Panic at the Pier Read online

  “Pleasure to meet you, Sarah,” Marigold said, putting a hand out to shake Sarah’s.

  Sarah shook her hand. “The pleasure’s mine. I think we’ve met before…”

  “Perhaps you’ve stopped into my wine shop? Or seen me around town?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I love Dunham Vineyards’ wine.”

  Marigold beamed. “Thank you, kindly.”

  “How are things going with the vineyard?” Emma asked, picking up her fork and puncturing through the soft, crisp banana bread as her knife slid down through the ice cream like butter. She cut a big piece and shoveled it into her mouth, looking ready to devour the entire dessert in seconds.

  Marigold took another sip of her tea and smiled, though Sarah could tell the smile was plastic. What history did these two have?

  “Going well, thanks for asking.”

  “I heard you had a soil issue,” Emma said, looking up to catch Marigold’s reaction. “What was it? Contamination?” Emma cocked her head to the side, waiting for an answer.

  Marigold cleared her throat and let out a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. Sarah could tell she was trying to remain calm. Obviously, something was going on at the vineyard and Emma had struck a nerve.

  Sarah eyed Emma, giving her a look that telegraphed, “Be nice.” Then Sarah turned to Marigold. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on by the pier?”

  “You two haven’t heard about John Jacobs?” Marigold asked.

  Emma looked back at Marigold. “No, what’s going on with Old Man Jacobs?”

  “Well, apparently, he had a bit of an accident.”

  “Accident? What happened?”

  Marigold took another sip of her tea, looking a bit uneasy. “Well,” she said, dabbing one side of her mouth with her napkin, then the other.

  Sarah leaned forward in her chair.

  Marigold stared down at her tea. “To put it bluntly, Mr. Jacobs drowned.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “Drowned?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Marigold said, lips pursed.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Listen, I should be going,” Marigold said, lifting her napkin, this time to her eyes. Sarah could see they were now puffy, slightly red. “I have an appointment, and I don’t wish to be late.”

  Marigold rose from her chair, leaving her empty tea cup for Danny to retrieve.

  “Good day, ladies,” Marigold said, sweeping past them, almost running into a handsome, uniformed man.

  “Hi, ma’am,” the officer said to Marigold.

  “Hello there, Adam,” she said, then stepped away, going through the main tea room.

  Sarah watched the officer approach them, and he smiled in recognition. Adam Dunkin. He was carrying a plate with a couple of Patricia’s famous mini lemon meringue tarts, and he set it down on one of the adjacent tables. He stepped toward them. “Well, if it isn’t Sarah Shores.”

  “Hey, Adam,” Sarah said, rising from her seat. She hugged the man, feeling his muscular body during their brief embrace.

  He tipped his hat at Emma. “You didn’t say Sarah was coming to town this soon.”

  “We didn’t have any snow days this year,” Sarah said. She saw the man smiling fondly at her, the same smile that had adorned that face the first time she ever saw it. He was just a summer-time companion, back then. Someone who tagged along on her and Emma’s escapades, helping them cause trouble around town. Now, he was the one nipping trouble in the bud.

  “Still teaching?” Adam asked.

  “Yeah, fifth year.”

  “Like it?”

  Sarah shrugged. “It’s a job. The kids can be a bit much.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess sometimes I feel more like a case worker.”

  Sarah heard a man yell behind her, off in the direction of the pier. Another man called back, his words garbled by the growing winds. Sarah turned around, but the men were too far away for her to see any recognizable features.

  She turned back to Adam and asked, “What’s going on over there?”

  “They’re looking into a recent drowning.”

  Sarah’s body tensed. “Was it…uh, Mr. Jacobs?”

  Adam nodded. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  Emma said, “You know how gossip flocks around here.”

  Adam looked at Emma for a moment, then turned his attention back to Sarah. “Well, it isn’t just gossip this time. Some fishermen reported it this morning. We think it happened sometime last night.”

  “How did he drown?”

  Adam looked over at the pier. His colleagues were clearly out of earshot, but Sarah could tell he was apprehensive about giving her any information about what had happened.

  “Sorry,” she said, feeling her face flush at the error.

  Adam flashed her a smile, eyes set on hers. He lowered his voice and said, “Don’t be sorry. All I can say now is that it’s looking like an accidental drowning.”

  “Oh.”

  A two-way radio clipped to Adam’s belt squawked, though Sarah couldn’t make out any of what was said.

  “Oh, I’m being summoned, apparently. No such thing as a break,” Adam said, grabbing his plate and taking a bite of the delicate pastry. Sarah mused at the idea of such a strong man eating such a dainty dessert. But how could he not? Patricia’s desserts were magical.

  “Nice to see you,” Sarah said.

  “You, as well. How long will you be in town?”

  “Two weeks,” Sarah said. “We’ll have to play catch-up.”

  “You’ll be at Larry’s shop later, I assume?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Okay,” Adam said. “I’ll stop by later.”

  They said their goodbyes, and she watched Adam take another large bite out of the pastry, stepping back into the tea shop. She saw him return his plate to Danny, and head through to the street, where his police cruiser was likely parked.

  Sarah and Emma finished their food and drinks and chatted about subjects not related to accidental drownings, but Sarah couldn’t shake the thought of it.

  After they finished up at Patricia’s Tea Room, they said their goodbyes to Danny and headed back to their grandfather’s boutique.

  Side by side, they walked in silence. Normally, Emma was as chatty as a wren—something was nagging at her cousin.

  “Everything okay?” Sarah asked.

  “Yeah.”

  They reached their grandfather’s shop and entered. Inside, Larry looked frazzled as Rugby galloped around the cat, almost knocking over the display of nicely organized bandanas and then almost knocking over a glass jar of tags. Larry rushed over and caught it before it tipped over. “Rugby!”

  Sarah sighed and grabbed Rugby. “Hey, boy. Calm down.”

  Rugby sat next to Sarah’s feet and panted, looking up at everyone.

  “I’m sorry, Grandpa. Is Rugby too much for you?” Sarah asked.

  “Of course not,” Larry said, adjusting the bandana display. Sarah could tell when her grandfather was feigning enthusiasm, and this was one of those moments.

  Sarah stepped toward the counter and spotted Rugby’s leash. “He’s been cooped up in the car for a long time, now acting like a bull in a china shop here.”

  “Good thing we don’t have porcelain tea sets here,” Larry said, raking his thin fingers through his hair. He gave Sarah a smile and peered around, as if looking to see if Rugby had knocked anything else over.

  Her mind drifted back to tea sets, and she thought of her conversations back at Patricia’s Tea Room.

  Sarah regarded her grandfather. “Say, did you hear what happened to Mr. Jacobs?”

  “No, what happened?”

  “He drowned…” Emma started.

  Larry looked crestfallen upon hearing the news.

  Emma continued, “…which is really strange.”

  “I’ll say,” Larry said.

  “What?” Sarah asked. “What’s so strange about Mr. Jacobs
drowning? We have accidental drownings here at the Cove. It’s unfortunate, but it happens…”

  “I thought everyone knew about the running joke about John Jacobs,” Larry said.

  “C’mon,” Sarah said in a huff. “Out with it.”

  “About how odd it is he lives so close to the ocean,” Larry said.

  “He never goes out to the pier,” Emma said. “You don’t remember?”

  Just then, Sarah remembered what everyone in Cascade Cove already knew.

  “That’s right,” she said. “Mr. Jacobs is deathly afraid of the water.”

  Chapter 3

  “That’s exactly right,” Larry said, looking more serious than Sarah had seen him in a long time. “Jacobs is never seen close to the water, not even on the sand. The farthest he goes out is when he’s walking along the boardwalk.”

  Sarah’s brow furrowed. So that was probably the key detail that must’ve been nagging at Emma on their walk back from the tea shop.

  Now, Sarah was filled with the same puzzled thoughts.

  She wondered how on Earth Mr. Jacobs drowned if he never went in the water, much less near it.

  “But wait,” Sarah said, “why would he live in Cascade Cove, especially so close to the ocean, if he’s that afraid of the water?”

  “It’s his home,” Larry said. “His family has roots that run deep here, and he has told me numerous times how he loves the smell of salt water.”

  Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “So, do you think…” Sarah started.

  “Maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Emma chimed in.

  “Always jumping to conclusions,” Larry said, shaking his head. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for how a man who was afraid of water ended up in the water.”

  “Yeah, someone put him there,” Emma said.

  “Then who?” Larry said, challenging her.

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Sarah took a deep breath and grabbed Rugby’s leash. “Grandpa’s right, there’s probably a good explanation. There usually is.”

  The sound of the collar and leash swinging in her hand was all it took for Rugby to come rushing toward her. Off in the distance, Misty purred, probably settled in one of her secret sleeping spots on a top shelf somewhere in the boutique.

  “I don’t buy it,” Emma said, crossing her arms. Her face was scrunched up in a scowl. “So, you think a man who was deathly afraid of the water decided one day, ‘You know what, I feel like going for a dip’?”

  “There’s got to be a logical explanation. That’s all I’m saying,” Larry said.

  “I’m going to take Rugby,” Sarah cut in. “Anyone want to go along?”

  “We’re still open,” Larry said, “so count me out.”

  Emma shook her head, still looking perturbed. “I need to finish up in the office. Orders need to go out today, so we get fully stocked for when the floodgates open and the tourists flock in.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said, putting Rugby’s collar on him.

  “Is your car open?” Larry asked.

  “Why?”

  “Figured I could get your luggage upstairs before the rain hits.”

  “Thanks, but I can do it quick. Is your apartment unlocked?” she asked, fishing her keys out of her pocket. “Stay here, Rugby.”

  “Should be,” Larry said. “And you brought the shirts, right?”

  “Sweaters, yeah. A whole box of them,” Sarah said, smiling. Her homemade knitted dog sweaters were always a hit with the tourists, especially those who lived in the northern states. Though some were lightweight enough for a cool summer evening, most were ideal for keeping a dog warm during the winter months in other regions.

  “Great,” Larry said. “Bring them in here so I can make sure they’re on display; prominently, of course.”

  “Will do.”

  Rugby let out a groan of disappointment as Sarah rushed out the door.

  Out at her car, she grabbed her things, and took them up the stairs to her Grandpa’s apartment above the boutique.

  She let herself into his apartment. The smell of a mid-day meal lingered in the air, though the kitchen showed no signs of any mess left behind. Larry was quite the efficient chef, able to simultaneously cook and clean up. His cooking was equally as impressive as his wife’s brownies, and Sarah let out a sigh at the fact that she might miss seeing her globetrotting grandmother during her visit.

  Putting her things down in one corner of the carpeted living room, she spotted pictures on the wall. She went up to the pictures and smiled. There, she saw her grandma and grandpa flanking her and Emma when they were just kids.

  “Good times,” she said, studying the picture. That was the summer she’d first met Adam, she remembered.

  Sarah stepped out of the apartment. She’d have to spend some time looking over old pictures later, and made a mental note to ask her grandpa about any old photo albums or scrapbooks they had lying around—her grandma was famous for her scrapbooks, so there was bound to be one somewhere.

  She made her way down the steps and back out to her car to grab the dog sweaters from her trunk. She carried the medium-sized box into the store and placed it behind the counter.

  Rugby was waiting patiently by Larry’s side as he stocked a shelf, using his prized Garvey price gun to put neon green, rectangular stickers on fresh stock. “I’m excited to see what kind of dog-shirt designs you have this year,” Larry said. “I’ll take some pictures to put them on the web site.”

  “How are mail-order sales going?”

  “Better than off-season sales in the store,” Larry said, finishing up stocking a shelf. “Emma is working on updating our website so we can do sales online. Says it will be easier.” He turned and pointed at Sarah, holding the price gun in the other hand. “I have some money for you.”

  “I told you to keep it.”

  Larry waved dismissively at her. “No, no,” he said. “You’ve got to get paid for your work.”

  “But I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Larry smiled. “I appreciate that, Sarah, but your grandma and I are fine.”

  “But—”

  “Besides,” Larry cut in, “fair is fair. I’ll cut you a check later.”

  “Okay,” she said, not wanting to argue with her grandfather further. The truth was, she knitted the sweaters for fun while watching TV at night, so in her mind, her only cost was materials. She would have rather let her grandparents keep the money, if only to help keep their boutique up and running.

  “You better hurry up and go for your walk before the rains come.”

  “Right.”

  Sarah grabbed Rugby’s leash, and he looked up, hopeful.

  “Let’s go, boy,” she said, and they strode out of the shop together, plenty of slack in the leash, as usual.

  Outside, the wind grew stronger. Sarah knew the walk would be brief as a result of the incoming storm.

  She hurried past Patricia’s Tea Room and up along the main road of Cascade Cove. On her left, she saw the bowling alley, closed for the season. She spotted the ice cream shop, a favorite hangout for the locals. Through the windows, she noticed a couple of employees cleaning up, getting ready to close for the evening.

  Rugby still walking in lockstep with her, Sarah saw the bakery.

  “Want to go into Fudderman’s, boy?” There were never enough baked goods in Cascade Cove with the tourists flooding all of the stores during the summertime. And each bakery had their own special item that was a hit. Fudderman’s was his cakes and chocolates.

  Rugby galloped toward the large glass doors of the lit-up bakery, an indication that he was more than eager to see Henry Fudderman.

  Through the door they went, and a man behind the counter beamed a smile through his white beard.

  “Miss Sarah!”

  “Hey there, Mr. Fudderman.”

  “Oh, please…call me Henry.”

  Henry Fudderman was around Larry’s age, his hair now white as a fresh
blanket of snow. Whatever part of his face one could see above his beard was flushed red; she would understand if someone mistook him for Kris Kringle. His voice boomed, echoing inside the quaint bakery. Looking around, she saw that none of the tables were occupied.

  “Yeah, been slow so far,” Henry said, noticing her looking around at the vacant seating area.

  “It’ll pick up,” she said.

  “Oh, let me get something for your furry friend.” Henry ducked down behind the counter, and in a flash, was back up holding a treat in his hand. “I bet he’s never had anything as scrumptious as this.”

  Henry squeezed between an opening in the counter and handed Rugby the treat. Rugby gobbled up the treat in one fell swoop and Sarah giggled.

  “Not the first time,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s right. Your Grandpa Larry probably gave him one already. Sorry, I should have asked.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “So, did you want one of my famous Fudder Cream Donuts? Or perhaps a Cascade Cruller?”

  “Is the first one like a Boston Cream?”

  “Better.”

  “I’ll take one of those.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Hmm,” Sarah said, eyeing the menu, written behind the old man in different colored chalks. “What’s that Boardwalk Fudge Cake all about?”

  “Ah, yes. The Boardwalk Fudge Cake. It’s a six-inch, four-layer chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousse and cubes of homemade chocolate fudge. It’s finished with even more chocolate mousse, and as you can see,” Henry said, pointing to a delicious-looking cake in the main display case, “it’s topped with even more chocolate cubes.”

  Sarah gazed at the marvel, noting the chocolate drip down along the side of the cake. She looked around at the other cakes on display, unsure of which to choose.

  “I think I’ll go with the Boardwalk Fudge Cake.”

  “A surprise for your grandpa?”

  “Yeah, Grandma’s out of town, so…”

  “Off on another trip, is she?”

  “Yeah. Cruising around the world.”

  With plastic-gloved hands, Henry put her desired cake in a fancy box and then into an equally fancy bag. Then he got one of the Fudder Cream Donuts and asked, “Did you want to eat this one here, or should I wrap it up to go?”