A Twist In The Tail

‘It must’ve been two nights before the guy was offed? Because after getting caught out in the hall here, we decided to lay low the next day and meet at the sleazy motel on Tuesday and that’s where we were the night that guy died.’

I cringed at his coarse language, but that wasn’t the worst thing about what he’d said. If he really was at the sleazy motel the night Charles was killed, then he might have an alibi. And if he did, then who was the killer?

Tina had also been in the breakfast room that morning, so how could he have been at the Timber Me Motel? Then again, I didn’t know if she’d come into the dining room from her room or from outside. It was possible she’d just gotten in from her midnight interlude or had snuck back in the wee hours of the morning. If they were trying to fly under the radar, that would make sense.

Tony must’ve seen the look of doubt on my face because he continued, ‘You can ask that sheriff guy. In fact, he came to visit me after you got poking your nose into my business. That’s how I know when this Charles guy was killed. That sheriff started spouting off some stuff about me being a suspect and I told him just what I told you. He went down to the sleazy motel to verify my alibi. And that’s why I came here tonight. I knew I had to explain myself and beg you not to tell my wife.’

Before I could answer, Tina came back down the stairs with the cookbook. It was a blue three-ring binder just like Ava had described.

‘See? This is what I got from Charles’ room.’ She looked down at the floor again. ‘I know it was wrong to steal it. And after he died, I tried to put it back, but the police were in there and then you were in there and well I figured since he was dead maybe I could use the recipes…’

I opened the book. It was filled with handwritten recipes. I turned to Tony. ‘If all this is true and you only came here to talk to me then why did you bring the cleaver?’

‘Cleaver?’ Tony looked down at his hand. ‘Oh this?’ He whipped his hand out from behind his back, the white plastic bag dangling menacingly. ‘This isn’t a cleaver.’

I stepped back as he reached into the bag.

‘It’s a ricotta pie. I brought it as a peace offering. I was hoping that if I got in your good graces you and those crazy old ladies would stop coming to the restaurant and wouldn’t tell my wife about the affair with Tina.’

And just like that, my prime suspect evaporated. If what Tony said was true, I could easily verify his alibi with Seth. And why would he lie about it?

I accepted the ricotta pie, grimaced as Tina and Tony gave each other a sickening smooch goodbye and then proceeded to the kitchen. At least I had the ricotta pie to offer my guests for breakfast. I didn’t have time to sort through recipes and put something together for the morning. I needed to come up with a new suspect.

I put the ricotta pie away and went to my suite to settle in with the cats. Okay, I admit I did take a teeny sliver of pie with me, but only because I had to test it out to see if it was good enough for the guests. Tina had gone back to bed and by some miracle the rest of the guesthouse had not been awakened by the argument down in the foyer, so it was nice and quiet.

The owner’s suite wasn't big, but it was comfortable and cozy. It consisted of a small fireplace, living room that had a window overlooking the ocean, complete with blue cushioned window seat, a bedroom that was part of the rounded turret, and a small bath. It was done in neutral shades of gray and mocha.

The trendy colors blended nicely with the antique touches like the carved mantel and hardwood flooring to give it an eclectic feeling. The living room had a microsuede sectional and I settled in, pulling a fleece blanket over me. The cats immediately jumped on the blanket and curled up beside me. The low hum of their purrs was comforting. Maybe I could get used to having cat companions.

I sipped my chamomile tea and dug into the ricotta pie. It was creamy and sweet. If I hadn’t been married to a chef, I would have been grossed out by the idea of ricotta pie. I mean wasn’t that something you put in a lasagna? But I’d had it before and Tony’s was much better than Clive’s.

As I savored the pie, I flipped through the recipe book. Charles was making a book of recipes that included berries. He even had a section of information about each berry. There were berry tarts, berry pies, berry dressings, even berry bread. There were even flockenberries in there. Maybe that was why he’d been on the cliff, to research the flockenberries.

I closed the book and sighed. ‘Well I guess these berries probably didn't have anything to do with Charles's death.’

Meow.

Nero hopped down from the sofa and trotted over to the old mahogany writing desk Millie had left for me, casting a glance back at Marlowe who soon joined him.

‘Yeah, I know. Dead-end right?’ I said. ‘Who would kill someone over berries?’

Nero jumped up on the desk and batted at a pen.

‘Unfortunately now, I'm back to square one.’