Page 20 of The Hampton Beach Café 5
“Because I'm about a bee's eyelash away from putting a brick through Clarkson's window myself,” Frances said darkly. “You remember that first night we went out with Clarkson, you made a joke about middle names? He said offhand that he was Jonathon.”
Lucinda scowled as she tried to remember. A look of anger mixed with certainty filled her face.
“We need to go do some snooping,” she said finally.
Frances pointed into the café. “We can’t right now. We have customers waiting.”
Sure enough, they did, a whole line down the street just like most mornings––and she hadn’t finished baking any of the cakes.
TWELVE
The text message she had sent to Kennedy was deliberately vague, but she didn't think it was so vague that the infuriating woman would ignore it completely.
Lucinda sidled up next to Frances behind the counter. “This sister of yours is particularly irritating. Did you know that?”
“Can you not right now, please?” Frances hissed back.
She and Kennedy hadn't really spoken about the DNA results since they had visited Salem nearly three weeks ago––it was a sore spot and Frances could tell that this was not the time to rub at it.
“Okay, but let me say again that 'something weird going on, need to ask you a favor' is not specific enough for her to care.”
“Oh really?” Frances said, gesturing to the door.
Kennedy stood in line looking annoyed, which didn't bode well for what they were about to ask her to do. They knew they needed to convince Kennedy to let them look into the council files on local sale histories, and they both knew that wasn't going to be easy.
Luckily, only one person joined the line after Kennedy and as she approached the counter, Frances leaned in conspiratorially.
“Hey, Kennedy,” Frances said. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” Kennedy replied. “Nothing but minutes. It's not like I have a job or a life.”
“Thanks,” she said, ignoring the odd look of confusion on Kennedy's face as she did so. “And a Cappuccino, right? Extra shot?”
“Sure...”
Lucinda jumped in to take the order of the person behind Kennedy, allowing Frances to wave Kennedy into the kitchen.
“Why are you making me come in here?” she asked, clearly annoyed.
“Because this isn't a conversation we think you'd want us to have with that many people around,” Frances said, pointing to the crowded café.
“Oh, wonderful,” Kennedy said, rolling her eyes.
“Look, I know how much of a stickler for the rules you are,” Frances said, “and I respect that.”
Kennedy raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“And I also know,” she said quickly, before Kennedy could say anything, “that you care more about this town and the people who live here than half the population put together––and if I didn't think this was serious, I wouldn't ask you.”
Kennedy's face fell from its mocking expression. “What do you mean?”
Frances took a deep breath. “I've been talking to people. More and more people are selling their homes in the surrounding areas––and more off-market buy offers for people in town than ever before––people just getting lowball offers in their mail. And the houses that do sell are either being flipped and sold at ludicrously high prices, or sitting empty. We think there's a developer employing some really sneaky tactics to get people to sell.”
“Tactics like what?” Kennedy asked. “Cold buy offers are pretty normal, especially for a seaside town like this. Tourists come in and think they want to stay forever.”
She didn't miss the side eye from Kennedy but chose to overlook it.
“I know that, but the numbers are weird,” she said, “and I've spoken to a bunch of people who have had scammy letters saying their foundations are rotten––then when they've had an inspection, they're totally fine. I spoke to a woman yesterday whose friend in James Bay was scammed into selling her house way below market value by some guy saying the same thing––he then turned around and sold it for like ten times what he paid her...”
