Chapter Thirty-eight
Jill took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze locked on the mist rolling over the water beyond the kitchen window. Across the table, Maggie methodically spread jam over a thick slice of toast, her expression thoughtful.
“We need to talk about Fred Grindle,” Maggie said finally, setting down her knife with a decisive clink.
Jill exhaled through her nose. “You think he’s tied to Bradley?”
Maggie nodded. “I think he was always part of this plan. We just didn’t see him.”
Before Jill could respond, Audrey walked in, looking for coffee. She moved slower than usual, shoulders a little tight, her mouth a fraction too forced in its casual smile. She grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee, her movements overly deliberate.
Jill instantly clocked it. Something was off.
“You’re up early,” Jill noted, watching her carefully.
Audrey took a sip of coffee and reached for a muffin. “Busy day.”
Jill studied her daughter. Something wasn’t right. But Audrey shrugged it off, too easily, and Jill knew better than to push. She let it slide—for now.
She took a final sip of her coffee, then stood. “I’ve got to get to the station.”
Maggie smirked. “Go keep the town safe, Chief.”
Jill smirked and headed out to the car, already reaching for her phone to call Mason.
Her pockets were empty.
She frowned, checked her bag—nothing.
“Dammit.”
She sighed and turned back toward the house, retracing her steps to the kitchen. As she approached the doorway, she heard Maggie’s voice.
“… stopped by The Chowder House this morning to grab fresh muffins, and Isabella was acting strangely.”
Jill froze just outside the room.
“She’s usually a morning person, cheerful, always so chatty,” Maggie continued. “But today? She barely smiled. Kept her head down.”
Audrey hesitated. “She’s probably just tired.”
Maggie wasn’t buying it. “Or maybe something happened between you two.”
Audrey sighed. “It’s nothing, really. She just—well, she asked me if I liked Mason before she made a move. It caught me off guard, that’s all. Made things a little awkward.”
Maggie hummed, tapping her nails against the table. “That’s not it.”
Audrey stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Maggie’s voice softened, carrying just enough for Jill to catch through the doorway. “Something happened yesterday, didn’t it?”
Audrey’s fingers tightened around her coffee mug. “No.”
Maggie just stared at her.
Waiting.
Audrey huffed. “I mean—yes, something happened. But it’s not a big deal.”
Maggie folded her arms. “What kind of something?”
Audrey swallowed, looking down at her muffin as if it could offer an escape. “Isabella and I went for a hike with Flounder …”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
Audrey hesitated again.
Jill leaned in against the doorway, unseen, her pulse quickening.
“And,” Audrey finally muttered, “I was attacked.”
Jill stepped into the room like a storm cloud rolling in.
“What?”
Audrey’s head snapped up, her face going pale.
Maggie sighed. “And here we go.”
Jill’s expression was pure fire. “Someone attacked you?! And you didn’t tell me?!”
Audrey closed her eyes briefly, cursing under her breath.
Jill advanced on her, hands on her hips. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
Audrey set down her coffee mug with a little too much force. “Because, Mom, this is exactly the reaction I was trying to avoid.”
Jill’s nostrils flared. “Someone tried to hurt you. That’s not a reaction to avoid!”
Maggie rubbed her temples. “For the love of God, Jillian, let her speak.”
Jill turned back to Audrey. “Start from the beginning. And don’t leave out a single detail.”
Audrey sighed, knowing there was no way out of this now.
She began to talk.
Jill and Mason stood outside the Barker house, pounding on the door.
Nothing.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Evan Barker leaned against the frame, his red-rimmed eyes and rumpled T-shirt suggested he hadn’t seen a bed before dawn.
Jill eyed him. “Late night?”
Evan yawned, stretching an arm over the door frame. “What can I say? Good whiskey, bad decisions.”
Mason sighed. “Are your parents home?”
Evan snorted. “They’re with the family lawyer.” He sneered. “Your brother.”
Jill’s lips pressed into a firm line. “And what do you think of that?”
“I think they shouldn’t trust a Holbrook.” Evan rubbed his eyes. “But they won’t listen to me. So … you got something to say, or are you just here because you want to admire my handsome face?”
“I need to know where you were yesterday.”
Evan’s laziness vanished. “Why?”
Jill stepped forward. “Because Audrey was attacked.”
“I was hiking. We ran into each other. But you know that already, don’t you? I’m sure she told you. Why don’t you just go ahead and arrest me? You already think I did it.”
Mason tensed beside her. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to intimidate her.”
Evan rolled his shoulders, giving a slow grin. “I intimidate a lot of people, Barney Fife.”
“But trying to push her off a cliff, that’s just next-level crazy,” Mason seethed.
Evan faltered a bit.
As if he hadn’t expected to hear that.
Or perhaps he was just acting surprised.
Jill crossed her arms. “Take your shirt off.”
Evan blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Now, Chief, I had no idea you were into me. I’ve never really had a thing for older women before, but hey, if you try hard enough, I could be convinced to play ball.”
Jill gritted her teeth. “Just do it.”
Evan glanced at Mason. “You too, Deputy? Didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”
Mason’s jaw clenched. “Take off the shirt, or I do it for you.”
Evan grinned. “If you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask.”
Jill was seconds from throwing him through a wall. “Now.”
With a sigh, Evan peeled off his shirt.
No dog bite on the left arm.
Audrey had been very specific about that.
Jill’s stomach sank.
Evan raised an eyebrow. “Satisfied?”
Jill gritted her teeth. “For now.”
The Halibut Cove Inn was a charming white clapboard building with a wide porch that overlooked the harbor.
Inside, the morning crowd had settled in the dining room for breakfast. Fred Grindle sat at a corner table near the bay window, leisurely cutting into a stack of blueberry pancakes.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his early fifties with graying hair, sharp eyes, and an air of self-importance.
His gold watch gleamed under the morning light, and his neatly pressed button-down suggested he was a man who preferred things a certain way—clean, orderly, and entirely under his control.
Jill and Mason stepped inside, the small bell over the door announcing their arrival.
“Chief! Deputy!” A warm voice greeted them.
Penny Campbell, the owner of the inn, bustled over, wiping her hands on her apron.
She was a woman in her late sixties, round-faced, with the kind of energy that could put a caffeinated squirrel to shame.
“You two here for breakfast? Law enforcement eats for free.”
Mason perked up.
“Just here on business, Penny,” Jill said, flashing a polite smile. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Well, at least let me get you a cup of coffee!” Penny insisted, already reaching for a pot.
Mason looked hopeful, but Jill cut in quickly. “We’re good, thanks.”
Penny sighed dramatically. “A crying shame. You’re missing out on my cinnamon rolls. Fresh out of the oven.”
Fred, still chewing a bite of pancake, dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin and sat back in his chair as they approached. “Good morning, officers,” he greeted smoothly. “What can I do for you?”
Jill pulled out a chair across from him but didn’t sit. “I’m Chief Holbrook, this is Deputy Dooley. We have a few questions.”
Fred gestured to his plate. “Do you mind if I finish my breakfast first?”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “That depends. You planning on taking your sweet time?”
Fred chuckled, picking up his coffee cup. “You law enforcement types are always in such a hurry.”
Jill leaned in slightly. “Do you know Chips Hogan or Griffin Mead?”
Fred didn’t even pause to think. “Never heard of them.”
Jill tilted her head. “Strange. You seem to know quite a few people in town.”
Fred set down his cup. “My business brings me to a lot of places, Chief, but I don’t usually concern myself with the affairs of the locals.”
Jill studied him. “And what business is that, exactly?”
Fred wiped his mouth again and smiled. “That would be confidential.”
Mason crossed his arms. “Let me guess—if we want more details, we should talk to your lawyer?”
Fred pointed at him approvingly with his fork. “Now you’re catching on.”
Jill’s patience thinned. “Two people are dead, Grindle.” She didn’t know him well enough to call him by his first name. “And you just happen to show up, getting cozy with Bradley Comstock. That doesn’t strike you as a little … suspicious?”
Fred set down his fork, meeting her gaze without a hint of concern.
“Not in the slightest. As far as I know, Dr. Comstock is a fine, upstanding citizen who is beloved by many people in this town in need of dental care. We just happen to be doing a little business together, which as I said before, is confidential. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Chief.
If you want to know my business, get a warrant. ”
Before Jill could press him further, the front door of the inn swung open.
Melanie Blaisdell breezed in, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, a bright smile on her face.
She wore a fitted sweater and a pencil skirt, her hair perfectly curled, lipstick freshly applied. She walked straight up to Fred and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Morning, handsome,” she purred, running a manicured hand down his arm.
Jill and Mason exchanged a look.
Melanie finally turned to them, grinning. “Chief, Mason. What a surprise!”
Mason’s mouth nearly fell open.
Fred stood up from the table and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Melanie’s taking the morning off to show me around your charming little town.”