Death and a Pot of Chowder Page 20

  “You’re sure he’s good?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen him handle some challenging cases. Handle them well,” Rob assured me.

  “Then tell him we’ll hire him. When does he need the money?”

  “I’ll find out.” Rob went back to his phone.

  I turned to Izzie. “You said we’d be getting money from our father’s estate. Any idea how soon that would be?”

  Izzie shook her head. “Not exactly. This morning I called the lawyer who’s making arrangements. He’s already filed the will and the general inventory of the estate, and there’s been a bid on Dad’s house. The couple who’re interested have cash. If that sale goes through, the estate could be settled quickly.”

  “But not in the next week.”

  “Not in the next week,” Izzie agreed. “Some estates take six months to a year to settle, although this one shouldn’t take as long. Dad had his papers in order. But he also left a life insurance policy made out to both of us. We should be getting that money any day. His lawyer said life insurance policies come through quickly. He expected our checks to arrive next week. He’s going to send both of ours here.”

  “Life insurance?” Had Izzie mentioned that before? “How much will that come to?”

  “The company Dad worked for had a hundred thousand dollar policy on him. Fifty thousand for each of us.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars?” I repeated, stunned. “Just from life insurance?”

  “So I understand,” said Izzie. “That’s why I wasn’t totally crazy looking at that building yesterday. And you should have enough for a lawyer for Burt.”

  “What a relief. All we need to do is find out where that gun was Saturday morning. That should solve the case, so Burt can come home.” There was hope. And even if freeing Burt took longer than I hoped, I’d have enough to support Jake and me for a while.

  “Your lawyer’s on board,” said Rob, coming back into the kitchen. “He says if you’re a friend of mine he won’t need the retainer for a week or so.”

  “I can handle it,” I said, with a lot more confidence than I’d felt a few minutes before.

  “Jake told us a lot,” Rob said. “But I wouldn’t advise you to share any of what he said with Preston. Not until we know for sure who had that rifle on Saturday. The police have a suspect they like for the murder right now. They won’t listen to anything else until we know for sure what happened. Information from the suspect’s family playing detective won’t hold a lot of water with law enforcement.”

  “We can figure out the rest,” Izzie said confidently.

  “The rifle was at the Martins’ house Thursday, or Jake thought it was. Friday night Matt told him it was missing,” I reminded him.

  “But did Matt tell him the truth?” Izzie asked.

  “Good question,” said Rob. “I’m not sure.”

  “If the rifle was at the Martins’, then Lucy or Dolan could have taken it,” I pointed out. “They didn’t want Matt to have a rifle. But wouldn’t they have returned it to us?”

  “If they’d known it was Burt’s,” Rob pointed out. “If Matt wouldn’t tell them where he got it, they might not have known.”

  “But why did Matt tell Jake it was missing?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want Jake to know his parents had found it,” said Rob.

  We were all quiet for a moment.

  “On a lighter note, I overheard you saying you looked at a building yesterday, Izzie. Thinking of moving to Maine?” Rob asked. “What building were you looking at?”

  “That small, old grill on the other side of the bridge,” Izzie explained. “I’d like to open a restaurant here on Quarry Island.”

  “A restaurant! Terrific! Quarry Island could use one. Although it’d take a lot to buy that place and put it back in business,” Rob pointed out.

  “It would,” Izzie agreed. “But if I had a partner,” she added, looking straight at me, “and we could get a mortgage, it might be possible.”

  I stared at her. Go into business with Izzie? My mind, already confused by what Jake had said and what Burt was facing, flooded with questions.

  And excitement.

  “What do you mean, ‘partners’?” I asked.

  “Simple. I can cook, and I’ve had courses in restaurant management. You ran your stepfather’s business, you’re organized, and you know the community and the way things are done here. Plus, we’re each going to have money. I’ll bet if together we put fifty thousand dollars down we could buy that property. That would still leave us cash to fix the place up, even if you used part of yours to pay Burt’s lawyer. Burt’s a priority, of course. But you said furniture and dishes could be bought at auctions. We could go for a country casual style … buy sturdy wooden furniture and paint it bright colors. I’ll bet you know people who could help with putting in a patio and awning. We’d have to buy kitchen equipment, but sometimes you can find that used, if another restaurant closes. Together, we could do it, Anna.”

  Izzie’s dream. I could help her make it happen. I could make it my dream, too.

  “Sounds exciting,” Rob said. “Put me down as your first volunteer. I’m pretty handy with home repairs and a paintbrush. And, after you open, you could use a bartender.”

  “A bartender?” I asked. I loved the idea of opening a restaurant with Izzie, but this was all happening too fast.

  “What a great idea,” said Izzie. “Rob, that would be wonderful! You could be our first employee! But we have to get that insurance money, and some of the money our father left us, first.”

  “Even before that, we have to get Burt cleared,” I said. “Until he’s home and we know who killed Carl, I can’t think about opening a business, Izzie. With you or with anyone.”

  Part of me was as excited as she was. But what if Burt was in jail, and his legal bills mounted up? What if the restaurant failed? Izzie and I hadn’t even known each other a week. Could we work together, long hours, in a small place?

  “We don’t have to decide right now,” Izzie assured me. “But I’ve been bursting with ideas, and I had to share them.”

  “Maybe after this situation with Carl’s murder is solved we can plan for a future,” I said, cautiously.

  “You’re right. I’m ahead of myself. That happens when I get excited. We don’t have to decide about the restaurant tonight. First, we have to find out who killed Carl.”

  “A lot has happened today,” said Rob. “You both should take a little time.” He glanced at his phone. “I have to check in with Dad and get him some supper.”

  “Let me give you some of the lasagna we had left over from the other night,” said Izzie. “There’s plenty for you and your dad and for the three of us.”

  The three of us, I repeated to myself as Izzie pulled out the lasagna and two heavy paper plates. Tonight Burt would be eating in jail, and I’d be alone in our bed.

  I held onto the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Thanks, both of you,” said Rob, accepting the lasagna. “If I can help with anything else, you know where I am.” He headed for the door. “And, Izzie, don’t hire anyone else to be your bartender. I make a great champagne cocktail!”

  Izzie’s enthusiasm and energy were contagious. Maybe she really would have a restaurant someday. Or … we would.

  “Shall I get you a cup of tea, Anna?” asked Izzie. “I’m sorry if I just blurted all that out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

  “I could use a glass of wine.”

  “Good idea. I’ll join you.” Izzie opened the cabinet with the wine glasses. “And then I’ll heat the rest of the lasagna for our dinner. After the three of us eat, you and I can get back to working on our timeline.”

  I sipped the wine she handed me.

  I was certain we were close to an answer about Burt’s killer.

  And I had a major decision to make. What would it be like to go into business with my sister and own half a restaurant on Quarry Island?

  Chapter Thirty-Three
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  “Confectionary, and bad food, and bad drinks, and uncontrolled passions, and misplaced affections—all of which might be banished, were housekeeping restored to its primitive dignity—are the prolific source of half the licentiousness with which our earth is afflicted, and changed from an Eden to a scene of mourning, lamentation, and woe.”

  —The Young Housekeeper or Thoughts on Food and Cookery by William A. Alcott. Boston: George W. Light, 1838

  Jake didn’t need to be prompted to go to his room after dinner to work on the homework Izzie had brought home for him.

  Izzie and I cleaned the kitchen, and then got to work.

  “Back to our timeline,” I started. “To Saturday. We need to know where Carl and Burt were that day. And the Martins, too, since the rifle was in their house Thursday night.”

  “Okay,” said Izzie, getting out the pad we’d been working on earlier. “What do you know happened? In order.”

  “Saturday morning Burt and I talked about your arrival, so he left the house later than usual, about six. He saw Carl at the wharf and they argued. He told me later he’d left the wharf at about seven thirty. Carl was still on the dock then.”

  “So, assuming it took Carl a little time to organize his gear and traps on a boat he hadn’t used in a while, and make sure the engine was still working, Carl probably left the wharf a little after that,” confirmed Izzie.

  “Right. He was going to set traps near the lighthouse. Burt’s rifle was found over at Granite Point, below the light, so we can assume Carl did what he’d said he do. He was shot while he was working traps in that area. Burt found Carl’s boat adrift about noon, called 911, and began towing the Fair Winds in.”

  “We don’t have anyone confirming where either Burt or Carl were between seven o’clock and noon,” Izzie pointed out.

  “There may have been other men on the wharf,” I agreed. “But most set out at first light, so they wouldn’t have been there as late as Burt and Carl.”

  “Okay,” said Izzie. “We know Burt was out on the Anna when he found the Fair Winds, about noon.”

  “And Carl was out on the Fair Winds sometime after seven thirty, until he was shot, before noon.”

  “So—where was everyone else?” Izzie asked, turning to a fresh page.

  “Matt and Jake had baseball practice from eight thirty until eleven Saturday morning, over on the mainland. Lucy took them and brought them back, since I was heading to Portland to meet you,” I explained.

  “When did you leave home?”

  “I had a couple of errands to do, and I wanted to be at the terminal in plenty of time in case your bus came in early.” I didn’t mention how nervous I’d been about driving to Portland on my own. “I left here about eleven thirty.” Not long before Burt was discovering the Fair Winds adrift, I was heading off-island, excited at meeting my sister for the first time. “Jake had spent the night at the Martins’, so I didn’t see him or anyone other than Burt that morning. No, I did! I waved at Willis Tarbox as I left. He was picking up his mail.”

  “I don’t think you shot Carl, Anna, so we don’t need to check with Willis.” She thought a minute. “Unless he saw someone else.”

  “Right,” I agreed, making a note. Maybe we should talk with Willis.

  “Jake and Matt weren’t even on Quarry Island that morning,” Izzie said, frowning. “Why would Jake think Matt had possibly shot Carl? Wasn’t he with Matt at the time Carl was shot?”

  “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? The boys were back on the island by noon, because they had lunch at Mamie’s and Mom’s.” I glanced at the clock on my phone. “It’s too late to call them tonight. They go to bed early over there. But we can check with Mom tomorrow about the exact time. I know the boys ate there. Burt told me they were on their way to Maine Chance when they heard about Carl. They went directly to the wharf and went out with Burt, searching.”

  “That doesn’t leave a big window for Matt or Jake, for that matter, to excuse themselves, walk to the light house … how long would that take?”

  “Ten minutes. It isn’t far.”

  “But if Matt was at practice until eleven, Lucy probably wouldn’t have him back on the island until almost eleven thirty, right? Would Matt have had time to get the rifle, go to the lighthouse, wait for Carl to come close to shore, shoot him, and be back by noon for lunch at your mom’s?” Izzie shook her head. “Sounds unlikely.”

  “And Jake or Lucy would have seen him doing something odd. “Plus, we're talking about about using Burt’s gun and sight. Matt had just learned to use a rifle. He would have had to be very lucky to hit Carl,” I pointed out.

  “Or Carl was very unlucky,” Izzie nodded. “I don’t know who shot Carl, but it doesn’t sound as though Jake or Matt did.”

  “Thank goodness,” I agreed.

  “But we know Matt had the rifle a couple of days before that. So,” Izzie glanced at me, “we have to consider all possibilities. Lucy and Dolan would also have had access to the rifle. If they knew it was in their house.”

  “What motive would either of them have?” I said. “Besides, Lucy was chauffeuring the boys to practice and Dolan was probably out on his boat.”

  “You don’t know for sure?”

  “He was out searching in the afternoon, but I didn’t ask anyone if he’d gone out in the morning. I just assumed he was working on the waters. Most days he does.”

  “Tomorrow, why don’t we check with Lucy about when she took the boys and brought them home, and with your mom about when the boys ate lunch. Lucy would also know about Dolan.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Nothing like asking your best friends where they were when someone was murdered. Or, if they knew that the possible murder weapon was in their house a day or two before it was used.”

  “I suspect Detective Preston has already asked them some of those questions,” said Izzie.

  “You’re right,” I sighed. “But that doesn’t make it easier.”

  “Is there anyone else who had access to that rifle?” Izzie asked.

  “Not unless Matt loaned it to someone else while he had it.” I shook my head. “Nothing makes sense. Of course, they haven’t confirmed Burt’s rifle was the murder weapon. He probably wasn’t the only one on the island who owned that model.” I pushed my chair back from the table. I was exhausted. “But before we give up for the night, what about your restaurant idea? Were you serious?”

  “Absolutely. I stopped and looked at the café again on my way home from talking to Rose.” Izzie counted on her fingers. “Quarry Island doesn’t have a restaurant. The building we saw could be one. I’m a chef. You’ve managed an office and the books for a business. And we’re going to come into some money soon. A restaurant is an investment.”

  “A risky investment,” I put in. “A lot of restaurants close.”

  “True,” said Izzie. “But maybe the people running them didn’t work as hard as you and I would.”

  I shook my head and smiled at her.

  She added, “I need to find a job or start a business, and I have no obligations to anyone anywhere right now. And you don’t have a job either.”

  I winced at her last point, but she was right.

  “It’s an intriguing idea,” I agreed. “But—we hardly know each other. Running a business together would mean we’d be in each other’s space twenty-four seven. Could we make it work?”

  “What do you think?” she asked

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “And I’d need to talk to Burt and Jake. Working at our restaurant would mean I’d be away from home a lot.”

  “You were away from home when you worked for Seth,” Izzie reminded me. “And the restaurant will only be a few minutes down the road. Assuming Burt is cleared, he’ll be out lobstering, and Jake will be at school. And we’d start out small—small menu, small staff. No patio or extra parking spaces at first. We’d figure it out slowly.”

  My mind was racing. Planning a new venture—a new life—was much more fun t
han solving a murder.

  “I could manage the kitchen on my own at first with a limited menu.”

  “We’d have to get approved, right?” I asked. “Board of Health regulations and such.”

  “We would. I don’t know what those regulations are in Maine, but I’m sure there are some. And Rob was right. We should get a liquor license.”

  I didn’t know a lot about restaurants, but I suspected I was going to learn a lot. Soon. “I have to focus on Burt’s situation now,” I said, tentatively. “But, assuming Carl’s killer is found and we can put together financial figures that would show it’s possible … I think I’m in.”

  Izzie jumped up and gave me a hug. “How do you like the name ‘Quarry Island Café’?” she said.

  I thought for a minute. “I may have a better idea.”

  “What?”

  “What about ‘Kindred Spirits’?” I ventured.

  “I love that!” Izzie almost squealed. “I can already see the sign.”

  I laughed. “But tomorrow, first priority is answering the questions we have on the timeline, and getting Burt out of jail.”

  Kindred Spirits. It had a good ring to it.

  But before we had a restaurant we had a murder to solve.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Diet has a marked influence upon personal beauty. Generous living is favorable to good looks, as it tends to fill out and give color and sleekness to the skin. A gross and excessive indulgence, however, in eating and drinking, is fatal to female charms, especially when there is a great tendency to ‘making flesh’.”

  —Peterson’s Magazine, March 1871

  I wasn’t used to sleeping alone. I’d dozed restlessly through the night. When I’d managed to sleep, my dreams were full of people with rifles in a kitchen where Lucy was handing out beers to a group of kindergartners, and I kept looking for Burt. I woke in a cold sweat, my heart pounding.

  It was still pounding.

  All I could think about was Burt, in jail. I needed to see him.

  Jake took his usual one-minute shower and raced downstairs, his wet hair sprinkling me as he grabbed his sandwiches and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for listening last night, Mom. I feel a lot better now. See you later!”