After they all had drinks and were eating the turnovers, they talked about all the rumors they’d heard around the island. By the time they’d finished, Meg had a whole sheet of notes. “So did anyone see Lilly Aster’s ex-husband on the ferry yesterday?”
Meg and Natasha both looked at Dalton.
“I was off yesterday, remember?” He pulled out his notebook from a coat pocket. “I can ask, though. And maybe look at the logs. Cissy, the girl at the ticket counter, writes down any celebrities that she sees buying tickets or getting on or off.”
“And, of course, you two are good friends,” Natasha teased.
Dalton turned a little red as he answered, “We talk sometimes. I’m not dating her.”
Meg saw the look he gave her, then glanced back at her notes. “Would she recognize Lilly’s agent, Robert Meade? He was there Tuesday and didn’t look happy. On the ferry I heard him talking about stealing money from someone. Maybe Lilly found out he was skimming.”
“Which makes her a suspect again,” Natasha pointed out. “I thought you were trying to keep your job?”
“Best-case scenario, it was a random tourist who got lost and fell off the dock. I guess we won’t know that until Uncle Troy gives his press conference tomorrow morning.” Meg leaned back, thinking about the list of tasks her mom had left.
“Or you could ask him if you see him at home. What time do you get off?” Natasha asked.
“Nine. I could stop by the house. Aunt Melody might still be out with Mom, though. And Uncle Troy isn’t going to leave confidential police information lying around for me to find. I thought we were grabbing dinner.” She stood and refilled her cup. “Anyway, I need to get busy. Mom won’t be happy if I don’t finish her list.”
“Fine, kick us out. No dinner for me. I have a big order that came in that I need to work on tonight. Sorry.” Natasha went to the back, put her cup in the sink, and threw away the now-empty box. Dalton had snagged the last turnover and was polishing it off as they said their goodbyes.
Natasha strode quickly toward the door.
“Hold up, Natasha. I’ll walk you home.” He paused at the door and met Meg’s gaze. “I’ll be back at nine to walk you home, too.”
“Not necessary. I know my way back.” She sipped her coffee.
He snorted. “I know you do, but a man was killed on the island. I’m a little freaked out. Let me play good guy to a damsel in distress.”
“Except I’m not one,” Meg reminded him.
His mouth quirked into a smile. “Too bad. I’m still coming back to walk you home. At least until we know who was killed and why. Let me be a Boy Scout, okay?”
“If you want to waste your time, Watson and I will close the shop at nine. If you’re here, you can walk with us as we go home.” Meg headed to the counter to look at her mom’s list again. Dalton waved and left the shop. Meg watched the door for way too long after it closed.
After she got all the books sorted and shelved, she finished the last task on the list, and she still hadn’t had a customer come into the store. Not even a tourist. The ferries back and forth from Seattle ran until midnight, but the tourists started leaving around five. Time to go back to Seattle and do other things than wander the island.
Since she didn’t have anything left to do from the list, she pulled out the folder that Jolene had given her. Inside was the new assignment. She checked the time and wrote it and the date down on the front of the folder. She also wrote the time she had left home to pick up the folder. She hoped Mom and Lilly wouldn’t compare her work hours. But Mom didn’t care if she read while on the job at the bookstore, so she guessed that she wouldn’t care if she did work for someone else there.
Satisfied with that logic, she pulled up a map of Santa Barbara on her laptop and started thinking about murder.
CHAPTER5
The best clues come from under rocks or from people you hate.
True to his word, Dalton showed up at the bookstore right at nine to walk her and Watson home. He passed her a cup of hot chocolate as they walked uphill to the road that would take her to Aunt Melody’s. Meg needed to start thinking of it as her apartment, if not home.
“Your girl isn’t looking good in this thing. The dude who died was her agent, that Robert Meade guy.” He carried her backpack for her. When she stared at him, he added, “I heard it from Fred at the sandwich shop, who was told by someone who works for your uncle.”
“So almost from the horse’s mouth? Anyway, I don’t believe it. There’s no way she killed anyone.” Meg pulled gently on Watson’s leash as he had got stuck on a scent near a tree.
“Says the woman who just met her and has spent less than an hour with the suspect.” He met her gaze. “You’re that convinced she’s innocent?”
“I am. I met this agent guy twice, in fact. You saw him on the ferry on the day I moved here. He was a jerk then, and the day I saw him at the house. He’d be more of a killer type than Lilly.”
“Except she’s not dead,” Dalton reminded her. “He is.”
“But he was a jerk, and maybe someone else wanted to kill him.” Meg tried to logic it out as well as walk faster, but the incline was getting her. She had thought she’d lived in a hilly area of Seattle. The hike up the hill from the bookstore was even steeper. “I don’t know what to tell you. I know what I know.”
