The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery (9 page)

“So I could go ahead and arrange a memorial service?”

“Certainly. Then, once the police release Jimmy’s body, the cremation can be arranged.”

I blinked as tears tried to make a sudden appearance. “What about the pancake house?” I asked. “What’s going to happen there?”

“Yes, the pancake house.” Mr. Ogilvie peered down at the papers in front of him. “Were you aware that Jimmy had a number of other assets as well?”

“No. That’s not something we ever talked about. Although I did hear that he left a nice sum to each of his employees.”

“He did,” Ogilvie confirmed. “He made some smart investments over the years and could have retired comfortably if he’d chosen to do so.”

I hadn’t realized that. I always figured that if he decided to retire, he’d sell the pancake house and live off the proceeds. It had never crossed my mind that he might have any other significant assets. It wasn’t as if he was ever a big spender.

“I’ll give you a brief overview of his will and then we can go over everything in more detail.” He glanced at me for a sign of approval. Once I’d nodded my agreement, he continued on. “First off, he named me as the executor of his estate. He made some bequests to local charities, including an animal shelter and Clallam County Search and Rescue. He also left fifty thousand dollars each to his chef and waitress, and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars to Lydia Daniels.” He raised his eyes from the papers. “I understand that’s your mother?”

“Yes.” Tears stung my eyes again, Jimmy’s generosity overwhelming me.

Thank you, Jimmy,
I said silently.

I held back my tears as Mr. Ogilvie consulted the papers in front of him again. When he resumed speaking, his words took me by complete surprise.

“Everything else,” the lawyer went on, “Jimmy left to you, Marley Rose McKinney.”

I stared at Mr. Ogilvie, speechless.

“I take it that was unexpected,” he said when he took in my expression.

Another second or two passed before I found my voice. “To say the least.” I pressed the fingers of one hand to my forehead. “Hold on. You’re saying Jimmy left me the pancake house?” My mind didn’t know how to register that.

Mr. Ogilvie glanced down at the pages of Jimmy’s will. “The pancake house, his home and vehicle, and several hundred thousand dollars.”

I dropped my hand and shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked.” I shook my head again. “I figured the bulk of his estate would go to one of his other relatives or possibly my mom, but…”

“Jimmy did mention that he had some relatives in Maine and New Mexico, but he had little to no contact with them over the past twenty years or so. He considered you and your mother to be his closest family.”

My sense of guilt made a comeback. I hadn’t come to visit him nearly as often as I should have. Yet, he’d still left me the majority of his estate.

The Flip Side.

Panic grabbed at me. “I don’t know how to run a pancake house,” I blurted out. “I mean, taking care of it for a week or two is one thing; owning it is something else entirely.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Mr. Ogilvie asked. “Move over here and run the business?”

“I…have no idea. I have a job in Seattle and I…” I shut my eyes for a moment, my thoughts too muddled to string together a full, coherent sentence.

“There’s no need to make a decision right at the moment,” Mr. Ogilvie said. His reassuring tone eased away some of my panic.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course.”

“But what are my options?” I asked. “Run The Flip Side or sell it?”

“Those are two options, another being that you could hire someone to operate the pancake house. That way you could keep the building and the business yet still live your life in Seattle. Another alternative would be to close the business and lease out the building. No matter which option you settle on, I can help you with all the necessary arrangements.”

“Thank you.” My words sounded distant, bogged down by the enormity of the decisions I’d have to make in the near future.

Mr. Ogilvie shut his file folder. “Perhaps we should leave the details for another day so you have more time to absorb everything that has happened.”

“Yes,” I said somewhat absently. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Mr. Ogilvie pushed back his chair. “Lisa will make another appointment for you. Perhaps for Monday or Tuesday? We don’t want to leave things sitting for too long.”

“Monday or Tuesday would be fine.”

I grabbed my tote bag and Mr. Ogilvie walked me to his office door.

“See you next week, Ms. McKinney,” he said as he held the door open for me.

“Yes. Thank you.”

After Lisa scheduled another appointment for me, I exchanged a few more words with her and then left the office, stepping out into the bright but breezy afternoon. Once on the sidewalk, I stood there, unsure of what to do with myself.

Go back to Jimmy’s place
was the first idea my stunned mind came up with, but then I gave myself a mental shake and decided I wasn’t quite ready to go anywhere. I needed a chance to process everything Ogilvie had told me first.

After a quick check for traffic, I jogged across the street and entered Johnny’s Juice Hut, nestled between the antiques shop and a shoe store. The menu above the counter listed several types of bubble tea, fruit juices, and smoothies. That suited me well, since I was craving something juicy and sweet.

The only current customer, I stood back from the counter and took my time reading over the selections. A moment later, a man with a bald head and a gold ring in one ear emerged from the back, a white apron over his jeans and T-shirt. “What can I get you?” he asked me.

“Mango bubble tea with pearls, please,” I said, fishing my wallet out of my bag.

He accepted payment from me and then set about making my drink.

“Have a seat,” he said when he saw me lingering by the counter. “I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.” I chose a seat at the narrow bar set up by the front window so I would have a view of the street.

Jimmy left me the majority of his estate,
I told myself, still having trouble believing it.

Tears welled in my eyes as a rush of gratitude nearly took my breath away. I hoped he somehow knew how grateful I was, that I’d loved him even if I hadn’t visited him as often as I should have.

I drew in a steadying breath and blinked my eyes until the threat of tears lessened. I didn’t want to cry in public, even if I was the only customer in Johnny’s Juice Hut at the moment.

Mere seconds after I managed to get my emotions under control, the bald man came over and set my bubble tea in front of me.

“Enjoy,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you.”

I took a sip of the slushy mango concoction. As a burst of refreshing flavor hit my taste buds, my mind became more alert. Nothing seemed quite real to me at the moment, but it would all sink in with time, I knew. There was no point in trying to make any decisions about the pancake house at present. I simply wasn’t up to it. In a day or two, everything would make more sense. Or so I hoped.

As I rolled one of the tapioca pearls across the roof of my mouth, I did my best to relax. Across the street, the door to the real estate office opened and a woman emerged onto the sidewalk. My eyes zeroed in on her. Was she Chantel Lefevre, the woman who had almost run me over? She had the same straight blond hair as the driver. It reached an inch or two below her chin and not a strand was out of place. She appeared to be about fifty and carried a few extra pounds beneath her pale pink pencil skirt and matching blazer.

Sure enough, after slipping on a pair of sunglasses, the woman circled around the yellow sports car and opened the driver’s-side door. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and the car zoomed off down Main Street toward Wildwood Road.

I hadn’t met the woman, but I had a gut feeling that I wouldn’t warm to her if I did. Was she the only real estate agent in town? I hoped not. If I did end up selling either of Jimmy’s properties, I didn’t think I’d feel comfortable going to Chantel Lefevre for help. Although, maybe I was being unfair. She drove too fast and Lisa didn’t seem to be a big fan of hers, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job.

Further thoughts about the real estate agent flew from my mind when the door to Johnny’s Juice Hut opened and Michael Downes came inside. He paused to remove his sunglasses. As he ran a hand over his dark hair, his unshaded gaze flicked in my direction. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised a hand in greeting as the man behind the counter—I had no idea if he was actually Johnny or not—called out, “Hey, Michael. What can I get you today?”

Michael stepped up to the counter to place his order and pay, but soon claimed the empty stool next to me. “Hey, Marley.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” He set his sunglasses on the bar. “I heard about Jimmy, though. It’s a real shame. I’ll miss him.”

“So will I.” I sipped some more bubble tea through my straw as the man in the apron came over and set a deep purple smoothie in front of Michael. When we were alone again, I said, “Was everything all right with you the other day?”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“You left The Flip Side in such a rush. I thought something might be wrong.”

His face cleared. “Oh, that. When I saw the date on the paper I realized it was the last day to renew my vehicle insurance. I wanted to get it done before I went to my first job of the day.” He took a drink of his smoothie. “How about you? Are you holding up okay? I hear the sheriff’s conducting a murder investigation now.”

“He is. And I’m doing all right, considering.”

“Any idea what happened?” he asked.

“No, and I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Jimmy.”

“Maybe it was a random thing.” Michael paused to take another drink. “A deranged transient or something. Or a robbery gone wrong. A few houses have been broken into lately. Maybe someone thought the place would be deserted and Jimmy surprised them.”

“Could be.” I didn’t mention the fact that some of the loot from the burglarized houses was stashed on Jimmy’s property. Instead, I focused on drawing three tapioca pearls up through my straw. As I chewed and swallowed them, it occurred to me that Michael might be a good source of information. “Do you know of anyone Jimmy had a problem with?”

“Nah. Not really. Unless you count Gerald Teeves.”

I didn’t recognize the name. “Who’s that?”

“He owns the property next to Jimmy’s.”

“Ah,” I said, remembering the garish new house. “The mansion.”

“That’s it. I know he and Jimmy weren’t exactly friends.”

“How come?”

“Teeves is all about modernization. Jimmy thought he was trying to change the character of Wildwood Cove too much. Then again, lots of people think that. Teeves isn’t the most popular guy around town.”

“That doesn’t seem like a reason for Teeves to kill Jimmy.” Unless there was more to it than differing viewpoints.

“No, it doesn’t,” Michael agreed, “but that’s the only person I can think of who Jimmy didn’t see eye to eye with.”

“What about Daryl Willis?”

Michael’s forehead furrowed. “What about him?”

“I found him lurking around Jimmy’s workshop the other day. I understand you know him well.”

“I do.” Michael hesitated, the creases across his forehead deepening before smoothing out again. “He probably didn’t mean any harm.”

“Maybe not,” I said, doubtful, “but it was kind of…unsettling.”

“He’s a bit of an oddball, but he listens to me and does what I tell him. I’ll make sure he stays away from Jimmy’s place from now on.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” I took a sip of my bubble tea. “I heard that he and his girlfriend rent a room from you.”

“Yep. Like I said, Daryl’s a bit of an oddball, but he’s not that bad. He played on a softball team I used to coach. He didn’t have a great upbringing and I thought maybe I could help give him some direction. So I gave him a place to live and he helps me out with my work now and then.”

“What type of work do you do?” I asked.

“I’ve got my own plumbing business. Daryl seems interested enough. I’m hoping he’ll get certified one day.”

“It was nice of you to take him under your wing.”

Michael shrugged. “Just helping out where I can.”

I hesitated a moment before voicing my next question. “You don’t think he could have had anything to do with what happened to Jimmy, do you?”

“Daryl? He’s been in trouble in the past. He even served some time in prison on an assault charge. But I can’t think of any reason why he would hurt Jimmy. I don’t think he knew Jimmy to say hello to.”

“Hmm.” But what if Daryl stole the artwork and stashed it in Jimmy’s workshop?

“Best to leave the investigating to the police,” Michael said.

“I suppose so.”

We lapsed into silence, both of us drinking our fruity concoctions. “How long are you sticking around?”

I gave my bubble tea an idle stir with my straw. “I’m not sure. I guess it’ll depend on the memorial service and a few other arrangements now.”

“Any chance I could buy you dinner one night before you leave?”

I hadn’t seen that question coming and it took me a second to process the fact that he was asking me out. I scrambled around in my mind for a response. “I’ll have to see how things work out, but…possibly?” I winced. “Sorry, that’s a terrible answer.”

Michael smiled. “I’ll take it.”

His reaction put me at ease, and I noticed for the first time that he had eyes the color of dark mahogany. A split second after I’d made that observation, he snatched up his sunglasses and got up from his stool.

“I’ve got to run, but hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”

“That would be nice,” I said.

He treated me to another smile as he slipped on his sunglasses and picked up what remained of his smoothie. “Take care.”

“You too.”

Michael pushed open the door of Johnny’s Juice Hut and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He raised a hand to me through the large front window and I waved back. I rolled another tapioca pearl around in my mouth as I watched him climb into his black pickup truck and drive off.

It wasn’t until I was at the edge of town, walking along Wildwood Road, that I realized I’d never gone into the antiques store to check out the cheval mirror. I didn’t bother turning back. There wasn’t much point, since I didn’t want to go through the hassle of getting the mirror back to Seattle and there was a good chance it was out of my price range anyway.

Except you’ll soon have a lot more money, thanks to Cousin Jimmy,
I reminded myself.

“Crazy,” I said aloud. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around that.

As I left the road for Jimmy’s driveway, I caught sight of movement in the distance. A man in a gray business suit stood at the far edge of the property, just above the beach. He held something in his hand and I realized a moment later that it was a camera. He raised it up to eye level and snapped pictures of Jimmy’s house and the surrounding grounds.

Puzzled, I picked up my pace, wanting to ask what the heck he was doing. But either he saw me coming or had finished taking his photos, because he headed down the beach away from Jimmy’s property. As he disappeared from sight, I broke into a jog, hoping to catch up with him. I passed by the house and hopped up onto a log at the top of the beach, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

Uneasy and slightly annoyed, I gave up on the idea of confronting the man and let myself into the house. I didn’t know why people had taken to lurking around, but considering Jimmy’s murder, I wasn’t about to rule out sinister motivations.