The Tainted Taffy, page 11
“No, no, I’ll grab it. You get back inside and see to your guests.”
“I’ll do that.”
Wishing that Ethan didn’t have such an easy way about him, and that he wasn’t so darned smart and likeable, Autumn headed back into the cool of Harbor View’s interior.
Mixed emotions were not what she wanted at this time. If only she could put all her feelings neatly in a box and label it “Over”.
Luckily, she was distracted from these thoughts by the ringing of her phone. Seeing it was Willow calling, she grabbed it up eagerly.
“Autumn. I’ve found out more about the brother.” Willow’s voice was a breathy, conspiratorial whisper. Autumn was struggling to hear it over the scrape of the ladder outside, and the sound of hammering.
She turned her phone’s volume up. “You’ve found the brother? Who is he?”
“He’s Charles Sweetly. And he’s the younger brother by four years. He lives in Harbor View, but he’s in the northern section. I should be able to find his address in the next few minutes. I have a spy looking for me.”
“That sounds great.” Making sure to also use the conspiratorial whisper, Autumn replied. “Imagine if we can get this solved tonight?”
“When are you going to be able to go there?”
“Probably only at lunch time,” Autumn said. “I don’t have any guests checking in today. And the last guest is just getting ready to leave.”
Then she’d need to rush around the room, cleaning it, changing the bedding, and preparing it for the next arrival.
“Lunch time. Okay. I’ll make sure to get you the address before then.”
She hung up, just as Ethan walked back in.
“That was an easy fix.”
“It’s already repaired?” Autumn stared at him in surprise.
“Yes. I was able to access the water pipe from the side of the house. The leak was actually right there. It was running along the outside of the pipe and then dripping down. So – easiest job of the day.”
“You didn’t have to chip any stone away?”
“I don’t like chipping stone. You know how I feel about heritage buildings. They must stay undamaged at all costs. But luckily, it wasn’t difficult this time.”
He grinned at her.
“You’ll give me the bill?”
Now, his grin disappeared.
“Autumn, you know I don’t like to charge you,” he said uneasily.
She sighed. This was bringing emotion, and the past, into it all over again.
“Ethan, you run a business. You provided a very good service. Very fast. Now please, give me an invoice, or I’ll – I’ll guesstimate the amount and put it into your account,” she threatened.
“You wouldn’t do that?” But he sounded unsure.
“I would. I will. And my guesstimate will be high. Much higher than you want me to pay.”
“I can’t – well, I’d be happy just to have a bite of lunch with you instead?” he tried.
No. This was leading back to dangerous territory.
"I'm too busy for lunch," she said. Taking a deep breath, she was about to say that they really needed to keep things professional now and not let the lines blur.
But she couldn’t think of exactly how to say it, so she let the breath out again. She thought that he got the gist though. She could see it in his face.
“Okay, okay. You’ll get the bill, I promise.”
“By this time tomorrow. Or I guesstimate.”
“I’ll send it.” He didn’t sound pleased, though.
He picked up his toolbox as his phone started ringing. “See you later,” he said.
He headed out, and Autumn breathed out a sigh of relief. With any luck, that would be the last time she saw him for a while. Exes were so complicated. And particularly so in their case, it seemed.
She heard the clip-clop of the buggy arrive and leave as Ethan headed off to his next job. The hands of the clock on the wall ticked slowly toward one p.m.
Her phone buzzed, and her heart sped up as she read the message from Willow. It was Charles Sweetly’s address.
As soon as the hands reached one p.m., she left a notice on the reception desk. “Out for Lunch”.
After making sure that there was enough tea, coffee, lemonade, ice and cookies for her guests on the tray in the living room, and that Max was settled in his basket in the kitchen, Autumn headed out.
She went to the shed and got her bicycle. The island wasn’t flat – it had a big hill in the middle of it – but if she followed the coastal road around the edges, then it was an easy cycle ride to the northern section. She could use the exercise.
It was time to go and find Charles Sweetly – and learn what that ferocious argument had been about.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Phew.” Autumn adjusted her hat. The brim had been blown backward by the speed of her final mile’s pedaling. The ride had taken longer than she’d expected, and she was worried about getting back in time for her afternoon shift.
Never mind that. She had other worries, too. She didn’t know if Charles Sweetly would be home. He might be out and about, making funeral arrangements, or seeing his lawyer to check how much money he’d inherited.
She hoped that this reckless pedal around the island might get her results.
Charles Sweetly’s house was set in a treed area, with a view of the shimmering lake beyond. These northeastern views looked endless, without any land in sight. It was a beautiful part of the island.
The house was small and modest, painted in cream, with a creeper climbing up the side, and a garden that was neat, but not as rigorously ordered as Harold’s was. At least Charles Sweetly mixed the colors in his flower beds. Autumn personally thought that was a lot more pleasing.
It was interesting that she hadn’t known Harold even had a brother. Had Charles lived on the island a long time, she wondered, as she leaned her bicycle against a tree, and then approached the front door.
She chatted to most of her suppliers, and she knew some of what went on in their lives. Only now was she realizing that Harold had been the exception to the rule. He had chatted – but only about his sweets, and the weather. He’d kept himself and his personal life behind closed doors.
Would this door be opened?
Raising her hand, she took hold of the knocker and brought it down. She’d hoped to tap discreetly, but the sound was surprisingly loud, and a moment later, quick footsteps approached.
The door opened, and she stared in shock. Although a little younger-looking, the man standing in the doorway could have been Harold's twin.
He was identical. Same neatly trimmed, graying hair. Same silver-brown goatee. Same blue eyes. He even dressed similarly – he was wearing a shirt with narrow, bright blue stripes and a pair of dark pants. Harold had also dressed in bright colors, although Autumn thought it was more to fit in with the business than with his personality.
“Good afternoon. I’m Autumn Ray, from Harbor View bed and breakfast. Are you Charles Sweetly?” she asked.
“Yes. I am.” He stared at her in expectant silence. Behind him, she saw a woman, emerging from a doorway and walking up to stand beside him.
“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” Charles said.
Elizabeth looked about ten years younger than Charles, and had blond ringlets and green eyes that were lined with black eyeliner, making them look catlike. She was wearing a low cut blouse in pearly gray. It looked elegant and expensive.
“How lovely to meet you, Autumn Ray,” Elizabeth said. “But why are you here?”
They all shook hands.
“I guess you want to talk to us about – what has happened?” Charles said.
“You’re right,” Autumn admitted. “I’d like to offer my condolences. You must be so devastated and confused by this, and I’d love to speak to you for a minute.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Elizabeth muttered to Charles, in tones loud enough for Autumn to hear clearly.
Charles hesitated before saying, “Please come in.” He sounded as if he was uttering the words more out of politeness than an actual willingness to speak.
Autumn followed him and Elizabeth into the house, wishing the situation had been slightly different. She’d have preferred to talk to him without his wife there. The wife might know what he’d done – and be on guard.
The fact that she hadn't even wanted Autumn to come in told her something.
Still, now she was in. Look on the positive side, she reminded herself, as Charles led the way into a small, neat living room with green and white candy striped chairs, and cream colored couches.
Autumn was interested to see a few pictures on the wall, older prints, of sweetshop fronts around the world. The locations were lovingly inscribed below the pictures themselves. Brighton, England, Tuscany, Italy, Paris, France.
Charles and Elizabeth sat side by side on the couch. Neither of them looked relaxed. They were both sitting upright, with their backs not even touching the padded back of the couch. Elizabeth had her hands folded in her lap. Charles had one hand lifted to his mouth and was biting his nails.
“Darling,” Elizabeth warned, grabbing his wrist. Then he folded his hands in his lap as well.
From their body language, she wondered how close the Sweetly couple were. They seemed to be keeping to themselves, while presenting a united front to her, the outsider.
“Do you own a sweet shop also, Mr. Sweetly?” was Autumn’s first question after seeing the pictures on the wall, and guessing at his passion. She hoped this question might put them at ease.
“No,” Charles said, shortly.
Elizabeth moved in to fill the conversational gap.
"Obviously, we treated Harold's shop like our own," she said, with a sweet smile. "It was so wonderful having a talented brother-in-law like him. He was so creative and always full of business ideas. You know, it was no hardship at all for Charles to sit on the sidelines and applaud him."
“None whatsoever,” Charles agreed. “Unfortunately, when our parents passed away unexpectedly a decade ago, there was only one inheritor, and that was Harold. He very generously gave me an allowance.”
“Well, it was stipulated in the will,” Elizabeth reminded him.
“Yes, yes it was. It was stipulated in the will. But even if it hadn’t been, Harold would have made sure we were both fairly treated. He was a very fair man.”
“A very fair man.” Elizabeth said. “His generosity was the reason I never had to work, after marrying Charles, but could relax, and focus on my gardening, and of course, support my husband in keeping a clean home.”
"Exceptionally fair-minded in everything that he did.” Charles leaned forward, making earnest eye contact with Autumn.
Well, she thought. Now that we have established that Harold was probably not a fair person at all – what else can I find out?
“Did you see him often?” Autumn asked.
“Often? Well, especially in the last little while, what with the battle over –” Charles caught himself hastily, his cheeks reddening, his mouth clamping shut. Once again, it was Elizabeth who smoothly took the reins.
“The battle with time. Your time was so tight, what with all the work you’ve been doing on this house, and also your responsibilities on the mainland." With a winning smile, she explained to Autumn. "Charles has a job on the mainland – he works nine to seven, Monday to Friday. Not because he has to, of course. Because he wants to.”
“I work in a watch repair shop,” Charles explained. “I do repairs, engraving, that sort of thing. I’ve always been good with my hands.”
Today was Saturday, Autumn realized. That was why Charles was home. Being a hotelier, the days tended to blur. You didn’t have weekends, so you ended up seeing them only as blips in the calendar when you were probably busier than usual. But she’d been lucky getting here today.
The question was now – what had Charles done yesterday, before setting off on the ferry for the nine to seven job that he didn’t really need, according to his wife?
“When was the last time you saw Harold?” she asked Charles.
Elizabeth replied, of course. She was now intent on fielding all the questions.
“We saw him a few days ago. It must have been on Tuesday morning?”
“Yes. Tuesdays I start a little later, to make up for working one Sunday a month,” Charles explained, further elaborating on the long hours of the job that he, of course, only worked to satisfy his creative urges.
"So, Tuesday, we went around to the shop and had a lovely visit. We discussed some exciting business ventures. Didn’t we, dear?” Elizabeth said cheerily. She’d found her footing in this conversation, while Charles was still fumbling his way. That was because Charles was trying to stick to the truth, Autumn guessed, whereas Elizabeth was happy to stray from it completely. “Is that all you want to know? Are you ready to go now?” she added.
“What business ventures did you discuss?” Autumn asked, ignoring this very direct hint.
“We didn’t discuss business ventures.” Through gritted teeth, Charles corrected her. “We discussed potential business ventures, and we agreed that we would not start our own sweet shop in the north of the island, because it would dilute the customer base.” He gave a yearning glance at the photos on the wall, and then looked away, staring down at his hands.
So, the big fight had been about that? Autumn should have guessed it. Yet again, the protective sweet shop owner was defending his territory. Even from his own brother.
It was sad, she thought, because she could see the forlorn expression in Charles’ eyes. It seemed as if he really did have a creative passion. She could imagine him making beautiful handcrafted chocolates. But his brother had jealously guarded the business, shutting Charles out. Whether it was out of loyalty or fear, Charles had backed down.
“And this morning?”
“What about this morning?” Charles asked nervously.
"Well, I just wondered – if you'd had a chance to look in on Harold at all?" she asked.
But now, the wrath was showing clearly in Elizabeth’s wide, green eyes.
“Autumn Ray, you’re not here to give your condolences at all. Are you?” she challenged. “You’re here to gather information. You’re looking to blame someone for the murder, and you’ve got it in your head that this person is my husband.”
“No! Absolutely not,” Autumn protested, but her excuse sounded feeble, even to her. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was entirely right.
“Why else would you even care about where he was? There’s no reason at all for you to be asking that. The only reason is if you want to accuse somebody. My poor husband. What kind of an evil person are you to do this? As if we don't have enough going on already without your accusations adding to it all?"
“I had no intention of insinuating that.” Now Autumn found herself in full retreat mode. Not a comfortable place to be, but this attack was ferocious.
“You insinuated it very intentionally.”
“No, I did not, my question was asked innocently. I was just making conversation.”
“Conversation? My – my left heel!” Elizabeth spluttered.
“Ladies, ladies.” Charles held up his hands in a tentative way, as if hoping to dampen down this argument without drawing fire himself. “Ladies, this is a sad time. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to stoop to this level.”
“Well, she started it.” Eyes blazing, Elizabeth turned on her husband. No prisoners were being taken in this conflict. “Whose side are you on? You’re accusing me of stooping? When in fact I am defending you?”
“Yes, dear, yes, of course, I do see the difference,” Charles stammered.
“Well, then, show some loyalty,” she snapped.
“Look, Elizabeth,” he said in exasperation. “I need to make it clear to Autumn, and to everyone in Magnolia Bay, that I loved my brother.”
“Of course you did.” Now she was simmering down, calmer again.
“I loved him. He looked after us. There was a monthly allowance in place. Of course, we had our moments. All brothers do. That's family for you. But I would never wish him any harm."
“Yes. I know that.”
"I – look, my dear, I have no problem in explaining to Ms. Ray where I was. I left for the ferry as usual at half past eight. You even came with me. We walked down together as we usually do, at eight-thirty. You kissed me goodbye, and I boarded the ferry. You said that you were going to the hairdresser, and meet with the ladies for your usual Friday social."
“So we did,” Elizabeth said, now sounding as if she’d simmered down. “Yes. That’s what we did. I have the proof.” She tugged her bouncy locks. Autumn could still pick up the distinctive scent of salon hairspray on them.
But who could confirm Charles’ alibi, Autumn wondered. The wife might be protecting her guilty husband. The problem was that if she suggested this, there would be an explosion of epic proportions.
She didn’t expect what Charles said next.
“When there is no reason to lie, one should not get defensive. That’s my motto, and I don’t even mind accounting for my actions while I was on the ferry. I sat next to my friend Albert the whole way to the mainland. We talked about politics and the terrible state of the world in general and the United States in particular.”
So, Albert was a witness. That was as much as she was going to get, and she knew she’d been lucky to get it.
“That’s really interesting information,” she said. “I’m sure the police have also asked you where you were at the time?”
“No, in fact,” Charles said, causing Autumn a frisson of worry. Officer Warring had not even gotten that far? It was very concerning. Investigating at the speed of erosion wasn’t going to stem the flood of visitors leaving the island.
“Well, at least you’ll have everything prepared when they do,” she said. “And I really am sorry for your loss.”
Elizabeth smiled. It looked fake and forced, but she managed it nonetheless. “I do appreciate your motives, Autumn. Even if you started off telling us a lie, at least we ended up being honest with each other.”
