“And I was taught by my grandparents, and my first chief at the fire station.”
“We’ll have a cook-off then. Best man or woman wins.”
“You’re on. I think it should take place here. The kitchen at the caretaker’s cottage is lacking.”
They both stood.
Liz’s mind switched back to Regina’s murder. “Wait, before you go, I want to give you something.”
She left him and stepped into the hallway, then inside her office and printed out another copy of the notes she’d taken about the murder. When she walked back into the room, he was standing at the door, towel and all.
“Don’t you want your clothes?”
“I’ll get them later. I’m sure they’re still wet. Or they will be again, once I step outside.”
“Here are the notes I’ve taken so far,” she said, then handed them over.
He looked perplexed on where to stow them.
Liz laughed. “Let me get you a Ziploc bag.”
She walked to the kitchen, got a bag, and brought it back.
Ryan folded the pages in half, put them inside the plastic bag, then sealed it. “Did I inspire you to write everything down?”
“No. Research is my forte. I had to do a lot of it for my novel.”
“Let the Wind Roar,” he said as he opened the French doors and reached down to pick up his sandals. “I just read it. Good book.” Then he walked out, into the storm.
Chapter 26
After Ryan left, Liz phoned Betty and told her that he was on the case. Betty had placed a call to the makeup and hairstyle artists who had come to the Indialantic to get Regina ready for the Treasure Coast Ball, but hadn’t learned anything helpful to their investigation. Liz had forgotten about them. She also told Liz that she’d compared the photo of the note tied to the rock against Iris’s handwriting on the shopping list in the kitchen, and she didn’t think they were written by the same person. At the end of the conversation, Betty asked if she could get copies of the canceled rent checks for the emporium shops. Another great idea. Liz had access to the Indialantic’s online banking account.
Because of the weather, Liz decided to take Betty’s baby-blue Caddy over to the emporium. She hadn’t needed a car in Manhattan, and barely needed one now, but in this monsoon of a morning, walking and golf-carting were definitely out of the question. Driving the half mile to the emporium reminded Liz of being out to sea in her father’s vintage forty-foot Chris-Craft motorboat, Serendipity, moored at the Indialantic’s dock. Earlier, Liz had received a text from her father that said he would be out on a case until late afternoon. She’d texted back, Good luck. Don’t text and drive!
Liz parked in the emporium’s lot, noticing that the only cars there were Kate’s hippie van and Minna’s BMW. She decided against an umbrella; in this wind she might end up like Mary Poppins, floating into the air. She got out of the car and ran toward the emporium doors. Rogue palm fronds flew at her from every direction, scratching at her bare legs. She wrestled with one of the doors and finally tugged it open, then flew inside with the next big gust of wind and rain.
Kate was standing in the entryway, watering a potted palm. She helped Liz push the massive door closed. “Look what the cat dragged in,” Kate said. “The cat!”
Liz looked down and Bronte rubbed against her ankle.
“You have a friend for life. When are you taking her home?”
“I thought she belonged to the emporium! Your only chance to have the kitten you’ve always wanted?”
“Well, if you took her to the beach house, I could visit. I’m afraid Brittany will do away with her, or at least leave a door open purposely so she gets out. That meanie found a single strand of Bronte’s hair on her black pants and went ballistic.”
“I thought you said Bronte hides all the time.”
“She does. She loves lying on top of the books in my bookcases. If it wasn’t for the white tip at the end of her tail, I don’t think I’d ever find her. She never comes out when there are customers. However, who knows what she does at night when no one’s around.”
Liz took off her rain slicker and laid it on the bench under the window, then picked up Bronte. The kitten looked up and Liz almost melted onto the plank wood floor. “Stop being so adorable, Kitty.” Liz could barely take care of herself, let alone a pet. “I’ll think about it.” She put Bronte down and the kitten scurried away, but not before turning back and giving Liz a green-eyed, soulful look.
The lights flickered and Liz held her breath until she remembered that, like the hotel, the emporium had an emergency generator installed by Aunt Amelia to protect Deli-casies by the Sea’s perishable food.
Kate put the watering can on the floor and sat on the bench. “Come. Sit a spell. I want to know what happened when you talked to Iris’s mother. We couldn’t chat because of Aunt Amelia.”
“Sorry, last night was crazy and so was this morning.” Liz filled her in on Greta Kimball and told her about Ryan’s morning visit.
Kate said, “There haven’t been any customers. Only one person came in, the lucky winner of one of the raffles at Home Arts by the Sea. She was very inquisitive about Regina Harrington-Worth’s murder. Francie didn’t come in today. Minna said she’s not feeling well. She’s been in bed since Saturday night.”
“Do you know what’s wrong?”
“A stomach bug, Minna thinks.”
The lights were on in Brittany’s shop, but she wasn’t inside. She had a new sign posted by the entrance: By Chance or Appointment.
Kate noticed Liz looking at the sign. “I know. Isn’t it obnoxious? It doesn’t look good if one shop is closed for business when the other three are open.”
“I’m going to tattle to Aunt Amelia, although my sunny great-aunt has a hard time when it comes to business confrontations,
