1 A High-End Finish (5 page)

“And he heard about the running water from a neighbor.”

“That’s what he told me.”

Jensen skimmed a few pages of his notepad. “We’ve talked to all the neighbors and nobody claims to have called the owners.”

I frowned at him, confused. This was the first time I’d heard that. “But that’s what Stan told me. Why would he lie? He said that one of his neighbors called him. You should track him down and ask him the same question. Or maybe your guys missed one of the neighbors. You might want to follow up with them.”

He ignored my useful suggestions as he scanned his notes. “Did Mr. Boyer reach you on your home phone or your cell?”

“My cell phone.”
My cell phone!
I quickly rummaged through my purse and pulled it out, feeling victorious. I slid my finger across the screen and handed it to him. “See? Here’s my list of recent phone calls.”

He stared at the screen for a long moment and I wanted to snatch it back from him. Was I showing him too much? Was he memorizing the names of the other people I’d talked to recently? But then he tapped the Boyers’ icon and it took him to another screen that listed whether the call had been incoming or outgoing, the time and date of the call, and how long it lasted.

He took his time studying the info screen, then wrote the details down on his notepad. He handed the phone back to me and I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “So that proves it, right?”

“There’s still the matter of that death threat on the beach.”

Could he see the steam coming out of my ears? How many times did I have to explain myself? “I’ve already gone over that with you,” I said carefully. “What else do you want to know?”

“You must’ve been pretty angry to resort to threatening him with murder.”

“Haven’t you ever been that furious with someone?”

“No.”

I scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m a sworn officer of the law. We never lie.”

I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No,” I said, still laughing.

He pursed his lips and watched me without saying anything. It was so unnerving, I wanted to shake him. But then I spotted what might’ve been a twinkle in his eye. So maybe he was kidding around with me? I hoped so, but, darn, the man had a devastating poker face.

“Where were we?” I asked.

“Were you angry?”

“Oh yes.” I paused, wondering how much I should say and decided to go with the honest truth. “I was very angry. I was furious. And scared. He was a big, vicious jerk. He expected me to fall into his arms because he bought me dinner? I can buy my own damn dinner, thanks.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“You bet I can. He tore my best blouse and I still have black-and-blue marks where he grabbed me. If you don’t believe me, just ask any of the dozens of witnesses who were on the pier when he attacked me. I feared for my life in that moment and I don’t have a single regret about kicking him in the . . . you know. Not that I actually kicked him there, but nobody believes me when I deny it and, besides, a bunch of people won the pool at the pub, so I don’t want to bum them out, but . . . Oh, never mind.”

I could see him biting his cheeks. To keep from laughing? I hoped so, even if he was laughing at me. I didn’t care. I couldn’t have the new police chief annoyed with me, especially since I’d been dumb enough to threaten someone who later was murdered.

He kept on taking notes, and when he finally looked up, his expression was placid. “Tell me about that pink pipe wrench left at the scene.”

I sighed. “It’s mine, obviously. Nobody else uses pink tools but me, and everyone in town knows it.”

“Why pink?”

Because I’m a girl,
I wanted to say, but refrained from stating the obvious. “When I was little, my dad used to take my sister and me to work with him. I guess the construction guys thought it was cute, because they started bringing us little pink tool sets and things. Hard hats, goggles, tool belts—all pink. When I got older, Dad continued the tradition, so I’ve got pink everything. Power drills, sockets, hard hat, even a big rolling tool chest. You name it. I’ve got plenty of regular tools, too, but the pink ones are just as sturdy and the guys don’t tend to walk away with them.”

“No, I don’t suppose they would.”

“I told you I keep a set of my tools on-site.”

“You mentioned it.”

“So, I figure whoever was after Jerry just grabbed the heaviest thing he could find.”

“That’s one theory.” He smiled.

“Well, it’s a damn good one. Do you think I’d be stupid enough to use my own pink wrench as a weapon and then leave it at the scene?”

He sat back in his chair and folded his muscular arms across his impressive chest. “I think you’re far from stupid, Ms. Hammer. But I’ve got a job to do. A cold-blooded murder to solve. I’m trying to get a complete picture of what occurred in that basement so that a murderer doesn’t go free. I don’t like murder happening in my town.”

“It’s my town, too,” I grumbled. “I’ve never heard of a murder happening here before.”

“Until now.”

We stared at each other for several long seconds, until I blinked and looked away. I hated losing a staring contest, but I was getting a little freaked-out. Was he going to throw me in a cell? He wouldn’t, would he? Didn’t he know I was a completely trustworthy, lifelong resident of this town? I belonged to the Rotary Club. My company was accredited by the Better Business Bureau. I paid my bills on time and I didn’t go around killing people as a general rule. But he wouldn’t know that about me.

I reached for the small paper cup of water and took a quick sip to soothe my parched throat. “How long have you been living in Lighthouse Cove?”

He gazed at me without answering. Was I not supposed to ask him questions? I wasn’t under arrest, right? So we could have a pleasant conversation, couldn’t we? I gave him an encouraging smile.

Finally he gave in. “I moved here two months ago, right after Chief Raymond retired.”

“I’ve seen you around town. But obviously we’ve never met.”

“Guess you’ve managed to stay out of trouble until now.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I leaned forward and clutched the edge of the table with both hands. “I’m not
in
trouble, Chief Jensen. Just because I was a good citizen and reported finding Jerry’s dead body doesn’t mean I killed him. I’m worried that while we’re sitting around twiddling our thumbs, the real killer’s running loose around town.”

“Twiddling our thumbs?” he said quietly.

“Metaphorically speaking.” Discomfited, I waved off the comment and sat back in the chair. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” He closed his notebook. “Believe me, I’m not twiddling my thumbs, Ms. Hammer. I’ve got my entire workforce making calls or out in the field, checking into every aspect of this case. We will find the person who killed Mr. Saxton.”

“Good. Because it’s not me.”

The door opened and I recognized Sally, a longtime member of the police force, standing there. “Hey, Shannon.”

I waved.

She turned to Chief Jensen. “Chief, can I see you out here for a minute?”

For the third time, Jensen left the room. Ten minutes passed and I was getting more nervous by the second. I stood and paced, feeling like a jailbird.

But after another minute of circling the room, I realized I was wasting my time. Rather than worry and complain, I needed to sit down and figure out for myself who in the world had killed Jerry Saxton.

The problem was, all the circumstantial evidence pointed directly at me. My biggest fear was that Chief Jensen would take the lazy way out and arrest me without delving any deeper.

Frankly, he looked like the furthest thing from lazy, but that didn’t matter. He obviously considered me a person of interest, so how was I supposed to convince him that I wasn’t? There was only one way. I knew I hadn’t killed Jerry, so it was up to me to figure out who had.

When I met with the girls last Friday, Marigold had suggested that there might be another woman out there who had suffered from Jerry’s cruelty. And Penny Wells, the loan agent at the bank, didn’t like him, either. Were there others? Maybe one of those women had wanted revenge. Or maybe one of them had a husband or a father who was angry enough to do the job for her.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find some answers. Between my girlfriends and me, we knew most of the people in town. We would just have to ask the right ones the right questions. Not that I was anxious to accuse anyone else of being a murderer, but at least I could deflect the chief’s focus from me. Now if only I could escape this interrogation room and get started.

Another five minutes passed and I was considering my chances of making a run for it, when the chief strolled back in, as casual as could be.

“Look, Chief Jensen, I—”

“You’re free to go, Ms. Hammer.”

I blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

He showed the barest hint of a grin. “Did you want to stick around?”

“No, it’s just that—”

“We could tidy up one of the cells for you.”

“No, but thanks. I’m happy to leave, but I’m a little confused. What happened? Did you find the killer? Did someone confess?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Now, you ought to get going before I change my mind.”

“Jeez.” I scowled as I grabbed my purse off the back of the chair. “I’m going.”

Before I could make it out the door, he said, “And don’t leave town.”

I turned and glared at him. “Seriously? I was born here, I live here, and I work here. I have friends and family here, so I’m not going anywhere. And, by the way, I’m not guilty of whatever you think I did.”

He actually smiled at me. “That was sort of a joke. I don’t actually think you’ll take off.”

I tried to cool my jets. “So that was what—cop humor?”

“Something like that.” His smile broadened and it was a sight worth waiting for.

“Oo-kay then.” I gave a little wave. “I’ll see you around.”

“No doubt.”

I walked out and took a deep breath of freedom. When I saw Tommy kibitzing with another cop by the front counter, I grabbed his arm. “Walk me to my car.”

“Huh? What?”

I dragged him outside, and when we got to my car, I turned on him. “What’s going on? Why did he let me go? Did you find the killer?”

“Slow down, Shan,” Tommy said. “You know I can’t tell you anything.”

“I just spent more than two hours being grilled by that guy. Besides, you owe me, Tommy.”

He looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, sorry about that. When I heard what you did to that guy on the beach, I was damn proud of you. But I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

I couldn’t disagree. But to be fair to Tommy, Thor had admitted he’d already heard the story from someone else. “Just tell me what’s going on. I have a right to know and I won’t get anything out of your irascible boss.”

“He’s cool, right? Did you know he surfs?”

My eyes widened in mock amazement. “That’s so awesome, Tommy.”

He laughed. “I know you don’t care. But I gotta tell you, it’s great to have a regular guy in charge after all those years with old stick-up-his-butt Raymond.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” I said, and meant it. “But can you just tell me why he let me go?” I wanted to know whether to keep looking over my shoulder or not.

Tommy glanced around the parking lot, as if someone might be eavesdropping. Finally, he whispered, “The coroner just called with his preliminary report. He thinks the body’s been lying there in that basement since around nine o’clock last night. You’ve got an alibi for that time frame. Lizzie told us you were at her house from six until about midnight.”

“We had dinner and then watched a movie,” I said, remembering how the girls had teased me about my big Saturday-night plans with Lizzie and Hal and the kids.

But Lizzie was one of my best friends. Why would Jensen believe her? I asked Tommy that very thing.

He looked embarrassed. “He wasn’t inclined to believe Lizzie, but then Hal corroborated the story.”

Oh, fine. It figured Jensen would put more faith in Hal’s story than Lizzie’s. But, then, I probably would, too. “So that’s it? That’s why he let me go?”

“Well.” Tommy wore that same pained expression as he scanned the parking lot again. It was fully dark now and clouds were rolling in. It looked like it might rain. Tommy leaned closer. “We also found out that Mr. Boyer wasn’t calling you from San Francisco like he told you. He made that phone call from Sweet River. He was shacked up at the Cliff Hotel with someone who wasn’t Mrs. Boyer.”

“Whoa.” Sweet River was south of here, about fifteen miles down the highway. Stan Boyer could’ve made the drive there and back with plenty of time to spare. But why? “So, what are you saying? Is Stan a suspect?”

Why would Stan Boyer kill Jerry Saxton? And in his own house?

Tommy scowled at me. “Damn it, Shannon, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“My lips are sealed, Tommy. I swear.” I stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks. You’re a peach.”

“Just stay out of trouble, kiddo.”

The next morning I woke up early and after a long shower and a healthy breakfast of coffee and Pop-Tarts—blueberry flavored, to get my daily requirement of fruit—I headed for another one of my work sites. While it remained a crime scene, the Boyers’ house was in limbo, so I’d shifted my men around to other jobs in town.

As I drove away from my house, I remembered Tommy’s warning from the night before to stay out of trouble. But come on. When had I ever been in trouble? It still galled me that Chief Jensen had actually told me not to leave town.
My
town! Sure, he’d claimed he was just kidding, but I’d bet there was some truth in there. So what was with the cops around here? Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I’d caused
trouble
in this town, I’d have maybe one or two nickels at the most. Of course, Jensen had no way of knowing that.

Chief Jensen knew nothing about me and that was starting to become a problem. Maybe it was time to ask my friends to talk me up to him. It might help him see me in a more positive light. Because, frankly, I figured the only reason he’d allowed me to go home last night was because Boyer had lied, not because my alibi had been so strong.

I needed to win him over to my side. How hard could it be? After all, the pitiful truth was, my life was the proverbial open book. I was friendly to everyone. I didn’t drive too fast or drink too much or tell lies or party too heartily, ever. Oh, sure, there might’ve been a few wild teenage moments in high school, but seriously, they weren’t all that wild. In fact, I hadn’t done anything truly wild in years, if ever. I certainly hadn’t killed anyone, even if I’d threatened to do so the other night. In front of witnesses.

Did that make me sound boring? Well, not the threatening-to-kill part, but the rest of it? Because I didn’t feel boring. I loved my life. I had a great job and wonderful friends. I was close to my family; I loved my house and my dog and my cat and my town. I was healthy. I had money in the bank. Okay, maybe I wasn’t
blissfully
happy, like rainbows and unicorns happy, but who was?

“Stop it,” I murmured, scowling at myself. I was happy enough. Hell, I was downright perky most of the time.

I turned up the radio to distract myself and cruised through downtown past the town square on my way to one of my houses a few streets north of Main Street.

The town square was practically deserted at this time of the morning. Charming shops and cafés faced the pretty central park, where a large gazebo was set beneath sheltering trees. During the summer, free band concerts were held there on the weekends. Everyone in town turned out, carrying their lawn chairs and picnic hampers. The ice-cream shop on the corner did a bumper business on those nights. Some of my earliest best memories had taken place right here. Fireworks. Marching bands. My mom and dad holding hands. Ice cream.

Now, though, the square was silent. I scanned the area, anyway, on the off chance that I’d catch a glimpse of one of my girlfriends opening her shop, but the only place open was the Cozy Cove Diner on the corner. The other shops on the square wouldn’t open for business for another two hours or more.

It was just as well, I realized as I drove on. I should probably avoid the area for the next few days. I knew my gossip quotient had skyrocketed since I’d stumbled over Jerry’s body on Sunday. Everyone in town would be vying to get the inside scoop from me, but I dreaded the whispers and questions that would follow. I had to endure scrutiny and doubt from the new police chief, but not from people I’d known my entire life.

It was a good thing I had a strong alibi for the time Jerry had died, at least according to the county coroner’s estimate. Otherwise, I would probably be bunking in the town jail by now. Despite my alibi, I had a feeling the chief would keep me on his suspect list until someone else confessed to the crime.

After a few more turns, I found Cranberry Circle and parked in front of the work site. The house was a beautiful pale blue Queen Anne Victorian with white trim, a charming porch on the ground floor, and a rounded balcony on the second floor of the tower. It was part of a small group of homes my father had built almost twenty years ago and it was a concept he’d repeated in other areas of town. Here there were sixteen homes, all grouped around a small park and playground. With only one entrance into the neighborhood and the street circling around the park, it was safe for the kids to play and ride bikes. A small coffeehouse thrived on the corner.

The owners wanted a new paint job, and we also needed to replace half a wall’s worth of rotted wood siding and cedar shingles. Even though the house was relatively young, it was located at the west end of the block closest to the ocean. Despite being more valuable because of its desirable location, this house had suffered more exposure to the elements than the others. The stiff winter breezes and constant salt spray had damaged some of the western-facing exterior, causing the wood and paint to fade faster than the rest of the houses on the street.

The baby blue–and-white facade had been a popular combination twenty years ago. These days, though, many Victorian homeowners wanted more vivid colors with numerous contrasting hues on the windows, doors, and framing.

I climbed out of the truck and saw Billy and Sean already hard at work. The three of us had gone to school together and they were two of the best on my crew. Perched on the scaffolding, they were using claw hammers to pull off the most damaged cedar shingles.

“Hi, guys,” I shouted.

Billy shoved his hammer into his tool belt and rappelled down the scaffolding like an expert rock climber. “Hey, Shannon, honey. You okay?”

Sean followed right behind him. “Yeah, we heard what happened.” Always the straight shooter, he added, “Whoever offed Jerry Saxton did the world a favor. Maybe I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but that guy was a tool.”

“You knew him?” I asked.

“Yeah, I knew him.” He scowled. “Remember Luisa Capello?”

“Sure. She went to school with us.”

“Right. She was a year younger and best friends with my sister.” Sean unwrapped a piece of gum, popped it into his mouth, and chewed as he talked. “Anyway, Saxton dated her for a while, and I got the feeling she was crazy in love with him. He led her on, promised her the moon, gave her all sorts of gifts and stuff. She was planning to marry him until she found out he was fooling around with not one, but two other women.”

“Jerk,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“And guess who spilled the beans to Luisa about Jerry’s cheating.” Sean scowled. “It was yet another woman he was cheating on.”

“How many was he stringing along? Three? Four?” Billy pulled his baseball cap off and scratched his head. “I can barely handle the one I’ve got.”

Sean chuckled but quickly sobered. “Just about broke Luisa’s heart. She was seeing a doctor for depression for a while, but I think she’s finally over him.”

“I’m sorry for Luisa,” I said, remembering the pretty, tenderhearted girl from high school. Her parents had moved here from Italy to open a branch of the family restaurant. They were extremely protective of their three thoroughly Americanized children. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t,” Billy said. “I didn’t know her as well as you two did, but that’s a real drag.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Sean said with an evil grin. “Did you know that Saxton was also screwing around with Joyce Boyer?”

My ears perked up. “What?”

“Oh yeah,” Billy said, nodding sagely. “Joyce is another one of his conquests.”

“Joyce Boyer.” It wasn’t possible, was it? Joyce was Stan Boyer’s wife. The wife that Stan was cheating on last weekend while Jerry Saxton was being murdered. In their new house! “How did you hear about her and Jerry?”

“From Johnny,” Sean said, naming another longtime member of my crew. “Ask him. He and Todd and the other guys working on the Boyer house got an earful of Joyce and Jerry carrying on last week.”

An
earful
? I wondered what that meant.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “The guys were laughing about it last Friday night at the pub. Hey, we missed you there, by the way. But I guess we know why you didn’t show up.”

“Believe me, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” I said, lamenting that I hadn’t been there to hear about Joyce and Jerry. I’d avoided the pub—and every other public place—last Friday because of my infamous fight with Jerry the night before. “So, Jerry was screwing around with Stan’s wife. Wow.”

“That’s what Johnny said. Apparently the two of them were having sex in one of the upstairs bedrooms while the guys were working there.”

I grimaced. “That is the tackiest thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, besides the fact that a bunch of guys are working there, those upstairs bedrooms aren’t even finished yet. It’s a mess.”

“I know,” Sean said, laughing. “The guys were afraid they’d come away with splinters in their private parts.”

I covered my ears. “Oh, ick.”

“It’s cheesy, for sure,” Bill agreed, and all of a sudden he looked embarrassed. “The thing is, Shannon, we were talking about Jerry because of your run-in with him.”

“That’s okay.” I patted his arm. “Everybody else in town is talking about it, too.”

“The good news is that you gave him exactly what he deserved out on the beach the other night.”

Sean chuckled. “Yeah, you nailed him, boss. Every woman he ever cheated on is praising your name these days.”

I didn’t deserve the praise for
nailing
him, but at this point, it was too much trouble to correct that generally held belief. I hadn’t even intended to bring up the subject of Jerry, but now I couldn’t let it go. “So, Jerry fooled around with a lot of women?”

“He was notorious,” Sean said. “Ask anyone.”

“Married women, too?”

“Well, there’s Mrs. Boyer,” Sean said, as if that settled it.

“Sounds like everyone in town knew he was a player.” Everyone but me, obviously. And Lizzie.

“A lot of guys knew,” Billy said.

Sean nodded. “Mainly because he liked to brag about it at the pub.”

“Yeah, he kind of had a big mouth,” Billy said.

Sean snorted. “’Cuz he was kind of a big ass.”

“Did you ever hear of anyone claiming that he hurt them physically?”

Sean looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s not like I’m definitely pointing the finger at Saxton, but Luisa showed up with a black eye once. She said she fell down.”

It didn’t take much of a leap to conclude that Jerry had given Luisa that black eye, but it was too late now for the police to do anything about it. I would love to talk to Luisa about it, though. And while I doubted she would ever hurt a fly, I was putting her on my personal suspect list.

Luisa was a real softie, so it was a long shot. In fact, I almost smiled at the picture of her bashing Jerry over the head with a pipe wrench. She’d barely be able to lift the thing. But Jerry might’ve pushed her to the limit.

And if Luisa hadn’t been pushed that far, perhaps her two brothers or her protective father had been.

As I was leaving, three more of my crew drove up. I rolled down my window to let them know that I’d see them all later in the week. As I drove off, I made a mental note to run by Luisa’s place sometime this week and catch up with her.

Billy’s words circled through my mind. He’d sworn that Jerry had a big mouth and was always bragging about his conquests. But if that were true, why would Lizzie have ever set me up with him? I couldn’t believe she’d never heard the rumors. She knew this town as well as I did. On the other hand, Lizzie and Hal rarely hung out in the pub, where they might hear the stories. Their lives revolved around their kids. I didn’t have that excuse and I’d never heard the rumors either, so who was I to talk?

So, how did Lizzie meet Jerry? And why had she set me up with him? Someone must have suggested him as a good date possibility, probably because, sadly, Lizzie was always in the market for new and interesting men to match up with her girlfriends. But who in the world would recommend Jerry?

It was time to ask Lizzie that question. I also knew I would have to tell Chief Jensen what I’d heard about Mrs. Boyer.
Is he already aware of Jerry Saxton’s affair with her?
I wondered. I hated the idea of being a snitch, but why should I be the only person on his suspect list? It wasn’t fair.

A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of Paper Moon, Lizzie and Hal’s bookshop on the square. I almost hated to walk inside because I never walked out without buying something fabulous. The shop was filled with books and beautiful cards and paper items and unusual gifts. But I was on a mission.

The store wasn’t open yet, but I knew Lizzie would be working in the back office. It was quieter here than at home, where Hal would be getting their two kids ready for school. She always did her paperwork and bills here in the mornings.

I walked down the passageway between two shops and found the back entrance.

“Knock, knock,” I shouted as I rapped loudly on the door.

Moments later, Lizzie called out, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Shannon.”

She opened the door to let me in and quickly locked it behind us. Not that our tiny town was dangerous or anything—Jerry Saxton’s murder notwithstanding—but Lizzie loved locks. She was our safety girl and liked to lecture us on personal safety. She knew every type of locking mechanism known to man and probably could have gotten a job at Fort Knox.

“What are you doing here?” she asked over her shoulder as she led the way back to her small office. “Not that it’s not wonderful to see you.”

Today Lizzie wore a simple outfit of mossy green jeans and a matching sweater. I knew she thought the one-color scheme made her appear taller, but she still looked like a perky elf with attitude. Not that she didn’t look clean and classy and ready for business. She did, as always. I was the perfect contrast to her in old work boots with thick socks, jeans, and a flannel shirt over a faded blue thermal henley. In my defense, I was dressed for business, too. Just a different kind of business.

Lizzie poured a cup of coffee with cream for me and we both sat.