Chapter 19 Holt
HOLT
The morning sun was just breaking over the horizon when Holt arrived at Teacups to meet Tom. He found the police chief already there, standing outside the coffee shop with Margo, who was unlocking the front door.
“You’re back to work already?” Tom asked Margo, genuine concern evident in his voice. “Does your mother know you’re here?”
Margo laughed, though Holt could hear the strain beneath her cheerful tone.
“She doesn’t have much choice in the matter.
After my baker got hurt in that fall, we found a dead rat in the kitchen, which, for some reason, chased away more of my waitresses.
I’m now really short-staffed, so I can’t be taking time off for a minor burn. ”
Holt’s eyebrows shot up immediately. “You didn’t mention finding a rat yesterday. Did you tell Tom about that, or any other incidents?”
“No, I didn’t think it was relevant,” Margo said, shaking her head as she pushed open the door and led them inside.
“I called pest control right away, and they said it probably came in from outside. It was just a one-off. They didn’t find any others.
The exterminator did put down traps as a precaution. ”
“And you haven’t found any other rats since then?” Holt pressed.
“No,” Margo replied, frowning as she flipped on the lights and moved toward the counter. “I check the traps every day, and they’re always empty.”
Holt knew his next question would sound strange, but they needed to establish all the facts. “Do you know what the rat died from?”
Margo’s eyes filled with amusement despite the serious conversation. “No, I have no idea. My mother doesn’t mind working on animals when Aunt Lacey’s out of town, but that’s mostly domestic pets. Rats definitely don’t fall into her area of expertise,” she teased.
Holt grinned despite himself. “I know how it sounds, but have any of your customers gotten sick recently? Food poisoning, stomach issues, anything like that?”
“No, nothing like that,” Margo assured him.
“But three of my waitresses quit right after the rat incident. I only have Nurse Martinez now.” She pointed up.
“She lives in the apartment upstairs and helps out when she can. Her fiance, Dr. Reeves, also pitches in when he’s not on shift at the clinic or too exhausted after a long day.
” She moved to get the shop ready for her customers. “He lives in the other flat upstairs.”
“So right now it’s just you running the place?” Holt asked.
“Me and my chef, Tina, who also handles all the baking now,” Margo explained. “She’s actually much better at it than my previous baker ever was. I should have just let Tina handle everything from the beginning like she wanted to.”
“Tina Winters?” Holt asked, recognizing the name.
“Yes, that’s right,” Margo nodded. “Her husband Tony helps out here on weekends when we get busy.”
“Do they all have keys to the building?” Tom asked, as his eyes scanned the room.
“They used to,” Margo said, glancing at the front door, and then gave them a tight smile.
“But I changed all the locks yesterday after what happened the other day. I know it sounds paranoid, but I thought, just in case I did lock up and maybe one of my staff had come back and they had forgotten to lock up.” She looked at Holt.
“I haven’t made any spare keys yet. There just hasn’t been any time.
I was planning to get around to it sometime this week, though. ”
“Don’t,” both Holt and Tom said simultaneously.
“Okay,” Margo agreed, though her frown deepened. “What’s going on? You’re both acting like I’m in some kind of danger.”
“We found a key jammed in your lock last night,” Holt told her directly.
“What?” Margo’s eyes widened with alarm.
“When I came back to check on the shop after dropping you and your mother at the clinic,” Tom explained, “I caught someone dressed in black trying to get inside. I chased them, but they managed to get away.”
Holt raised an eyebrow and looked at Tom, who shot him a warning glare. Holt had to hide his smile as he remembered finding Tom flat on his back after slipping on the cooking oil.
“Why didn’t you tell me this when you picked us up from the clinic?” Margo asked Tom.
“I didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily,” Tom replied. “You were still pretty groggy from whatever pain medication your mother had given you.”
A sudden thought hit Holt, and he patted his jacket pockets until he found what he was looking for. The note Willa had given him just before the fire broke out yesterday. The one she’d found on her windshield that morning. With everything that had happened, he’d completely forgotten about it.
Holt unfolded the paper and read the message aloud: “Some things are not meant for you, Captain. Maybe it’s time for you to pack up and leave Sandpiper Shores willingly.
” The ‘willingly’ was highlighted in red.
Well, that wasn’t just a message, it was a threat.
Alarm and that protective feeling he’d developed toward Willa hit him hard once again, and he pushed it aside.
“What is that?” Tom asked immediately.
Holt handed him the note. “This is what Willa found on her windshield yesterday morning.” He turned to Margo. “She mentioned that you also received a note taped to your door.”
“Oh, right,” Margo sighed, walking toward her small office. “I almost forgot about that.”
She returned a moment later with a folded piece of paper, which she handed to Holt. He opened it and read: “Local is always better, at least you know what you’re getting.”
“What do you think this means?” Holt asked, showing her the message.
“I have no idea,” Margo said, looking genuinely puzzled. “I try to buy everything locally whenever possible. All my produce comes from Henderson’s farm, and my coffee beans are roasted right here in town. I don’t understand what point they’re trying to make.”
Holt wasn’t convinced the note was about her purchasing habits, but he handed it to Tom, who added it to a file folder he’d brought along specifically for documenting incidents involving Margo.
“Besides the key jammed in the door and someone trying to break in, did you find anything else unusual?” Margo asked them.
“There was cooking oil spilled on the floor near the stove and around the counter area,” Tom told her. “If the burner had been left on much longer, that oil could have acted as an accelerant for a serious fire.”
“What?” Margo gasped, her face paling. “But I cleaned up before I left the first time yesterday. I’m always careful about keeping the cooking area spotless.”
“Is there another entrance to the building besides the front door?” Holt asked. “Any way someone could have gotten inside without using the main entry?”
“There’s a delivery door in the back,” Margo replied, “but it has a deadbolt and a security chain. The basement has a small window, but it’s too narrow for an adult to fit through. And there’s the internal staircase that connects to the upstairs apartments, but that’s locked from both sides.”
Holt made notes as she spoke. “What about the building next door? Any shared walls or connected spaces?”
“No, these are all separate structures,” Margo said. “The inn is about fifty feet away, and there’s a small garden area between us and the hardware store on the other side.”
Tom and Holt exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing.
Whoever this was, who was targeting Margo, had either found a way inside that wasn’t obvious, had inside help, or had their own key.
Holt made a mental note to get the key they found jammed into Margo’s door the previous night fingerprinted.
“We need to get someone down here to fingerprint the front door,” Holt told Tom, who nodded in agreement.
He was quiet for a moment before catching Margo’s attention. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Tom said decisively. “Holt and I are going to take turns helping you lock up each night and we’ll check the building before you leave. No arguments.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to cause problems for either of you,” Margo protested. “You both have your own responsibilities, and I can’t ask you to babysit my coffee shop.”
“You’re not asking,” Holt said firmly. “We’re insisting. And I’m going to install a better security system for you this evening after you close. Motion sensors, better locks, maybe a camera or two.”
“That’s really not necessary—” Margo began.
“It absolutely is necessary,” Tom interrupted. “These incidents are escalating, and we’re not taking any chances with your safety.” His eyes fell on her burnt arm. “Next time, things could be a lot worse.”
Margo looked between them, clearly recognizing that further argument would be futile. “Thank you both. I really do appreciate everything you’re doing.”
As they walked back to their vehicles, Holt noticed Tom’s worried expression. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That we’re dealing with either a copycat who studied the original case from ten years ago very carefully,” Tom said, glancing back at the coffee shop, “or we never got the real arsonist in the first place.”
Holt nodded grimly. “Ten years ago, you had these same kinds of incidents and fires starting exactly like they are now. They targeted Margo, Nigel Frost, who no longer lives here, and Shaun Parker.”
“This is mimicking everything,” Tom agreed.
“From the smaller fires to the first one at the campsite, the one at the farm, and right down to the incidents affecting Willa and Rad.” He gestured toward his bandaged head.
“That shelf that hit me was definitely sabotaged. I could see where someone had loosened the mounting brackets.”
“So either we’re dealing with a copycat who knows every detail of the original case,” Holt stated, “or Gilbert Fry wasn’t the arsonist but another victim.”
“And the real arsonist is back to finish whatever they started,” Tom muttered darkly.
Later that afternoon, Holt was back in his temporary office at the police station, surrounded by files from both the recent incidents and the decade-old case.
He’d been cross-referencing patterns, timelines, and personnel records, looking for any detail that might have been overlooked in the original investigation.
The sound of raised voices from the front of the building interrupted his concentration, and he recognized a familiar female voice, which made him pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“I want to see my husband,” the voice demanded imperiously.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morrison, but Chief Morrison isn’t here,” came the patient reply from the desk officer. “Please, you can’t go back there, and I really shouldn’t leave the front desk unattended.”
“Then go back to it,” Victoria Morrison replied coldly. “I’ll wait in my husband’s office for him.”
Holt sighed heavily. This was exactly what he didn’t need right now. But he knew the young officer wouldn’t be able to handle Victoria’s force of personality, and there were only three people in the station at the moment.
He got up from his desk and walked to his office doorway. “Don’t you mean your ex-husband, Victoria?” he drawled.
Her head snapped around immediately, and her eyes lit up with obvious delight. “Holt! How wonderful to see you.”
Before Holt could react or step back, Victoria launched herself into his arms. He caught her reflexively to keep them both from falling backward, and she immediately pressed her lips against his in what was clearly intended to be a passionate kiss.
Holt was so startled by the unexpected assault that he froze for several seconds before his brain caught up with the situation. He pushed her away firmly, creating distance between them.
Before he could say anything in response to her outrageous behavior, Victoria gushed breathlessly, “It’s so good to see you again, Holt.
You look absolutely wonderful.” She battered her false eyelashes, making him suppress a shudder as he suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a predator.
“We must have dinner together soon. I insist that you come to my house and I’ll get my new French chef to make us a delicious meal so we can catch up. ”
Holt suppressed another shudder at the thought of spending an evening alone with Victoria.
There was no denying she was beautiful and still stunning even at her age, but she was not his type.
Holt had already managed to escape one Victoria-type woman, and he had no desire to get involved with another.
“Director Dillinger?” a young voice called from behind Victoria.
Holt tilted his head to see two teenage girls staring at them with wide eyes. It was Becky Parker, June’s granddaughter, with Zoe Peltz, Lacey’s granddaughter and Becky’s best friend.
“Hello, Zoe,” Holt replied, stepping around Victoria and moving toward the girls. “Hello, Becky. What brings you young ladies here today?”
Zoe held up a large wicker basket filled with fresh fruit, nuts, wine, and chocolates. “My grandmother asked me to bring this for you,” she said politely.
“And this one is for Chief Morrison,” Becky added, indicating the similar basket she was carrying.
“It’s to thank you both for helping Margo last night,” Zoe explained. “Grandmother heard about what happened and wanted to show her appreciation for helping Margo and Aunt Lucy.”
“Why, thank you very much,” Holt said warmly, accepting the basket. “I’ll make sure Chief Morrison gets his when he returns.”
“Thank you, Director Dillinger,” both girls said in unison, though their eyes kept darting between him and Victoria with obvious curiosity.
“Hello, Mrs. Morrison,” they added politely.
“Don’t you girls have somewhere else you need to be?” Victoria said dismissively, making a shooing motion with her hands as if they were stray animals.
The girls nodded quickly and hurried toward the exit, clearly uncomfortable with Victoria’s rude behavior.
As they disappeared through the front doors, Holt became acutely aware that every person in the police station was staring at him. Officers, civilian staff, and even a couple of people who were there to file reports. All eyes were focused on him and the scene Victoria had just created.
Great. Just great, Holt thought with an internal sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. By evening, this would be the talk of the entire town, complete with exaggerated details about how FBI Director Holt Dillinger was romantically involved with Police Chief Tom Morrison’s ex-wife.
This was exactly the kind of complication Holt’s summer in Sandpiper Shores didn’t need.