The Inn at Holiday Bay Books 7 - 9 Page 10

  “So, what does that mean?” she asked. “Does that mean I can’t trust any of my memories?”

  I slowly shook my head. “I really don’t know. I suppose if you really want to know, you can contact a psychiatrist that might be able to help you sort it all out. In the meantime, I’m going to finish reading through the file. Maybe something will pop out as being relevant.”

  “Will you call me tomorrow?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Of course. I’ll call you in the morning, and we can decide how to proceed.”

  “If you think of anyone at all who is alive and living in the area now who might have been living in the area back then and could even remotely have seen anything, be sure to let us know,” Lacy said.

  “There is someone,” she said.

  I slipped my computer back into my bag. “Who?”

  “Sophia. She lived next door to me. She had a regular life and went to public school, so she had a lot of friends, which meant she didn’t come over often, but she did come over sometimes. I remember she came over and brought us cookies on Christmas Eve morning. Some of the kids were going sledding, and she wanted to know if I would like to go with them, but my father told her that I had a piano lesson.” She paused. It looked as if she was rolling the memory around in her mind. “Wait, I remember something. The snow globe.” She got up and crossed the room. There was a shelf with decorative items, including a snow globe she picked up. “I remember my father giving me this snow globe when he picked me up from piano that day.” She smiled. “I had totally forgotten about that.” She shook it and watched the glitter inside fall. “The snow globe features children sledding. I remember my dad telling me that he’d needed to meet with someone and that there was a snow park next to the café where he had the meeting. I remember he told me he felt bad that I’d missed sledding with Sophia and my other friends, so he’d bought me the globe.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “He told me it was a special globe, and, like me, it was one of a kind.” She shook the globe once again. “You know, until this moment, I really couldn’t remember where this had come from. It is so very strange. Until today, I’d actually toyed with a memory of Sophia giving it to me after she returned from sledding, but she couldn’t have since I never saw her again after that morning.”

  “So, you never saw Sophia again after your mother was murdered?” I clarified.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I did.” She frowned. “I wonder why Nanny Emmy didn’t arrange a visit. We had been friends, after all.” She continued to look at the globe with a look of concentration on her face. “Although...”

  “Although?” I asked.

  “Maybe I did see her again. I have this very clear memory of her standing near a fence, wearing a bright red hat and mittens.” She rolled her lips. “I suppose the memory might be from before the day of the murder, but it feels different. Like maybe it happened after.” She furrowed her brow and seemed to be trying to pull up the memory. “You know, I think maybe I did come back to the house at some point after my mother died. I don’t know when, and I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel quite certain that, at some point, I was talking to Sophia while we were each standing on our own side of the short fence that separated our properties. I remember showing her my snow globe. If my memory of my father giving it to me when he picked me up from my piano lesson on Christmas Eve is accurate, then I would have had to have shown it to Sophia after my mother died.” She looked directly at me. “Why is it that I would remember that after all these years?”

  Chapter 8

  Mark Westgate was tall and thin, with thick dark hair cut in a conservative style. He had dark eyes and a nice smile, which, when closely evaluated, somehow felt calculated. If I had to guess, Mark was used to being “on,” and probably didn’t even realize that he carried his coat of confidence around like armor. I spoke to him briefly when he arrived, and he was polite and focused. He asked several pointed questions about the inn, the surrounding area, and even the other guests before heading up to his room to answer some emails. After two minutes of talking to the man, I’d decided that he probably wasn’t going to be the one to provide Mylie with marriage, babies, and happily ever after, but he did have an energy most would enjoy.

  It seemed apparent to me that Mark Westgate was a wheeler and dealer, always looking to make a buck, and always searching for an angle that would allow him to do just that. I knew he was in Holiday Bay to look at some property he was thinking of developing, and suddenly I found myself wondering exactly where that property was located. It seemed to me that Georgia had mentioned a luxury resort. Most folks who build luxury resorts were looking for waterfront locations. I loved the isolation of my waterfront location, and suddenly I found myself hoping this guy wasn’t in town to look at land in my own backyard. I supposed when he came down, that I’d simply ask him which property he was in town to check out. For all I knew, he might be looking to build his resort miles from where the Inn at Holiday Bay was located. At least I hoped that was the case.

  “So, how did it go?” Georgia asked after I joined her in the kitchen, where she was taking today’s cookies out of the oven. Mylie had gone cross country skiing with Riley though she’d told me that she planned to mostly avoid him, Jeremy and Annabelle were getting ready for the Christmas pageant, and Christy and Haley had gone somewhere with Noah.

  “It was intense,” I admitted. “I’m trying very hard to stay objective and a bit removed from the whole thing, but it’s hard. I want to help Pamela find her answer, but I am hesitant to get pulled too deeply into what was a seriously tragic event.”

  “I get it. It happened a long time ago, which would seemingly make it easier to stomach, but hearing about it for the first time from the person who actually lived through it, must make it seem very real indeed. After speaking with Pamela, do you have a better idea if her father is innocent as she believes?”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Not really. It looks like her memories are fragmented and riddled with gaps and inconsistencies, which makes me wonder if we can trust them at all.”

  “What do you mean?” Georgia asked.

  I started by sharing the fact that Pamela couldn’t remember the time between leaving for her piano lesson and arriving back at home, which I supposed was understandable. Then I offered other instances of her memory being incomplete. “She hadn’t been able to remember when or how she’d gotten a snow globe until today. We were talking about a friend who had invited her to go sledding on Christmas Eve, and then out of the blue, she remembered that her father had given it to her after picking her up from her piano lesson. Additionally, Pamela was sure she had never returned to the house after her mother’s death, but today, she remembered standing at the fence showing the snow globe to her friend, Sophia.”

  “So, her memories are coming alive.”

  “I guess. But why now?”

  “I don’t know, but it does seem like this mystery just keeps getting more and more confusing. Did you happen to remember to invite Pamela to the events at the inn?” Georgia asked.

  “No, I totally forgot. I promised to call her in the morning. I’ll ask her then. For now, I think I’m going to head over to the cottage and call Colt. I’m hoping he might have some insight that can help me determine which of Pamela’s memories are real and which are not.”

  Of course, when I arrived at the cottage, Ramos and Molly met me. They both looked at me with such hope in their eyes that I knew my call to Colt would have to wait until after I’d taken them on a walk. I changed into my heaviest snow boots and my heaviest jacket, pulled on my gloves and hat, and set out along the path that paralleled the bluff. The bluff trail was always deserted in the winter. After leaving the property that had come along with the inn, there was a long stretch of open space before the trail eventually ran into the fence that ran the entire perimeter of Tanner’s property.

  As I neared the open space, I noticed someone walking in the distance. I cautioned both dogs to stay wi
th me and not to bother whoever was walking along the bluff. The individual, who I could see was a man now that he’d stopped to look at something on the ground, seemed vaguely familiar. As I got closer, I realized why.

  “Mr. Westgate. What are you doing out here?”

  “Mark, please. And I’m here to take a look at the property boundaries, access to the water, access to the road, and that sort of thing.”

  “This is the property you’re looking at for your new resort?” I couldn’t quite keep the panic from my voice.

  “It is one of three properties I’m looking at.”

  “I didn’t even know it was for sale,” I responded.

  “It’s not, but one of my employees happened across the property when he was in Maine last summer and told me about it. I figured I’d take a look. If I think it will work out, then I’ll make the owner an offer he can’t refuse. What can you tell me about the property to the east of here?”

  I swallowed hard. “That property belongs to Tanner Peyton. He owns a dog training facility, Peyton Academy. He trains search and rescue and guide dogs.”

  “How is the smell?” He asked.

  I wanted to say that the smell was unbearable and that in the summer, the entire bluff smelled of dog urine, but that wasn’t at all true. Tanner kept a very clean facility, and I’d never noticed an unpleasant odor even on the hottest day. “It’s really fine,” I said. “But I’m sure you’ve noticed that this property has no direct access to the beach. I would think that would be a problem for your guests.”

  He nodded. “It could be. I might look into the regulations. If stairs down to the beach below could be built, that would take care of that issue.”

  “It might. But, of course, the winters here are horrific.” Okay, I might be laying it on a little thick, but I was desperate. I wondered if Tanner knew this guy was snooping around. I was sure he wouldn’t be any happier about it than I was. Not that I had a problem with luxury resorts per se, just not in my backyard!

  “Yes, well, I guess the weather is one of the things I will need to consider.” He looked out toward the sea. “It is beautiful here. The snow, combined with the sea, will bring in a certain type of guest who is looking for some rest and relaxation. I guess you know that since you opted to open an inn along this same stretch of coastline.”

  “It is true that the place has a lot to offer, but we have a lot of vacancies after New Year’s. I suppose we may fill some of those vacancies, but it is cold here. I’m sure we’ll need to really scrape to get by.”

  Actually, I had reserves and knew we’d be fine over the winter, but I hoped to discourage this particular developer from looking into the property any further. I didn’t want to look down the coast and see a large hotel. I wanted to look down the coast and see what I saw now, wide-open space and thick groves of evergreen and deciduous trees.

  “Unlike small inns, resort chains tend to have their own guests that flutter from resort to resort within the chain. We might even look at a timeshare option. I’m not worried about occupancy.”

  I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. “Well, I need to get back. I have a pageant to get to. Enjoy surveying.”

  I found myself practically running back toward my cottage. I needed to call Tanner. He had a lot of influence in the area, and maybe he could stop this resort idea in its tracks before it ever got started.

  After I called Tanner and explained the situation, I called Colt. I had this huge need to do something in this very minute to stop what could potentially be happening from happening, but, other than calling Tanner and giving him a heads up, I really wasn’t sure what to do.

  “So, what did Tanner say after you filled him in?” Colt asked after he answered my call, and I’d explained what I had just learned.

  “He said he knew the man who owned the land between our properties. He was certain he would never sell to a developer, but that he’d call and chat with him all the same.”

  “Which makes it sound like you have nothing to worry about,” Colt said.

  “I guess. Of course, now I’m worried this guy is going to find out that I went behind his back in an attempt to have his interest in the property blocked. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but he is going to be staying at the inn through Christmas. I really don’t know how I am going to look him in the eye.”

  “Maybe it will never even become an issue,” Colt said. “Maybe he will look at the land, decide against it, and it will never come up that the property owner was intercepted before he had a chance to make his pitch.”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” Man, this had been a stressful day.

  “So, what’s going on at the inn today? Didn’t you tell me you had sleigh rides?”

  “Initially, yes, but then the sleigh ride vendor just wanted to do one day instead of two, so we decided to have him out tomorrow. Annabelle has her pageant today, and Jeremy took a group sledding this morning. How are you all doing?”

  “The kids and I have been having a wonderful time, but I’ve missed you.”

  “And we’ve missed you. But I think this time with family is important for all three of you. The value of memory building should never be underestimated.”

  “I agree. So, how did things go with Pamela today?”

  I hesitated. I hated to draw him into this, but I really did want his input. “Things were intense. Not only was the situation intense because we were speaking to a woman about the murder of her mother, but I could see she was really struggling with her memories, and that was stressful for her as well.” I went on and shared as much with Colt about our meeting that morning as I could remember.

  “I guess it should be expected that Pamela would have fragmented memories of that time,” Colt answered. “Not only was the whole thing highly traumatic for her, but she was only eight-years-old at the time, and the event took place sixty-one years ago. How much do you remember from when you were eight?”

  “I remember the big picture, but if someone asked me to remember something specific, I’m sure I couldn’t. And I’m not anywhere near sixty-nine.”

  “Exactly. Still, the thing with the snow globe is interesting.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “She has the globe, so the memory has to be real. The fact that she remembered the red hat and gloves her friend was wearing seems pretty specific. But based on what you said, she also seemed pretty certain that she’d never returned to the house after her father took her away from the scene that day.”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been thinking about that. Pamela said that she remembered talking to her friend near a fence. She was pretty sure that it was the fence that separated her property from the neighbors, but what if it was a different fence? What if while trying to remember the details of the event, she couldn’t pull up the location, so she just subbed one in.”

  “I guess it could have happened that way.” Colt paused briefly. “The problem is that Pamela was so young, and the event so traumatic and so far in the past, that I’m not really sure we can put much weight on any of her memories. If we are going to figure out what really happened, I think we are going to need to uncover some sort of evidence.”

  I blew out a breath. “I guess I should make some time to finish reading the file you sent. There is a lot in there. I’ve skimmed some of it and read other items in their entirety, but I haven’t had time to touch on everything contained within the file.”

  “There is a lot,” Colt agreed. “I kept a copy and have been looking through it myself when I have time.”

  “And has anything jumped out at you as being relevant?” I asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to know for sure without following up, but I did notice a couple of things that didn’t seem to add up.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “For one thing, I read the interview the nanny provided to the investigating officer. In the interview, she stated that while the rest of the staff had left
the premises for the Christmas holiday on the twenty-third, she’d stayed until the morning of the twenty-fourth.”

  “Yes, that is what Pamela said as well. She said the nanny actually lived at the estate, and while she had plans to visit her sister, her flight didn’t leave until later in the day on the twenty-fourth.”

  “The thing is, I found an interview conducted by a man named Landon Wells, who, as it turns out, was the defense attorney assigned to Jeffery Norwood. Wells spoke to a woman named Hillary Huntington, who owned the motel Emily Garwood checked into after she left the Norwood’s home. According to Wells, Ms. Huntington stated that the nanny checked into the motel owned by Huntington shortly before ten a.m. on the twenty-fourth.”

  “So, she never went out of town.”

  “It appears she did not. I also found an interview between the investigator and the piano teacher. The piano teacher stated that Pamela was dropped off at nine and picked up at eleven. According to what Pamela told the investigator, her nanny was still at the house when her father took her into town for her lesson. The investigator estimated that Pamela and her father would have left the house about eight-forty. They returned to the house and called in the murder at about eleven-twenty.”

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked.

  “I guess I’m saying that while it is possible that Mr. Norwood did drop Pamela off at her piano lesson and then return home, kill his wife, clean up, and then go back into town to pick Pamela up, it is equally as likely that after Mr. Norwood left the house with Pamela, Mrs. Norwood was killed by the nanny, who then checked into a motel after she’d left the estate.”

  I froze. “The nanny? Are you saying that you believe that the woman who took Pamela in and raised her after her mother was murdered and her father was sent to prison was the person who killed her mother?”

  “I think that it’s possible. Mr. Norwood’s defense attorney hoped that offering the nanny as a suspect would bring about reasonable doubt that he could use to have his client freed. It didn’t work out that way, but he tried.”