Turkey, Pies and Alibis

  Turkey, Pies and Alibis

  Sweetfern Harbor Mystery #5

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  Decisions

  Brenda looked around in approval at the expansive sitting room of the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast, with its antique furnishings polished to a gleaming shine thanks to her meticulous housekeeper. Guests would soon drift into the room to settle in front of the fireplace to read the newspaper as they sipped their after-breakfast coffees. Outside, the autumn foliage in the town of Sweetfern Harbor provided a beautiful view. Brenda turned when she heard her name called. Allie Williams had arrived to begin her day in the office.

  “It looks like we have a full house again,” Allie said. She pointed to the vehicles parked outside. “I’ll check emails and phone messages right away.” At age sixteen, Allie was Brenda’s youngest employee. She was a quick learner and had an excellent grasp of what guests expected while at the bed and breakfast.

  Brenda smiled. “Even though November has a distinct chill to it, they still come.” She followed her reservationist into the small office behind the front desk. “At some point today, we all need to pitch in and help carry the Halloween decorations downstairs.”

  Her staff had pulled decorations down after the excitement of the holiday and wrapped everything carefully before placing them in boxes. It was time to think about Thanksgiving, Brenda’s favorite holiday. Growing up in Michigan, her cousins, aunts and uncles would all gather for abundant food and laughter. Her father Tim would retrieve sleds from the large shed in the backyard for the early snowfalls. Brenda and her cousins pulled them to the steep hill a quarter of a mile behind the house. In Michigan, snow was a given by Thanksgiving and the rest of the day was spent sledding. Her father transformed into one of the kids he entertained. Those memories became harder to recall as the years passed, but Brenda couldn’t help but think of Thanksgiving fondly because of them.

  Brenda and her father had been close until her mother died. They remained cordial with one another but did not talk very often. Brenda missed the closeness they had once enjoyed. She knew Tim missed her mother but sometimes, in later years, he had seemed wrapped in his own grief, failing to see that she also grieved.

  “You look as if you are deep in thought,” Phyllis said. The housekeeper didn’t mention the sadness in her employer’s eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking about my father.” Brenda attempted a smile. “He loved this season. We have been estranged for far too long now.”

  Phyllis stared at her. “I thought you told us both your parents were deceased.”

  “It was easier that way,” Brenda said with a sigh. “My mother passed away, but my father still lives in Michigan.” She looked at Phyllis and motioned for her to follow her to the library near the dining room. It had been a source of pain for so long, but she knew her friend Phyllis was a good listener. Brenda closed the door and both women sat down on the plush leather armchairs flanking the fireplace. “My father, Tim…you already know that he and Randolph were brothers. We used to be very close…” Brenda stopped, momentarily lost in thought.

  “You say you used to be close. What happened?”

  “Summer before last, you may recall I visited home again in Michigan. A younger cousin of mine was getting married at the time. My father and I spent an evening together the day after the wedding. It had been so long since we had really been able to talk, and I was eager to tell him about the bed and breakfast. Well, it was that night that I learned what he really thought about my career choice. He told me his brother had been crazy to leave me this bed and breakfast in his will, and that he had higher expectations for me.” Brenda looked down at her hands, embarrassed. “In fact, we had a huge argument and things didn’t cool down the next day. I left earlier than I planned. There was tension between us, to say the least.”

  “You do plan to invite him to your wedding, don’t you?”

  “That’s my dilemma. I want him here very much. He and my mother always hoped I would marry and give them grandchildren. At age forty-six, grandchildren are highly unlikely, but I also don’t think my father would come here. Not for any reason. I only recall visiting here with him and my mother one time during my childhood. He refuses to answer my calls to him, or letters, and so I’ve stopped trying to contact him.”

  Phyllis patted Brenda’s hand sympathetically. “Did you explain to him how much you love what you are doing?”

  Brenda shook her head no. “He made it clear what he thought. He said I was throwing my life away. I didn’t get a chance to explain anything. He told me he didn’t want to hear it.” Tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them with the back of her hand. “I know it’s childish to react this way, but it still hurts that he doesn’t care about my feelings in this matter. I love Sheffield House. And now because of our fight, he’ll never come for the wedding, I’m convinced.”

  Phyllis didn’t answer right away. She leaned forward to pass Brenda a tissue. “The one thing I should remind you of, Brenda, is that we never know when we will see someone for the last time. From what you have told me, it sounds as if he wanted you to marry. I would think the wedding invitation alone would draw him here. He will love Mac Rivers, as we all do. He will see what a fine man he is and he will be happy for you.”

  Again, Brenda shook her head. “He told me long ago that he expected me to marry a lawyer or a doctor or someone ‘better than him.’ Those were his words. My father was a truck driver and made good money, but he minced no words telling me to find someone who made a good income in a more prestigious career. He will not be happy with Mac because he is a detective, and not wealthy.” She paused and dabbed the corners of her eyes again. “I really want him here for my big day. And the fact that you and I are sharing our wedding days means we are all in for a great celebration. There was a time he took every opportunity to celebrate with family. He never needed an excuse to have a good time.”

  “I think you should send him an invitation. Maybe call him again, too. It’s worth a try. Don’t give up yet, Brenda. I’m sure he still loves you, deep down.”

  Brenda nodded mutely, thanking Phyllis for her kind counsel. They left the library and heard a familiar voice in the foyer.

  William Pendleton glanced their way. “I wondered where you were.” His eyes lingered lovingly on Phyllis before greeting Brenda. “I suppose you two ladies were huddled together making more wedding plans.”

  The fact that Phyllis and William were so in love at their age comforted Brenda. William was handsome. He sported a thick shock of white hair and his Romanesque nose added to his striking looks. He was soft-spoken and easy to get along with. William had breathed new life into Sweetfern Harbor in
recent years since he had connections with the theatre and art world. He organized festivals and parties and arranged everything along with the merchants in town. No matter the celebration, he made sure the right people were in town to perform. He was deeply in love with Phyllis and took every opportunity to come into the bed and breakfast to see her. Today was no exception.

  “I’m planning a big Thanksgiving dinner at my house, Brenda,” William said. “My chef is making up the menu as we speak. I want to personally invite you to join us. I say Thanksgiving dinner, but we’ll actually have it Saturday night.”

  Brenda perked up. It would be like old times back in Michigan. Sharing a Thanksgiving meal with numerous friends and acquaintances appealed to her. She accepted the invitation with pleasure.

  “I’ll be happy to bring something along,” she offered.

  William waved his hand in dismissal. “Just bring yourself, and the detective, of course. I have only one rule.” His face grew serious. “No talk about the upcoming weddings.” He laughed at the surprised expressions on the women’s faces. “I’m not holding you to it. I know you can’t help it.”

  Phyllis gently nudged him in response and said, “If we don’t plan the weddings, they will be haphazard celebrations. You wouldn’t enjoy that, admit it.”

  He took her arm and patted it. “Just come and enjoy the holiday with me. There are no rules.” The older couple leaned their heads together fondly. Just then, Allie stuck her head into the hallway.

  “Mac is on the office phone, Brenda,” Allie said. “He’s been trying to call you on your cell, but you weren’t answering.” Brenda fumbled in her pocket and realized she had left her cell phone in her apartment. She hurried to the office and picked up the phone.

  “I’m so sorry, Mac,” Brenda said, explaining her forgetfulness. Mac assured her it was nothing urgent. They chatted for a few minutes and he told her he would be by later in the afternoon to see her. He often stopped by in the middle of the afternoon when he left his office for a break. When they hung up, she quickly got back to work, and the hours seemed to fly by. She was in the middle of reviewing a bank statement when Mac Rivers arrived, and they stepped out the back door of the bed and breakfast into the cool November afternoon.

  Brenda shivered, and he put an arm around her shoulders as their shoes crunched through the leaves on the path. “I know it’s chilly, but I like to get outside into the fresh air,” he explained. Brenda always looked forward to the times he could get away from the police station. Their wedding was barely a month away and they still had to discuss whether they would make their home in Mac’s house, or if he would move into the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. So far, they had come to no conclusion.

  “We should decide soon,” Mac said that afternoon. “Jenny is seriously dating Bryce now. If they marry someday, my house would be a good home for them. They can’t live in that small apartment he has.”

  Brenda chuckled. The young Detective Bryce Jones didn’t seem to care what his living situation was. He had chosen a studio apartment downtown near the police station when he had moved back after working in Brooklyn for several years, and seemed happy where he was. Brenda knew Jenny Rivers would never agree to move into a tight squeeze of an apartment once they married. Of course, she reminded herself, so far neither one of them spoke of marriage.

  “If we decide to live right here, I want to make a real home for us,” Brenda said. “There is the large summer cabin at the back edge of the property. We could renovate it. It would need to be enlarged and made into a livable home.” She envisioned the battered old summer house as it might look when they were done with it. No longer a weather-worn shack, but a sturdy cabin with its porch fixed up and a tiny curl of smoke coming from its stone chimney. She sighed happily at the idea.

  “I wouldn’t mind living in your apartment for now. I think reconstructing the summer house is a good idea, but it will take time,” Mac pointed out. He seemed to think about it a little more. “We could draw up plans over the winter and begin work when spring comes.”

  They decided to think more about it. They both simply wanted to be married to one another and think about the details later. Mac’s thoughts turned sentimental. “I’m very proud of Jenny,” Mac said. “She has her own business on Main Street and has grown into a beautiful woman. Her mother would be very proud of her, too.”

  “Indeed. I’ve come to know Jenny so much better and I agree she is a lovely young woman. Best of all, when I marry you, I’ll get a daughter, too.” She turned to smile up at Mac and he kissed the tip of her nose. Together they walked through the town imagining their future and keeping warm together against the chilly November weather.

  That night Brenda thumbed through old photo albums. Her mother had been adamant about taking pictures every chance she got. She photographed every moment of their lives, taking special care to document every stage of Brenda’s childhood. Her father had been a truck driver and generally came home only two weekends a month. When he was home he took advantage of family time, but Brenda and her mother had missed him on a daily basis. On those two weekends a month, her mother would often pull out the photo albums to show him what he had missed of their darling daughter while he had been driving on the long roads. In so many photos of herself as a young girl, Brenda saw herself alone, her mother behind the camera and her father away.

  Brenda thought about how close Mac was with his daughter Jenny. He encouraged her when she wanted to open Jenny’s Blooms. He stayed by her side throughout the beginnings and helped out until she was successful. He often stopped in to her shop, even though they lived in the same household. With the loss of Jenny’s mother, Mac’s first wife, Mac and his daughter had become ever closer over the years. Brenda felt a pang in her heart that it had not worked out that way with her own father. He was a loving father when he came home, but he wasn’t there when she started reaching her own milestones throughout early life and then school years. Later, after her mother’s death, they had seemed to grow further apart, not closer. And now, he disapproved of her choice of career so strongly that they were estranged. Was it worth it to reach out again, as Phyllis had suggested?

  She recalled his disapproval when she began work as an assistant to a Private Investigator in Michigan. He voiced his objections then, but not as strongly as he objected to her assuming ownership of Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. She recalled his words when he sneered at the mention of the small village of Sweetfern Harbor. “If you were going to leave the P.I. business, the least you could do is move on to a real city, like New York,” he had said in a cold tone. Brenda pushed the album back onto the shelf and tried to push the memory out of her mind as she got ready for bed.

  After a restless night, she arose earlier than usual and dressed for the day. She had made up her mind. Brenda would send her father a letter of invitation to celebrate Thanksgiving with her at William’s home. William stated he always made sure his chef cooked for more than he expected since there were always last-minute guests. Before she could change her mind, Brenda sealed the letter, addressed it and took it downstairs with her.

  When she got to the top of the stairs, she heard Allie greet two guests, Rachel and Nick Bernard, who had checked in late the night before. The evening before, Brenda had met the husband, but not the wife. Brenda overheard them tell Allie they were on a mission to tour the entire eastern seaboard before heading off to Europe. Brenda opened her mouth to say good morning, but stopped dead in her tracks. She was shocked to find herself looking into a face that resembled her own very closely. But Rachel Bernard’s face was impassive, and she didn’t seem to notice the resemblance or Brenda’s slightly shocked reaction.

  “I hope you and Mr. Bernard had a restful night,” Brenda managed to say.

  “You have a lovely bed and breakfast,” said Rachel, gazing around the hall. She turned to her husband. “Don’t you agree, Nick?”

  Nick Bernard’s eyes focused after he appeared to take in his surroundings distractedly. “Oh
, yes, things were fine and we slept well.”

  Allie showed the guests into the dining room to introduce them to a few other early risers. Brenda poured herself a second cup of coffee from the pot Allie started in the back office. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep making her think her guest was her long-lost twin. She settled down to take stock of the business accounts. Allie was an expert with numbers, but Brenda, from habit, reviewed them each morning. In no time she had reconciled the ledger on the computer with the receipts from the day before.

  Brenda felt hunger creep into her stomach. She had one last task before breakfast. Brenda went back out to the foyer and stood behind the reception counter. She opened the register to make sure there was plenty of cash in it to start the day. A few guests still preferred to pay with cash, though most paid with credit cards. Brenda counted the money twice. She felt a sinking feeling as she fingered the slim pile of twenties. Three hundred dollars was missing. She knew that she and Allie had counted out the money the evening before, when Allie left for the day and dropped off the deposit bag at the bank on her way home. Panic clutched at her throat. She had no idea where the money was. This was the first time since taking over ownership of the bed and breakfast that anything like this had happened.

  But before she could do anything, she heard the front door swing open and she looked up to see Pete Graham enter. The young mailman was punctual as usual and had a broad smile for her. Everyone liked Pete, who was dating Phyllis’ daughter, Molly Lindsey.

  Brenda didn’t want to alert Pete that anything was wrong. “You’re early. Not enough attention from Molly at the coffee shop this morning?” Pete stammered and blushed a little. “I couldn’t help ribbing you a little,” teased Brenda.