The Inn at Holiday Bay: Clue in the Clam Kathi Daley (read dune txt) 📖

“She works as a clerk for the town. The job she was hired for is clerical in nature, doing the filing and that sort of thing. But apparently, if rumor can be believed, Vivica is the one who used her access to town records to help Oliver obtain information on his opponents in the last election. Popular opinion is that without that information, a last-minute candidate like Oliver could never have won.” She leaned in a bit. “You know, Dennis Painter is the councilman he beat out. It seems to me that might give Dennis reason to be angry at the man. I’m not sure a lost election is a motive for murder, but maybe. At the very least, I’d look into it.”

The idea that Dennis had killed Oliver over the election didn’t really jive with the manner in which his body was found or with the note that was left in the clam. Of course, Vanessa didn’t know any of that.

I chatted with Vanessa for a while longer and then headed toward the bank. After making a deposit into the account that I used for the inn and my personal account, I took out the cash I’d need for the seafood market and headed toward the cleaners.

“Afternoon, Mr. Manson,” I greeted the owner of the establishment. “I’m picking up my dry cleaning.” I handed him the claim ticket. He checked the number and began to search for my sweaters.

“There sure are a lot of folks in town this week,” I said conversationally.

“We always have a good turnout for Clam Bake week.” He hung my order on the rack and then rang me up. “That stain you wanted me to take a look at came out with no problem.”

I smiled and handed him my credit card. “That’s wonderful news.”

He rang up my order and returned my credit card. I reached for the clothes and had just turned to leave when Mrs. Manson walked through the front door.

“Did you hear about Henry Goodman?” she asked without even pausing to acknowledge my presence.

“No. What’s Henry up to now?” Mr. Manson asked.

“He’s dead,” Mrs. Manson answered.

“Dead?” I asked. “Are you sure?” Perhaps the woman was confusing Henry Goodman with Oliver Halifax.

“I’m sure. I was over at the diner talking to Velma when Buck Owens came in.”

I knew that Buck owned the hardware store.

“Apparently, someone called Buck earlier in the day to complain about an electrical problem in the gazebo in the park,” Mrs. Manson continued. “There’s a music event in the gazebo to kick off Clam Bake week this evening, so Buck offered to go over and take a look. When he got there, he found Henry under a tarp. The man was laying on his side as if he was simply sleeping.”

“Two murders in two days.” Mr. Manson remarked. “Whatever is going on?”

Mrs. Manson wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t either, but I did intend to find out.

The first thing I did was call Colt’s cell, but he didn’t answer. I then called his office but was told by his receptionist that he was out on a call. I figured I’d head over to Velma’s next. If there was gossip afoot, Velma was usually the first one to hear about it. I called Velma, who told me to come on by. I was close to the marina, so I decided to stop there first. I told Velma I’d be by in about twenty minutes.

I loved the flavor and texture of the fresh fish that they sold the same day they were brought in, but entering the market from the outside provided an olfactory experience I wasn’t looking to repeat any more than need be.

“I’m here to pay for the clams and put down the deposit for the fish my inn manager ordered,” I said to the tall, brawny man behind the counter.

“Ah. Yes. You must be Abby.”

I nodded.

“You do understand that by putting in an order for the catch of the day, you are ordering whatever the men bring in, don’t you?”

“I understand. According to Georgia, everything you sell is fresh and delicious, so she was willing to place the order as it is offered.”

“Okay. I’ll ring it up for you. We only accept cash.”

“I brought cash.” I pulled my wallet out of my shoulder bag. “I understand that you’re going to deliver the catch of the day to the inn tomorrow once the fishermen come in, and you see what you have to offer.”

He nodded. “I’ll send my son. He can collect the balance.”

I handed the man the agreed-upon amount of cash, and he went to work providing a handwritten receipt. Once I said my goodbyes, I headed to Velma’s to see what, if anything, she’d heard. Just as I was pulling up in front of the diner, I received a text from Colt letting me know he’d received my message but would be busy with interviews for the next couple of hours. He promised to call me later, which I supposed would have to do.

When I arrived at the diner, a group at a table by the window was just finishing up. Velma offered me iced tea, which I accepted. She indicated that I should grab a booth back in the corner and that she’d join me once she finished up with her customers. I figured that I wasn’t in a hurry, so I did as she suggested, pulling out my cell phone to check my emails while I waited.

There was one from my sister letting me know that a long-time family friend had passed away. It seemed that all the emails from my sister lately had to do with friends or family members who had passed. I supposed Annie wasn’t the sort to send a chatty email unless she had something specific to pass on.