Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)(57)

Mack was coming to Cedar Cove, too, but their son wouldn’t get there until Christmas morning. Mack was a mailman in the Seattle area. He’d never enjoyed school or succeeded at it the way his sister had. Corrie believed that, in time, he’d decide to further his education, but if he didn’t, that was fine, too. He was generous, hard-working and honest. Roy, however, had bigger aspirations for his only son, and it had caused a rift between him and Mack. A small one they both chose to ignore, but they weren’t close, and that troubled Corrie.

“Are you going out?” Roy asked as he left his office and found her wearing her coat.

“Peggy and I are meeting for lunch,” she told him. “Then we’re off to the mall.”

Her husband leaned against her desk in a relaxed pose. “You like Peggy, don’t you?”

Corrie nodded. They’d lived in Cedar Cove nearly four years now and hadn’t established a lot of friendships. In the beginning, Corrie had been busy setting up their home. Later she was involved with helping Roy establish the agency. There’d been overtures of friendship from their neighbors, but Corrie and Roy tended to keep to themselves. That was how it had been in Seattle, and they’d maintained the same approach here. They waved to the neighbors, collected their mail while they were on vacation, but that was about the extent of it.

Peggy Beldon, however, was someone who genuinely interested Corrie, for a number of reasons. Corrie had a small garden space at the back of their property. Her yard in Seattle had been shaded and too small for anything other than a few flowers. After seeing Peggy’s herb garden, she wanted to plant her own. But Corrie liked Peggy for more than her gardening expertise.

The day Bob came into the office and Corrie had chatted with Peggy, the other woman had graciously offered Corrie a few seedlings. That was the beginning of their friendship. Twice now, they’d met for lunch to chat, exchange recipes and get to know each other. Both times Corrie had come away with the feeling that she’d made a friend.

“You don’t mind if I take the time off, do you?” she asked. Her question was a polite formality, since Roy had encouraged the friendship.

Her husband shook his head. “By all means, tackle the mall. You’re braver than I am by a long shot.”

“You don’t have any appointments this afternoon?”

He looked at her absently. Corrie knew him well enough to realize his mind had drifted in another direction altogether. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Roy continued to stare into space.

“Roy?”

He frowned, and it was clear he hadn’t even heard her the first time. Roy was like this. His thoughts would venture off onto some case and it’d be practically impossible to get his attention.

“Is it the mystery man again?” she asked. She knew that some part of his brain refused to let this lie. He needed answers, resolution. It was one of the reasons he’d advanced quickly through the ranks of the Seattle Police Department to become a detective, a position he’d held for most of his career.

“You want my opinion?” she said.

Roy grinned. “I have a feeling you’re going to give it to me, anyway, so why not?”

“I suspect this John Doe was lost and looking for a place to stay. You and I both know there are only a couple of motels in town.”

“Both are off the Interstate,” Roy reminded her.

“So he took an early exit and got lost. That’s easy enough to do,” Corrie reasoned. “Remember the first time we drove to Cedar Cove?” If he didn’t remember, she certainly did. They’d driven across the Narrows Bridge on a sunny Sunday afternoon, searching out areas in Puget Sound where their retirement income would match the cost of living.

Corrie had been reading the map and become confused. Consequently, Roy had exited the freeway too soon and they’d found themselves in what was primarily a rural area. They’d driven past small farms and horse ranches and then along stretches of undeveloped waterfront. They’d both grown excited when they realized property values were fifty percent less than they were across the water.

“I remember,” Roy said. “But if that was the case, the mystery man would’ve had to travel a long way in the dark, on unfamiliar roads, and then he just stumbled onto the Beldons’ bed-and-breakfast.” He rubbed his jaw. “I suppose it’s possible. With the renaming of some streets, anyone, especially a visitor, could get confused.” Part of Lighthouse Road, on the other side of Harbor Street, was now called Cranberry Point.

“True.” Roy had a point. The Thyme and Tide wasn’t on the beaten path and was miles away from the exit she’d mentioned.

“So much of his visit to town doesn’t add up,” Roy muttered. “The fact that he had plastic surgery has bothered me from the beginning.”

“I thought the coroner said it looked like the guy had some kind of accident.”

“He did,” Roy said, “but Bob said there was something vaguely familiar about him. I keep thinking about that, too.”

“Let it go,” she urged. “It’s almost Christmas.” If Roy took a break from the case, he might free his mind to explore solutions. It often happened like that; a case would lie fallow for months and then overnight a small piece of evidence her husband had found months earlier—a bit of conversation, a previously unrelated detail—would suddenly click into place. Soon afterward, he’d have the answers he needed.