once that’s all taken care of, you’ll want to move quickly. Trust me.”

I trusted her about as much as I trusted Gerald Teeves.

It was probably best that she didn’t pause to give me a chance to say anything. Any words that I might have managed right at that moment wouldn’t have been all that polite.

“You’ve got my number,” she said, bustling over to her sports car. “You give me a call as soon as you’re ready to talk things over.”

“Actually,” I said as she opened her car door, “I won’t be calling.”

“But, my dear, I’m the top real estate agent in town. You’ll really be in the best hands with me.”

“I won’t be needing a real estate agent.”

“Oh, heavens! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of handling the sale yourself. I know you think it might save you some money, but it’s really not worth it. I’ll look after you and make sure you get a good price, and you won’t have to deal with any headaches at all.” She moved to get into her car, as if the matter were settled.

“You misunderstand me.”

She stopped. “Do I?”

“Yes.” A sense of certainty settled over me and I knew my next words were the right ones. “I won’t be selling the house. I’m keeping it.”

An expression of shock flickered across Chantel’s face before she rearranged her features. “Now, let’s not be hasty. A moment ago you hadn’t made up your mind.”

“But now I have.” I handed her card back to her. “I won’t keep you any longer. Have a nice day.”

I turned away and headed for the Victorian.

Shocked silence seemed to reverberate behind me for a second or two. Then Chantel’s car door slammed and the engine roared to life. As I climbed the steps to the front porch, the yellow sports car roared off along the driveway, raising a cloud of dust behind it. I smiled, not only because Chantel was now out of my hair, but because the decision to keep the house, as sudden as it might have been, raised my spirits. The same was true of the other decision I’d reached—I would keep The Flip Side open.

Even if I had to rent out the house and hire a manager to operate the business, the properties would still be mine. I’d still have my own piece of Wildwood Beach. I’d still have the option of returning in the future. This place was too important to me to let go. I could see that clearly now. Most likely Jimmy had known too.

My chest ached with grief for a moment and my eyes watered, but the happiness and the sense of peace my decisions had brought me overpowered my pain and the threat of tears subsided. With my eyes clear, I stepped into the foyer and shut the door, smiling as a sense of comfort and belonging enveloped me.

I phoned Tommy to offer him the job and he accepted with enthusiasm that made me smile again. He agreed to meet Ivan at the pancake house early Wednesday morning, and I ended the call feeling even better than I had moments earlier. I made myself a cup of tea and settled into a chair on the back porch, determined to relax for a few minutes at least. As I sipped my tea, Flapjack jumped into my lap and curled up, purring as I stroked his sleek orange fur. Although the ocean breeze had a chilly undertone, I found it refreshing as it brought the salty smell of the sea to me.

A short time later, I nudged Flapjack awake and set him down on the porch before standing up to stretch. As I reached my arms over my head, I caught sight of two figures making their way up the beach toward the house. Sienna Murray and her boyfriend, Logan, I realized as they came closer.

Leaving my empty teacup on the arm of my chair, I descended the porch steps to meet them, careful to avoid the dried blood splatters as I did so. Now that I knew Jimmy had likely been stabbed in that spot, I couldn’t tramp over it as nonchalantly as I had before.

“Hi,” I greeted as the teenagers reached Jimmy’s property.

“Hi,” Sienna returned with a cheery smile.

Logan offered a slight nod of his head.

“My mom asked us to bring these over to you,” Sienna said, holding out a small basket covered with a tea towel. “Cinnamon rolls, baked fresh earlier today.”

I accepted the offering and took a quick peek under the towel. A delicious cinnamon smell met my nose as I took in the sight of the four sticky, golden buns nestled in the basket.

“They smell fantastic. Thank you.” I took a step back toward the house. “I can transfer them into something so you can take the basket back.”

“That’s okay,” Sienna said. “You can keep it for now.”

“All right. I’ll be sure to stop by to return it and thank your mom in person before I head back to Seattle.”

Sienna chewed on her lower lip, avoiding the silver ring pierced through it. “So you’re not going to stay and run The Flip Side?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said. “I want to keep the business going but I’ve got a job back in Seattle, so I might hire a manager to run the place.”

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed.

“Why do you ask?”

“I thought you might need some extra help during the tourist season,” she said. “I’d like to get a part-time job this summer.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, “if I do hire a manager, I’ll mention your name to them.”

A smile lit up her face. “Cool. Thanks.”

We both turned toward Logan, who hadn’t said a word. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring at the steps leading to the back porch. He looked a bit pale and sick to me and I wondered if he was under the weather.

Sienna brushed something off the back of his white T-shirt, rolling her eyes as she did so. “More glitter,” she said to him. She directed her next words at me. “We spilled glitter all over the place when we were making a poster for a school bake sale last week. Ever since, we’ve been finding it everywhere.”

My throat went dry.

“Come on, Logan. Let’s head back,” Sienna said. “ ’Bye, Marley.” She waved at me and led her boyfriend back toward the beach.

Only as they walked away did I realize what Logan had been staring at—the splatters of Jimmy’s blood.

My thoughts whirled around and around at such a high speed that I almost felt dizzy. The glitter, Logan’s reaction to the blood—what did it all mean?

I had a hard time picturing the quiet teenager killing anyone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. Still, I was certain that I was missing something. Something important. Pacing around the main floor of the house, I tried to make sense of everything, but without any luck. Even when I attempted to look at things the way my favorite fictional sleuths would, nothing became any clearer. Maybe my little gray cells just weren’t up to the task of solving the mystery. That was a depressing thought.

Flapjack followed me around the house at first, but soon gave up and wandered off, leaving me to pace on my own. I was no closer to figuring things out when the doorbell rang a few minutes later.

When I opened the front door, I found Chloe standing on the front porch.

“Are you busy?” she asked once we’d exchanged greetings.

“No. You want to come in?” I stepped back to open the door wider, but she shook her head.

“Actually, I came by to see if you wanted to grab some dinner with me. Or have you already eaten?”

My stomach gave a growl, dissatisfied that all I’d consumed in the last few hours was a cup of tea. “I haven’t eaten and now that you mention it, I could use some food.”

Chloe’s face lit up. “Great.”

“I just need a minute to feed Flapjack before we go.”

Chloe followed me down the hall toward the kitchen. Flapjack peered at us from around the couch, wary of the newcomer, but his cautious attitude only lasted until Chloe crouched down and called to him. Seconds later the orange tabby was purring appreciatively as his new friend stroked his fur and told him how cute he was. Flapjack enjoyed the attention, right up until I set his dish of dinner down on the kitchen floor. Then he trotted over to it and busied himself with eating, his tail swishing with contentment.

“He’s so sweet,” Chloe said as she watched Flapjack eat. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I’d like to keep him,” I replied. “But if I can’t, I’m hoping my mom will.”

“That’s good.” Chloe’s gaze went to the large family room window. “This house sure has a nice view.”

“Can’t beat it,” I agreed.

I took in the sight of the ocean—a view I could never tire of—and then I grabbed my tote bag and we headed for the front foyer. As we left the house, I locked up with a shiny new key the locksmith had given to me earlier that day.

“Have you been to the Windward Pub before?” Chloe asked as we climbed into her red Toyota.

“No.”

“Do you want to try it? The food’s pretty good.”

“Sure,” I agreed.

I knew within minutes of hitting the road that spending time with Chloe was exactly what I needed. As she drove us to the pub, she told me more about her job as an elementary school teacher and entertained me with stories about her second-grade students. She even got a couple of laughs out of me.

It didn’t take long to reach the Windward Pub, located at the end of a row of buildings facing the Wildwood River. The building had a weathered appearance and was painted a shade of green so dark it almost looked black. Across the street that ran along the side of the pub was an ice-cream parlor nestled between a dollar store and a fish-and-chips shop.

As Chloe parked the car and we climbed out, I recalled the many times over the years that I’d gone to Scoops Ice Cream. That shop had always been my favorite place to get a cool treat on a hot summer’s day. I told Chloe as much and she smiled.

“It’s still my favorite ice-cream shop,” she said. “It changed hands a few years back but it’s still got the best ice cream in town.”

We headed for the pub’s entrance. A wooden sign—as weathered as the building itself—hung over the door, swaying and creaking in the light wind. When we stepped inside, we had to pause for a moment to allow our eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Once we could see clearly, we settled into an empty booth, one of only a few that were unoccupied. Soon a young waitress with her hair pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail came over to ask us what we wanted to drink. Chloe ordered a Coca-Cola and I decided on iced tea. While the waitress fetched our drinks, we mulled over the food choices. In the end, Chloe went with a chicken sandwich with fries and I chose a garden burger with salad.

While we waited for our food to arrive, I took in my surroundings. The dark floor and wainscoting went well with the green vinyl booths, and the decor had a definite seaside theme that matched the town’s character. Pieces of driftwood art, nets, and old fishing poles were on display, along with several seascapes hanging on the walls. Although it was only early in the evening, it was a Saturday and the pub wasn’t short on patrons, a low hum of voices filling the large room. Considering that it wasn’t the right season for tourists, I figured most of the customers were likely locals.

As I ran my eyes over the people present, I recognized two familiar faces and wrinkled my nose. “Ugh.”

“What?” Chloe twisted in her seat to follow my line of sight.

“Gerald Teeves and Chantel Lefevre. I had visits from both of them today.”

It was Chloe’s turn to wrinkle her nose. “Poor you. Let me guess—they were both hoping you’d sell Jimmy’s property.”

“Got it in one,” I said. I narrowed my eyes at the two of them huddled close over a small table. “They sure are cozy.”

Chloe took a sip of her drink. “Yep. They’re an item, apparently.” She rolled her eyes. “Match made in hell, if you ask me.”

“Hmm.” My visit from Chantel made more sense now. More likely than not, Teeves had told her that I’d inherited the house. Maybe he’d set Chantel onto me after his own less than successful visit. The real estate agent had mentioned that she could arrange a quick sale. Now I was willing to bet my inheritance that she already had a buyer in mind.

“I feel a bit sorry for his son,” Chloe said as I took a drink of iced tea. “Teeves hasn’t exactly made a lot of friends in town since he arrived. It can’t be easy for Logan to know that so many people dislike his father.”

I set down my glass. “Logan? As in Sienna Murray’s boyfriend? He’s Teeves’s son?”

“I don’t know if he’s dating Sienna, but it’s probably the same Logan.”

“Sandy blond hair, doesn’t talk much?”

“That’s him,” Chloe said. “Logan Teeves.”

“Huh.”

I took a long sip of my drink, remembering the glitter on Jimmy’s shirt. It could have been transferred from Logan to Gerald and from Gerald to Jimmy. Then there was the sickly look on Logan’s face as he’d stared at the bloodstained steps. Did he know or suspect that his father had killed Jimmy?

Okay, so I didn’t know if Gerald Teeves was guilty of killing Jimmy or not, but in my book it was a definite possibility. And knowing or suspecting that your father was a murderer would be enough to make anyone ill.

I wondered if I should find a way to have a chat with Logan, though he didn’t seem inclined to conversation. Sienna, on the other hand, would likely be more forthcoming. But did she know anything that might incriminate Gerald Teeves?

Possibly.

And what about Chantel? If Gerald Teeves was the killer, did she know about it?

They seemed close enough to make that a possibility.

The waitress arrived with our food, taking my mind off Gerald Teeves and Chantel Lefevre.

“So,” Chloe said as she dipped one of her golden fries in ketchup, “you know my brother likes you, right?”

My garden burger halfway to my mouth, I froze, my cheeks heating up. I set my burger back on my plate, not sure how to respond. The kiss had told me that Brett most definitely liked me, and I felt the same way, but I still wasn’t sure what to say.

Chloe smiled at me, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I just thought I’d put it out there.”

I opened my mouth to remind her of the fact that I lived in Seattle, that there wasn’t much point in pursuing a relationship in Wildwood Cove, but I didn’t get the chance. A shadow fell over our booth and I glanced up to find Michael Downes standing next to us.

“Evening, ladies,” he said.

“Hi,” we both returned.

“Chloe Collins, isn’t it?” he said to Chloe.

“That’s right,” she said.

Michael swept his eyes up and down the row of booths along the wall. “Have either of you seen Daryl today?”

“Daryl Willis?” Chloe asked.

Michael nodded.

“No,” she said.

“Neither have I,” I added. And I was glad of that. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Probably not,” Michael said, “but I haven’t heard from him since yesterday and neither has Tina. He never came home last night and he didn’t show up this morning to help me with a plumbing job like he was supposed to.”

“And that’s unlike him?” I asked, thinking that Daryl Willis didn’t strike me as the most dependable sort of person.

“Somewhat.” Michael glanced around the pub again. “It’s probably nothing to worry about, but I could have used his help today. He’s not answering his phone or responding to text messages, so I thought I’d check in at a few places he frequents.”

“Sorry we can’t help you,” Chloe said.

“No problem. It was nice to see you ladies anyway.” Michael smiled at us. “Enjoy your dinner.”

He left us then and headed out of the pub, stopping to talk briefly with one other person first.

I watched him go, but then turned my attention back to Chloe.

Although dinner with Chloe provided a nice end to my day, sleep didn’t come easily that night. I kept tossing and turning, my mind refusing to shut down. One moment I was focused on Brett and our amazing kiss; the next, my thoughts jumped to Jimmy’s murder. It didn’t take long for Flapjack to abandon me, miffed that I kept disturbing his carefree slumber atop my blankets. Although I tried my best to clear my mind, I didn’t have much success. I eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, but it seemed like only moments later when my alarm went off.

Lingering drowsiness weighed me down as I dressed and ate breakfast, and I had to remind myself not to dawdle too much. After eating his own breakfast, Flapjack curled up on the couch and went back to sleep. Although I was generally a morning person, today I wished I could do the same as the tabby. But I ignored the temptation of the couch and set off into the dark morning.

I perked up a bit after sipping strong tea while getting ready to open The Flip Side for its Sunday morning customers, but the tangled mystery occupying my mind didn’t release its grip on my thoughts. When the brunch crowd thinned out, I escaped to the office and resumed the task of cleaning up the mess of papers the intruder had left behind.

Although I made good progress with sorting through the jumble and returning piles of documents to the filing cabinet, I still didn’t find any clues pointing to the reason for the search of the office. After more than an hour of working away in the back room, Leigh appeared at the open door, bearing a plate of asparagus mushroom crêpes.

“Ivan sent these along with orders to eat up,” she said as she set the plate on the desk. “He thinks you look like you need some good fuel today.”

“He said that?” I sank into the desk chair and the delicious aroma of the savory crêpes wafted up to meet my nose.

“Actually, all he said was ‘make sure she eats them,’ but I’ve learned to read between his sparse lines over the years.”

“Eating them won’t be a problem.” I’d already picked up the knife and fork Leigh had brought with the plate. “How are things out there? Do you need my help?”

“Business is steady but not too busy at the moment. I can take care of it.”

“Thanks, Leigh,” I said as she left the office.

As she disappeared around the corner, I took my first bite of the asparagus mushroom crêpes and savored it before chewing and swallowing. Ivan really did have a gift. His dishes were never anything but scrumptious, and somehow he’d known exactly what I needed. By the time I’d cleaned the plate, I’d gained some much-needed energy. After delivering my plate and cutlery to the kitchen and thanking Ivan for the delicious meal, I donned my apron and joined Leigh out front.

Not long after, Lisa came into the pancake house and waved to me as she settled in at her favorite table by the window. Leigh took her order, but once I’d delivered plates of pancakes and sausages to three other diners, I claimed the chair across from her.

“How are you today?” Lisa asked once I was seated.

“All right, thanks.”

She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, her gaze fixed on me. “Are you sure? You look a bit tired.”

I eyed her coffee. “Maybe I could use another cup of strong tea. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Understandable, considering what you’ve been through the last few days.”

“I suppose so. I can’t seem to shut off my mind.”

Lisa took a sip of coffee. “Because of the murder?”

For a second I considered telling her about Brett, but I quickly pushed that thought aside.

“Yes,” I said instead, and that was partly the truth.

I glanced around to make sure no one could hear us. The neighboring tables were unoccupied, but I lowered my voice anyway. “It’s a tangled mess inside my head.”

I was about to tell her about my suspects and Leigh’s predicament, but stopped myself. Even though I didn’t think anyone could hear us, rumors about Leigh were already flying around town and I didn’t want to add to them.

“It’s hard not knowing who killed Jimmy,” I said instead. “And some things don’t add up. It’s confusing.”

“What doesn’t add up?” Lisa asked after swallowing another sip of coffee.

I didn’t reply right away, waiting as Leigh brought over Lisa’s plate of smoked salmon and cream cheese crêpes. Once we were alone again and Lisa had started in on her crêpes, I answered her question.

“For starters, Jimmy called the pancake house on the morning of his death to say he was coming home from the hospital in a taxi.” Not wanting to bring Leigh into it, I didn’t mention that she was suspected of lying about the phone call. “But as far as I know, Jimmy didn’t trust taxi drivers, and there’s no record of a taxi picking him up at the hospital. On top of that, the phone call came from a cellphone, but not Jimmy’s cellphone.”