It didn’t take long to sort and pack the wedding gifts, so after cleaning out the pantry and boxing up what she could save from the fridge, Meg looked around the apartment. She stepped out on the balcony to retrieve her fern, which was somehow still alive, and paused to take in the view. “I’m going to miss you, Space Needle,” she declared as Natasha joined her on the balcony.
“Bainbridge Island has views, too. Including of the Space Needle and the rest of the skyline. We can walk to the dock every time you want to see it.” Natasha hugged her. “Come on. If we’re done here, the guys want to catch the next ferry home.”
* * *
When they got settled on the ferry, Meg went up to the observation deck to get a cup of coffee and to keep Watson happy. She found a rear-facing seat at the stern and watched the city disappear into the distance. She would be living less than an hour away, but it might as well be across the world. They’d gone outside to sit, and the spray from the fog stung her face as she fought the tears. She’d cried enough over Romain’s betrayal, but now she realized, it wasn’t the man she was grieving. It was her life.
She was desperately searching for a silver lining in all this. Then it came to her. The book she’d been talking about writing since she was in high school. A real-life guide to solving mysteries. Not how to be a private investigator. But instructions for a normal person like her—a way for all people who wanted to crack cold cases or figure out who trashed the park by using a well-proven method. Or at least it had worked when they were in high school. Her mood started to lift, but then she had a thought.
She hadn’t even seen the signs of her fiancé’s betrayal. She felt a wave of depression overwhelm her again.
A man’s angry voice brought her out of her anguish.
“The woman doesn’t know what she wants or what she has, for that matter. Don’t worry about the advance. She’ll be grateful for even the part we tell her about,” the man continued, his tone even harsher as he stood by the rail near Meg, his back to her and Seattle.
What a jerk.Meg scooted closer on the bench as she wiped the tears from her face. Mom had always said the best way to get over something was to get involved in something else. Maybe she could help the woman this man was trying to cheat. Unless he wasn’t going to Bainbridge to meet with her. He could be talking about someone somewhere else. Maybe she had her mom’s love of helpless causes, as well.
“I brought you hot chocolate to warm you up,” Dalton said, suddenly appearing on the deck. He held out the cup. She turned toward him and saw the man give them both a dirty look. Like she’d been trying to listen in on his conversation. Well, she had, but he was the one who’d interrupted her pity party.
“Thanks,” she said as she watched the man go back inside the passenger cabin. She took the cup but didn’t take a drink. Hot chocolate was always too hot when you first got it. She’d learned that lesson years ago. Still, the warm cup felt good in her cold hands. It was late May, but warm weather typically didn’t arrive in Seattle until late June. Being outside on the ferry only made it colder.
“Do you know him?” Dalton followed her gaze.
Meg shook her head. “No. I overheard part of his conversation. He’s not a nice guy.”
“I got that feeling from him, too. It’s funny how you know sometimes.” Dalton leaned on the railing, watching Seattle disappear. “Look, Magpie, Bainbridge isn’t that bad. And who says it’s forever? You’ll be back on your feet sooner than you think.”
Meg sipped her still too-hot hot chocolate, not sure what to say. She could tell him that she felt broken. That she needed a whole new life. A new purpose. In other words, she could open up and let him into her head. But Dalton was only trying to be nice. He wasn’t offering a free counseling session. “You’re right, of course. But it feels like a step back. At least I’ll be employed again.”
“I heard you’re going to be working at the bookstore.” He moved to stand closer to her, his back to Seattle, breaking her view of what she was leaving behind.
It didn’t occur to her until later that he might have moved to that spot on purpose.
“I’ll be manning Island Books from three to ten Thursday through Saturday and sometimes on Wednesday and Sunday. It’s too bad I’m not a writer. I bet I’d get a lot of work done.” She stopped trying to watch Seattle disappear. Bainbridge was her new life. Not there. “Thanks to Aunt Melody, I also got a second gig. I’ll be working as an author’s assistant for Lilly Aster.”
“L. C. Aster, the mystery author? I just finished her last book.” Dalton looked impressed. “Her summer home is beautiful. I helped my uncle with the flooring when it was being built.”
“Well, if there’s anything I do know, it’s how to solve a mystery. My name might not be Nancy, and this isn’t River Heights, but I think I can be useful to Ms. Aster. Besides, it will get me inside that house. I’m looking forward to seeing it. I wonder what my first assignment will be. Researching what it’s like to be a spy with the CIA or maybe tracking down jewelry heists that haven’t been solved?” Meg had imagined several different topics her first assignment could involve, and she’d also envisioned having coffee with the author as they discussed their favorite books.
“I haven’t seen that look on your face since you solved the mystery of who was spiking Coach Bailey’s energy drink. Did you ever tell him it was the cheerleader adviser?” Dalton glanced around her at the upcoming dock. “Hold that thought. We need to get back in the vehicles. We’re almost at Bainbridge.” Dalton worked on the ferry, so he knew all the whistles and noises.
The announcement came after they were already on the stairs. She followed Dalton down to the vehicle level and climbed into her car. Watson sat in the front, with the rest of the space in the Honda Civic taken up by plants and boxes. While she waited for her turn to drive onto the island, she thought about working for Ms. Aster. Maybe this was the start of her new life. She’d joked about writing at the bookstore, but maybe she’d try her hand at a guidebook about solving mysteries as an amateur.
She might have missed all the signs between Romain and Rachel. But that had been her heart talking. She knew she could do this investigation thing. And after some time working with the famousNew York Timesauthor, she’d have even more tools and maybe some experience.
Now all she had to do was convince Uncle Troy, the town’s police chief, to let her help investigate the next murder on Bainbridge Island. Unless the dead guy was Romain. Because if her ex-fiancé ever showed his face again on the island, she’d be at the top of the suspect list. With good reason.
Meg Gates is no loser. She stared into the rearview mirror and rephrased her badly phrased affirmation. “Meg Gates, that’s me, is on the way to being Bainbridge Island’s top consultant for murder investigations.”
The woman in the mirror didn’t look convinced. Maybe she’d start small, like trying to find a missing clock.
It worked for Nancy.
CHAPTER2
Thinking about committing a crime isn’t the same as doing it.
Tuesday morning Meg rode her bike to Lilly Aster’s house, Summer Break. A lot of the houses on the island had names, and as she pedaled down the street, she made note of them. Isn’t that one of the tenets of being a good investigator? Paying attention to the little stuff? That was good; she needed to write that down. The house was on the outskirts of Winslow, just north of Island Bookstore and the ferry terminal. Meg rode past a house called Happy Hour and wondered what the owners had been thinking. Seagull Roost and Moose Island were next, and then she turned onto the street that would take her to the edge of the island and the Gothic-style house overlooking the sound.
