Sweet Friend of Mine (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 8) (6 page)

A
ngie and her employee
, Louisa, worked in the shop brewing coffee and filling the bakery case with the day’s treats. The sun was just beginning its climb over the horizon and was turning the early morning sky from black to brightening blue. Louisa had blue highlights along the ends of her long, straight ebony hair and every morning, Angie smiled to herself thinking how the young woman’s hair colors mimicked the rising of the winter sun. Working closely together every day, the two had become good friends and they chatted amiably as they prepared the bake shop for the morning hustle and bustle that was about to begin.

A pounding on the locked door caused Angie and Louisa to jump. Betty Hayes stood on the porch, bent forward with her face pressed up to the window glass.

Louisa went to open the door. “Betty bangs on that door almost every day and I still jump when she does it. You’d think I’d be desensitized to it by now.”

Angie chuckled. “And you’d think by now, Betty would know what time we actually open.”

The Realtor bustled into the room shrugging off her black quilted coat. “I don’t know why I live in New England.” She shuddered. “I dislike the cold … and that’s an absolute understatement. I need to retire and move down South.”

Angie got started preparing Betty’s usual iced mocha latte. “You’d be bored if you retired. If you don’t like the cold weather, why don’t you have a hot beverage in the morning instead of something iced?”

Betty plopped down at one of the café tables. She waved her hand around as she opened her brown leather folder. “My choices match the weather. In summer, I want something hot and in winter, I like something cold. It’s one of my many quirks.”

Angie and Louisa smiled at each other as Angie placed the frosty beverage in front of Betty.

Betty took a sip through the straw and moaned. “Heavenly.” She removed a few papers from her folder. “You don’t want to sell this house do you? You haven’t changed your mind?”

Angie crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “We’ve had this conversation many times.” When Angie first inherited the Victorian, Betty had worked hard to convince Angie to sell the place so that she could get the listing.

“Oh, I know, I know. I have to check every now and then in case you’ve changed your mind.” Betty flipped through the pages that she held in her hand. “I have a new client and I have to find him the perfect house.” She looked up. “Is he staying here? I told him to come to the B and B.”

“Do you mean, Darren Wilton?” Angie teased. She knew full well who Betty meant.

Louisa almost dropped the mugs she was placing on the shelf. “Darren Wilton? He’s here?” Looking over her shoulder into the kitchen that was located in the main part of the Victorian, she almost yelped. “He’s staying in the B and B?”

Angie raised an eyebrow. “What’s this? A fan girl?”

Louisa made a face. “I admire musical talent. And anyway, I knew him in high school. I was a year ahead of him.”

“You knew him?” Angie’s expression became serious wondering what Louisa knew about Darren.

One corner of Louisa’s mouth turned down. “I knew who
he
was. He didn’t know me.”

Betty tapped at her phone. “He is a fine young man. Nothing at all what you’d think a pop-rock musician would be like.”

“Are you stereotyping musicians?” Angie smiled.

“Oh, you know what I mean, drugs, party boys, spending money like water, acting crazy.”

Louisa and Angie laughed.

Betty ignored the girls. “This young man is a serious musician. He is serious about making the right investments.” The Realtor raised her eyes to Angie. “Are you sure you don’t want to sell this place?” she asked sweetly.

Angie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Anyway, the Victorian doesn’t have enough privacy for a famous person. It’s right on the main road to the beach.”

“I know.” Betty groaned. “I must find the right property. I don’t want to lose this client.” She lifted her latte and sipped through the straw. “Why don’t you open this shop an hour earlier in the morning? It would be much more convenient for me.”

It was Angie and Louisa’s turn to groan.

Even in the winter months, Angie’s bake shop buzzed with activity as town regulars filled the place. It was a good opportunity for the locals to sit and shoot the breeze with each other, sharing gossip and catching up on the goings-on in town.

Filling orders and carrying treats and drinks to customers at tables, Angie had picked up on bits of conversations and most of them were focused on the missing young man. Her heart clenched thinking about Ryan. The more days that passed since he’d driven off the road, the more hope waned.

During a lull in serving the customers, Angie and Louisa refilled the cases and put used dishes into the dishwasher. Angie asked, “Do you know anything about Darren Wilton?”

Louisa grinned. “I wish.” Handing a man his change and a pastry bag for takeout, she added. “I don’t know much. He was adorable, played in a band. Lots of girls would have liked to date him.”

“Did he have a girlfriend back then?”

“I don’t think he did. Not that I ever heard. He was solely focused on music, which seems to have worked out for him, doesn’t it.” Louisa grinned.

“Did you know Ryan Allen?”

Louisa shook her head. “I didn’t. I’m five years older so I had graduated before he started high school.”

“Then I guess you don’t know Ryan’s friend, Henry Whitaker.”

“I know who Henry is. My younger sister dated him very briefly.” Louisa packed some donuts into a box for a customer.

“She did?” Angie was eager to hear what Louisa had to say. “What did she think of him? Why did they break up?”

Louisa wiped her hands on a towel and leaned back against the counter. “Now that I think of it, they only dated for a few weeks. Natalie told me he was immature.” Louisa smiled. “But you know Natalie, she’s more mature than everyone on the planet.” Louisa’s sister was studying law at Columbia University.

“I know it was quite a while ago, but did Natalie give you any details?”

“Natalie said he was a pain, demanding, jealous, wanted to know who she was with and what she was doing all the time. Natalie would never put up with that nonsense. She only dated Henry for less than a month before she put an end to it.”

What Louisa told Angie caused an unpleasant tingling sensation to run down her back.

“That’s all I know about him. I never even met him.” Louisa went to clear off a table for some people who had just come in.

For the rest of the morning and all through lunchtime while filling orders and chatting with customers, Angie’s mind was never far from rehashing the details of the case. Ryan went off the road. His parents couldn’t find him. He’d had a couple of beers with Henry. Henry said that Darren and Ryan weren’t close friends, but Darren reported that he and Ryan were like brothers.

Something zinged in Angie’s mind. She recalled Mr. and Mrs. Allen’s manner when she’d mentioned Darren Wilton to them. They said that Darren and Ryan had creative differences and weren’t friends. The parents told her that the young men hadn’t kept in touch … that they’d gone their separate ways, but Darren said they saw each other often.

Angie’s head was spinning. She wanted to talk to Darren and the Allens again and she got the idea to go to the library and look at the yearbooks from the area’s high school thinking that the books could reveal some information on the students’ and their relationships.

She decided to text Jenna to ask if she’d go along with her to the library later in the day and when she picked up her phone she noticed a new text from Josh. He’d be home in a week and wanted to talk to her about something important. Angie’s heart dropped, afraid of what the talk with Josh would entail. Trying to push the worry from her mind, she placed her phone on the counter and marveled at how such a small object as a phone had the power to relay both good things and bad.

A small object. Reveal good things and bad.

Angie didn’t know why any of them hadn’t thought of this before. Mr. Finch had the strange ability to sometimes pick up on clues by holding an object in his hand. The skill worked best when Finch and another person held the object at the same time … somehow, some insight about the other person could pass to Finch via the object, but there had been times when the older man could pick up on things simply by holding an item on his own. Angie thought Mr. Finch should hold Ryan’s ring that Circe found near the front tire of the car.

Angie wanted to talk to her sisters, Mr. Finch, and Chief Martin about it.

The little bell above the bake shop’s door tinkled and a shudder ran over Angie’s skin. She turned around to see Chief Martin coming into the room … and he didn’t look happy.

A
ngie and Chief Martin
made eye contact. The lunch crowd was over and there was an empty table near the windows. As he walked over to it, the other customers greeted him and peppered him with questions about the missing young man. The chief made noncommittal comments and murmured hopeful statements. By the time he sat down, Angie was at the table with a black coffee for him. She slipped into the seat opposite the chief.

“How are things?” Angie fiddled with the container of sugar packets.

“Not so great. We haven’t found a body so the situation isn’t hopeless, but there isn’t a heck of a lot to go on. The phone records indicate that Ryan Allen was in the general vicinity of where his car left the road when he first called his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Allen couldn’t find him because he wasn’t where he said he was. Two reasons for this could be … he may have deliberately misled his folks or he was disoriented and wasn’t actually where he thought he was.”

“Why would he mislead his parents?”

“Personally, I don’t think that was the young man’s intention unless he came up with some elaborate hoax. If he did do that, then the question would be, why would he do such a thing? Maybe he wanted to hurt his parents so he called them to come and get him and then took off for somewhere and disappeared in order to make his folks sick with worry. From what we’ve gathered, that seems out of character, however it can’t be ruled out.”

“Has Ryan’s phone been located?”

“No, it hasn’t. Records show that the phone was near the area of the car for a while. Determining the exact location of the phone isn’t all that accurate so Ryan could have been walking while on the phone and he still would have been shown in the same area as the car. He would have to go quite a distance from the vehicle to show up in a different section of the cell phone grid. “

“But if the phone was still on, it would be sending out a signal, wouldn’t it?”

The chief nodded. “Ryan’s phone is either turned off or it’s been damaged. Generally, if a phone is turned off, it will stop communicating with cell towers. Of course, the FBI, the military, and the NSA have ways to monitor phones that have been turned off, but we don’t.”

Angie said, “So we can assume the phone is off or has been destroyed or damaged.”

“I think we can, yes.” The chief wiggled his coffee mug to make the liquid swirl around inside. “We also know that Ryan sent some texts to his friend, Henry, that night just before he called his parents. We don’t know if Henry read the texts or not. He claims he didn’t see them until the next morning. Another text was sent to Henry in the minutes after Ryan called his parents.”

“Henry didn’t reply to the texts?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Any other calls or texts sent or received by Ryan?”

“Besides the calls he made to his folks, Ryan made one other call. He made a call to a prepaid phone. You know the ones. You can buy them at a discount store. No way to find out who’s using it though. The call was answered and lasted just over a minute.”

“So the call was answered, but we don’t know
who
answered.”

“That’s correct.” The chief looked out the window. “We
do
know that the person who answered Ryan’s call was in Silver Cove. Other than that, there’s not a lot to go on as far as the phone is concerned. We’re running into roadblocks.”

“I had an idea.”

Chief Martin turned to face Angie. She told him that it might be helpful for Mr. Finch to hold Ryan’s ring, the ring that was found near the car tire, to see if he could pick up on anything.

“It’s worth a shot.” The chief nodded slowly. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to have him do that.”

“I just thought of it myself. I haven’t asked Mr. Finch yet, but I’m sure he’d be willing. I’ll speak to him after I close the shop for the day.”

“The sooner the better, really. The Allens are beside themselves with worry and the police commissioner is looking for results. I’m stuck between a rock and hard place.”

Angie could see that stress was taking a toll on the chief. His facial muscles sagged and his eyelids looked heavy suggesting that the man wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“You and your sisters aren’t having any sensations or whatever?” The chief lifted his coffee mug. “Any of you have feelings that Ryan’s still alive? Or not?”

“We don’t know. We don’t have any feelings one way or the other.” Angie wished there was more to say. She wished there was some shred of an idea that the chief could put to use. “We have Darren Wilton here at the B and B. He came last night. You talked to him?”

“Yeah. He came to Sweet Cove because of his concern over Ryan.” Chief Martin glanced around the shop. “Mr. Wilton told me that he and Ryan had continued their friendship when Ryan went to Boston for college. Wilton lives in Boston, but he said that he’s often away in LA or New York. He told me that he and Ryan get together to play as often as they can.”

“That’s what he told us.” Angie let out a sigh. “The Allens didn’t seem to like Darren when we talked to them. They seemed almost resentful of him.”

“You think they resent his success?”

Angie tilted her head slightly. “Maybe that’s part of it although something else seemed to run under their dislike, though I couldn’t decipher what it could be.”

“Maybe it will become clearer.” The chief gave Angie a wistful smile and the creases of his face softened. “Could be the Allens don’t like Darren because they don’t want their son to be involved with music.”

Anxiety over the case wriggled in Angie’s veins and she wanted to change the subject. “How’s your wife?”

“Lucille is fine. She wishes I was home more.” A guilty look washed over the chief’s face. “She understands though.”

“Maybe the two of you can come to dinner and game night. It’s next week.” The Roselands hosted their boyfriends, Mr. Finch, and Betty for dinner and games once a month and it had become such a source of fun that everyone looked forward to the evening. Angie leaned forward, narrowed her eyes, and warned the chief. “You’ll have to bring your competitive natures with you though. Some members of the group can be brutal.”

Chief Martin chuckled. “I’ll inform Lucille. She’s never met a game she didn’t like.” Taking the last swallow of his coffee, he set the mug down. “We could use a pleasant night out.” His phone vibrated and skittered slightly over the wood of the café table. The chief glanced at the screen. “I’ll take this outside. Let me know if Mr. Finch agrees to have a look at Ryan’s ring.”

Angie and Louisa cleaned the shop, prepared things for the next morning, and closed up for the day. Louisa pulled the locked door closed as she headed for home snug in her long woolen coat and knitted hat that fit low over her forehead. Angie went into the kitchen and pushed the doors to open the commercial side of the space to the family part of the kitchen. Euclid and Circe sat in front of the doors and stared at the bake shop owner standing before them.

“What’s wrong with you two? Why are you sitting here?” Angie looked around the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

The cats whirled and raced out the room and Angie hurried after them. Euclid and Circe didn’t seem upset or concerned so Angie wasn’t worried … she just knew she was supposed to follow. When she stepped into the hallway, she could hear music and the sweet strains of the melody got louder the closer she got to the family room. Angie stood outside the room for a few moments, listening, and a smile spread over her face as the notes dancing on the air warmed and calmed her.

Stepping into the family room, she saw Darren Wilton sitting in one of the antique wooden chairs with his guitar held lovingly in his arms, his fingers playing over the strings. Ellie stood behind the sofa coaxing notes from her flute and Mr. Finch sat next to Darren in the other wooden chair, a cello between his legs and his hand expertly moving the bow. The three were so engrossed in the music that it took them a while to notice Angie standing just inside the doorway.

“Miss Angie.” Finch spotted her and he beamed at the young woman as he set his bow to the side. “I haven’t played in years. Miss Ellie brought down the cello. She said Miss Courtney wouldn’t mind if I played it.” His cheeks were flushed and a few tiny beads of sweat showed on Finch’s brow. “It is quite invigorating.”

“I agree with you, Mr. Finch.” Darren laughed and set his guitar against the sofa. “I might have to hire you to join my band.”

Ellie came around from behind the sofa, smiling from ear to ear. “We’ve been playing for an hour. It’s so much fun.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” Angie plopped onto the sofa next to the cats. “Please, more. I love it.”

When the trio finished the next song with a few minor mistakes and a whole lot of chuckling, Angie applauded energetically and the cats trilled. Just as she was about to call for another song, her phone buzzed with an incoming text and a shiver of dread washed over her and erased the smile from her face.

Gingerly picking up the phone, Angie read the message and looked up at the three people in front of her. She cleared her throat.

“Police Chief Martin wants us to come down to the station. Now.”