Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vance
We ate in silence. The restaurant was too crowded to speak freely about the case, and neither of us seemed to be in the mood for personal chatting.
I’d tried to be angry at her for thinking the kiss was no big deal, but all of that had gone out the window the moment I’d seen her face. Now, I was just angry at how she was treated by her coworkers and for what Sheriff McGrath might have had in mind for her.
I could see the gears shifting in Claire’s head as she thought about the implications of Serena being jealous. I knew personally how difficult it was to find out that someone you looked up to wasn’t the person you thought they were. Claire was in a tough situation, no matter how this played out.
But I was relieved to know that the sheriff had never made a move on her.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t interested though.
The wide eyes and crimson in her cheeks when we talked about it made me think Claire was afraid I was onto something she’d never considered.
That his recruiting her and giving her the special treatment Collins resented might have been because of her looks instead of despite them.
I hoped it wasn’t true, if only because I didn’t want Claire taking that hit to her confidence. She already feared she wasn’t good enough for this job. She didn’t need another reason to believe it.
Maybe we were wrong about Sheriff McGrath. After all, this was all circumstantial—puzzle pieces that could fit together and paint a very bad picture of him or be totally meaningless. Serena’s jealousy could be nothing more than her guilty conscience.
Nothing in my conversation with Sheriff McGrath had indicated that he was lying about his coffee with Katelyn. But he was a politician.
That alone meant he was an excellent liar.
When we left Whiskey Creek, a familiar car down the street caught my eye.
“Hey,” I said, getting Claire’s attention. Her head was down, her eyes focused on the sidewalk, clearly lost in her own thoughts.
She looked up at me. “Yeah?”
“See that green Mustang down the street? It was parked outside today when we left the station. Does that belong to Serena McGrath?”
“Yeah. That’s her car.” She groaned. “And the Beamer she’s parked next to belongs to Leslie Evans.”
Interesting. “Are Serena and Leslie friends?”
“Oh yeah. Leslie, Serena, and Darla Barrington, Judge Barrington’s wife.” She rolled her eyes. “They mostly prance around in fancy clothes, forming committees and making up excuses to throw parties.”
“Are they all as bad as Leslie?”
“Darla is for sure. Maybe even worse. She’s the oldest and kind of the queen bee. I always thought Serena was more down to earth, but she’s definitely become more like them over time.”
I looked toward where they were parked, unable to make out the name on the front door. “What business are they parked in front of? I haven’t been there yet.”
“Huckleberry Bistro and Bakery. Their desserts are amazing, but those three go for the fancy salads, tiny sandwiches, and flavored teas.” Claire rolled her eyes again.
I was glad to see that her attitude was coming back. After the devastation on her face earlier, it was encouraging to see that spark again. “Not your kind of place, huh?”
“The food is delicious,” she admitted. “But I’d rather eat somewhere I can kick back and relax. The bistro wasn’t built for that. It’s the kind of place where you feel like you should sit up straight, cross your ankles, and hold your pinky out when you sip from your teacup.”
“But the desserts are good, huh?”
“The best,” she said begrudgingly.
“Great,” I said, grinning. “Because that’s where we’re headed next.”
Claire wasn’t thrilled with my plan. I knew she didn’t want to face Serena after what I’d told her. But my instincts were leading me toward the bistro, so I asked her to trust me.
She sighed dramatically but agreed.
I pushed the bistro door open and was hit with sensory overload.
Bells tinkled above the door, and strains of classical violin music poured through speakers mounted in the corners.
A multitude of aromas hit. I had the sense that most of them would be pleasant if they weren’t intermingled with the overpowering smell of women’s perfume.
It was immediately clear why the café wasn’t Claire’s favorite place.
She was right about the atmosphere. Even I found myself straightening my posture and feeling like I needed to be mindful not to knock anything over.
The place was overly decorated and everything looked fragile.
Everything also seemed tiny, from the round tables that couldn’t hold four full-sized plates to the straight-backed French chairs that would never allow you to lean back and relax after enjoying your meal.
My mother would love it. But I was with Claire on this one. It wasn’t my kind of place.
But I wasn’t there for the atmosphere. I was there because two people of interest happened to be sitting together at a table with a third woman. Darla Barrington, I guessed, based on what Claire had told me.
There was no sign of the sheriff, which I thought was curious.
Serena’s plans to have lunch with him had apparently changed, and I wanted to know why.
I began trying to think of a pretext to go over to their table, but the moment Leslie saw me, her eyes lit up and she waved me over.
Claire groaned quietly but attempted to put a polite smile on her face as we approached the table.
“Agent Weston! So good to see you again,” Leslie said, beaming. “Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Serena McGrath, wife to our excellent sheriff. And this is Darla Barrington, wife to our honorable judge.”
Serena shook my hand politely before shifting her eyes to Claire. The coldness in her expression was as plain as day. Leslie and Darla ignored Claire altogether, as if she were invisible.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, giving them a charming smile. “We stopped in for some dessert. Since I’ve never been here, I’d love your recommendations.”
Darla—who had the same platinum-blonde hair as the other two, along with obvious work done on her face—leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, you have to try the lemon lavender mille-feuille. It’s divine. ”
“It is delicious,” Leslie agreed. “Although I prefer the peach tart tatin. The caramelized peaches are absolutely luscious. Positively sensual.” She let the word linger on her lips, casting me a meaningful look.
I didn’t have to see Claire to know she would be fighting back an eye roll.
Darla shook her head, fighting a knowing smile, and tactfully brought the subject back to the menu. “Really, you can’t go wrong. Everything here is fabulous. Wildwood may be small right now, but I’d put any of our offerings up against the top vacation destinations.”
“Having been to those places, I think you’ve got something even more charming here,” I said, offering her a charming smile. I meant it, too, although I had to exclude the bistro from my thoughts about the town in general.
“Thank you. We think so too.” She beamed. “That’s just what we were talking about, actually. We’ve formed a sort of unofficial committee, you see, to try to get the word out about our little corner of the world. With the right marketing, I think we could easily grow as big as Jackson Hole or Vale.”
Claire’s voice interjected. “Oh, I sure hope not.”
Darla turned toward her and frowned. “What on earth do you mean? Your family would benefit as much, if not more, from the added tourism dollars than anyone else here in town. And with increased revenue from tourism, we could build additional infrastructure in order to maintain that status year round. You must admit that would be a game changer for your family financially.”
“Yes,” Claire admitted. “But the best part of Wildwood is that it’s still, well, wild. Jackson Hole probably gets a million visitors every year. I mean, can you imagine? Having that many people traipsing through here every year would change Wildwood forever.”
I could hear the passion in her voice. Again, I agreed with her. Wildwood had charmed me so far because it was authentic, small, and personal. Vastly expanding tourism would change that.
“ Three million visitors a year, actually,” Darla corrected with a tight smile. “That’s what’s flowing into Jackson Hole—and providing countless jobs and revenue. Changing Wildwood is the point. Most of us want prosperity and financial security more than we want wild. ”
Darla exchanged a smug glance with Leslie. Serena’s face remained cold.
She definitely had a problem with Claire.
Before Claire could open her mouth again, I interjected, changing the subject.
“I appreciate the dessert recommendations, ladies,” I said. “And I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. But I do wonder if you could help me with one more thing?”
“Of course,” Leslie said, giving me a coy smile. “Anything you need.”
“I’m sure, being as connected as you are, that you’re all aware that we’re working Katelyn Brown’s homicide case. We’re trying to find out if she had connections in town. Have any of you ever seen her here, either as a tourist or visiting anyone?”
I deliberately avoided mentioning Tony, knowing that Leslie would never forgive or trust me if I brought his name into it—and also curious about how she would reply in front of her friends.
She sat back, slightly startled by my request, but Darla spoke first.
“Yes, of course,” Darla said, looking at me like I was stupid.
“Katelyn briefly dated Leslie’s son, Tony, and came to stay with them over Christmas.
We met her at a holiday dinner party at their house.
She was a lovely girl, and Tony was smitten with her.
I was quite heartbroken when we heard the news. ”
Leslie turned white. “Darla, I’m trying to keep Tony’s connection to her under wraps,” she hissed. “Why would you say something like that in public?”
Darla gave her a cold stare. “You had to know that Tony’s connection to her would come out. Frankly, I’m surprised it hadn’t already.”
“It had,” I said. “We were already aware of the relationship.”
“See?” Darla said, lifting a graceful hand. “Agent Weston already knew.”
“I know he knew,” Leslie said, fury in her eyes. “I just don’t want anyone else to know.”
Darla shrugged, looking around. “Leslie, we’re the only customers here, and Marcia is in the back.”
Leslie glanced toward the front, her shoulders sagging in relief when she realized Darla was right.
“I’m sorry for snapping, Darla. But you know Tony’s had a rough time of things.
Everyone was so jealous of him in high school that they made up awful stories, tried to ruin his reputation.
” She threw a sharp glare at Claire. “He’s come so far.
I don’t want people to assume that he…” Her voice broke off in a sob.
Darla patted her hand. “Oh, Leslie, no one thinks that. It’s absolutely unthinkable.
We’re all so proud of Tony.” She looked back at me.
“He’s a good kid. I assure you, he would never have done something like this, no matter what some people may think of him.
I’m certain you’re insightful enough to realize that not every opinion should be taken as gospel truth. ” Her eyes flicked toward Claire.
I gave Darla an understanding smile and nodded, letting her think I was convinced.
But then I turned to Serena, whose physical reaction to the whole conversation I found to be much more interesting than anything Darla was saying.
The moment I’d brought up Katelyn, her back had gone rigid.
She had stared straight ahead the entire time, her face blank.
Her hand gripped her teacup so tightly that her knuckles were white.
“And what about you, Mrs. McGrath?” I asked her. “Did you ever meet Katelyn?”
Her breath caught. Then she shook her head quickly. “No. We were sick the night of the dinner party,” she said, giving Leslie a hesitant look.
“But you knew about her relationship with Tony?” I watched her carefully.
A faint flush crept across her cheeks. She took a careful sip of her tea before answering, avoiding eye contact. “Of course. Leslie told us about her visiting for Christmas. It was a big deal, him bringing a girlfriend home for the first time. She was excited.”
I noticed that, unlike Darla and Leslie, she didn’t say anything to try to convince me that Tony couldn’t be involved.
“A friend, ” Leslie corrected. “I was excited that he was bringing a college friend home.”
“One more question, Mrs. McGrath. Did you ever see Katelyn in town?”
“Why is that important?” she asked faintly.
“Because we think she returned to Wildwood on her own,” I said, leveling with her—curious to watch the reactions at the table. “We suspect she had another connection here. We’re trying to figure out who. So if you saw her in town with anyone, that would be helpful for us.”
Leslie’s head jerked. She cut her eyes to Darla. Darla’s eyes had turned thoughtful as she watched Serena.
Another flush, another sip of tea. This time, Serena’s hand shook slightly as she set her teacup down on the table. “No, I don’t think I did. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, Agent Weston.”
It was a lie.