Chewy Chocolate Chip Murder: A Cookie Lane Cozy Mystery - Book 1 Page 5

  “Nice to meet you,” she said and nodded. “Any reason you’re out here on a day like this?” The ocean crashed against the pier and droplets sprayed the side of Cat’s face. Oreo yowled instead of meowing. Swimming wasn’t his forte.

  “I’m a competitive fisherman,” Jarred replied, smoothly. “I was surveying the water. You know, seeing if this is worth my time.” He tucked his cell into his pocket, then shifted his gaze from side-to-side.

  “Oh? I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new to Charleston?” Catherine asked, and stroked Oreo to calm him down. The fur on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “Yeah, I travel from town to town, looking for the best fishing locations,” Jarred replied, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his faded, and dirty, jeans. “Is that all? Are we done here? Because I have places to be.”

  “I guess so.”

  Jarred strode past her and to the far end of the pier, back stiff as a fishing rod.

  “Curious,” Cat whispered. “Very curious. Come on, Oreo, let’s get you back home to dry.”

  Her kitty didn’t grace her with a reply. Oh boy, she’d pay for bringing him this close to the water when they got home.

  Chapter 13

  Pearlz Oyster Bar was stuffed with customers. Tables lined the walls and spread across the center of the large room. People laughed, joked, clinked their glasses together.

  Cat pressed her lips together, then popped them free and sighed. “It doesn’t feel the same without Beth,” she said.

  Sunday nights were restaurant night in their tiny friendship circle. They’d take turns picking the hottest restaurants around Charleston, then treat themselves to a culinary adventure.

  Beth’s idea, of course. And whenever it’d been her turn, the elderly woman had always chosen seafood restaurants.

  “I’ll get better,” Lacy replied, and raised her soda. She sucked on the end of the straw, then shrugged.

  “If you say so,” Cat said, then drank some of her milkshake. “So, what are you getting? Oysters?”

  “Yuck, no, thank you,” Lacy replied. “I think I’m allergic to shellfish.”

  “You ate prawn nigiri the other day, Lace.” Catherine chuckled at her friend. Lacy’s hypochondria amused and frustrated her.

  “So? I just don’t like the idea of those squirmy wet, things.”

  “All right, all right,” Cat replied. “I’ll have some alone. Maybe force feed you one.”

  “Ewww,” Lacy said and held her fingers in a cross to ward off the evil that was oysters.

  “Yum, oysters, lemon juice, Tabasco.”

  “Stop, you’re trying to make me gag,” Lacy groaned, and pressed her hand to her belly.

  Cat waved off her complaints, then lifted the menu and examined the items on it. Delicious dishes, but all she could think about was Jarred Weaver. He'd definitely lied to her – those shifty eyes had said it all.

  “Have a surf and turf platter, then,” Catherine said, at last. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got something important to tell you about the case.”

  “The case?”

  “You know, Beth’s murder case,” she said.

  “No, I know what you mean, I just didn’t realize you were that into this investigation thing,” Lacy replied. “Cat, you have to be careful. This is dangerous. I mean, there’s a real murderer on the loose.”

  “I’m aware of that, Lace. Don’t worry. I’ll be as careful as humanly possible,” she replied.

  “As Cat-possible, you mean. You’ve never had a real regard for your own safety,” Lacy said and shook her head. She closed her menu and leaned her forearms on it. “So, what did you want to tell me?” She asked.

  “I found the short, bald man those fishermen told us about.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. He was at the end of the pier this morning. His name is Jarred Weaver, and he is super creepy,” Cat replied. She glanced left and right, then leaned in. “He said he was a professional fisherman or whatever, but I don’t buy it for a second.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he wasn’t there to fish and he stood on the end of the pier with his phone out before I got to him. I bet he was about to phone someone or, or – shoot. I don’t know,” Cat said, then plumped her hair. “I just didn’t get a good vibe from him.”

  Lacy’s cheeks paled, and she shifted back in her seat. She stared past Cat’s shoulder at a spot out of sight.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Don’t look now,” Lacy said, “but that Walters woman is here. You know, the wife of the guy who screamed at you at the memorial service.”

  Cat’s insides turned to ice. She hadn’t told Lacy about her late night gallivant outside the Walters’ residence. “What’s she doing?”

  Lacy swallowed and gasped in a few breaths. “She’s – with – a – man,” she said.

  “Oh gosh, I have to see,” Cat replied, then narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “And you need to calm down.”

  Lacy nodded and averted her eyes. She’d been way too anxious of late.

  Catherine turned her head to the side and pretended to study the specials written on the chalkboard opposite them. She watched Tara Walters out of her peripheral vision.

  Pearls clung to her neck – they had to be a new string since she’d obliterated her last set – and she leaned in to whisper to her dinner mate. A man in a suit and tie, with a full head of hair.

  Cat faced the front again. “I don’t recognize him. Do you?”

  “Nope,” Lacy said, and studied her nails. She’d calmed her breathing, at least.

  “I wonder what they’re doing here.” Cat tapped her fingernails on the plain white tablecloth.

  “Maybe it’s just an innocent business meeting,” Lacy said, then glanced past Cat’s shoulder again. She quickly averted her eyes. “Here she comes,” she whispered, out of the corner of her mouth.

  Tara’s cloud of perfume preceded her. Cat sneezed, then blocked the next one with her index finger.

  Tara Walters strode past their table – she didn’t even notice them – and entered a door at the far end of the room.

  “She’s just going to the ladies room,” Lacy said and sighed relief.

  “Good.” Cat rose from her seat and threw her napkin down on the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Cat, no!” Lacy hissed.

  Catherine rolled up her sleeves then paced across the carpeted floor and to the bathroom doors. She pressed it open with her fist, then charged inside.

  Tara stood beside the sinks, clicking the screen of her smartphone, perfectly manicured fingernails dancing in the rhythm of a text message.

  “Mrs. Walters,” Cat said.

  The woman flinched then looked up at her. Surprise turned to disdain. Her features puckered up, and she narrowed her eyes. “Kelley,” she said. “I haven’t seen you since you tried to crash Beth’s memorial service.”

  “I had every right to be there. I had every right to share in the grief,” Cat said. “You didn’t even care about Beth.”

  Tara rolled her eyes, then glanced in the mirror. She made a face and unhooked the straps of her bag from her shoulder. She plunked the designer purse on the bathroom counter, then brought out a tube of mascara.

  “Who’s your date?” Cat asked, and folded her arm. She tapped her heeled boot on the tiles.

  “I’m a married woman, Kelley. I don’t go on dates.”

  “Who is he?” Catherine repeated. She wouldn’t let the woman shimmy out of the question that easily. “A business associate?”

  Tara froze, the mascara wand hovering an inch from her right eyelid. “As a matter of fact, he is.”

  “I know you need money, Tara. You have the motivation, not me,” Cat said. A wash of anger had swept her along with it. Her mouth worked before her brain could. This might end badly.

  She had to control it or -

  “That’s right. And you’ve got the money, I need. Beth’s money was
Walters’ family money. It belongs to my husband,” Tara replied. She finished applying her mascara, then fastened the tube. “As a matter of fact, the man I’m with is the lawyer who’s going to get that money away from you.”

  “What’s your problem?” Cat asked. “I never wanted Beth’s money. I’d give it all up just to have her back.”

  Tara scoffed, then took a step problem. “My problem? I’m not the one who murdered the woman for an inheritance.” She strode out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

  Cat stared at her reflection in the mirror and shook her head. Something didn’t add up about Tara Walters. She just couldn’t place her finger on what that was.

  “Time to find out.”

  Chapter 14

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Lacy said. “This is definitely not allowed. What if we get caught?”

  “Caught? Doing what?” Cat asked, then pointed at the Walters residence. “It’s not like we’re trespassing. We’re just hanging out in my car, having an adult conversation.”

  “This adult conversation is giving me an anxiety attack. Do you have a brown paper bag?” Lacy asked.

  “Check the glove compartment,” Car replied, then drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She stared up at the darkened residence and her heart pounded against the inside of her ribcage. It beat out a pattern. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Huh?” Lacy asked, then rammed the front of the bag into her face and inhaled.

  “Nothing, don’t worry.” Catherine leaned her forehead against her window. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the house. This place had become an obsession for her.

  The longer she looked, the more convinced she became that this was it. That someone in there had hurt Beth. A tear slid down her cheek and dropped to her lap.

  Lacy dropped her bag. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Cat said. “I’m as fine as I can be. I guess I haven’t taken the time to mourn yet. I just want to find the person who did this, so badly.”

  Lacy patted her on the shoulder. “Everything will be okay, Cat. But, I dunno, did you ever think maybe that, ah, never mind.”

  “Think what?” Cat asked.

  Lacy took a deep breath, then pressed her lips together. “Okay, now don’t take this the wrong way, but it kinda seems like you’re obsessed. And that obsession isn’t healthy. Maybe it’s your way of dealing with what happened to Beth, or maybe the pressure of the bakery has gotten to you, but –”

  “No, Lace, I’m fine. I just want to get to the bottom of this.”

  “I didn’t expect to be sitting outside a family’s house on a Sunday night, searching for a killer,” Lacy said. “That’s all. Call me crazy, but this has escalated pretty quickly. It’s extreme.”

  Cat nodded. She’d give her that. “I’m extreme, Lace. You’ve known that since you started working with me. I think a part of you is extreme too.”

  “Which part? The anxiety-ridden one or the serving cookies one?”

  “No, the ‘bashing the coffee machine because it won’t work’ part. Once you get past the anxiety and stuff, you’ll be just as crazy as I am. Heaven forbid,” Catherine said.

  But Lacy’s words echoed in her mind. Was she right? She had snuck into a stranger’s house, eavesdropped on conversations and been interrogated in the last week.

  Beth’s death had sent her into a spiral of some kind.

  “Who’s that?” Lacy asked, and squeaked forward in her seat.

  A lone figure emerged from the massive, white front door.

  Catherine leaned forward in her seat and squinted. “That’s either Kevin Walters or Joseph, his father.”

  “What’s he doing?” Lacy asked.

  “Now, who’s got the investigating bug?” Cat said, and grinned.

  The Walters man traipsed down the front stairs, then hurried to an Audi convertible parked in the driveway. The lights flashed once, and he disappeared into the leather interior.

  “Oh boy, something’s happening, isn’t it?” Lacy asked, and grabbed her paper bag.

  The car started, and Walters reversed out of the drive. He didn’t indicate, but turned sharply, then sped off down the road.

  “Follow that car!” Lacy yelled.

  “That’s the spirit.” Catherine started the engine, then roared after the Audi. Her Kia couldn’t keep up, but a series of lucky turns – led by intuition – took them to the…

  “Pier,” Lacy gasped, into the paper bag. She lowered it and scrunched it up. “A Walters at the pier. What is going on?”

  Cat turned off the lights and sank low in her seat. She couldn’t call Detective Bradshaw about this – he’d laugh in her ear. People could go where they wanted, no matter the time of night.

  “Keep your eyes open,” Catherine whispered, then rolled down her window.

  Muffled conversations drifted toward them. The crash of waves drowned out the words, but two men stood on the end of the pier.

  “It’s done,” a man shouted. “What do you want from me?”

  Walters answered, something indistinct, then turned and strode back down the pier.

  “He’s coming back,” Lace said.

  “Duck!”

  The women sank lower and ducked toward the gear stick. They knocked heads, and groaned, but didn’t sit up.

  The Audi started up a second later, then roared off down the road. Catherine counted to five, then sat up. “They’re gone,” she said. “Both of them are gone.”

  “Okay,” Lacy said, “I believe you, now. The Walters family are definitely up to something.”

  “And I intend on finding out exactly what that is,” Cat replied. “But first, I gotta get home and feed Oreo. He’s already super irritated I didn’t do my dance lesson this weekend.”

  “Yeah, and there’s work tomorrow,” Lacy said, then yawned. “I couldn’t be more tired.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Cat said. “And Lace, thanks for coming with me on this one. I know it’s strange for you.”

  Lacy’s eyes glinted by the light of the gibbous moon, which hovered above the waves. “I don’t know. I think it was kinda fun.”

  Chapter 15

  Lacy stood in front of the coffee machine, her hands on her hips. “You,” she said, “Are my Everest.”

  The line of customers in Cat’s Cookies stretched to the front door, again. People filled the hardwood tables, chomping down cookies, dipping them in cups of tea or sipping store bought bottled soda.

  Smiles everywhere. Except for the guy at the front of the line. His smile had vanished at the sight of Lacy’s ongoing coffee war.

  “I’m sorry,” Cat said, “our coffee machine is currently out of order. But how about a Cheeky Choc Chip cookie? It’ll quench your thirst for sugar, if not for caffeine.”

  The young man in a suit and tie nodded once. “Fine,” he said, then smoothed his burgundy tie. “I’ll just go down to Starbucks for the coffee.” He paid, then swept his brown paper bag out the door.

  Catherine beckoned to Lacy. “Just put the out of order sign up, Lace. There’s no point. We’ll have to get it fixed, soon.”

  “You can say that again, murderer,” a man said, from the other side of the counter.

  Catherine’s expression solidified. She kept that customer-friendly smile in place and turned on the spot. “Well, hello there, Kevin. How may I help you today?”

  Rachel appeared beside her brother, and shot Cat a quick smile, then swapped it out for a sullen pout.

  “My sister insisted we come taste your cookies. She says they’re the best,” Kevin replied, then eyed the array of treats beneath the glass. “I don’t trust you haven’t put arsenic in them.”

  “Has anyone ever told you,” Lacy said, “that you talk like Gomez Addams from the Addams family?”

  Rachel sniggered behind her hand. Kevin gave his sister a look that could’ve withered a full pot of flowers in bloom.

  Catherine struggled to keep a grin from her lips. “Wh
at would you like?”

  The line in the store had extended. People queued outside, now, and tapped away on their phones, hands up to shield their eyes from the sun’s sharp, morning rays.

  “May we have a box of Cheeky Choc Chips, please?” Rach asked. Black makeup smeared at the corner of her lips.

  “Of course,” Cat replied, then took out one of the foldable cardboard boxes. She constructed it, then took the tongs and delivered the delicious treats into their new home.

  Kevin looked around the store’s interior, his lips turned downward. “So, this is what a murderer does when they’re not murdering.”

  Events triggered in Cat’s mind. Chess pieces on a board moved and placed. “It was you. It wasn’t your father on the pier last night,” Cat said, “It was you.”

  “What did you say?” Kevin asked, then cleared his throat. He tried to back off, but it was too late. He’d already gone pale as vanilla frosting on a choc nut cookie.

  “You murdered Beth,” Catherine said. He’d tried to accuse her to cover his tracks. He’d been absent at the memorial service. Had met with a strange person on the pier. He’d probably heard that his family had money issues, and he’d wanted to help.

  It had to be him.

  Catherine’s stomach turned. “I’m going to call the cops.”

  “Cat, wait,” Rachel said and darted around the counter. She clamped her hand on Cat’s arm, then squeezed. “Wait a second.”

  “No, he did it. I’m sure.” Or was she? Had the pressure to figure it out finally bubbled over, and this was the result? Catherine placed the box of cookies on top of the counter.

  “It wasn’t my brother,” Rachel said.

  “How do you know? How can you possibly be so sure?” Cat asked. He could’ve done it. He might’ve thought that Beth hadn’t changed the will and that killing her would allow him to head off to college again.

  “Because he was at home that morning,” Rachel replied. “We all were.”

  Lacy stepped in front of the register and took charge. Rachel led Catherine back toward the stairs in the corner.

  “What? How?” Cat asked, then blinked at the young woman. “How do you know that?”