Chapter Four
Just then, I spot Jakob out on the street, heading in our direction. Suddenly I can’t help myself. I say, “Cheese it, the cops,” which breaks Anna into hysterics.
Isaac appears, damp rag in hand. He wipes down Fergus’ table. “What’s so funny over here, ladies?”
“Nothing. Just blowing off steam. This whole thing with Nona…”
Jakob steps into the building shaking water from his cap. He’s already zoned in on our location—easy because we’re the only ones here. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he drops into a seat. “I was feeding fingerprints into the database.”
“Sounds like fun,” I say the same time Anna says, “Sorry I missed that.”
“Any matches yet?” she asks.
“No. Too early.”
She’s through with her breakfast and gets to her feet.
“What’ll you have, Jakob?” Isaac tosses the rag in a buss bucket near the wall.
“Whatever’s just out of the oven.”
“Coming right up.”
“So…” Jakob gazes at me and then up at Anna. “You ladies got the case solved yet?”
Anna cracks up again, waves and leaves, calling over her shoulder, “Stop in the shop when you leave, I have something to tell you.”
“Can’t say it here?” Jakob asks.
I can’t tell if he’s humored or suspicious.
“Heck no.”
We watch Anna disappear along the sidewalk not moving in the direction of her pack ’n ship office. I imagine she’s off to find Madison, who is a conservation officer here in town. My curiosity runs wild. What could Madison and Nona Williamson have in common? Outwardly they seem as different as well…night and day.
Isaac returns with coffee and a pastry he calls kanelsnegl. When he sees we’re confused he clarifies with, “It’s a cinnamon snail.”
“Well, that tells me all I need to know,” I say. “It does look like one though…”
“I’m outta here. Have a great day, Jakob.”
I spend a minute finishing up my pastry and trying to figure out how to begin a conversation about last night.
“Aren’t you going to ask any questions?”
I peer up, raising my brows in a way that seems innocent. But he’s not taken in. He chuckles.
“I’ve been waiting for the interrogation.”
I shrug. “I was trying to think where to begin.”
“How about with what the band members told us.”
“As good a place as any.” I lean back in the chair, folding my arms.
Jakob draws out his notepad, flips a couple of pages. “Philip Newsome—he’s our bass player—was born in Birmingham, Alabama. His father worked on oilrigs and when Philip was thirteen, he transferred to Washington State. Henry—Hank—Summers. Hank’s grandmother, who lived on Mercer Island, was in a serious car wreck when he was fourteen. The family transferred there until her recovery.”
“Which is where Hank met Philip and they formed a band.”
“Correct. Hank had just taken up drums. From the age of six, he played lead guitar. They called the band Summer News.”
“From a combo of their names.”
“Correct again.”
Isaac arrives to refill our cups. “Can I get you anything else to eat?”
“No thanks,” we both say.
He goes back to wipe down Fergus’ table again, so it’s clear he’s trying to listen in. Not sure why; he’s never been a nosy person. Does he have something at stake in this case? Does he know more than he told me? Is he waiting for an opportunity to chime in? Jakob must be thinking something similar, as he doesn’t speak again until Isaac returns to the kitchen.
“How about we take these to go?”
I glance out. It’s still raining. Not the downpour from earlier but more than I care to walk in. Jakob has picked up his cup. He’s noted the weather also and sets it back on the table.
“When did Nona meet up with the guys?”
“During their junior year, when she was a senior, she transferred from St. Benedict Catholic School.”
Strict upbringing. “Lemme guess. With that change in scenery and structure, she ran wild.”
“That’s what the guys tell me. How true it is, I can’t say.”
“Although she had been married four times.”
This is obviously news to him. “Does this make her seem wild?”
“It means she was chasing something. Security. Or maybe she wanted—needed—that structure back.”
“Or she was looking for love. Apparently, she had an abusive father. It’s why her mom put her in the catholic school to begin with.”
“So, the three met in high school and they asked her to join the band?”
“Yes, but it was short lived. She was too wild. Didn’t show up for rehearsals, went missing for days. That sort of thing.”
“Drugs?
“Couple of arrests.
“Jail time?”
“Eighteen months.”
I nod, thinking about the life Nona must’ve led. Always wondering, always seeking, always running.
“Kind of like you,” Jakob said.
This brings a frown to my face. “Did I say that out loud?”
He pats my hand. “You did.”
Lyrics play, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.
For some reason I don’t think they’re talking about Nona’s murder.
“What’s up for you today?” I ask to dispel the true meaning of the words.
“I’ll spend most of the day at the crime scene,” he says. “If you want to stop by… Maybe you’ll see something I missed.”
Wow, what a change from a few months ago where he and Eddie were threatening to arrest me for even looking at a clue. “Okay. I’ll stop by about lunchtime. I’ll bring pizza. What toppings do you want?”
He chuckles. “You always tease me about being a stick-in-the-mud. Always ordering safe, familiar things. So—” He pats the back of my hand— “I’ll eat whatever you bring.” He rises from the chair and scoops up the empty plate, which he takes to the buss bucket. He downs the rest of the coffee and does the same with the cup. “What’ll you be doing in the meantime?”
“I have a couple of errands to run.”
“And some clues to follow up that you don’t want to mention.”
“Yet. You know I will if they turn out to be relevant.”
He head-nods toward the street. “Is that what Anna meant? Is she chasing down information?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Actually,” I say just because I’m feeling a little guilty for keeping him in the dark, “you might want to talk to Fergus.”
He gives a sharp up-down head motion. No doubt or question, just trust. “See you in a few hours then.”
I wiggle two fingers at him, and he’s gone. I leave too. I want to find Whitney. Besides the band members, she’s the only person I know who’s spent a decent amount of time with Nona. Why don’t I chase down the drummer and the base player, you ask. Because they were the first ones the cops focused on. If there was some incriminating info, they will follow up. I can hear about it later.
Thankfully the rain has let up. I cross in front of the courthouse and then wait for cars to pass on West Main Street. I scoot between the newspaper office and an almost-full parking lot where Whitney’s got her design studio. Upstairs from her is Barry’s, my ex-boyfriend—long story I don’t want to get into—office. I don’t even glance where his car would be parked. That said, Whitney’s car isn’t here either, so I traipse to the general store to pick up a couple of things.
Whitney’s been doing reno on Nona’s place for several months. They clashed personalities a number of times. No, that’s not right. Whitney doesn’t clash outwardly. She locates Anna and I and deposits it on us. That’s what friends are for, right? Hmm. Maybe I should take some headache meds before I see her.
Moore’s General Store is well lit. The display in the front window once held Diablo’s giant brass cage. People stopped to gawk at him. Today, the display has been done in fall colors: oranges, yellows and reds. It features Thanksgiving t-shirts with ridiculous sayings like Let’s Get Basted and Talk Turkey to Me. Since it’s the day after Thanksgiving, a sign announces seventy-five-percent off.
I’m still giggling at I Only Have Thighs for You when I enter. The snack counter, straight out of the fifties, is half full. Amanda waves to me with her free hand while the other flips eggs on the sizzling grill. The air is heavy with the smell of bacon. Even though I’m stuffed with pastry, my stomach does excited flip-flops.
With a shopping basket draped over my arm, I wander about the aisles. After a while, the breakfast rush dies back and I make my way to the first stool, plopping the basket on the floor between my feet. Amanda is drinking a glass of water.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Thank goodness. So far, no morning sickness. I was scared silly I’d have it.”
“Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”
“That won’t happen for several weeks yet, but—” She shakes her head. “I want it to stay a secret.”
“Let me guess, Xander wants to know.”
“I sure as heck do!” He steps in from the back room carrying three cardboard boxes. He peers at me from around the edges. “Talk her into it for me, will ya?”
“Um, nope. Not getting involved in this,” I say.
Xander sets the cartons on the edge of the window shelf then comes to sit beside me. “Terrible about Nona, isn’t it? Were you still there when it happened?”
“Yeah. You guys were lucky to have left early.”
“Didn’t stop the police from knocking first thing this morning,” he says.
I think a minute, then realize. “Right, it was premeditated.”
“Which means anyone in town could’ve done it,” Amanda reminds us.
I heave a sigh. Yes, it makes the crime tougher to solve, but I’m relieved the pressure is off the family. Sure, I’m prejudiced. I don’t want to believe any of the Moores could be killers. I want to shoot back to the storeroom and talk to Merrick but nobody’s supposed to know he’s returned from the land of…wherever ghosts go.