Crowned and Moldering

“Backpack? Notebook?” His eyes widened and he gri

“That’s how we found out it was Brad’s baby.” I told him what Aldous had found in the laundry chute and how I’d seen those hearts all over her notebook and figured out that Mr. Jones was the father of Lily’s baby.

“Wow,” Mac said. “I remember looking into the laundry chute. I should’ve investigated it more thoroughly.”

“I was thinking the same thing. We might’ve saved a lot of time and avoided some problems if we’d just cleaned out the laundry chute.”

*   *   *

Saturday, while the police and crime-scene specialists continued to work at the lighthouse mansion, I took a few hours to drive out to Uncle Pete’s winery to visit him and my dad. I had talked to Dad on the phone briefly the other night, and he reported that the barn was almost finished. They would be rolling two huge new tanks into the space soon, and Dad would finish the construction project and go fishing for a few days before heading back to Lighthouse Cove.

Uncle Pete’s business had more than doubled in the past few years, so there was always something new to see at the winery. I parked my car under a shady tree and walked around until I found my dad in the barrel room. It was dark and cool, and Dad was in the process of moving one of the heavy oak barrels over to make room for another.

“Dad? Should you be lifting that by yourself?”

He stood up and gri

My heart fluttered at his greeting. He had always called me his girl. I rushed over and gave him a big hug.

“Missed you, honey,” he murmured.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” He frowned as he studied my face. “Did something happen? Someone hurt you?”

“No, it’s just been a weird time.”

Dad grabbed two wineglasses and walked over to a barrel. He removed the cork and stuck a long glass tube—sometimes called a thief—into the small hole and siphoned off some wine for each of our glasses.

“That’s convenient,” I said.

Dad chuckled, and we walked out of the dark barrel room into sunshine. Scattered across the wide patio between the winery tasting room and the fermentation barn were picnic tables and small seating areas. After our eyes adjusted to the light, we found a picnic table and sat down across from each other.

“Spill the beans, honey,” Dad said. “If you need me to come back to town, I’ll do it.”

“No, I can fight my own battles.” But I wasn’t so sure that was true when it came to fighting Cliff Hogarth and his slanderous comments. I told Dad all about Cliff’s horrible remarks about me and our various run-ins. I concluded with the fact that the guy was now in a coma and laid out in some hospital bed because he’d tried to blackmail Denise.

“I hate to say it,” Dad said, “but it looks like the guy got what was coming to him.”

“It’s awful to think that way, but I agree.” And in retrospect, my problems weren’t all that bad.

I filled Dad in on all the grim aspects of Lily’s death and the investigation, omitting the truly grisly details of the baby and the backpack. He was especially intrigued by Aldous Murch’s co

“A hidden room with a staircase? That’s right out of a mystery novel,” Dad said.

“I know.” I laughed.

He wasn’t laughing, though. “I think I’d better cancel my fishing trip and stick closer to home. At least until Lily’s killer is discovered.”

“I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ve got Mac right next door and Eric is just a phone call away. You’ve been working so hard out here. You need a vacation.”

“Okay, I guess I can trust Mac and Eric to look out for you. But I want you to call me at the first sign of trouble.”

“I promise.”

Uncle Pete joined us then, and we spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and sipping a number of different wines. The two men gave me a tour of the new fermenting area and showed off their construction skills. We wandered through the vineyards, and later Uncle Pete served us a pasta salad that almost caused me to swoon.

I drove back to town, feeling so much better and more relaxed than I had in days. And I was looking forward to the day when Dad would park his big old RV in my driveway again.

*   *   *

Sunday morning I joined Lizzie and Hal and their adorable kids, Marisa and Taz, for a ten-mile bike ride down the coast. We stopped for a late breakfast at a funky old seafood diner we’d been going to forever.

“Lock up the bikes,” Hal told the kids. “I’ll get us a table.”

Eleven-year-old Taz was happy to do it, and unwrapped the bike chain from around the seat of his bicycle. As he wound it through all five of the back wheels, his thirteen-year-old sister, Marisa, rolled her eyes and checked her phone.

Lizzie grabbed my arm and we followed her tall, lean, adorable husband up the old wooden steps to the front door and inside. The smells of bacon and syrup were instantly overwhelming, and we both gri

“I miss coming here,” she said. “I’m having the waffles.”

“I might do French toast.”

“Ooh, good choice,” she said. “And bacon.”

“Naturally.” I glanced outside. “Marisa is so beautiful, Lizzie. And Taz is going to be taller than Hal.”

Lizzie peeked over my shoulder. “I can’t tell you how much I regret buying her that stupid phone, but what can you do?” She sighed. “She’s still a good girl, but the hormones are starting to kick in. I expect her to turn into a monster any day now.”

“You’ve been saying that for two years,” I said, laughing. “But she’s still very sweet.”

“Thirteen going on twenty-five,” Hal said, joining the conversation. “Come on, we’ve got a booth over here.”

As we crossed the restaurant, Lizzie said, “I want to hear all about Lily and Sean and Mac and everything that’s been happening with you. I feel like we haven’t talked in weeks.” She frowned. “Even though I just saw you the other day for fifteen measly minutes.”

“And we were with the whole gang at the tea shop and it’s hard to get a word in edgewise sometimes.”

“True.” We sat at a big round booth by a south-facing window, and from there we could see the entire coastline. The day was clear and su

We all ordered coffee or hot chocolate and juice. When the waitress rushed off to get our beverages, Lizzie pounced. “Now tell me everything that’s going on. I don’t get out much.”

Hal shot me a grin. “That’s why I bought the police sca

I had to laugh.

Hal quickly added, “Sorry about Wednesday morning, by the way. Sometimes they tend to jump the gun.”

“No worries,” I said. “Although it freaked me out a little.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he admitted.

I turned to Lizzie, who was sitting next to me. “You’re going to be very pleased with me.”

“I am anyway, but why? What happened?”

“I played matchmaker the other day.”

She gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “I’m so proud.”

With a laugh, I said, “You should be. I think I did a pretty good job.”

“Tell me all,” she said, bouncing in her seat. “Who, what, when, where, how.”

“Sean,” I said.

“Oh, excellent.”

I proceeded to tell her about the drama teacher who needed a carpenter and so on, and so on.

“I’m so excited for him. And for you. I hope it works out.” She took a quick sip of orange juice. “And if it does, I never want to hear any grief from you again.”

Yikes. Seeing the determination in her eyes, I wondered if maybe I should’ve kept my accomplishment to myself. I sipped my coffee and changed the subject. “So, have you heard from Emily?”

“I left her two messages and finally had to hunt her down at the tea shop. At first she denied everything, but I hounded her.”

“That’s my girl,” Hal murmured.