A High-End Finish(33)

“Just move your damn car!” I yelled.

He got to the top of the stairs, unlocked the door to the suite, and disappeared inside.

I let out a frustrated scream.

“He’s not a very nice man,” Mrs. Higgins cried out from across the street. “You should tow his car.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins,” I said, waving at her. Just what I needed was advice from a veritable shut-in. Even though she was right.

“That reminds me,” she said loudly, her elderly voice shaky in the chilly air. “Did you two hear about the strange man who bought the old lighthouse mansion?”

“What?” I asked, thinking she must be deluded. “Jesse, do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”

He shrugged. “Some movie star just moved here. That’s what I heard up at the diner.”

“Really? Where have I been?” But I knew the answer to that. I’d been running around town, trying to find out who killed Jerry Saxton. And I’d been squabbling with Wendell Jarvick in an attempt to get his stupid damn car off my property. I stared up at his room over the garage and wondered what to do next.

Jesse followed my gaze. “He’s something else, that guy.”

“I can’t stand him.”

“So tow his car like you threatened to do,” he said, leaning his elbow against his mailbox. “Gus’ll take care of it for you.”

Gus was the auto mechanic who’d been servicing my vehicles since high school.

“I know, but I have a feeling it would cause more problems than it’s worth.” I yanked the mail out of the box and slammed the door shut. “I just want Wendell to go away. Forever.”

“You can’t always get what you want, kiddo,” Jesse said.

“Don’t I know it?” I muttered, and walked back into the house.



That night I went to dinner at Lizzie and Hal’s for the second time in a week. Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t complaining. Lizzie was a great cook and Hal liked to grill steaks, so why would I say no to their invitation?

Still, I was more than a little suspicious. For some reason, each of my friends had invited me over for dinner every night that week. Did they think I couldn’t be trusted to dine alone? Did they think I was lonely or nervous about being by myself in that big house of mine?

Maybe I should’ve been nervous. After all, the police hadn’t arrested anyone for killing Jerry yet.

And then there was Wendell. I hated having him stay in my pretty garage apartment so maybe it was just as well that I was away from home tonight. I was ticking off the calendar days until he departed Lighthouse Cove and, if I had my way, he would never come back again. I had only to avoid him for nine more days, but it wouldn’t be easy. He seemed to thrive on stirring up negative feelings wherever he went. That seemed like an inherently dangerous way to live one’s life.

After giving hugs to Lizzie and Hal and their two kids, Marisa and Taz—short for Tasmanian Devil, Hal always said—I handed Lizzie the bottle of wine I’d brought along with a small pink box of cookies.

“Are those cookies?” Taz whispered reverently. “Thanks, Aunt Shannon.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” I said, ruffling the eleven-year-old’s hair and getting a little choked up that he was still young enough to call me his aunt. “Good grief, he’s almost as tall as you are, Lizzie.”

“I’m taller,” Taz said, grinning.

“Don’t remind me,” Lizzie said, as she hung up my coat in the front closet.

Her very grown-up thirteen-year-old daughter, Marisa, took hold of the pink box. “I’ll put them in the fridge, Mom.”

“Thanks, honey. And no sampling, please.” Lizzie walked with me over to the kitchen bar. Hal had just poured glasses of wine so the three of us had a toast to the first lovely hints of fall in the air.

“I heard you had another run-in with Wendell,” Lizzie said after she’d taken a sip.

“How could you have heard that? It happened only a few hours ago.”

Lizzie gazed at me quizzically. “I’m sorry—where do we live again?”

“Small-town America,” I said, groaning. “But, come on, the only people watching us fight were Jesse and Mrs. Higgins.”

She gave me that same look and I held up my hand. “I know. They’re the town criers. They were probably on the telephone within seconds.”

“I found out about it at the market less than an hour ago,” Lizzie said.

“Ridiculous.” I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it. But he’s a horrible man. We fought over something really stupid, but he made me so angry, I wanted to slap him. Really hard. I mean, really, really hard. And you should’ve seen what he did to Whitney at the pub the other night. What a jackass.”

I was pounding my fist into the palm of my other hand with enough force that Lizzie began to frown. “But you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Oh, hell.” I placed both hands flat on the bar counter to calm myself. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Yes,” Lizzie said, smiling, “because I have something interesting and fun to talk about.”

“Hooray.” I took a seat on one of the barstools. “Let’s hear it.”