Sweet Taffy and Murder: Sweet Taffy Cozy Mysteries Book #1 (9 page)

On Saturday morning, Ethan called to say he wouldn’t be able to make it to the party after all.

“I’m really sorry. An important meeting got rescheduled for tonight.”

“You can’t come at all?” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Probably not, but I’ll call you if we finish early.”

She sighed and tugged at a lock of her hair. “What’s the meeting for?”

He hesitated before answering. “Just something to do with the parks.”

It was the way he said it. She sensed he was lying, or at least avoiding the truth. Who called meetings on Saturday evenings?

As if he could pick up her suspicions, he added, “It’s a weird time because two of the members can’t make it until later.”

Members? It was sounding like a club. Or was that a smokescreen to cover up something else? Taffy bit her lip and tried to rein in her insecurities. They’d only just met. They were still just friends.

“It’s okay, Ethan. You don’t owe me an explanation. You’ve got your own life, which I’m sure was going along just fine before I arrived, so, you know, whatever. You’re not beholden to me in any way.”

Beholden? Had she really just used that word?

“Taff?”

“Yeah.” The word came out like a sigh.

“Even if my life was ‘going along just fine before you arrived,’ it’s gotten a whole lot better since you did. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

When she hung up, she assessed her situation:
exiled New Yorker seriously crushing on non-committal West Coast hunk.
She felt twelve years old all over again. She wanted to swoon and dance at the same time, and she wanted to giggle about it with Maria, like they used to when they were kids.

Thinking of Maria made her think about the case. Even though Maria had implied her help wasn’t needed, Taffy was still interested in talking to Swain. She decided to head over to the Castle Rock Resort.

But first, she had to make Jell-O for the party.

* * *

After the kitchen was thoroughly sticky and the Jell-O put in the fridge to set, Taffy thought about what she might say to Randall Swain.

Mr. Herbert was probably right about him having more information. He had to know more than he’d first told the police. He’d said the bowling ball had fallen off the shelf, and either he had simply guessed this was the case, or he had lied for some reason, and no one thought to question him. Or no one wanted to. Maybe he was trying to protect someone. Or maybe he was trying to protect himself.

Either way, Taffy would have to appear to be casual. It was okay to be curious, but she couldn’t appear to be snooping. She could casually ask him a few questions, try to find out a bit more about what happened the night Janet died. It might turn out to be helpful to Maria, even though she didn’t seem to want Taffy’s help. At any rate, a few questions couldn’t hurt.

Taffy left her car on the main road and walked down the winding, gated driveway of the Castle Rock Resort and Country Club. She wouldn’t readily confess to not wanting to pull up to the only chi-chi joint in Abandon in her tiny Aveo rental car. She’d say it was a beautiful day for a walk. Though if her wedge heels could talk they’d balk dramatically.

She had to pause as a golf cart trundled by with a soft electric buzz. She reminisced wistfully about her friend Maya’s family estate in the Hamptons, where you needed a golf cart to get from the guesthouse, with six bedrooms, to the main house, that had at least twelve. When she felt a pinch of longing to ride in a golf cart, she had to wonder if maybe Ellie was right about her. Maybe she was a snob.

The renovated main building of the Castle Rock Resort was tall and ostentatious with plantation-style columns, a massive gurgling fountain, and dozens of potted palms. On the far side of the lobby was a large dining room with chandeliers and a view of the ocean, once you looked beyond the turquoise infinity pool.

The golf course was spread out over the hills to the left. It had a view of the ocean-bound Castle Rock from every hole. Between the stairs leading down from the pool to the beach, and the rocky outcropping at the south end of the beach, where a tee flag flapped wildly in the breeze, Taffy caught a glimpse of the long, jutting pier and rows of boat docks.

“May I help you?”

Standing in the middle of the lobby, Taffy turned to see a bow-tied young woman standing officiously behind a long marble check-in counter.

“I’m looking for Randall Swain.”

The young woman kept her smile in place, but her eyes looked confused. She glanced over at her coworker, a bow-tied young man with a cowlick.

“He works down at the docks.”

The young woman nodded and smiled as if that explained clearly why his name meant nothing to her, the resort laborers probably being well beneath her notice, so she turned back to her computer and let her coworker take over.

“If you go through those doors,” said the cowlicked young man, pointing to a hall to the left of the dining room. “There’s a trail that goes behind the kitchen and will take you down to the boat launch area. He should be down there somewhere. Usually he wears a yellow jacket, so you should be able to spot him easily.”

Taffy said thanks and walked off as Mr. Cowlick turned to his snobby colleague to say, “The mayor’s moved up his brunch reservation. Can you tell the maitre d’?”

Their voices faded as Taffy headed toward the hall. She cast a quick longing glance at the elegant breakfast buffet laid out in the dining room. The instant oatmeal she’d found in the pantry had been a less than satisfactory breakfast.

As she pushed through the outer doors, she saw a sign that read, ‘Castle Rock Day Spa.’ She longed for a full pampering treatment: mani-pedi, hot stone massage, mud bath, aromatherapy facial, seaweed wrap… She could go on and on. Except that lifestyle was out of her reach now.

She pushed her longings aside and focused on the task at hand. She headed toward the water and docks.

She spotted the yellow-jacketed Randall Swain scrubbing up the teak decks of a luxurious sailboat. He had a wizened ‘old salt’ look about him, and he held an unlit pipe in his teeth.

“Hello, Mr. Swain? Can I talk to you?”

His head jerked up, and his eyes searched for the source of the voice calling his name. His teeth clenched tightly on his pipe, and he put his scrubbing brush down.

“Who’s that? Do I know you?” He squinted at her as she stepped carefully along the bobbing ramp leading to the boat.

“I’m Taffy Belair. I just moved to Abandon. I live in Janet Harken’s house.”

His ruddy cheeks paled at the mention of her name. He stood stiffly on the boat deck and didn’t make a move to come ashore.

“We have some friends in common. Ethan McCoy? And Lionel Davenport?”

He nodded, and his guard dropped just a little.

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

“About what?” He sized her up, his eyes resting on her boat-inappropriate shoes.

“Can I come aboard, Captain?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” He looked at her shoes again. But Taffy had spent many an afternoon on yachts in Long Island Sound and knew her way around boats, even in wedge heels. She grabbed onto the thin metal rail and was up standing by Randall in a graceful moment.

“What can I do for you?” He glanced up toward the resort and along the docks, back and forth, his crow’s-feet-edged eyes making quick, darting movements.

“You knew Janet quite well, didn’t you?”

“You ain’t a reporter, are you?”

“No, no. Just a well-meaning citizen. I’m living in Janet’s house now, and by all accounts, she was a great person. I’m just a bit curious about the night she died. Mr. Davenport said you were pretty upset.”

He tapped his pipe against his shoe—though there didn’t seem to be any tobacco inside, and she could neither see nor smell smoke.

“She was a good friend. I still feel horrible about it.”

“You really think she died from a bowling ball falling on her head?”

He tucked his pipe in his mouth. “That’s what they say.”

“That’s what they say based on what
you
said, isn’t it?”

He looked away from Taffy, back up toward the resort. The dining room windows gleamed in the sunlight.

“It happened that way.” He tightened his lips around his pipe.

He must not have been aware that the shelf wasn’t level. Perhaps he’d made an educated guess about the ball falling. A plausible accident, but why say so if he wasn’t certain?

“You were bowling buddies, right? That’s how you knew where she kept her bowling ball?”

He looked at his feet and nodded. “That’s right.” A breath seemed to catch in his chest, but he fumbled with the buttons on his coat to cover it up. “But I don’t do that no more. I dumped my own ball to the bottom of the sea after what happened to Janet.”

“So the night you went bowling with Janet was the last night you bowled?”

“Yup.”

“What did you do after Janet went home?”

“Came home myself.”

“Where do you live?”

“Here.”

“At the resort?”

“On that boat there.” He pointed to a nearby slip housing a small sailboat with a barbecue clamped to the back.

“Bill called me the next morning. When he found her.” He choked up a bit when he said this. “He didn’t know what to do, so he called me.”

“He called you before he called the police?”

“He was in shock. Janet was kind of like a mother to him. He wasn’t thinking straight. I told him to call the police straightaway, and he said he wanted me to be there, too, so I went right over there.”

“You were there when the police arrived?”

“We got there at about the same time.”

All this was probably in the police report. She would be able to confirm that with Maria or Gravely.

“Why do you think Bill was at Janet’s so early on Sunday morning?”

“To do some work on the wiring. He works at all hours because sometimes his moods keep him from working the regular nine to five. Nobody in town seems to mind much.”

Taffy thought about Bill’s dour face, his shadowy demeanor. He had shown up late Sunday evening to turn on her power. She had been grateful then that he worked odd hours.

“Do you think something might have gone wrong between Bill and Janet?”

Randall seemed to get very defensive at Taffy’s suggestion.

“Bill’s never done no one wrong. ’Least not since he’s come to Abandon. I mean…” He seemed to want to pull back some of his words, but since he couldn’t, he stuck his pipe back in his mouth. “I’m sure he had nothin’ to do with Janet dying.” He turned away from her.

Had Randall been trying to protect Bill? Is that why he had lied to the police?

“I didn’t mean to upset you. Sorry. Can I ask just one more question?”

He shrugged.

“Were you in a bowling club with Janet? Something called the MBC?”

Randall’s head whipped around. His pipe levered up and down between his teeth. “What do you know about that?”

“Nothing really. I was hoping you could tell me more about it.”

He glanced up at the resort’s main building. The tall glass windows of the dining room shone like mirrors in the bright sun. The cowlicked man from the front desk was wandering around the pool deck straightening the lounge chairs. He paused to stare down at the docks. His gaze lingered on Randall and Taffy.

“I gotta get back to work.” He stood up, readjusted his pipe, and reached for his scrub brush. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Right, I shouldn’t keep you.” Taffy stood up, too. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Swain.” She lifted one leg over the deck rail.

He reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“Listen, I don’t like talking about this stuff at work. Why not let’s meet another time. Somewhere else. I’ll explain about the MBC.”

“Shall we meet at the karaoke bar?”

He shook his head. “I don’t set foot in places like that no more. Twenty years sober.” He tapped a pin on his jacket under his yellow slicker. “Let’s meet at Moe’s diner on Monday. Seven o’clock.”

“Sure. See you then.”

She climbed back down to the dock and gave him a little wave.

He waved back, the yellow arm of his jacket making a pretty contrast against the blue sky.

On the way back up from the docks, Taffy took a different door into the resort and ended up across the hall from the spa. She saw puffy-haired Gillian getting her toes done. Gillian saw her, too. At first she narrowed her eyes at Taffy, and then she looked away, picked up a magazine, and held it in front of her face. They still hadn’t met officially. Taffy didn’t know why she was so unfriendly.

Taffy took the first set of stairs she came to and ended up outside the dining room.

Through the mullioned glass windows that separated the large dining room from the lobby, she saw a long table around which several men sat for lunch. She thought she recognized Mr. Herbert, but couldn’t be sure, and then one face she did recognize, and it seemed to recognize her.

Austin got up from the table and casually made his way toward the lobby.

“So we meet again.”

“We haven’t properly met actually. Not officially.”

He grinned down at her and removed the toothpick he’d been grinding between his perfect white teeth. “You are so right. Austin Vallee. Pleased to make your official acquaintance.”

He held out his hand. Taffy took it, feeling awkward standing in the lobby with the handsome, and clearly well connected, Austin Vallee, who was now lifting her hand to his lips. They were soft. Taffy turned and saw the bow-tied girl behind the counter staring at them with a jealous frown.

Austin held onto Taffy’s hand as he lowered it, and he used it to twist her one way and then the other, looking her up and down.

“I didn’t scratch you up one bit the other day in the parking lot. You look fine.”

Taffy withdrew from his grip. “You’re in the middle of lunch. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Oh, please do.” His blue eyes held hers. Then he said, “Did I just see you down at the docks talking to Randall Swain? Do you know him?”

“Not really. I was just looking around the resort. It’s a beautiful place.” She wasn’t sure why she lied. Maybe to protect Randall, so he didn’t get in trouble at work, since the girl at the counter was listening as well as staring.