Fe Fi Fiddler Die Read online

  Fe Fi Fiddler Die

  Sweetfern Harbor Mystery #12

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2018 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

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Chapter 1

  First Dinner

  Allie Williams scrolled through the names on her computer, eager to see what the guests would be like before they arrived—which would be very soon. She always looked forward to the diversity of guests who stayed at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. Most were in awe of the majestic nineteenth-century Queen Anne mansion, to say nothing of the amenities it provided all visitors. Brenda, the owner and her boss approached, and together they looked at the list.

  “It looks as if we’ll have a good group, Allie. I hope they get along well.”

  “If they’re coming here, they must be coming for similar reasons. They must be musical people since the Fiddlers Jamboree is this weekend.”

  Brenda smiled. “That will indeed be something different for our town. You’re right, Allie. They should be a fun group of people, and lively.”

  Brenda, as was her habit, felt nervous just thinking about the first night’s dinner with her new guests. It was a time she often spent assessing how guests interacted with one another. Her husband Mac had to work late at the police station because he and her son-in-law Bryce Jones were finishing up on a case together. Brenda chided herself for her nerves, knowing once the dinner finished, she would easily relax for the rest of the weekend. She enjoyed the busy bed and breakfast activities and people.

  Allie looked up and nudged Brenda, alerting her that someone was entering the foyer. The handsome young man, his fiddle case in one hand, smiled at the women. Though rather short and slender of frame, he was well built. The rays of light shining through the glass lobby door caused glimmers to highlight his sandy brown hair. His blue eyes sparkled with life.

  “I’m Jake Smith, here for the Fiddlers Jamboree this weekend.” Allie noted he set down his instrument case on the planked floor with great care and grace. “I hope to win this year.” He winked at Allie as they finished the check-in process, after chatting about things to do in Sweetfern Harbor. Allie blushed a little, and luckily just then the porter Michael appeared and picked up the man’s luggage. Jake followed his luggage up to his room.

  Brenda breathed a sigh of relief. “He’ll be one to keep everyone entertained.”

  “Personally, I’ve never known anyone who plays fiddle,” Allie said. “I hope he’ll play for us while he’s here. I definitely will go downtown to the jamboree for the competition.” She paused, remembering his dazzling blue eyes and easy smile. “I think you’re right, Brenda, he will liven up the place.”

  “He looks young to be a professional fiddler,” Brenda said. “He must have been playing since he was quite young.” Allie agreed and mentioned he looked just a few years older than she was. Brenda suppressed an amused grin at her young employee’s notice of the handsome young man.

  The next guest to arrive presented himself as more sedate but still quite friendly: The Reverend Thomas Kelly checked in, with his clerical collar leaving them no doubt as to his profession. He told them he was an Episcopalian priest visiting Sweetfern Harbor for a regional clergy meeting. “It will keep me busy all afternoon Saturday, but other than that time, I plan to enjoy your beautiful bed and breakfast and this coastal town.” He appeared to be in his early forties and his features were rather plain but appealingly open. He had sandy blond hair, closely cropped, and carried his own luggage up the stairs with vigor, carrying on an animated conversation with the porter along the way.

  As Allie checked her paperwork, the doors opened again, and a couple walked in. Mattie and Drake Cabot didn’t smile. Allie greeted them nonetheless, and the husband told her their names in a somber, reserved tone of voice. Allie tried not to let her nerves get the best of her, and Brenda could see Allie worried she had somehow offended the guests. Brenda quickly stepped in and asked the couple if they were in Sweetfern Harbor for pleasure. At first, neither spoke, and then Drake told her they hoped to have time to themselves to enjoy the Atlantic Ocean and everything the bed and breakfast offered as well. Allie began telling them of events around town they may be interested in, but they seemed to ignore her spiel. Drake pointed out the two heavier suitcases to Michael when he appeared downstairs again, and the Cabots simply picked up their overnight cases and followed the porter to the second floor. Once out of sight, Brenda reassured Allie when she saw her worried look.

  “Not every guest is here to have a wild adventure, don’t feel too bad if you can’t cheer them up, Allie. Perhaps nothing can cheer them up,” Brenda said.

  “Don’t worry, Brenda. Remember, we have the fiddler here and he’ll keep things going.”

  Brenda laughed. “Maybe the Cabots are here simply for peace and quiet. That’s the goal for many of our guests.”

  Brenda left to find her head housekeeper and good friend, Phyllis. She found her in the kitchen with her chef, Morgan. Morgan set prepared trays of snacks in front of Phyllis, who was ready to take the refreshments to the sitting room. Brenda discussed the guests who had arrived so far. Phyllis and Morgan perked up when they heard about the young fiddler staying with them.

  “I’ve always been interested in that type of music,” Phyllis said, “and I’ve never had the chance to hear it played live. This is my chance.” Brenda offered to help set out refreshments and balanced more drinks on a second tray.

  When they came into the sitting room, young Jake the musician and Thomas the priest came in to enjoy the snacks. Jake seemed somewhat surprised to see the priest walk in, but he hid it well and soon the men were chatting. Both praised whoever concocted the dips and sweet treats. Brenda assured them the chef would have more delicacies for them at dinnertime.

  Meanwhile, Mattie and Drake Cabot unpacked their belongings and returned downstairs. They passed by the room where the others sat conversing but walked on and went outside instead. Brenda caught a glimpse of them through the veranda window and then lost track of the couple as they rounded the corner. Allie had guessed them to be in their early thirties. Over the past two years since inheriting the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast and working hard at the business, she prided herself on her ability to nail the ages of guests, and she was usually right. It became a game and a challenge for her.

  Laughter and jokes were heard from the front entrance. Another couple had arrived. Sara and Alan Haas entered and greeted Allie with enthusiasm. She returned the mood happily and welcomed them.

  “We finally made it,” Sara said. “We had a few glitches with the car along the way, but that’s because Alan didn’t take time to get it checked over like I suggested.” She chuckled at his bemused, exasperated expression. “Anyway, we’re here now and can’t wait to stay in this beautiful place for an entire weekend.”
r />   Allie noticed the large briefcase on the floor with their luggage. “Are you here for business?” she asked. Sara explained they had begun a new business in the last few months and were ready to market their skin care products to the public. Both talked about their enterprise, which was still in the beginning stages.

  “We named the company Shakina,” Sara said. “It is an African name meaning ‘one who possesses beauty.’”

  “That’s perfect,” Allie said. “I’d love to take a look at your products while you’re here, if you don’t mind.”

  “We don’t mind at all,” Alan said. “We have market possibilities set up in Sweetfern Harbor, but only a few. We may ask you about shops that might carry our products.” His eyes were hopeful. “We don’t want to impose, but if you have any leads, we would be grateful.”

  Allie promised to give it serious thought. Michael took their bags upstairs to show them to their room and Allie then checked in a bronzed, muscular man. He introduced himself as Mason Eads. His deep tan told her right away the twenty-something likely planned to indulge in water sports while visiting. She mentioned the many activities available down on the waterfront, day or night.

  “There is a pathway directly down there from this property.” She gestured in the direction of the ocean.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Mason said. “I surf the Pacific on vacation often but decided to challenge myself in the Atlantic. I hear it is different.”

  Allie chuckled, remembering what other guests had said about the differences between West Coast and East Coast beaches. “The beach isn’t as broad as you are used to in California, but I’m sure you will enjoy the adventure. You may want to get acquainted with Jonathan Wright. You’ll find him at his business down there. He owns a boat rental place and also teaches water sports.”

  “I may need to consult him. Thanks for the info.”

  Brenda and Phyllis welcomed the other guests as they gathered for refreshments. Suddenly, conversations came to an abrupt standstill. Mason Eads stood in the doorway of the sitting room, and his face showed surprise and uncertainty when he looked at the other guests. Later, Brenda wished she had paid more attention to those he seemed to recognize. At the time, she took her guests’ reticence as a cue to introduce everyone in the room again, going around briefly. Only after a moment did she realize it might have been something else; she had a feeling it would be revealed during dinnertime. For now, she excused herself and told the guests to enjoy themselves.

  Once in the hallway, she asked Phyllis if she wanted to discuss the wedding celebration plans for chef Morgan and her father. Tim Sheffield and Morgan Graber had insisted on a simple celebration on the premises for a handful of guests. They emphasized that at their age, a modest ceremony and close friends in attendance were all they desired. Tim often voiced his wish that his brother Randolph had lived to see the day of his younger brother’s remarriage. Randolph died childless, and Tim’s daughter Brenda inherited the majestic property his brother had restored over decades. As for “no big celebration,” Brenda, Phyllis and Allie found it hard to restrain themselves.

  “We have a lot to do,” Allie said, popping in on the conversation. “I’ll do the artwork and decorations needed.” Allie was already an accomplished artist at her young age and planned to major in art in college.

  “We had better be careful,” Phyllis said. “If they don’t want a lot of fanfare, we should probably take that to heart. I don’t want to make an enemy of either Morgan or Tim.”

  “I’ve thought of all that,” Brenda said. “They want a simple ceremony. However, they didn’t put restraints on how we choose the theme and decorations for the ceremony itself, or for the reception. I’m keeping the guest list much smaller than usual and we can spend all the time we want making this small wedding magnificently beautiful. A quiet celebration doesn’t mean a plain and boring one, after all.”

  Phyllis was happy Brenda saw it that way. She and Allie were just as eager to get into the planning process as Brenda was. By the time they finished their conversation, Brenda leaned back and looked over the list she had started on a pad of paper, then stated she thought more should be done, but they had a good start.

  “I’ll ask Morgan her preferences for the menu,” Brenda said. “Allie, I’ll ask your mother to make the desserts and specialties at Sweet Treats Bakery. Hope never fails to make the best desserts.” She looked at Phyllis. “Do you think if several of us helped out that your daughter Molly would open her large back kitchen down at Morning Sun Coffee? We could barbecue there or use it as a catering station of sorts. Then Allie’s father David could bring it up here when ready, I’m sure.” Allie agreed her father would pitch in.

  “My daughter will be more than happy to do whatever we need. She only uses that back kitchen for big events around town.” Phyllis rubbed her chin. “I thought you were going to get Morgan’s ideas for food. Does she even like barbecue?”

  “I do plan to ask her, but we can throw in some surprises, too. Also, lots of things can be cooked on a barbecue—you can even steam shrimp in those big pots Molly has.”

  “I heard they are planning to go to Hawaii for their honeymoon,” Allie said. “What about a Hawaiian theme for decorations?”

  Brenda snapped her fingers. “I forgot about that. Instead of barbecue, let’s plan Hawaiian luau food.” This was incentive enough to delve deeper into the plans and they all became excited again. Brenda glanced at her watch. “I have to get ready for the first night dinner,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry neither of you can be here tonight.”

  “I’d love to, Brenda,” Phyllis said, “but William is in charge of the Jamboree logistics and I promised I’d help him with some finishing touches.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Brenda, but I have a big test tomorrow and have to study. It will count toward my college credits, if I ever get there.” Allie looked wistful. Brenda reassured them both that she understood.

  In her cottage, Brenda showered and dressed for dinner. She walked the short pathway back to her bed and breakfast and peeked into the kitchen. “Do you need help, Morgan?”

  “Everything is under control,” said the chef, bustling around and garnishing a few platters with herbs and checking a bubbling pot for flavor. “All my helpers showed up and we’ll be ready when everyone is seated.” Brenda knew Morgan had a lot to do and quickly got out of the way, heading for the dinner table.

  Several guests had preceded Brenda to the dining room. She greeted Jake the musician, who was exchanging a few words with the Reverend, and she also greeted Sara and Alan, telling them they could sit wherever they wanted. She suggested one of them take the head of the table. “My husband Mac won’t be here for dinner tonight and sends his regrets. He’ll see everyone later.” Jake hesitated, and Brenda encouraged him to take the seat. They joked back and forth about seniority as everyone settled around the table.

  Reverend Thomas Kelly sat across from Brenda and next to young Jake. Then Alan and Sara sat opposite one another. The end of the table included Mason, the Cabots and a few other guests. Once they were all seated, Brenda stood up and welcomed everyone and toasted their health on behalf of the staff of Sheffield House. The Reverend gave a brief but heartfelt grace as everyone bowed their heads in prayer. Then salads and soup were served. Drinks were refilled.

  Conversations flowed sporadically at first until Jake took over. He invited everyone to visit the Fiddlers Jamboree the next day. “I’m sure you’ve heard already, but it will be at the park in downtown Sweetfern Harbor. There will be lots of good music and many booths and games around. The fiddlers playing the main stage are well known for the most part and very entertaining.”

  No one missed the scoffing noise that escaped Mason Eads’ mouth. “Fiddling is not real music, my man. It is a sub-standard form of noise and a terrible way to ruin a good violin.”

  Everyone stopped midmotion. Even Jake’s mouth gaped open for a second.

  He recovered, and with a slight fl
ush to his handsome face, he replied, “Fiddling has enjoyed a long history in popular culture, centuries before classical music found its way to the mainstream. I don’t know what you base your assumptions on, but it is a beautiful sound.”

  Brenda tensed. Mason didn’t hesitate. “Fiddlers may have been around a long time but there is no way a technique like that produces quality tones.”

  Jake opened his mouth to retort, but Thomas put his hand on his arm. “We are here to enjoy a dinner together, are we not? This argument is out of order and surely we can agree to disagree without insulting one another.” The clergyman gave a pointed look at Mason. Something seemed to pass between Thomas Kelly and Mason Eads and the younger man backed down, though he set his jaw defiantly.

  Sara Haas chuckled nervously at the unexpected interaction. Alan nudged his wife with his foot and she quieted. Jake apologized immediately but Mason said nothing. Mattie and Drake Cabot exchanged quick glances and then resumed eating as if nothing unusual had occurred. Quiet consumed the atmosphere until Sara saved the situation. She seemed determined to keep the conversation normal and asked Jake how he learned to play the fiddle.

  “My grandfather was a famous fiddler. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? His name was Abram Smith, but he was better known as Abram the Shredder. That was because when he played, he played so fast everyone thought he was going to shred the strings.” He laughed briefly. “He passed away several years ago, but he was my mentor and my favorite grandfather.”

  Sara found the story of his nickname humorous and told Jake she wished she had heard his grandfather play. Alan said he thought the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. The other guests returned to other subjects, and Brenda was glad when dessert time arrived. She invited everyone into the sitting room and told them if they preferred dessert in the dining room to feel free to remain. Everyone opted for the sitting room and walked through the arch into the adjoining space off the dining area. Only Mattie and Drake passed them all by and left through the front door without saying a word to anyone. Once again, they walked past the wide front window and out of sight.