The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery Read online

  “The house is yours now?” Chloe asked.

  “Apparently.”

  Brett had picked up his fork but set it back down. “The pancake house too?”

  I nodded. “I’m still stunned. I had no idea Jimmy intended to leave me anything.”

  “I’m not so surprised,” Gwen said.

  “How come?” Jourdan asked her.

  “You might not know this, Marley, but Ray and I met your mom about a year or so ago,” Gwen said.

  “I didn’t know.” I thought back. “That must have been when my mom came to visit Jimmy last spring.”

  Gwen nodded. “Jimmy had us over for dinner one evening when she was there. The two of them talked a bit about you. Your mom mentioned that she wasn’t sure when you’d make it over here next, that you always liked to keep busy with your job after what happened to your family.”

  A mixture of guilt and grief welled up inside of me.

  “Jimmy said it was all right,” Gwen went on. “He said you’d come back when you were ready, that Wildwood Beach would be here waiting for you. He probably wanted to make sure that would be the case, even if he wasn’t around anymore.”

  Tears blurred my vision. My throat constricted and I couldn’t seem to draw a breath.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” Gwen said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.” But I couldn’t stop my tears. I pushed back my chair and stood up. “Sorry. Excuse me a moment.”

  I fled down the hall toward the front of the house, not wanting to cry in front of everyone. When I reached the foyer, I stopped and sat on the stairway leading to the second floor. At least there I was out of sight.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. I folded my arms over my knees and rested my head against them. I tried to make the tears stop, but I couldn’t. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing pent-up grief and tears from the past two days and the past few years.

  Footsteps came down the hall toward the foyer. They paused in front of me, and a second later I sensed someone sitting down next to me on the stairs. I kept my face buried. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

  Brett rested a hand on my back, warm and comforting. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, the motion soothing me. My tears slowed with time and finally stopped. After wiping my wet cheeks, I drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. I sat up but kept my chin down so my hair shielded my face from Brett.

  “Sorry,” I said, wiping at my damp cheeks again.

  “Don’t be.” He slid his hand from my back. “Here. I brought you these.” He handed me a box of tissues.

  I smiled despite my recent outpouring of sadness. “Thank you.”

  Pulling one from the box, I dried my eyes and wiped my nose. I crumpled the tissue in my left hand and stared at the foyer floor, still keeping my face hidden from Brett.

  “I didn’t mean to fall apart,” I said. “I guess everything caught up to me all at once.”

  “That’s understandable.” He brushed the curls away from my face and tucked them behind my ear.

  “My eyes are all puffy.” I raised a hand to keep my face hidden.

  He took my hand in his and pulled it gently down. “Your eyes are perfect.”

  I gave him a tremulous smile as my heart thudded in my chest. He didn’t let go of my hand and I wondered if he could feel my racing pulse. Even if he could, I didn’t want him to let go. I entwined my fingers with his and held on. “It’s true that I’ve buried myself in my work,” I said after a brief spell of silence. “That’s how I coped after…” I glanced at Brett. “Do you know what happened?”

  “No. And you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

  I shook my head. “I want to.”

  My words surprised me. Past experience had taught me that opening up could scare people off. I didn’t want to do that to Brett, but I realized in that moment that I also didn’t want to hold back with him. I focused on our joined hands, drawing strength from Brett’s closeness. It took me a moment, but soon I’d steadied myself enough to start the story.

  “My dad died before I was born. When I was seventeen, my mom married my stepdad. His first wife had died of cancer five years earlier and he had two kids, Charlotte and Dylan. They were eight and six at the time, and they were great kids. I loved them like crazy.” A hint of a smile tugged at my mouth at the memory, but it soon faded again. “Four years ago, my stepdad drove Charlotte and Dylan up to the mountains to go skiing. There was a rock slide on the highway and a couple of big chunks of rock hit their car.” I paused as tears threatened to spill out of my eyes again.

  Brett squeezed my hand and ran his thumb back and forth over one of my knuckles. I closed my eyes for a second or two to regain control of my emotions. When I opened them again, I finished the story.

  “My stepdad and Dylan were killed instantly. Charlotte died three days later in the hospital.”

  Heavy silence settled around us after my last words. With my free hand, I grabbed another tissue and dabbed at my watery eyes. My stomach tightened as the silence drew on.

  I’d probably made Brett uncomfortable. He most likely wished he could be anywhere else, with anyone else.

  Although I was terrified to see his expression, I chanced a glance at his face.

  He seemed to be struggling with his own emotions, sadness clouding his deep blue eyes, a crease between his eyebrows.

  “I’m so sorry, Marley,” he said gently, breaking the silence. “I had no idea you’d gone through that. I wish you’d never had to.”

  He gave my hand another squeeze. I returned the pressure, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over me.

  “I think, in a way, I’ve been hiding away from the world ever since. I guess Jimmy knew that.”

  “Maybe he wanted you to have a safe place to come out of hiding.”

  Fresh tears welled up in my eyes, but this time they didn’t spill over. “I think you might be right.”

  We sat there together for another minute or two, still holding hands but not speaking. Eventually, I sat up straighter and let out a long breath.

  “I don’t think I can socialize anymore tonight,” I said. “I should head back to Jimmy’s place.”

  “I’ll walk you home.” Brett let go of my hand and stood up.

  “Will you tell everyone I’m sorry?”

  “There’s no need to be sorry, but I’ll tell them if you want.”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  “I’ll let everyone know that we’re going.”

  While he returned to the kitchen to speak with his family, I remained on the stairway. My emotional breakdown had left me drained, yet even with a haze of exhaustion clouding my thoughts, my mind processed the fact that Brett had seen me at my worst—broken down and puffy-eyed—but didn’t seem put off. On the contrary, he’d seemed genuinely concerned and compassionate.

  Something ached deep in my chest when I thought about returning to Seattle in a few days’ time. Remembering the way our fingers had twined together so naturally, I knew for absolute certain that leaving Wildwood Cove would be anything but easy.

  Chapter 11

  We walked across town in a comfortable silence. Darkness had fallen, but the moon sat high in the sky and provided enough illumination for us to find our way along the promenade. It was only once we’d reached Jimmy’s property that I realized I’d forgotten something.

  I stopped in my tracks and put a hand to my forehead. “The salad bowl.”

  Brett touched a hand to my back to urge me onward. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

  Accepting that without comment, I unlocked the Victorian’s front door. I reached inside and switched on the light in the foyer but didn’t step over the threshold. A shaft of yellow light spilled out the open door, allowing me to see Brett’s face.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For inviting me to the barbecue and for…” I searched my mind for the right words, but couldn’t find them.
>
  “You’re welcome.”

  Neither of us said anything for a moment. The sound of breaking waves drifted up from the beach and an owl hooted in one of the fir trees. The cool night air seeped through my clothes and chilled my skin. I shivered.

  “You’re cold. You should get inside,” Brett said. “You’ll be okay?”

  Although I wasn’t eager to lose his company, I nodded and stepped up into the doorway. “Good night.”

  He treated me to a smile. “Good night.”

  Instead of shutting the door right away, I remained in place, watching as he walked off along the driveway. Only once he’d disappeared into the shadows did I step back and close the door on the cool spring night.

  —

  Although I’d planned to leave another phone call to my mom until morning, I wanted nothing more than to talk to her before I went to sleep. It was still before midnight in Boston and there was a chance that my mom would be awake. With Flapjack curled up next to me on the couch, I put a call through and waited as the phone rang on the other end of the line. After three rings, my mom picked up.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t think I’d hear from you until morning.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I ended up getting back earlier than I thought. Is it too late to talk?”

  “Of course not. I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called earlier. My phone was shut off while Grant and I were visiting with his mother.”

  “That’s fine,” I assured her. “But I’m glad I caught you now.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  I shut my eyes, determined not to cry anymore that night. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just been a difficult couple of days.”

  “Of course it has. Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want me to come out there?”

  I forced myself to be strong. “I’m sure. I’m going to the funeral home tomorrow. Once there’s a date for the memorial service, I’ll let you know. You’ll come out for that, won’t you?”

  “Definitely. Grant and I are heading back to Seattle tomorrow. We should be home by the late afternoon.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Mom, I went to see Jimmy’s lawyer today. Jimmy left me most of his estate, including his house and The Flip Side.”

  Three seconds of silence ticked by before my mom spoke. “I thought he might do that.” She sounded choked up.

  “You did? It took me completely by surprise.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  How did I feel? “Touched. Overwhelmed.” A little bit guilty, I added only to myself. “Now I need to decide what I’m going to do.”

  “You will need to decide,” my mom said, “but not tonight. Get some rest and let it sink in first.”

  I agreed that was the best idea.

  “I wasn’t the only beneficiary,” I added. “Jimmy left some money to his employees and a couple of charities, and he also left you one hundred thousand dollars.”

  It took my mom a moment to respond and when she finally spoke, I could tell she was choked up again. “I wasn’t expecting that. Jimmy was a good man.”

  “He was,” I agreed.

  Not wanting to cry again, I changed topics, asking my mom about her visit with Grant’s mother. Afterward I told her about the barbecue with Brett’s family, leaving out the part about my breakdown. I didn’t want her to worry, to think she needed to drop everything and rush over to Wildwood Cove to be with me.

  Before ending our conversation, I told her that the sheriff was now certain someone had murdered Jimmy.

  “I’m worried about you there on your own with a murderer on the loose,” she said.

  “I’ll be fine.” As I tried to reassure her, I got up from the couch and checked to make sure that the French doors were locked tight. From there, I wandered around the main floor to check all the other doors and windows. “Most likely the murderer has left town or is lying low. There’s no reason why I’d be in any danger.”

  “I hope you’re right about that.” Her voice still held a note of unease.

  “I am,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “There’s no need to worry.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  I closed the family room curtains and made my way back to the couch. “I guess I’ll try to get some sleep now.”

  “That’s a good idea, sweetie. Call again soon, okay?”

  “I will. I love you, mom.”

  “I love you too, honey. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  As soon as I ended the call, I realized I’d forgotten to ask my mom about giving Flapjack a new home.

  “I’ll ask her next time I talk to her,” I said, giving Flapjack a scratch under his chin.

  He closed his eyes and purred.

  Although I figured it was time to change into my pajamas and head to bed, I didn’t move from the couch. Despite my emotional exhaustion, my mind remained wide awake. The puzzle of Jimmy’s death occupied much of my thoughts, frustrating me. I wanted justice for Jimmy, peace of mind for the residents of Wildwood Cove, and an end to the cloud of suspicion hanging over Leigh’s head. But I still couldn’t figure out who would have hurt Jimmy or why.

  I got up and spent a minute or two tidying the kitchen. As I wandered back into the family room, Flapjack cracked one eye open to regard me with minimal interest. I briefly considered going upstairs to bed, but I knew that would be pointless. My brain was too wired for sleep. I needed to focus on something mundane and concrete to settle my mind.

  Coming to a decision, I switched my sweater for my jacket, grabbed my tote bag, and set off into the night. Maybe by tackling some office work at the pancake house I’d be able to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. It was worth a shot at least.

  Although I had my small flashlight in my tote bag, the moon provided enough light for me to find my way along the beach without any additional illumination. Stars glinted brightly overhead, so many more than could be seen from the city. The ocean was a dark expanse to my right, and logs and other driftwood formed looming shapes on my left.

  The short trek could have been frightening if not for the fact that I felt so at home at Wildwood Beach. In my youth I’d spent many a late night out looking at the stars or watching lightning dance across the sky in the distance. Sometimes I’d had company, but I’d also enjoyed the occasional solitary excursion after dark, not always with the knowledge or permission of any adults.

  With the moonlight and starlight as my guides, I reached the promenade, and moments later arrived at the front door of The Flip Side.

  Once inside, I locked the door behind me and stood still for a moment until I could pick out the shapes of the tables in the darkness. I left the lights off and worked my way across the dining area to the back hall and into the office. After switching on the desktop lamp, I dropped my tote bag on the floor, took off my jacket, and powered up the computer.

  As soon as the machine was up and running, I delved into matters like supplies and electricity bills. It didn’t take long for my exhaustion to seep into my brain. My eyelids grew heavy and in the midst of determining that The Flip Side would soon need a new batch of coffee filters, my head nodded.

  I knew it was time to go back to the house and get some sleep, but my body refused to act on that knowledge. Instead, I folded my arms on the desk and let my head drop down to rest on them.

  A minute or two with my eyes closed and then I’ll head home, I told myself.

  But as the blurry thought passed through my mind, sleep enveloped me and pulled me into its depths. I fell so deep that when I jolted awake some time later I blinked into the lamplight, disoriented.

  I raised my head, realizing that I was still in the office at The Flip Side. I shut off the computer but then froze as something clicked near the front of the building.

  The lock on the front door turned, the sound loud and unmistakable in the quiet of the night.

  Three footsteps followed.

  Sickening fear washed over me, stealin
g away my ability to breathe.

  Someone was in the restaurant.

  Was it Ivan? I glanced at the clock on the wall. No, it was barely past midnight. Ivan wouldn’t be in for hours. Unless, like me, he couldn’t sleep and had decided to come in and get some work done.

  No. Ivan always used the back door. It most likely wasn’t him. But then who?

  My fear intensifying, I switched off the lamp, leaving the office shrouded in darkness. The front door of the building shut with a muffled thunk. A stretch of silence followed.

  Had the person left? Or was he or she still inside?

  My brain screamed at me to run, to get away, but my fear paralyzed me.

  The footsteps started up again, heading my way.

  A switch flipped in my brain, releasing me from my paralysis.

  I eased myself up out of the desk chair with a fervent and desperate hope that it wouldn’t creak and give me away. My heart boomed out a hysterical beat, but the chair made no sound. I cast my eyes in the direction of my tote bag, a dark shape on the floor, but the footsteps were getting closer and I detected a faint glow of light through the partially open office door. I had no time to lose.

  Leaving my tote bag behind, I wrenched open the office window, wincing at the sound it made. My heart rate kicked up another frantic notch and I scrambled up onto the sill.

  A beam of light flashed behind me.

  I turned, hoping despite my fear that I might catch a glimpse of the intruder. A shadowy figure appeared in the office doorway. Before I could register any details, the figure shone its flashlight right in my eyes. As I raised a hand up to shield my face, I sensed the intruder lunging toward me.

  Stifling a scream, I jumped out the window. I hit the pavement and fell forward onto my hands. Pieces of gravel bit into the skin of my palms, but I barely noticed. I pushed myself to my feet and ran.

  Panic propelled me forward, across the small parking lot behind the pancake house and straight through a stand of trees. Branches snagged at my hair and scraped at my arms, but I barely noticed the pain. My fear was too strong for anything else to register.