Page 30 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
That dinner date with the hot detective swoops into my mind and I push it right back out. Oddly enough, nearly every picture I’ve ever taken looks like a mug shot—even my wedding pictures with Clyde—and now it makes me wonder if it was all in preparation for this.
With Ree occupied with the cats and Georgie in pursuit of crustaceans, I finally find myself alone with Vivian. It’s time for a more nuanced approach.
“I’m sorry about that,” I offer. “It’s been a stressful time for everyone.”
“Indeed,” Vivian agrees as her composure returns. “The travel writing world is closer than you’d think. We’re all taking it pretty hard.”
“How welldid you know Ned?”
Vivian laughs with a brittle edge to it. “Ned and I were once engaged, if you can believe it. But that’s ancient history.”
My eyebrows climb right into my hairline. “Engaged?Wow. I had no idea.”
“Few do. He had a gift for betrayal. It was decades ago, before he left me for my assistant. Classy, right?” Her tone is matter-of-fact, but her fingers tighten slightly on her clipboard as if she’s restraining herself from using it as a weapon. “I built my career despite his attempts to sabotage me at every turn.”
“I’m so sorry. It sounds like a complicated relationship.”
“Oh, it’s all water under the bridge,” she says with a dismissive wave. “Although Ned specialized in complicated relationships. The man collected enemies like some people collect theme park pins.”
Theme park pins? I hike a brow her way. Now there’s an interesting analogy coming from her, considering the fact there were two hard-to-find pins next to his body, and those same pins were tacked onto her vest just minutes before.
Speaking of enemies... “Did Ned have any specific disagreements with anyone at the conference? Any recent arguments?”
“Ned had disagreements with everyone. It was his second career,” she sighs with the weariness of an editor who’s spent way too much time dealing with difficult personalities. “But recently he’d been threatening several of us with some kind of exposé. Don’t ask me about what. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, even for Ned. It was odd.”
“That does seem odd. Who do you think could have done this to him?” I venture, watching her reaction closely and trying to channel my inner detective rather than my inner theme park manager who’s in way over her head.
Her pause is just a fraction too long. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t rule out Wallis. He and Ned had some kind of business arrangement that was falling apart.”
I clear my throat. “Come to think of it, I did see them having it out with one another and it looked pretty heated.”
“Oh, I don’t know what that was about.” She winces as if trying to remember. “But I bet Patty will. She has some past connection to the park and she seems to specialize in collecting dirt on others. She is, after all, trying to make her foray into politics—and that is what politicians do best.”
“There are no truer words,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
I rake my eyes over her tailored pantsuit in an autumn rust color that complements her coloring perfectly, but I can’t help but notice that the vest with the collector pins is missing.
“I was admiring your pin collection yesterday,” I tell her. “The historical park pieces were incredible. Do you have them on hand today?”
“Oh, no. They’re back at the inn where I’m staying.” She brushes invisible lint from her sleeve. “I only wear them for special occasions.”
“The Country Cottage Inn?” I ask, suddenly hopeful that we share the same temporary residence.
“That’s the one,” she says as her face brightens. “Such a charming place.”
Her phone chirps with the insistence of modern technology refusing to be ignored, and she checks the screen with a frown that suggests whatever she’s reading isn’t good news.
“I’m afraid I need to put out another fire,” she sighs. “Ned always knew how to cause a scene, in life and death. Some people have talent for chaos, even from the grave.” She offers a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She walks away just as Fish and Chip race back to me with Ree trailing behind them.
Come quick!Red alert!Fish yowls my way.Georgie challenged Patty Sherwood to a lobster roll eating contest and now she’s distributingcampaign buttons!
It’s a political seafood meltdown,Chip adds.I saw mustard on a baby.
I look up to see a growing crowd gathered around the lobster roll stand, where Georgie stands on a hay bale like some kind of crustacean-themed revolutionary, waving half a lobster roll like a scepter. Beside her, Patty Sherwood, in her pink hiking boots and campaign-ready smile, is addressing the impromptu audience while distributing what appear to beSherwood for Mayorbuttons with the efficiency of a politician who never misses a photo op.
“Oh no,” I groan. “This is not how you conduct a subtle investigation.”
