“I really have no idea. I only work a few days a week. He’s polite. I’ll tell you that.” Liz frowned. “Though I do wonder why he is here. He seems lost in thought and very private. Maybe he’s recovering from a death of a loved one or something.”
Or planning a murder. That probably takes a lot of thought. At least it did for the killer in the book they’d just read.
“Don’t you think Smith is kind of a common name?” Perfect to use for someone who wanted to hide their real identity. “Did he pay in cash?”
Liz glanced at her. “Bunny, I think you might have gotten too involved in our mystery book. Real life isn’t like books. Smith is a common name. Tides was bound to get some guests named Smith that pay in cash. I’m sure Andie saw his license when she checked him in.”
“Of course. Silly of me.” Bunny sat back in the seat. She didn’t want Liz to think she was a foolish old lady.She decided to change the subject. “Did you try the sweet potato Danish that Claire brought?”
Liz made a face. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her they weren’t that good. I should have, though. She said she was trying them out on us. It’s good that she’s trying different recipes for the bakery.”
“I agree. I love everything she carries there, but it’s always fun to have something different. Maybe if she put more sugar in them.”
“At least she didn’t try to make us test out the dog biscuits that she’s added to her repertoire.” Liz laughed.
“I don’t know. Cooper sure seemed to like them.”
“I’ll follow you back,” Liz said as she pulled up next to Bunny’s Volkswagen.
They lived next to each other, so of course they’d be driving the same route. Did Liz think Bunny was worried about driving in the dark? Maybe her eyes weren’t as good as they used to be, but she could still drive fine! Still, Bunny appreciated that Liz wanted to keep her safe, so she thanked her and got into her car. She made sure to pull out first so Liz could see for herself that she had no problem navigating after sunset.
As she drove home, her thoughts turned to the mysterious guest at Tides. What should be the next step in her investigation? Maybe she should take another look at her book to see how the detective in the book went about investigating and figure out if she could do something similar.
CHAPTERTWO
Claire arranged the dog biscuits up in the display case carefully. She had a special section for them and was careful to keep them away from the human pastries. People seemed to get upset about that even though every ingredient in the biscuits was perfectly safe for human consumption and probably healthier than the sugar-laden pastries she was known for.
“I sold a ton of dog biscuits yesterday.” Hailey breezed in, wrapping the strings of her white apron around her waist and grabbing the coffee carafe. The earthy aroma of dark roast swirled around her, mingling with the sweet scent of muffins and cakes baking in the kitchen out back. “You’re going to have to think of a name for them. People keep saying ‘the dog biscuit thingies.’”
“I did that last night after the book club.” Claire held up a sign she’d made on her printer last night. She’d had to call her daughter, Tammi, to help figure out the right fonts and so on, but Claire was proud of the way the sign had come out. It looked professional. “Beach Bones. What do you think?”
“It’s catchy.” Hailey slid out from behind the counter to top off the coffee mugs of the customers seated at the tables. It was only eight thirty, and the murmur of early-morning conversation and clinking of spoons against porcelain mugs filled the space. Claire’s heart swelled at the number of customers already inside the café. There were even a few brave souls sitting at the outside tables, bundled in sweaters, with dogs at their feet.
The bakery was Claire’s pride and joy, a dream she hadn’t been brave enough to bring to fruition until after her divorce. That had been years ago, and everything was going perfectly for her now. She had a thriving business, her grown daughter was doing well, and she had even forgiven her husband for dumping her for a younger woman.
Sure there had been some blips, like when she’d thought the new bread store opening across the street was a threat to Sandcastles, but her fears had been unfounded. And now that she was dating the owner of the bread store, Rob, well… things were better than ever.
With Hailey minding the customers, Claire went out back and grabbed some fresh muffins for the case. She was just putting the last one in when Sam Campbell came in the door.
Sam was in his early seventies, tall and thin, with a thick head of snowy hair, a prominent nose, and a kind way about him. Sam used to come with his wife, Jean, most mornings. The couple had practically vibrated with life, always happy and talkative. They would sit at the corner table for hours with Sam, entertaining people with stories of his exploits as a police detective.
But then Jean got sick. Their visits had become less frequent, less cheerful. She’d passed two years ago, and Sam had stopped coming. It was only recently that he’d returned, now with a bloodhound mix named Dooley, who was now tied up on the post outside that Claire had put out expressly for her customers to tie out their dogs if they were just popping in to buy something. Dogs weren’t allowed inside, but the outdoor seating at Sandcastles had become very popular with dog owners. That had sparked the idea of branching out into gourmet dog biscuits.
Sam still seemed sad. His posture was stooped, almost as if he were trying to cave in on himself and disappear. His complexion was sallow. His blue eyes no longer sparkled with mischief like they used to. He was here, though, and that was something at least.
Claire gave him one of her biggest smiles, wishing her happiness were contagious and could spread it to him. “Hey, Sam, what can I get you?”
“How about a corn muffin and one of those new biscuits for Dooley?” Sam turned to look out the door at Dooley almost as if to reassure himself the dog—who was staring into the store, eyes locked on Sam—was still there.
“Coming right up. Coffee?”
“Yes, black please. Just a small. No, make it a medium. Dooley and I might sit a spell on that bench by the beach.”
“That sounds nice.” Claire busied herself getting Sam’s order.
“I think Dooley would like it,” Sam said as if any enjoyment he could get out of life was over and he was only doing it for the dog.
She was glad to hear he was at least going to sit at the beach. Sam and Jean had walked the beach and the Marginal Way—the popular path that ran along the edge of the ocean cliffs—almost every day. Sam had given that up since her passing. But maybe sitting would lead to walking, and maybe that would lead to more enjoyment for Sam.
