I crossed the wide expanse of sand and when I reached the water’s edge, I turned south. The wet, hard-packed sand provided good support and I began to jog, dodging the puddles of water and remnants of waves that made it onto shore and into my path.
I breathed deeply as I increased my pace. I loved this place. The town, the beach, the water, the air. My friends. I couldn’t imagine a better place to grow up than one block away from the beach at Lighthouse Cove. I’d spent my summers lying in the sun, dodging the waves, and swimming out to the old buoy that used to mark the boundary between safety and the murky depths of the outer bay.
Over the years, the pier and boardwalk had grown more upscale with chic restaurants and fashionable shops. But the old arcade continued to cater to kids and teens, and there was still a designated fishing rail at the end of the pier for a die-hard fisherman to catch a meal or two.
I slowed down when I reached the Lighthouse Cove Marina at the opposite end of the strand from the pier. Speedboats, sailboats, and power cruisers bobbed on the water, reminding me of the tiny yellow boat in Mrs. Higgins’s fountain. And that reminded me of her words a few minutes ago. I thought of how happy Jesse must’ve been to finally find a woman who shared his enjoyment of boats—at least according to Mrs. Higgins. I assumed she knew what she was talking about in that moment, even though she occasionally dipped into sad little bouts of dementia.
Recently my father had told me that he’d talked to Mrs. Higgins’s daughter, who was thinking of selling Mrs. Higgins’s house and moving the older woman in with her and her husband. I wasn’t sure what Mrs. Higgins would do without her rose garden and her behemoth bird fountain, but I supposed it would be good for my neighbor to live with someone who cared for her.
But it was still a little depressing. I picked up speed and concentrated on my breathing instead of on the sad fact that some of the people I’d known my whole life were growing old and would be moving away or dying—if they hadn’t already. I was a pretty upbeat person most of the time, but once in a while, I could get bogged down by the unfairness of it all. Like now, when death was all around me. I hated that feeling. So I ran faster and focused instead on the sound of my feet hitting the damp sand, the feel of the briny breeze brushing across my face, the echoing of a halyard wire pinging against a sailboat mast in the marina nearby.
Boats.
And just like that, I was back where I’d started with Jesse and Althea and the thought of what might have been. If only.
I remembered that Jesse had owned a small powerboat ten or fifteen years ago and my dad and some of the other guys used to go fishing with him once in a while. But he sold it eventually and I wasn’t sure why. With a sigh, I wondered if he might’ve considered buying a new boat after he met Althea. Or maybe she owned her own. I would have to remember to ask her.
Or did Jesse have a boat that I didn’t know about? I made a mental note to ask Jane.
I slowed down and finally came to a stop. I rubbed my stomach and realized I was getting hungry. I had leftover pizza at home and couldn’t wait to bite into it. That would teach me to go running on a completely empty stomach.
After a few minutes of stretching to cool down, I didn’t have the energy to retrace my steps along the shore and all the way back to Main Street. Instead I took my old shortcut, going east two blocks to my street and then a quick three and a half blocks back to my house.
While I was showering, my thoughts were a jumbled mix, from Mrs. Higgins and fountains and boats, to Jesse and Althea and shortcuts and pizza. There was always pizza.
And traffic cameras, suspect lists, and stealthy photographs taken in the dark. Why couldn’t the mystery of Jesse’s death come together like a neatly arranged jigsaw puzzle? There weren’t that many puzzle pieces: a priceless necklace, two suspicious drug overdoses, an enigmatic visitor who’d committed suicide—according to the police—and who actually might’ve been hiding here in Lighthouse Cove all along.
I poured myself a glass of wine and ate my leftover pizza dinner with only Robbie and Tiger for company. They took advantage of my melancholy by rubbing up against my calves, earning bits of cheese as a reward for their sympathy. I studied my suspect list spreadsheet and wondered again why Althea’s comings and goings from Lighthouse Cove weren’t recorded by any of the traffic cameras.
I’d forgotten to check whether she’d been married before or if her car was registered under a different name. I realized it was possible that she’d borrowed someone else’s car. And if that was the case, then it was also possible that Stephen or Ned or any of the other suspects might’ve done the same thing. Anyone could’ve borrowed a car to get here.