44 Cranberry Point (6 page)

R
oy McAfee hadn’t been a private investigator for more than a few years, but he’d been in law enforcement his entire career. He was retired from the Seattle police force; after a few months, however, he’d thought he’d go stir-crazy sitting around the house doing nothing. Soon after his move to Cedar Cove, he’d hung out his shingle.

Retirement wasn’t for him. Some men took to it, got involved in hobbies and interests. That kind of life was too predictable for Roy. Nothing lured him faster than a good mystery, and he didn’t mean one between the covers of a book, either.

Few mysteries had intrigued him more than what was happening right here in Cedar Cove.

He sat down at his desk and reached for Bob Beldon’s file. If he reviewed the facts as they’d unfolded, perhaps he’d pick up on something he’d overlooked before. He didn’t think it was likely, but it wouldn’t hurt to refresh his memory.

It all started the night a stranger had arrived on the doorstep of the Beldons’ Thyme and Tide bed-and-breakfast. By morning he was dead.

Bob Beldon had notified Troy Davis, and the coroner came for the body. Soon afterward, it was discovered that the man had undergone extensive plastic surgery and carried false identification. For a few weeks there’d been a lot of speculation as to who he could be. Then silence-and things had died down for a while.

From the first, something about their guest had disturbed Beldon. Bob had experienced a recurring nightmare ever since his return from Vietnam. On occasion, he’d been known to sleepwalk.

Roy stopped reading and leaned back in his chair, recalling his initial thoughts when Beldon had asked him for help. Davis had questioned Beldon for the second or third time and Bob had considered contacting an attorney, but hadn’t. Instead he’d come to Roy. Not too far into the conversation, Roy had realized that the other man was afraid he might have been responsible for the stranger’s death.

Roy was quick to assure him otherwise, although he’d wondered the same thing in the beginning. But Maxwell’s door had been locked from the inside and there’d been no sign of a struggle. The fact of the matter was that until recently, they couldn’t be sure
what
had caused the other man’s death. The autopsy had shown that his vital organs were in fine shape.

Not long before Bob’s appointment with Roy, Grace Sherman had come to him. A year earlier, her husband, Dan, had gone missing. When Dan didn’t return, Grace had sought out Roy to help locate her husband. But every lead had been a dead end.

Unanswered questions didn’t sit well with him, although he’d shocked Grace with the few things he’d unearthed. One of them was the matter of thirteen thousand dollars Dan had somehow managed to keep from her. Grace had no idea
where Dan could’ve found that kind of cash, which he’d apparently used to buy a trailer. He’d handed over his paycheck every Friday, regular as clockwork. Like most couples, they’d apparently lived month to month.

Then Dan’s body had been discovered and with it a suicide note he’d left for Grace. In his last letter to his wife, Dan had described an incident that had taken place during the Vietnam war. He and three others had been separated from their squadron, and they’d stumbled into a village, which they feared was Viet-Cong controlled. Something had happened, and they’d started firing and before the smoke cleared they’d wiped out the entire village, according to Dan. They’d massacred men, women and children. The event had forever marked him. He couldn’t live with himself any longer. Or so the letter had indicated.

Grace had been beside herself, not knowing what to do with the information. Roy was afraid he hadn’t been much help. He couldn’t really advise her; whatever became of these facts was her decision and hers alone.

Shortly afterward, Beldon had repeated the story Dan had written about in his suicide note. He’d mentioned Dan-they’d been two of the four men wandering through that jungle. He’d told Roy that afterward he and Dan hadn’t seen each other for almost thirty years. When Bob had come home to Cedar Cove, they’d completely avoided each other.

It seemed too much of a coincidence that Roy would hear this grisly tale from two different people within such a short period of time. On a hunch, he’d gone to Troy Davis and suggested the sheriff check out the other two men who’d been with Dan and Beldon that day.

Sure enough, one of the men-Maxwell Russell-had been reported missing. The unidentified body had turned out to be his. Why he’d come to Cedar Cove and why he’d carried
false identification couldn’t be explained, though, any more than his death.

Not until later was it discovered that Max Russell had actually been murdered. Poisoned. There’d been evidence in the water bottle found in Russell’s rented vehicle.

Once Russell had been identified, his daughter had visited Cedar Cove to collect her father’s ashes. Davis had set up a meeting between Hannah and the Beldons, and as a favor to Bob, Roy had been at the house when she came by with the sheriff. Roy learned then that Hannah’s mother had died in a car accident, the same one that had badly burned her father. The burns were the reason for Max’s plastic surgery and quite possibly why Bob hadn’t recognized his old friend.

The circumstances surrounding the car crash led Roy to believe it hadn’t been an accident. He’d probably never be able to prove that. The accident report blamed Russell, but Hannah’s father had insisted the steering had disconnected. There was nothing to verify his account.

The door to Roy’s office opened and his wife walked in with a tray of coffee and freshly baked cookies. Corrie seemed intent on fattening him up, not that he was making much of a fuss. He certainly wasn’t turning down homemade cookies.

“Let me guess what you’re reading.” That know-it-all glint shone in her eyes. “Could it possibly have something to do with the Beldon case?”

“Smarty pants,” he said, grinning up at his wife.

“You’re going to solve this if it takes the rest of your life, aren’t you?”

Roy was close to the answer; he could feel it. He didn’t know what he’d missed, if anything, but eventually his instincts would lead him where he had to go. All he needed
was patience but that, unfortunately, seemed to be in short supply.

Corrie poured coffee into the mug, added cream and gave it to him. “I get suspicious when you’re this quiet.”

Roy leaned back in his chair, the mug in his hand. “I’m sifting all the facts through my brain.”

“Do you still think the Beldons might be in some kind of danger?”

Roy didn’t know how to answer. He shrugged. “Two of the four men are dead. One was murdered and the other committed suicide.”

“What about the fourth man?”

“Apparently Davis has talked to Colonel Stewart Samuels. He told me he didn’t think Samuels is involved-but who knows?”

Corrie looked down at the file and picked up the top sheet. “It says here he’s up for a Congressional Committee assignment. If news of what happened in Nam got out, it could be disastrous to his career, don’t you think?”

“True.” Roy was well aware of that, but Samuels’s military record was impeccable. And he lived on the East Coast. His whereabouts were accounted for during the time around Maxwell Russell’s death. To be on the safe side, Roy had checked into the weeks shortly after Dan Sherman’s disappearance, but Samuels had been in Europe, on a NATO assignment.

Corrie poured a second mug of coffee, black, and sat in the chair across from Roy’s desk. “Linnette phoned this morning.” Their twenty-five-year-old daughter had recently graduated as a physician’s assistant.

Roy brightened. He adored Linnette and felt close to her. She was bright, beautiful and a source of pride. Her brother was another story. Roy and Mack were frequently at odds.
Linnette had done well in school and Mack, to put it bluntly, hadn’t.

“She’s applying for a job in Montana, of all places.”

With the majority of physicians choosing to work in big cities, many small towns were left without medical professionals. Although she’d grown up in Seattle, Linnette had always been drawn to rural areas, so Roy wasn’t surprised by her decision. She’d be filling a critical need and living in the sort of place she liked.

“Did you hear me, Roy? Montana?”

He wasn’t sure what had upset Corrie so much. When Linnette had entered the medical program, they’d both known she wouldn’t settle down in Seattle.

“I don’t want her moving two states away!”

“Corrie-”

He wasn’t allowed to finish.

“Linnette doesn’t know a soul in Montana. There’s plenty of small towns in Washington State that need physician’s assistants.”

Roy made an effort to hold back his amusement. “It’s time to cut the apron strings, Mother.”

Evidently not a successful effort. Corrie cast him an exasperated look. “This is our
daughter
we’re talking about.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Roy McAfee.”

“Yes, dear.”

“You’re not funny. You know that, don’t you?”

Roy resisted answering, although it was a struggle. “Where would you be comfortable having Linnette find a job?”

Corrie bit her bottom lip and didn’t answer him.

“I have the feeling you’d like her to move right here to Cedar Cove,” he joked.

At that his wife’s head snapped up and her eyes widened.
She set down her coffee, then leapt out of her chair, raced around the desk and kissed him soundly.

“What was that all about?” Roy asked, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s because you, my wonderful husband, are much smarter than I give you credit for.”

Bewildered, Roy watched her fly out of his office.

G
race thrust her hands decisively into her garden gloves, ready to head out to the back garden to plant Martha Washington geraniums. It wasn’t the way she wanted to spend Friday evening, but she refused to mope around the house. Buttercup waited for her at the kitchen door, tail wagging.

“We’ll plant these now and see what we can find at the Farmers’ Market tomorrow morning. That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?” The fact that Grace had begun to carry on whole conversations with her golden retriever had to be a sign of how lonely she was.

The Farmers’ Market had started the first Saturday of May, and although there were only a few homegrown vegetables available this early in the season, Grace enjoyed going there each week. She almost always ran into a few friends. One or both of her daughters was likely to show up, as well.

The phone rang, startling Grace. She pulled off her righthand glove and reached for the wall-mounted receiver.

“Hello.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, hoping with all her heart that it was Cliff. He’d weighed heavily
on her mind since their chance encounter at the restaurant earlier in the week. Her hope was that he’d been thinking about her, too.

“It’s Stanley Lockhart, Grace. How are you?”

Grace felt an immediate stab of disappointment. “Hello, Stan.” She kept her voice cool, not wanting to encourage Olivia’s ex-husband. “I’m fine.”

“Me, too. Listen, would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

She glanced over at the can of clam chowder that was slated to be her evening meal. Still, she preferred to eat soup alone over a three-course meal with Stan Lockhart.

“Sorry, I already have plans.”

“You can’t change them?” He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.

“No.” How like Stan to expect her to alter her evening because
he
needed a dinner companion.

“What if I stop by later?” His enthusiasm was back. “It’s important.”

“That won’t work, either.” She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her that was so urgent. Grace sincerely hoped he got the message, but the subtle approach wasn’t always successful with Stan. Inbred politeness prevented her from being rude and telling him outright that she wanted to avoid him.

The line went quiet as he contemplated her refusal. “I see,” he said, sounding depressed. “Gracie, listen, I hate to be a pest but I’d like to talk to you if we can manage it.”

Gracie.
From the time she was in grade school, Grace had detested that nickname. She gritted her teeth. Stan hadn’t been in touch since that one dinner. Now this. She couldn’t even guess what he wanted.

“Why don’t you tell me what you need to see me about?”

He hesitated. “It’s better if I do it in person. Is there anyplace we can meet? Drinks? Coffee? You say when and
where, and I’ll be there.” His tone took on a pleading quality. Grace knew that Stan’s second marriage had recently failed; he still seemed to be shaken. She sympathized, but she didn’t want to get involved with him.

“It won’t take much of your time, I promise.”

She hesitated, fearing that he’d hound her until she gave in. “I plan to be at the Farmers’ Market in the morning.”

“Perfect.” He leaped on the suggestion. “I’ll see you there. What time?”

“It opens at nine.”

“Make it later. Nine’s a little early for me.”

So now he expected her to change her Saturday schedule to suit his? What sympathy she felt for him quickly evaporated. “I’ll be there at nine, Stan. If I see you then, that’ll be fine and if I don’t, I don’t.”

“All right, all right. I’ll get there as close to nine as I can. Just remember I’m coming over from Seattle.”

She’d forgotten that, but decided it didn’t matter; he was the one who considered it so important that they meet.

Saturday morning, Grace loaded Buttercup into her car and drove to the Farmers’ Market. Buttercup was a well-behaved dog who loved being around people. The animal shelter had set up an adoption center in the market. Every Saturday the shelter brought down homeless cats and kittens; once a month, Grace took her turn running their booth, which was popular with children and adults alike.

Buttercup strained against her leash in a hurry to view the kittens, and Grace sharply commanded her to heel. She’d been thinking about adopting a cat herself, since she felt bad about leaving Buttercup alone all day and a cat would be company for her.

“Mom.”

Grace turned to find Maryellen pushing Katie in her
stroller. “I wondered if I’d see you here.” The back section of the stroller was already full.

Grace bent down and kissed Katie, who gurgled and waved her arms. Maryellen positively glowed with happiness, and Grace was delighted. Maryellen was more confident and relaxed, more carefree somehow, than she’d ever been. And-equally important-Katie would have the benefit of growing up with two parents.

“You’re out and about early,” she said conversationally.

“Jon’s working and won’t be home until late afternoon.”

That meant her son-in-law was somewhere in western Washington photographing trees or birds. Or something.

“I love married life,” Maryellen burst out. “Oh, Mom, how could I have been so foolish? Jon is a
wonderful
husband and father.”

“Honey, I’m thrilled for you.”

“I’d better get back to the house. I bought three pounds of fresh clams and I need to get them into the refrigerator.”

“I didn’t think you liked clams.”

“I don’t, but Jon does.”

It seemed to Grace that if Jon indulged Maryellen, as she often claimed, her daughter catered to Jon just as much.

Grace bought a pound of clams herself and a jar of marmalade from Carol, the lady who sold homemade jelly. She glanced around and didn’t see Stan and figured that was for the best. After strolling down the other aisles, she made her way toward the parking lot.

“Grace,” Stan called, waving vigorously. He stood on the marina walkway. “Over here.”

With Buttercup trotting beside her, Grace walked to the marina area.

“Seth suggested I sleep in his boat,” Stan explained. He looked like he was ready for a tennis date, wearing white
shorts and a white cable-knit sweater with a red-and-blue border.

“How’s it going?” he asked, striking a relaxed pose, studying her as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

“Good.” She didn’t elaborate, preferring to skip the small talk. “What can I do for you?”

His smile was strained. “You know, since Marge and I split and Olivia married that newsman, I’ve been at loose ends.”

Grace didn’t like the sound of this. She wondered if he was leading up to asking her out again, and if that was the case, she simply wasn’t interested. She had to tell him before he went any further.

“Stan, I realize you must be lonely-”

“Lonely,” he repeated and shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “No, no, it isn’t that. I heard about the Dog and Bachelor Auction.”

It took Grace a moment to put two and two together-and then she upbraided herself for being so dense.

“I’d like to volunteer to be one of the bachelors,” Stan said eagerly.

She should’ve known. Stan had always enjoyed being the center of attention. The idea of women bidding on him…That would be the ultimate. In all fairness, he’d do a good job as someone’s date for an evening, provided whoever won him knew what to expect.

“It’s for charity, right?”

“To raise funds for the animal shelter,” she told him.

“Well, you know how I feel about animals.” He nodded sagely and she nodded, too, although she’d never noticed any particular liking for animals. “I’m willing to do my part,” he went on, “and since I’m available, well, why not?” He cast her a practiced smile. “I imagine I could bring in a few dollars for a worthy cause.”

“You don’t live in Cedar Cove, remember?”

“You’re right, but I did at one time and people here know me. Really, volunteering is the least I can do to help out, and I understand you’re the person to talk to.”

“Actually, two other women are gathering bachelors’ names, but I’d be happy to suggest yours.

Stan grinned. “Thanks.” Gratitude radiated from him. “I knew I could count on you.”

Buttercup wagged her tail and looked up, anticipating Stan’s attention. However the animal lover didn’t so much as glance in the dog’s direction.

“Have you already been to the market?” Stan asked.

The bags in her hands should be evidence that she had.

“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee and you can fill me in on the details about the auction? Maybe you could help me come up with a strategy.”

“A…strategy?”

“Yeah, you know. How to get the ladies to bid on me. Just how many women are expected?”

“I don’t know. The tickets haven’t gone on sale yet.”

“I just had a thought.” He straightened, seeming pleased with himself. “I imagine that if the women in town knew exactly who was up for auction, the animal shelter would sell more tickets, right?”

Grace wasn’t sure about that. “I suppose.”

“What if you printed the names of the bachelors directly on the tickets? That might generate even more interest, don’t you think?”

Stan was certainly full of ideas. “I’ll make that suggestion, too,” she murmured.

“Good.” His eyes brightened and Grace could see he was quite taken with this bachelor auction. During their one and only dinner date, Stan had practically been crying in his
soup, wallowing in self-pity. He’d regrouped fast enough, she thought wryly.

“I’ll do what I can to make sure your name’s added to the list,” she said, eager to leave for home.

“Thanks, Gracie. I appreciate the fact that you’re such a good friend.”

Grace didn’t consider herself that much of a friend, but she let the comment-and the nickname-slide. She directed Buttercup toward the parking lot behind the library, where she’d left her car.

“Nice seeing you again, Grace.”

“You, too, Stan.”

“Oh, Grace.” He jogged the few steps over to her. “When you mention the idea about printing the names…”

“Yes?”

“Be sure and tell them it came from me.”

“Of course.” She ordered Buttercup to sit and dropped the leash for a moment so she could shift the heavy bags from one hand to the other.

“And seeing that it was my idea-” he paused and laughed playfully “-I think it’s only fair that my name be one of those on the list.”

“I’ll make sure that’s understood.”

“Great.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and briefly hugged her.

As if the thought had suddenly struck him, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not a thing,” she assured him, surprised he’d asked.

“You’re sure.” His hands lingered on her shoulders.

“Positive.”

Just then, behind Stan, Grace caught sight of a male figure in a cowboy hat.
No, please no,
she prayed silently,
don’t let that be Cliff.
Her one fear was that he’d heard about her dinner
date with Stan and would think she was foolish enough to get involved in a relationship with Olivia’s ex-husband.

Stan muttered something about needing to meet a friend. Before she could stop him, he gave her another quick hug and was gone.

Grace’s gaze remained fixed on the man with the Stetson. When Stan freed her and left, he no longer obscured her line of vision. Sure enough, it was Cliff. He stood staring at her and even from this distance, she could see him frowning.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t the way it looked. She wasn’t involved with Stan. Nor did she want to be.

After a suspended moment, Cliff acknowledged her by touching the brim of his hat. Almost immediately, he turned away.

She wanted to rush over to him and explain, but feared she’d do more harm than good. With a heavy heart, Grace headed home.