Surfboards and Suspects Page 5

  “I had nothing to do with Dan Millen’s death,” I said in a low growl. Which, to be honest, kind of did not make me sound that innocent and trustworthy. But I was just about at the end of my rope. I’d had enough of people accusing me and distrusting me. I mean, for crying out loud, I had been trying to do a good deed! I never wanted to go on to that deadly ship in the first place. But I was so worried about Alyson’s surfboard that I was actually willing to risk my health and life for her anyway. And this was how she repaid me! By going to the press and telling them that I was a murderer. I swore on my own life that when this whole thing was over, I would never do a good deed for Alyson Foulkes ever again.

  That was a promise.

  “I am not here to cause any trouble or any offense to the family,” I said. To tell you the truth, I was very surprised that the local funeral parlor was even taking care of the funeral considering that Dan was a Queenslander.

  “He had many fond memories of the Eden Bay area. It was where he won his first surfing competition. He always wanted to have his ashes scattered down at the beach here.”

  “Oh. Right.” What an untimely way to get exactly what he wanted, though. The poor guy.

  “What are you here for then?” Glenn asked bitterly and I could smell a very strange whiff of something. I wondered if it had something to do with a dead body and began to feel very nauseous.

  I cleared my throat and tried to focus. “I am here to ask about a funeral that took place last Thursday.”

  He peered up at me in surprise. “That was the day that Dan Millen was killed.”

  “Yes, I know. But this funeral took place just before that. In the afternoon.”

  He looked down. “It was for Mrs. Carbonetti. We had to keep it very hush-hush that her son was even attending. He just snuck in the back for a little while…wearing a bit of a disguise.”

  My ears pricked up a that. “A disguise?” I asked. “So, did you even recognize him? Can you be sure that it was actually even him?”

  Glenn was not the sort of man who liked to be questioned, that much was clear. He’d had his back up as soon as I’d walked into the funeral parlor and now he was offended because he thought I was accusing him of lying. I wasn’t, though. I was just trying to clarify. Things were getting stranger and stranger here.

  “It was him. He was in cuffs. What more do you want me to say?”

  “Yes, but did you actually see his face?” That was the important part.

  Glenn didn’t give me a straight answer to that one.

  I asked another one. “And the press didn’t know he was in town?”

  “How would I know? How is that any of my business?”

  There were footsteps and suddenly, we had company. I spun around. It was the sister of Dan Millen walking into the home. I recognized her from the paper.

  And she recognized me.

  I felt like I was going to be sick. “I gotta go!” I said to Glenn and ran out of there, searching for fresh air and a garbage can to be sick on.

  I was doubled over. Nothing would come up even though my stomach was churning. I didn’t know how Glenn worked in a place like that. The sister was glaring at me through the window. I felt like I was on display. I just wanted a hole to open up and swallow me. I wanted to be anywhere but Eden Bay right then.

  A car pulled up beside me just in time.

  A familiar face rolled down the widow and looked at me in sympathy. “You look a bit ill. Hop on in.”

  Michael to the rescue again.

  My stomach was still a little queasy, but I actually thought that part of the problem was that I hadn’t eaten that day since that very early breakfast, and it was by then three in the afternoon. There had been nothing in my stomach to even throw up.

  “We should fix that,” Michael said. “Er, the having something in your stomach part. Not the throwing up part.”

  The problem was that Eden Bay was facing a serious food shortage, so it wasn’t like we could just walk into a restaurant or cafe. “There won’t be any room at any of the inns,” I pointed out.

  But Michael convinced me that he had a way of getting into restaurants without bookings. So when we walked into The VRI, he told me to hang back and he would talk to the hostess and secure us a table. The only reason I had even agreed to go there was because I knew that Matt always had that day off.

  I wasn’t sure what he flashed them—or gave them—but they were able to find us a table. And one with an ocean view as well. Well, an ocean view that was still obscured by a docked ship. But still, impressive. I filled Michael in on some details of day to day life in Eden Bay, including Alyson’s upcoming nuptials. He asked me how I was still intending to be maid of honor when we weren’t even talking to each other.

  “It’s just so hard to know with Alyson WHAT will happen,” I said as we handed back our menus once we had ordered. “For all I know, she’ll change her mind about the wedding entirely. Or she’ll elope. Or she’ll decide she’s marrying herself and be through with the groom all together.”

  Michael laughed a bit. “She sounds like an interesting friend to have.”

  I shrugged a little and cut into my steak, pushing the prawns on the top to the side of the plate. I wasn’t much in the mood for seafood even though it had sounded appealing on the menu. Surf and Turf. Funny how reality doesn’t always match up to expectations, isn’t it?

  I didn’t dare ask if there had been any more talk about my book being turned into a film. It had been less than a day. But I knew that he had been on the phone with the people higher up. And these things tended to move fast.

  “So,” Michael said. “Do you have any more mysteries inside you, Claire Elizabeth Richardson?”

  “Oh, I have lots more stories I could tell you,” I said to him as I briefly outlined all the things that Alyson and I had witnessed over the course of that year.

  “Hmm,” he mused. “Sounds like this could be turned into a complete film series with sequel upon sequel.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe it would work better as a TV series.” And then I added, quietly, “Or just as a book series.” I looked up at him with heavy eyes. I really, really didn’t want him to go getting my hopes up. About anything. Did he get that?

  “Claire, I know you probably think I am just BS-ing you, but I am being serious. I don’t say things just because I like to hear the sound of my own voice.”

  I nodded. “I appreciate that, Michael”

  He hesitated for a moment. And then sighed, just a little. “I suppose there would be one problem, though.”

  Ugh. I knew it. There was always a problem, wasn’t there?

  “Just break it to me now,” I said. “Before I get too invested.”

  “Well…” He cleared his throat a little bit before he went on. “Since this morning, I have to admit that I have had some second thoughts about the two of us working together.”

  I could feel a little prickle at the base of my neck. Wow. Okay. I guess I really hadn’t impressed him that much after all.

  “Okay. Thanks for telling me the truth,” I said and returned to my steak, even though the nauseous feeling was starting to reappear.

  “No, no, Claire, you’ve misunderstood me,” he said with an uneasy little laugh and now it seemed like he was the one who was about to blush. “I just meant… I am not sure how professional it would be.” He held my gaze for the longest time so that I fully got the meaning of what he was saying.

  I finally broke eye contact and looked down into my food, trying not to smile. I was still feeling a little sick in the stomach, but this time in a good way. But it was all so confusing. An image of Matt fluttered across my mind. We were just so different, and Michael and I had so much in common. I took a deep breath. Matt and I were over.

  It seemed strange after the terrible start we had gotten off to, to have him sitting across the table from me like this, making me feel like this. And it also confused me.

  “So, what do we do?” I asked. I was fightin
g the smile still, not wanting to give too much away, but it came out, just a little at first, and then I could feel it breaking out all over my face. A sense of excitement built within my stomach. I normally didn’t throw caution to the wind and let myself fall for a guy so quickly—that was definitely more of an Alyson move—but something about him drew me in.

  “Well, first things first,” he said, staring into my eyes. “I think we should kiss.”

  “What, right here?” I blurted out, feeling a little shocked.

  “Why not?” he said with a grin.

  I wasn’t the sort of girl who would usually kiss a man in a restaurant. But something took over me and I leaned across, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips to his. And it felt right.

  Then I opened my eyes. A familiar face was staring at me from the other side of the bar.

  Matt had been watching.

  He threw down a tea-towel and stormed out.

  “Michael, I’m sorry! I’ll be right back!”

  I ran out after Matt. Even though we weren’t together anymore, I still cared for him, and that was a dumb and thoughtless thing to do right in front of him.

  “Matt, I thought it was your day off,” I tried to explain.

  “There are no days off at the moment, Claire. You ought to know that.”

  “I’m sorry, Matt. I shouldn’t have done that. But what are you getting so upset for? You and I broke up.”

  “I am just worried about you. You don’t even know that guy.” Matt pointed back towards the restaurant. “He is a surfer too, you know, and he was angry at Dan Millen the day he was killed. They were in a massive fight.”

  “What— What are you talking about Matt?”

  I wasn’t sure how he even knew any of this stuff and then I realized. It must have been Alyson. She must have been running her own investigation and found that out.

  “What do you know about him?” Matt asked. “Do you know that he makes movies?”

  “I know that he is a film producer,” I said. I knew that only too well.

  “Well, he wanted Dan Millen to give him the rights to his life story, so that they could make a movie about it. But Dan refused to do it. Michael was furious about it.”

  Oh gosh.

  They did share a cabin.

  But no, no, no. I couldn’t believe this was true. I couldn’t bear it. And so, to cover up my own fear and disappointment, I just stared at Matt and said, “You’re jealous, Matt. Making up stories is pretty pathetic. I’m just glad I’ve found someone now who wouldn’t act like that.”

  And then I walked away from him, pretending like I meant it, and went back inside to where Michael was waiting for me.

  Matt never came back inside that day.

  And that persistent phone call would not give up.

  After I was done eating, I finally answered it. “What?” I asked angrily. “Who is this?”

  Of course it was Alyson.

  We hadn’t spoken for a week. It was so strange to hear her voice.

  “I knew you wouldn’t answer on my number.”

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hang up on you right now on this one.”

  “Claire. Please. I really, really need your help.”

  Part II

  Alyson

  8

  There was something that Byron had said to me once, in one of our one-on-one sessions. “Ask for suffering and it will be removed.”

  “Huh?” I’d said at the time. I’d been to see her because I had just completely blown a surf competition and hadn’t even placed, and I was having what I could only describe as an existential crisis. “But if I am not a surfer, who am I?”

  She’d just shrugged in the peaceful Byron way she always did. “An artist? Or how about anything? Or how about nothing at all?”

  At the time, she had just sort of irritated me. I’d been suffering and she’d told me to ask for more of it? No thanks. I didn’t even understand. It just seemed like nonsense advice and usually Byron was so good at putting my mind at ease.

  But now I think I knew what she meant. Kinda. Sort of like, if you WANT the suffering and you get it, then that will make you happy because you got what you wanted and hence you wouldn’t suffer. That kind of thing always made my head spin. Maybe it was a maturity thing, but I was finally starting to see what she meant.

  And there was no time like the present to put my new Zen practice to use as I looked around my already messy living room. There was an overturned bag with all the contents strewn across my wooden floorboards. And there was the scent of cheap men’s deodorant filling the entire apartment. It got far worse and suffocating when my guest took out a can and sprayed it heavily all over his body. I had to run to the window and push it open. Deep breath, deep breath. The 100-degree air hit me in the face and all the cool air from my apartment left along with the deodorant fumes.

  Give me some more suffering!

  Well, I asked for this, didn’t it? Did that alone elevate it? I signed up at the town hall meeting and now Dan Millen was living with me and driving me bonkers. And it had only been an hour and a half. At first glance, I thought we were going to get along like great guns, but he was turning out to be a diva with high demands. He’d already asked me to freeze some ice for him and to carry his bags up the stairs for him—he claimed he couldn’t strain himself in case he injured himself before his big surf tour. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never carried bags for anyone in my life, let alone a grown man.

  “More ice than that,” he said with a frown as he saw me fill up one tray. “I need it for my ice packs as well as my drinks.”

  I slammed the freezer door shut. “Well, I will have to pick up some more trays at the store later. For now, this is all I have so you will have to just make do.”

  He cast an eye at my artwork on the wall and didn’t even bother asking if I was the one who had painted them. But when he saw a couple of my surfboards—with my own designs on them—his face changed, and they took his full attention. “Nice setup,” he said, looking at them strangely.

  “Thanks,” I said, unsure of whether that was actually a compliment or not.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “How much do these go for?” he asked me. “You must be able to charge a pretty penny for them.”

  Again, it SOUNDED on the surface like a compliment, but he was almost accusing me of something. I just wasn’t quite sure what. I wondered if maybe he had seen my designs somewhere before, or if he knew about the offer I’d gotten to sell out to a major surf brand company. I hadn’t taken it in the end. Going international—and selling out in general—wasn’t really my vibe.

  I just shrugged it off. “Ah, I make a living from them, but that’s about it.” To be honest, I probably could have charged more for them, but I liked to keep the prices fair and my customers happy with their one-of-a-kind custom designs. Still, Dan kept staring at the boards, and it was making me feel uneasy.

  I tried to make conversation, but all I wanted was to be back on the beach—not babysitting my new house guest who was already complaining about the sofa and hinting that he should be the one to take the bed. You know, because he was a professional surfer and all. He only mentioned that fact every five seconds in case I forgot it.

  You would have thought he would be grateful to have somewhere to stay, but instead, he was rubbing at his shoulder again and now flat out telling me that he needed to be on a posture supported mattress. “You’ll be fine on the couch,” I said, unwilling to give him my bed. I don’t know why I was being so inhospitable. It wasn’t like me. It was just, after all that had gone down over the past year, and all the times I had been burned, I had become untrusting. Especially of strangers.

  Then again, sometimes you couldn’t even trust those closest to you. I’d learned that lesson as well. But right then, I was feeling pretty good and cozy in my life and those that were close to me. I had Claire, and Troy, and my bother Matt and my niece J and those were all the people I needed to rely on
. I knew that none of them would ever betray me.

  I told Dan that I needed to get back to the beach to paint some more boards before the sun totally set. I’d already lost hours with this whole ‘adopt a passenger’ scheme that the mayor had guilted us all into. “You can come down to the beach with me and surf.”

  Dan glared at me. “I don’t need the practice, thanks very much. What I need is rest and a comfortable mattress.” He lay back on the couch and rolled his eyes.

  “Come on,” I said, feeling a little uneasy while I waited for him by the door. He wasn’t really just going to lay there and not move, was he?

  He sat up a little and stared at me. “You can leave me alone in the house. I’m not going to steal anything.”

  I glanced over at my surfboards and he caught me doing it. Whoops. “I’d rather you weren’t here alone while I’m out. You can come with me if you don’t want to surf and hang out for a little while…”

  “Don’t bother doing me the favor,” he said, pushing past me in a huff. “I got my own things going on.”

  Indeed, he did.

  But not for long.

  Those were the last words that Dan Millen ever said to me.

  The air inside the police station was so hot and suffocating that I felt like I was going to pass out. I was sure that they must have done that deliberately, but Wells just claimed that the air conditioning was broken. “There has been an enormous stretching of the town’s resources lately,” he said. “You may have noticed.” Then he looked at me pointedly as he took a seat across from me at the table, which was sticky for some reason. “Though there is one less person to worry about now.”

  Wow.

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have a lawyer with me—well, I didn’t have a lawyer at all—and I knew from past experience that when I tried to defend myself, I usually just ended up making things far worse.