A Killer Ending

had landscaping that allowed at least a peek into the grounds, Windswept was hidden by a fence and a large hedge to keep the hoi polloi from peeking in on the councilman's private life. I slowed my gait as I came to the house, pausing at the wooden gate and stepping back a bit, trying to glimpse the house. All I could see, though, was the slate roof and the mullioned windows of the top floor. Even if I hadn't seen pictures in the book at the store, it was obvious that the house was huge; it had enough rooms to house an entire village, not just one person. I caught a whiff of fresh-cut grass mingling with the scent of roses and salt air as I cased the hedge, stooping over and trying to look through the dense leaves without looking like a peeping Tom. Thank goodness for Winston, who was moving slowly beside me, sniffing the edge of the path intently, looking for the perfect place to do his business.

As I squinted and tried to see through the leaves, I heard voices from the other side of the greenery.

The first was a man's. "Do you really think the woman who owned the bookstore did him in?"

"No," replied a woman. "I'll bet whoever did it was much closer to home. A lot more people with a lot more reason to bash in his skull than some outsider who just moved to town.”

"Maybe," the man said, but he didn't sound convinced. "What do you think will happen now?"

"I don't know," the woman said ominously, "but I'm going to start looking for another job. I hear Saltaire is looking for maid staff." I looked down at Winston, who had found just the place to water the hedge and was now pulling at the leash, hoping for a chance to chase a sea gull who had landed not far up the path. I shook my head at him and willed him not to bark, but I could already hear the growl starting in his chest. "Shhh!" I whispered, straining to hear the voices beyond the hedge.

"Do you think Josiah killed him?" the man suggested.

"Could be. No love lost between those two."

"I'm glad he wasn’t my brother."

"Me too. You'd think he'd have been nicer to family, wouldn't you? Anyway, it could be Josiah, but I wouldn't rule the girlfriend out. They had a big argument about getting hitched the other night." I perked up my ears even more.

"He wasn't going for it?" the man asked.

"Nope. She told him to go to hell, and good for her. I was dusting the hallway outside the master bedroom when they got into it—I'd just brought them some of that French champagne he likes—so I heard everything. She said if he didn't put a ring on it after all this time, she was going to leave and tell everyone about what he was doing down on Cottage Street."

"What was he doing? What was she talking about, do you think?"

"I don't know, but he didn't like it."

"I'll bet. Did he go after her?" The voices were moving away; I hurried up the shore path further, straining to hear.

"I don't know if he laid a hand on her, but I'll tell you, the tone of his voice made my hair curl. If it wasn't already curly, that is. He said she should remember who she was talking to, and what she had to lose. Real cold like."

"That sounds bad."

"It was. She shut up in a hurry, especially when he said something about a video."

"He always covered his tracks. You don't cross Mr. Parker," the man said in a knowing voice.

"Well, someone did," the woman pointed out. "And I kind of hope they get away with it." Before I could hear more, Winston yanked on the leash and started barking in full cry at the sea gull, who just looked at him placidly. As I scooped him up, the voices drifted away, back toward the house. I bent down and tried to peek through the hedge, curious to identify the speakers, but the dark leaves were too dense; I couldn't see who it was.

Who was the woman they were talking about? I wondered as I put Winston down and let him lead me toward the sea gull, who lazily took wing when Winston was three feet away, leaving him disappointed as always.

I watched the sea gull soaring above, wishing I had its view of Windswept. What exactly had the mystery woman had on Cal Parker?

And had whatever he had on her been enough to make her bash his brains out on the beach behind my shop?

11

I finished walking the shoreline trail, thinking about the conversation I'd heard and checking my Fitbit to see my progress—I had gotten it not long ago and was trying hard to get my steps in and eliminate some of the excess fluffiness that had collected around my waist since the divorce. I'd been so anxious leading up to the mediation that I practically stopped eating, allowing me, for a brief six weeks, to fit into clothes I hadn't worn since my twenties. As soon as things were resolved, however, my body had clamored for all the fudgy goodness it hadn't wanted the previous six months. Before long, between my caramel latte addiction and my brownie-baking habit, all of the pounds that had melted away prior to the big day had returned. And some of them brought friends.

I followed one of the side streets back into town, trying to get a glimpse of Windswept from the front. The fence along the back turned into a wall in the front, though; even the gate for entering cars was made of solid wood, and unless I wanted to stop and