Not that I would say that to Jane. I’d learned my lesson with Andrew and Stephen.
“Wonderful,” Althea said. We settled on the time and place, and after hugs all around, she took off back to her shop. Jane and I continued talking and sipping our tea.
“I have a confession to make,” I said.
“Am I going to get mad again?” she asked, but I could tell she was kidding.
“I hope not. I drove around on Tuesday and stopped at a couple of pawnshops and antique stores, hoping to find more shop owners who might’ve seen Jesse’s necklace. I figured if he showed it to Cuckoo with the intention of selling it, he probably showed it to others, too.”
“That was smart.” Her eyes widened. “Wait. One of those owners could be the person who’s been searching Jesse’s house. He might’ve killed him for it.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Oh my God, Shannon, you weren’t thinking. You could’ve put yourself in danger.”
“Nobody’s going to kill me for asking the question,” I insisted. “They were all perfectly normal shopkeepers. Well, except for Cuckoo. He really is crazy. And there was this one pawnbroker who was pretty ominous, but I got out of there okay.”
“Oh, jeez, you’re scaring me.”
“Don’t worry.” The odd thing was that I hadn’t been scared at all. Well, except for that one guy at the pawnshop. And Cuckoo, of course. Okay, I was scared. But I managed to leave both shops without a mishap.
“Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this is that I was halfway down the coast and decided to drive the rest of the way to Althea’s shop in Blue Point.”
She tilted her head. “You saw Althea on Tuesday?”
“Not exactly. She was leaving for lunch just as I arrived. I waited—and she never saw me—and then I went inside. And ended up buying a pretty new jacket.”
Jane shook her head at me. “You were snooping.”
“Maybe.” I smiled. “Yes, I was snooping. Anyway, the point is, I talked to Althea’s salesclerk, who raved about her being the best boss who ever lived. So that’s reassuring, right?”
Jane thought about it. “Yes, very. I’m glad to hear it.” With a sigh, she took a sip of her tea. “It makes me think that Jesse was happy spending time with her.”
“I hope so.” I laid my head back against the soft-cushioned chair and stared at the view of trees out the window. “I still feel bad that I doubted him so often. The necklace was real, the girlfriend was real, and there’s probably other stuff that I thought was made up but was really real. I should’ve had more faith in him.”
“Well, he did spin some stories,” Jane admitted with a soft chuckle.
“Yes, he did.”
We sat silently for another few minutes. I was lost in thoughts of Jesse and of all the things I should’ve told him. Like how my life was made richer and more fun because of him, and how he made me laugh with his salty language and silly puns, and how I learned from him not to take things so seriously all the time. But I wouldn’t have the chance to tell him anything ever again.
*
Later that afternoon on the way home from Jane’s, I stopped at the post office and ran into my buddy Palmer Tripley, who owned and edited our local newspaper, the Lighthouse Standard. Years ago, my father had rehabbed his parents’ house and we had all become friends. Our fathers still got together to watch sports every so often.
“Did you hear about the suicide?” I asked right away.
“A little. What have you heard?”
I smiled at the way he hedged his answer. I had a feeling he knew plenty, being a good reporter. “I’ll tell you what I know if you’ll do the same.”
“Okay. You go first.”
“Oh, all right.” We walked outside to a private spot where we wouldn’t be overheard and I proceeded to give him the information I’d received from Douglas and Tommy. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
He grinned. “Of course not.”
“So, what do you know about it?”
He thought for a moment. “Let’s see. Andrew Braxton drove up from Long Beach in Southern California for a pharmacology conference out at the Zen Center.”
The Zen Center was located outside town in what we called the Redwood Crest area. The actual name of the center was the Sanctuary of the Four Winds. It was run by our local Zen master, Kikisho. People came from all over the world to study with him, and some of them had even moved to Lighthouse Cove permanently to be close to their master.
The center was also well-known as a good place to hold small conferences with an emphasis on team-building and New Age wellness. I figured that was the focus of Andrew Braxton’s business conference.
So much for wellness, I thought grimly. Andrew was dead in an apparent suicide, although I knew it was really murder.
“Anything else?” I asked.