Chapter 55
OCEAN
After the Murder Collective meeting ended, Ocean nipped into the kitchen for the box of leftover chocolates from the previous meeting.
She worried they weren’t getting anywhere with the investigation.
None of the current suspects struck her as particularly suspicious.
At least not more than any random group of rich people.
Jane had buried two husbands, and based her self-worth on getting fancy national awards at World of Goods.
So what? George and Helene owed Frank for turning them into windshield wiper tycoons, and Sunny Wheeler was three kinds of weirdo.
Who cared? The caterer was a no-drama local business, the masseuse was a sensitive new age guy specializing in geriatrics.
Karina disliked CJ, and resented Frank’s donations, but apparently did everything she could to keep him alive.
CJ was Frank’s devoted assistant. And Frank, in his elderly brain fog, had started hoarding cash from ATMs.
To Ocean, that just sounded like people being people.
In Hamilton’s kitchen, she picked through the half-empty See’s Candies box for Miles and Riley.
She wasn’t sure which ones Riley preferred these days, and didn’t want to give her milk chocolate if she only ate dark.
Forget CJ, forget romance. Forget investigations.
Those were the big questions in Ocean’s life. The only ones that really mattered.
By the time she decided to nab the entire box, everyone was gone. Well, other than Lily-Ann, who’d stuck around to help Hamilton clean up—and look at cats on the animal shelter website.
She left the cottage through the kitchen door.
She’d use the chocolates as an excuse to check in with Riley.
She liked to periodically remind her daughter that she had access to a mother who loved her, who’d listen.
However, before she took two steps, she heard Sophie’s voice drift toward her in the darkness.
Talking to CJ, which made her smile. When Lily-Ann had texted earlier, telling everyone to accuse CJ of lying, she hadn’t expected anything from Sophie.
Sophie was too sweet to convincingly convey callous suspicion.
On the other hand, after Ocean listened for a minute, Sophie said, “She sounds selfish.”
She almost laughed. Sometimes she forgot how sharp she was.
The girl could cut when she chose to. She almost backed away to let the private conversation remain private, but …
well, there was too much Mrs. B in her for that.
So instead, she peeked around the side of Hamilton’s cottage and listened until the kitchen door opened a few feet behind her.
She jerked in surprise, and Lily-Ann stepped beside her, a quizzical cast to her face, wondering why she was lurking. So Ocean spoke loudly, as if she’d just stepped outside, too. “I’m taking the leftover See’s candy for the kids!”
“Okay,” Lily-Ann said, and nobody who didn’t know her would’ve heard her amusement.
Ocean continued toward her own cottage, the loose chocolates sliding around inside the box. She felt a little like she was stepping offstage after a scene in one of Sophie’s plays. People popping in and out of the spotlight, eavesdropping and being discovered—and clumsily covering for themselves.
Then a whisper sounded from the hedge outside Sophie’s old cottage: “Oma!”
“Miles?” Ocean said.
“Jesus, Mother,” Riley rage-whispered. “I do not sound like Miles!”
“Sorry, sorry!” she whispered back. “What’re you doing?”
“Shhh!” Riley said, and slipped toward her from the shadows.
She took Ocean’s elbow and frog-marched her across the courtyard to their cottage. Once they were inside, Ocean offered her the See’s. She riffled through them with fingernails painted with Chanel Vamp polish saying, “Yum, gross. Yum, yum, gross.”
“What’s up?” Ocean asked, meaning Why were you lurking in the shadows?
“What is up?” Mrs. B asked, wandering in from the kitchen, holding two oven mitts.
“Well, you’re in the kitchen, for one,” Ocean said, as Riley stepped to the window.
Mrs. B flapped an oven mitt behind herself. “I baked a kugel.”
“Not the sweet kind,” Riley said.
“Yes, the sweet kind!”
“Ugh.”
Miles poked his head out from his bedroom. “I like the sweet kind.”
“Typical,” Riley grumbled, as she watched the courtyard through the window.
Ocean leaned against the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”
“I’m wondering why your oven seems to be working,” Mrs. B said, a note of triumph in her voice. “Even though you keep claiming you need to use mine.”
“It’s finicky,” she lied, exactly like she’d been lying about it being busted so she could cook meals for Mrs. B at her house while pretending Mrs. B was doing her a favor. “But I didn’t mean you, I meant Riley.”
“She’s hoping for a Pax sighting!” Miles mimicked his sister’s voice. “‘Look at those arms…’”
“No, I’m not, dummy,” Riley said, still at the window. “I’m spying on CJ.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s guilty and dating my mother.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mrs. B pursed her lips. “She’s a lovely young woman going through a terrible rough patch.”
“Also, I don’t think we’re dating anymore,” Ocean said.
Riley snorted. “As if you’d know.”
“I mean, we haven’t gone out since the arrest.”
“’Cause you haven’t asked her. She talks to her birds.”
Ocean blinked at her daughter. “What? Am I supposed to—what?”
“I was outside her window and I heard her chatting away. Mouse this, Mona that. I couldn’t make out the words, but I bet she was confessing.”
“To her birds?” Miles said.
“Okay, first,” Ocean told Riley, “stop hiding outside people’s windows. How did you even think of that?”
“Gee, I don’t know. It’s not like I was raised by you and Mrs. B.”
Shame warmed Ocean’s chest and Mrs. B said, “Oh, a hit! A palpable hit!”
“Not helping, Golda.”
“It’s like being raised by wolves,” Miles helpfully explained. “Except with less teeth and more nosing around.”
“And second,” Ocean said, pretending that the previous ten seconds hadn’t happened, “why do you think she was confessing?”
“Just a feeling.” Riley bit into a chocolate. “Her tone of voice, I guess.”
Ocean didn’t know what to believe. “Well, please, please, as a favor to me, stop lurking in bushes.”
“At the very least,” Mrs. B advised Riley, “make sure you have a lie prepared. Like you were looking for the fuse box.”
“You two deserve each other,” Ocean groaned.
Mrs. B beamed. “We do! We all deserve each other! Now! Who’s ready for kugel?”