A Fatal Visit (A Harbor Cove Cozy Mystery Book 1)

A Fatal Visit

A Harbor Cove Mystery Series

Book 1

Emily Page

Copyright © 2016 Emily Page

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher

Chapter One

Harbor Point Restaurant thrummed with people. Almost every table seemed to be full. Chase was squeezing past and apologizing as he made his way toward the bathroom. He could feel his hands sweating; his pulse felt quick and heavy in his wrists. Pushing into the bathroom, he dropped his bag onto the floor and leaned heavily onto the sink. The room was fogged with an unclean smell.

Chase took a deep breath and then rubbed his temples. A light flickered in the corner of the room, plunging the end alternately in and out of shadow. Pressure throbbed behind his eyes.
Stress. That’s why I have all these headaches.

Warm water poured from the tap and over his hands as he rinsed away the soapy lather. The man was lost in his own thoughts.
I wonder if I should stay.
He flicked droplets from his fingers and stuck his hands under the air dryer, which buzzed as it blew. Sighing, the man rubbed at his temples again.
It’ll work out.
Leaning down he picked up the leather satchel.
It
can
work out.

A moment of blinding pain in his neck, and then another. He cried out, but it was only a croak. He crashed to floor and feebly tried to push himself back up onto his elbows only to slap back down onto the hard floor.

Footsteps. A door swinging closed. A scream. Then the world dimmed as sound and light drained away. And then there was nothing but the body of a dead man.

Skyler drummed her sea green-painted nails on the table. Her date’s dark hair was beginning to droop on the right side where he’d attempted to push it back. Sitting across from her, talking (largely to himself), was a thirty-five-year-old man, making him two years her senior.
Bill
.

“And that’s how I met Sam!” Skyler forced a laugh. “Now here we are on a blind date. Who’d have guessed?”

“Certainly not me!” She wasn’t sure it sounded at all sincere. Bill had brought her to The Harbor Point Restaurant, an upscale place, at least somewhat, with floor-to-ceiling windows along one side and décor of red and black. The waiting staff were all dressed in grey waistcoats with black bowties.

“Now, we were talking about the state of two-party politics in this country, weren’t we?”

Oh, please. Not again.
“Why don’t you tell me about your hobbies instead?”

“Funnily enough”—
Oh, I so doubt that it’s funny
—“politics kind of are my hobby!”

His words became a monotone background track, and she smiled and nodded in the right places. Or she assumed so. He looked confused on occasion. A sharp ringing cut his monologue mid-flow.

Picking up the phone, he made a few one-word replies and then told her, “Sorry, gotta take this,” whilst heading for the bathroom.

Her sigh of relief was audible. She quickly pulled out her own phone and typed out a message to Nichole: “911 IN TEN. THIS DATE IS SOUR.” Slinking back in her chair, she sipped on her coke. People at the table just over from her stood and left, but the restaurant still seemed to be bursting with customers. That made it stuffy, and Skyler found herself using a napkin as a fan.

Bill burst from the bathroom, his eyes wide. Running over to Skyler, he grabbed her hand, wrenching her from the chair and trying to drag her out of the restaurant. He pulled her past several tables, tripping over his own feet. The other diners looked up from their meals as she planted her feet and freed herself from his moist grasp.

Anger tinged her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

But hysteria edged his expression, and sweat dripped from his forehead. “Someone’s dead in the bathroom! We have to leave, right now. There’s a killer in this restaurant!”

People moved, fast. Some shouted; many hurried in silence toward the door and abandoned their meals. Skyler pushed her way through the throng toward the bathroom. A shaking waiter moved past her, not bothering to block her way as she entered. The sight before her brought bile to her stomach.

A man lay before her on the ground, staring face down at the floor tiles. His brown hair was cut short and styled. He had a chiseled jaw, and his lips were pushed apart a fraction. In his hand he clutched the strap of a brown leather satchel. Money had spilled from it and lay scattered across the victim and the bathroom tiles. Protruding from the jugular vein was golden feather quill. There was another puncture hole from where it had first sunk into his flesh.

A sense inside her clicked on, and Skyler found herself snapping photos. People she assumed were more staff entered. As she raised her arm to try and get a surveying shot of the whole scene, she was knocked to the side by someone who was pushing people aside to get past. The woman who jostled her had short, clipped blond hair, and she froze when she saw the scene.

From the door, Skyler heard someone shout, “Everyone, out of here! This is a crime sce—”

“No, Chase. No!” It was a shriek of utter despair.

“
Out!
Now.” The command was issued from a solemn-faced police officer at the door to the bathroom.

Skyler obliged. The woman with the short blond hair rushed past and then suddenly sagged, sliding down to the floor against a wall. Tears fell from her eyes in small streams, and she wept as a young waitress put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Skyler saw another officer consoling her date. Bill trembled, his eyes red. Walking over to him, she knelt down. She attempted to comfort him, but she wasn’t quite sure where she should place her hands. She settled for patting him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Bill,” she said, “but I need to get out of here. Are you going to be okay?” He nodded, and she stood.

After looking back at Bill, she took one long deep breath in, and another out, before heading for the door. Cold air hit her as she stepped out onto the street, and her phone began to ring.

Chapter Two

Steam curled from the cup on the coffee table. Morning light filtered into the room, bouncing off the small television in the corner. Skyler stretched her legs out onto the cream leather loveseat and yawned. She had immunized herself to the grotesque scene depicted in the photographs on her phone, and so she flicked through them all once more. Resting her phone on her knees, she pulled her long, bright red hair into a ponytail, using the band that had been around her wrist. A sudden
ping
alerted her to a text. Her brown eyes flashed to her phone. Her mother: “Busy Body’s Book Club is cancelled today.” Then another ping. “I’ve heard the news. I’m on my way over.”

Nichole entered the room, shoulder-length brown hair still wet from her morning shower. She stretched her arms above her head and then flopped into the armchair and turned on the television. The local station was abuzz with the news of the previous day’s incident.

A blond woman in a red pantsuit dully read out the facts of the case as it stood: “Out-of-town millionaire, Chase Myers, was found dead yesterday in the Harbor Point Restaurant. Myers, who was undergoing a divorce at the time of his murder, had been away from his family for some time. They were reportedly looking for him before the incident took place.”

“Big news for a small town,” Nichole muttered.

Skyler nodded and tapped the man’s name into Google. Several articles appeared. Apparently, he would occasionally call his family to tell them he was fine, but they said the divorce had left him stressed and haggard. Another site purported that his credit cards had not been in use since he had left, and yet another discussed the rumors of controversy over his estate.

“Listen to this,” she said, and Nichole turned to her. “So it seems that the primary beneficiary after Chase Myers’s death was to be his ex-wife. Hours before the murder he had called his lawyer, stating that he wished for everything to be given to his illegitimate daughter. A daughter that the rest of his family hadn’t even known existed.”

Nichole’s eyebrows drew together. “Would you really call your own daughter illegitimate?”

“Bigger picture, Nichole.”

As she said it, a huge black Newfoundland bounded into the room and onto the sofa, its front paws on Skyler’s lap and the rest of it on the other cushion. Wagging its tail, it dragged a warm, wet tongue over her face.

Skyler grimaced and Nichole chuckled. “Morning, Clue,” she said to it. The dog wagged its tail with more fervor. “Yes, you’re a good girl.” If dogs could smile, Skyler would swear her dog did as she rested her head down on her owner’s lap.

Pulling her phone out one again, Skyler dialed the number for her boss.

“Avery. Do I even need to guess?” he asked, an amused tone to his voice.

“Obviously, you’ve heard the news.”

“And obviously, you have too.”

She smiled. Confidence in her voice, she replied with, “I was on the scene when the body was discovered.”

He sounded genuinely impressed with his reply. “You want the article, then?”

“No one else investigating, or researching it. It’s mine.”

He sighed, but she sensed it was in good humor. “Everyone is clamoring for this story, Avery. News outlets in and out of town are already reporting on it.” He paused. “This needs to be good.”

“Do I ever let you down?”

“Once or twice you have, yes.” He sighed again. “It’s yours, if you want it that badly.”

They said their goodbyes and then Skyler hung up. She grinned at Nichole. “One more case for Skyler Avery.”

Nichole rolled her eyes and stood. “I’ll leave you to it, ace report—”

She was interrupted by the door banging open and smacking against the wall. A middle-aged woman, plump with permed red hair, entered, her cheeks flushed with what was either exertion or anger. She was bedecked in a feather-fringed vest and she slung a sequined purse to the side table, sending a set of keys clattering to the floor.

“I have never been so furious with law enforcement in all my life!” she declared.

“Mom? What’s—”

Skyler’s question was almost immediately cut off with, “The fools! They’ve taken Bryson in for questioning!”

“Your assistant?”

She nodded. “The state of law enforcement in this town is utterly atrocious.”

Skyler’s brows furrowed. “But…I was at the restaurant. I didn’t even see Bryson.”

Nichole scoffed. “Bryson Everett is your assistant? He’s a bum.”

Skyler chimed in with, “Only seasonally. He comes around in the summer. He’s more of a charity case, really.”

“Have some respect!” Both women winced at the reprimand. “He may be a little unkempt, but he’s low on his luck. Bryson is an honest and reliable man.”

A moment of silence followed. The younger women casted their glances away before Skyler spoke. “What was he doing at the restaurant?”

Momma Avery walked into the living room and sat down, offering Clue a biscuit from her pocket. She explained to them that Dustin Cole, head chef at the restaurant, had ordered some uniforms from her but had forgotten to pick them up. So she had sent Bryson to deliver them to the restaurant.

“I told him to get something to eat while he was there.” She paused, and her voice dropped a tone. “The poor dear. He used his one phone call at the station to tell me he’d delivered the package.”

They were silent. A cloud drifted past the sun, turning the room grey.

“He’s going to need a lawyer, Nichole.”

Nichole nodded. “I sensed that was coming.”

Momma Avery continued, “The police have my money. They said I can come for it between 3 and 5 p.m.” She shook her head, her mouth twisted into a frown. “Bryson said it was ‘worse than I think.’” Her expression firmed. “I’m going to go down there, and I am going give them a piece of my mind!”

Nichole raised her eyebrows before murmuring, “Make sure it’s the piece that told you to buy that vest.”

Skyler’s shoulders dropped from the hunched position they’d adopted, and Momma Avery even managed a small smile.

“If you need me to come with you, I will,” Skyler offered.

Her mother nodded. “Well. We have some time. Why don’t we put on some tea, give ourselves some time to calm?”

So they sat, with mugs of varying herbal and fruit teas, and discussed the details of the case. Did Chase Myers know anyone in town? They didn’t think so. Had anyone they knew even spoken to him or of him? Not that they could remember. Time ticked on and Skyler dropped out of the conversation as Nichole explained what kind of legal standing Bryson might have. She looked at her phone and bit her lip.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” her mother queried.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Come now. Mother knows better,” she chided.

Skyler held up a picture on her phone and Momma Avery put a hand up, blanching and turning away.

“This picture,” she began to explain, “I was bumped as I took it, and that’s why it’s blurry. That’s the assistant manager, with the ring on her finger. And…” She zoomed in on the bag of money. “It
looks
like there’s a bank deposit slip on one of the bundles of cash.” She looked up at her mother and roommate. “You don’t suppose that they think whoever killed Chase was trying to rob the place, do you?”