Meg shook her head. “She won’t rat me out. Besides, she wants Uncle Troy to find someone besides Lilly to have on his suspect list. I’ll put this behind the boxes I haven’t unpacked and tell her to leave them be since I need to sort out things to donate and throw away.”
“Or put a sign on the boxes so she sees you have a plan.” He went over and glanced at her weekly schedule on the desk. “You like things in order.”
“It helps me keep track of things.” Meg snapped a picture of both boards and sent it to both Dalton’s and Natasha’s phones. “I don’t have a regular job, where I go in the same time every day or even do the same thing. I have the book project, which right now, only you and Natasha know about. I don’t want Lilly to think I’m using her.”
“Got it. Except how much work have you done on this book?” Dalton asked as he cleaned off the table so they could eat.
“Hey, being creative takes time. I’m thinking about the book a lot.” She didn’t want to admit that all she had so far was a partial first chapter and a list of tips and tricks. “I know it’s a long shot to get published, but if I don’t even write the book, it definitely won’t happen. I’m going to add in what we did as an exercise.”
“I’m not dogging you. I’m saying I didn’t see any time set aside for writing on your schedule. You need to set aside time to work on that, too.” He opened several cabinets and finally took plates out of the last one. “I know you can do it. You need to try.”
Meg stood there, staring at him.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” He paused as he opened the last drawer to find the silverware.
She shook her head and wiped away the tears before they fell. Romain would have laughed at her before dismissing the dream. Not help her plan time to pursue it. “No, you said all the right things. Thank you.”
He grabbed forks and set them on the table. “Well, if you’re done with your existential crisis, can we eat now?”
Meg went over and blocked off an hour the next morning on her paper schedule. She set down the pen. “Now we can eat.”
* * *
While she was at the bookstore, she thought about the case. Was the perpetrator simply a jealous girlfriend? Dalton was right. It was a stretch, but the only other possibility besides Lilly or Jolene was someone Meade had lent money to. Emmett had an alibi, and Meg hoped that Natasha was totally off her uncle’s suspect list.
A text popped up soon after she’d arrived. It was from Dalton.
Emmett says he took out the loan four years ago. And that he thought Robert Meade had another loan besides Natasha’s. He said Meade bragged that he had saved Emmett from buying the bakery so that he could open the Local Crab. And that he’d made a mistake with the third loan. All he had was interest in an old truck and a bunch of old carpenter tools.
Meg texted back.So he loaned money to an islander who ran a construction company?
That’s what Emmett thought. He apologized for not knowing more. He asked when the two of us were coming back to the Local Crab. I guess he doesn’t hate me.
Meg thanked him for asking Emmett. She knew it had been hard for Dalton. He liked being on the outside, especially when it came to questioning friends. Then she texted her uncle and asked if he’d found information about a third loan from Meade to an islander.
This time she didn’t get a text back. She got a phone call. “Don’t be mad,” she said when she answered her uncle’s call.
“I asked you to stay out of it.” He didn’t sound happy at all.
“I’m not digging into things that might get me into any trouble. Unless Meade was connected with the mob or something. Does Seattle even have a mob?” She smiled and waved when a customer came in to browse. She used her hand to cover the phone and called out, “Let me know if I can help you find your perfect book.”
“You’re at the bookstore? Not wandering around Bainbridge, breaking into homes and checking car plates?” Her uncle sounded a little less angry. “And no, there’s no organized crime syndicate in Seattle that I know of. But not everyone follows the laws, especially when you get around the drug culture.”
“I’m trying to stay out of harm’s way, but I knew about Natasha’s loan, and I was wondering if there was a third.” She was trying to keep Emmett out of the discussion.
“You say third, which means you also know about the loan to Chef Harding.” He rolled his eyes but continued on with the discussion. “There was a third loan, but Meade’s accountant said that the guy never made payments, so he had Meade write it off last year for his taxes. He had told the accountant that the guy didn’t have a pot to . . . Well, he didn’t have any money or property.”
“Do you know who the loan was made to?” Meg waited as she heard papers shuffling on the end of the line. Uncle Troy must still be at work.
“A local. Hold on. I have the report here. My detective went through this information. And it was . . .” He whistled. “Of course it was.”
“You found the name?”
“Nate Baldwin. Violet’s boyfriend. The mayor is not going to be happy.” Uncle Troy groaned. “Small towns, big egos.”
“Nate and Violet broke up. She’s upset about it.” Meg thought about what Violet had told her when she’d seen her in the line for the ferry. Where would Nate have run into Robert Meade? “He worked at the Local Crab. That must be where he met Meade.”
“Probably, but Meade did him a favor and wrote off the loan. Why would he kill him?” Uncle Troy paused, and Meg heard a phone ringing in the background. “Your aunt’s calling. I need to take this. Meg, thank you for the information, but I’ve got this investigation handled. I’ll find the killer. I promise.”
