“I appreciate you seeing me. I won’t take much of your time.” I sipped the tea, watching her. “I’m researching Frank and trying to find out why he was killed. When I looked at your divorce decree, I noticed you didn’t list assets. I don’t mean to be nosy, but you’re very well off in that area. Family money?”

  “Yes. We both had our trust funds, so there was no reason to argue over money. Frank’s was a little smaller than mine; I knew that going into the marriage because Daddy did a full financial audit of his future son-in-law before he’d give permission. He didn’t quite live up to my father’s expectations, but I was told that although he thought I could do better, he wouldn’t forbid it.”

  She laughed and pointed to me. “You should see your face. Yes, dear, sometimes marriage is more than just a match of chemistry and love. For us, it was combining two dynasties.”

  “Then why did you divorce?” I picked up a macaroon after I asked that, hoping the cookie would keep those types of questions from popping out.

  “Even though we were almost well matched in finances and status, there was no love. No chemistry. We cared for each other, but there needs to be more, correct?”

  I couldn’t argue that point. I’d seen too many people break up their partnership because of the one missing ingredient. Love.

  “Did you stay in touch?” I finished the really amazing macaroon as I watched her.

  She shook her head. “Not at first. I was angry he’d fallen in love so fast after we parted. But of course, that rebound never lasts. He’d stop by now and then. Catch me up with his life. I was there when he fell a second and a third time. He really was just looking for a soul mate. But he kept finding people who were more interested in the money. Finally, this last one, I thought she might be the one.”

  “And yet that marriage ended in divorce too.”

  She looked at me strangely. “Did it? I hadn’t heard that.”

  Martha came to the door. “Sorry, but your financial adviser is on the phone. He says it’s urgent.”

  “Money matters always are to these people.” She stood and reached out her hand. “I’m sorry to cut this short. I enjoyed our time together. You’re welcome back anytime. Maybe we could talk about books next time. Being a bookseller must be very exciting.”

  “Not really exciting, but I love what I do.” I reached out my hand and gently shook Lynda’s. “I’d love to stop by to talk books. Maybe I could visit in a couple of weeks?”

  “Martha will give you her card. Just call, and she’ll let you know how I’m doing. Please don’t be offended if I’m having a bad day. Life just happens sometimes.”

  She started to walk out of the room.

  “Lynda, do you have any idea who would want Frank dead?”

  She stopped and looked me directly in the eye. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting that gentle soul out of this world. He made things brighter for so many people. It had to be a random hit-and-run.”

  I thought about my meeting with Lynda all the way to Bakerstown. What a different version of who Frank Gleason was from the man I’d met and had been frustrated with for years after I’d realized the Mission might have been originally on my property. I’d blamed him for the lack of action on the certification, but maybe he’d been on my side all along.

  Not that his support would do any good now. The certification had been a long shot when I’d had a champion working for the agency. Now that he was dead, the fate of the wall was probably dead too. Unless I fought for the certification.

  As soon as Greg had solved Frank’s murder and this thing with the Council, and Amy’s party was over, I was going to sit down with Greg to talk this out. I knew where my heart was leaning. If the wall in my backyard was part of South Cove’s origin story, I needed to preserve that. Even if it did make my life less comfortable.

  When I arrived at the courthouse parking lot, I thought about the vision I’d had about someone being kidnapped. It took me a minute to settle before I could leave my car. Had I heard about the missing girl before, and my mind just used my own jumble of thoughts to create this vision? If it was true, I hoped my insight would help the police find her before anything bad happened.

  My life was too cluttered. I needed to get a few things done and off my worry list.

  Step one was to find this last divorce decree. Lynda’s words flashed in my head. What if there wasn’t a paper trail because they weren’t divorced? Where had I heard he’d been divorced five times? Greg had been under that impression too. And he had talked to a lot more people about Frank.

  I hurried up the stairs and went to find someone who could make sure I hadn’t missed it. I might have just uncovered a clue. Or another dead end. I decided to be positive as I climbed the stairs to the records department.

  Chapter 12

  Tilly, the most senior of the records clerks, stared at my list again. “There are no records of a divorce between California April Windsor and Frank Gleason. If I had to guess, if there was a divorce going, it probably hadn’t been completed. Have you talked to their attorneys? Maybe they changed their minds.”

  Or maybe this California girl was now really, really wealthy. I gathered my notebooks. “I appreciate you helping me. I thought I must have been missing something, but it sounds like you must be right. The divorce never got filed.”

  “Sometimes one party tells the other they’ve filed, hoping the threat will help the reconciliation. Maybe this is one of those times?”

  “Could be. I appreciate your help this morning.” I tucked everything into my tote. “If you’re ever in Coffee, Books, and More over in South Cove, tell them I owe you a coffee.”

  “I like that place. I make the trip over at least once a quarter to refill my bookshelves. It’s a rotating cycle in my house. One book in, two out to the library book sale or the charity box. My apartment’s really small.” She grinned. “One of the joys of living in paradise, right? High rents.”

  “Well, I really appreciate the help. I know searching records can be time-consuming.” I started thinking about the rest of my to do list as I prepared to leave.

  “No trouble. Besides, I’d already done most of the work yesterday, when someone else asked about Frank and his divorces.”

  “Who asked? Someone from the South Cove Police Department?” I wished Greg would tell me these things, especially when I told him I was researching this. It would have saved me two hours.

  “No, she said she was from a law office.” She stepped behind her desk. “I thought I had her card here, but I guess I trashed it yesterday when I scanned and sent her the printouts.”

  “Do you remember her name?” I held my breath.

  “Mary, no, something old like that. Martha.” Tilly laughed. “I guess my Bible school teacher would be proud of me remembering both Mary and Martha. Although I can’t remember what Martha’s story was. I guess it’s been a while since vacation Bible school.”

  My mind was still processing that a Martha had been researching Frank. There was only one Martha I knew, and she wasn’t from a law office. Was that the reason behind Lynda’s cryptic statement about the last wife? I hurried out to my car. I still needed to try to catch Alice to find out why she was torpedoing my shop and my position as the business liaison with the Council.

  By the time I got to the Bakerstown office of California Dreaming Real Estate, the place was empty except for a receptionist. I asked where I might find Alice and the girl’s eyes rolled.

  “Oh my God. She’s so popular today. You all know that anyone can sell your house, right?”

  Okay, so maybe she wasn’t a receptionist. “Someone else came to visit?”

  “Some police guy from South Cove. I’d love to get a listing out of there. The real estate prices are amazing, and since the area has become so sought after, I’m sure it would be a bidding war. Especially with the new development going in.” She looked at me hopeful. “You don’t own property there, do you?”

  I decided a solid lie might get me out of the office faster than the truth. “No, sorry. I’m on a committee with Alice, and we need to finalize the next charity event. You aren’t interested in buying a table at our trivia night, are you?”

  “No. I’m busy that night.” She didn’t meet my eyes as she took a memo pad from her desk and wrote something on it. She handed the paper to me. “Anyway, Alice is at her other job. She works reception at a law office a few blocks away.”

  It didn’t surprise me that Alice had another job. A lot of locals had two jobs to afford the California lifestyle. But a receptionist at a law firm? That seemed a little clerical for the Alice I knew. “Will she be here tomorrow?”

  “She has an open house in the Castle View subdivision.” She held out her hand and nodded at the paper. I gave it back, and she wrote another street address on the paper. “There, I think that equals me not buying one of your tables.”

  I didn’t really have a trivia table to sell, so I nodded. “Thanks. And I’ll keep this between us.”

  After I did my grocery shopping, I stopped for a large iced tea at a local drive-in. Then I headed home, trying to put together what I’d learned that day. I needed to get home to write it all down because, right now, nothing made any sense.

  When the food was put away, I started a load of laundry and went out to the porch to sit with Emma for a while. I’d refilled my glass with more ice and tea and had my notebook in front of me.

  But even after I’d written everything down, a few things didn’t make sense. Like why was Martha researching Frank? And what did Alice have to do with the less-than-funny practical jokes being played on my business? I flipped through my notebook and looked at what I’d found out so far. When I landed on Amy’s party page, I realized I needed to finish that up and give Amy a few choices. Or we’d be left with whatever choice didn’t have a two-week backlog to sign up.

  The first suggestion was a class in playing blackjack. They’d provide a dealer, an open bar, and two hours of lessons and open play to get you ready for the casino later that night. The next idea was ax throwing. Not my favorite idea, but within the budget she’d set. The last one was my favorite. We could attend a fifties style stage show with a meet-and-greet preshow with the headliners. None of them were original band members except for the members of some boy band that appeared in one of the beach movies. And, of course, an Elvis impersonator. If we were going to go Vegas, we should go old glam Vegas when it was cheesy and cool.

  I wrote out my email, giving her three choices and a deadline. She had until Monday to make the decision; then she could book the adventure. And at the end of the month, we’d be having fun in Vegas.

  I put my notebook and laptop away and went inside to make chicken kabobs and barley salad for dinner. As I finished up the prep work, I glanced at today’s to-do list, which I kept in a separate notebook.

  I marked everything off, except talking to Alice. That one I moved over to tomorrow. I’d stop after my shift at her open house. Maybe I’d get some real answers out of her.

  With the kabobs and salad in the fridge marinating, I changed over the laundry. Then I grabbed a book. I was ahead of things even with having to work Sunday. I could take the rest of the afternoon to read. And I knew just the place to do it.

  I dragged out a chair and my book and refilled my iced tea glass. Then I locked the front door and headed out to the backyard and my secret garden.

  Greg found me there three hours later. I’d almost finished the book and I was in a story haze. My tea was gone and I needed to visit the restroom. Greg had a beer and a chair.

  “I’ll be right back.” I kissed him and ran to the house. Emma stayed with him.

  When I came back, I’d grabbed my own bottle and my notebook. I pointed to his beer. “You off the clock tonight?”

  “I’m hoping so. I told Toby not to call me unless aliens land on the City Hall lawn.” He glanced at the bottle. “I figure I can have one now and one with dinner without having a problem.”

  I told him what I’d made for dinner, and he grunted. Not the rousing yes I’d expected, but sometimes he didn’t like new dishes, and this barley salad was one I hadn’t made before. I set my book aside. There would be time to finish it later. “So, I talked to the first Mrs. Gleason today.”

  “She’s interesting. I did my interview earlier. She was all shock and saddened in the right places, but there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on. What did you get?” He sat on the stone wall, setting his beer next to him. Something I figured he wouldn’t be able to do if the wall was ever certified. I decided to hold that conversation for another day.

  “She was too up front. They didn’t have the spark. They both are, were, independently wealthy and it wasn’t enough.” I sipped my beer. “She was hurt, blah, blah, but it’s all better in the end. And I almost bought it, except for one thing.”

  He grinned. “Okay Columbo, what’s the one thing?”

  “Her assistant was doing some research at the county courthouse. Or, actually, had a clerk do the research on Frank and his many wives. She was sent the information yesterday. And I don’t think the assistant does anything without the first Mrs. Gleason’s approval.”

  “That is interesting.” He paused for a minute, and I could see him checking out this new information with the theory building in his head. “What about the latest one? What did you find out on the divorce?”

  “Nothing. California April Windsor Gleason still seems to be married to Frank. I sure hope she goes by Cali. Can you imagine naming a kid after a state?”

  Greg chuckled. “So Alaska James King is out for our firstborn?”

  “Definitely. Especially if she’s a girl.” I smiled at the thought. I knew he was teasing me, but talking about baby names just seemed right for this soft April afternoon. “Have you found her yet?”

  “Not a sign. She has an apartment in the city, but according to her landlord, he hasn’t seen her for a week or so. Her rent got paid at the first by electronic transfer, but I had him do a welfare check and no one’s in the apartment. No clothes gone that he could tell, no suitcases missing. It’s like she vanished. But then again, he’s was her landlord. Maybe he didn’t know everything she owned.” He rubbed his face. “I put in a missing person report with the locals, but who knows how long she’s been gone?”

  “What about her job? Maybe they know something.”

  “Cali was an up-and-coming artist, according to her landlord. And yes, she shortened her name. She’d even had her first show last month.” He rolled his shoulders. “The apartment complex is filled with writer and artist types. The guy who owns the building screened applicants carefully and gave the creative types a substantial discount for their rent. Or he did before.”

  “Before what?” I asked the question, but I had a sinking feeling I knew the answer. “The building was Frank’s, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep. Apparently, that’s how he met the last Mrs. Gleason.” He opened his notebook. “Frank owned an apartment building down in the city in the neighborhood with all those galleries Jackie and Mary like to visit. The building manager—who’s working on a novel, by the way—told me that Frank sent out notices to all the art schools in the area about cheap apartments. The occupancy rate is nearly one hundred percent all the time. When an artist hits it big and starts making enough to live on, he’s invited to leave.”

  “Isn’t that an interesting word choice. Not evicted, but not welcome. Kind of like low-income housing for the creatives.” I glanced at my watch. “Do you want to see what we can find out about Cali while I grill dinner?”

  “You want me to keep working while I’m home? That’s not part of the bargain. I’ll grill and you do your Google research.”

  As we walked back to the house, Greg carrying the chair for me, I thought of something. “But if she was married to Frank, she wouldn’t qualify to live there. Right?”

  “The manager didn’t know anything about any marriage. He said he suspected she and Frank were dating, but they kept it very quiet around the building.” He set the chair on the porch. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Frank is more interesting dead than I realized he was alive. I thought he was just a jerk. Now I wonder what else he was doing with his money to make the world a better place.” We went inside, and Greg went to the fridge to grab the kabobs. I grabbed my laptop.

  “Have you Googled Frank besides his wives? I mean, I looked at his charity events, but I thought he was attending those because of Lynda.” Greg paused before he went out to the porch to start the grill. “I’m going to have to dig more into Frank’s financial life than I’d expected at first glance.”

  I typed in the shortened version of Cali’s name and waited to see what came up. I didn’t have to wait long. There were a lot of hits on her recent show. Some of her works were highlighted. Kind of a mix of modern art and Renaissance work. One was a picture of the beach, but with my coffee food truck on the side. Fireworks went off in the distance. A piece of South Cove’s history. I bookmarked the page and decided to buy it for the store if it wasn’t already sold. Of course, with the artist missing, I might not be able to purchase the painting.

  Greg came back inside, and I showed him what I’d found. Which wasn’t much. He studied the picture I’d found. “She has a nice eye for bringing the scene to life. It feels like you could just walk onto the beach.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to try to buy it.”

  He looked at me funny. “Did you see the price tag?”

  “It’s only a few hundred. I’ll buy it for the store.” I shut down the computer. It wasn’t the time to be talking about finances. “So, how was your day?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. If the purchase had made him uncomfortable at all, he hid it well. “Busy. I’m beginning to believe that the easiest answer to Frank’s death is the correct one. A random hit-and-run.”