Mariah Stewart - Coming Home

“Good morning.” He waved back.

“So are you enjoying our pretty little town on this fine morning?” Grace asked.

“I am, thanks.” Grady stopped at the table where she sat with an open notebook in front of her.

“Just working on my column for this week,” she explained. “Between the wedding and the break-in and the upcoming historic house tour, it’s more news than we generally have to talk about around here.” She hastened to add, “Not that I equate one with the other, of course. The police blotter doesn’t appear on the same page as the social news, and the calendar of events is always on the back page by its lonesome.”

“You have so many events here that you need an entire page to list them?”

“We don’t simply list them. We have articles that correspond. For example, for the house tour, I interviewed the president of the Historical Society and several of the homeowners whose houses will be featured this year. All with photographs, of course, and advertisements from the merchants who might be offering special sales that weekend.” Grace smiled. “It does keep us all busy. We like to say we have something for everyone at some time during the year. Makes me wonder what we used to do around here before we became such an attraction. Now, what are you interested in, Grady?”

“Me?” He thought it over. “Well, I like to hike…”

“Then you’ll likely want to look into our marsh-and-wetlands walking tour. That’s always the weekend following the Fourth of July.” She started to rustle through a pile of notes on the table. “I have the dates here somewhere…”

“I doubt I’ll still be around in July, but I appreciate the information.” Grady doubted that even if he were in St. Dennis, a walk through some wetlands was hardly what he was accustomed to. Still, it was nice of her to ask.

“Oh.” She appeared surprised. “I was thinking perhaps… well, no matter. If you do happen to be here that weekend, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Grace.”

“I suppose you’d better go fix that coffee before it gets cold,” she told him.

“Good idea. Nice to see you.” He took a few steps away from the table.

“Oh, Grady,” she called him back. “I noticed you coming out of Bling. How is Vanessa doing?”

“She’s just starting to clean up, get her merchandise organized, see what was taken.” He added, “She’s doing all right. She was-still is-upset, but she’s just trying to get it all under control so that she can reopen as soon as possible.”

“What a shame.” Grace shook her head. “She’s worked so hard to make that shop the little gem it is. I’ve been saying since she opened, that girl is one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever known. It makes me so darned mad when I think of someone going in there and breaking up her shop and stealing from her.” She looked up at Grady. “Are there any suspects yet?”

“Not that I know of. I was just on my way down to the police station to talk to Hal.”

“Oh, you just missed him by about twenty minutes. He was in here earlier with… I’m not sure of the woman’s name. Beck and Vanessa’s mother.”

“Maggie Turner.”

“Ah, Maggie Turner.” Grace nodded. “I noticed she was at the wedding the other day. Have she and Beck reconciled, then?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Grady shook his head. No way was he going to feed into small-town gossip.

“I was just wondering. It seems like such a shame, being estranged from your children. I have three children, Grady. Only one lives close enough for me to see on a regular basis.” A cloud crossed her face. “It isn’t easy to be a parent sometimes.”

“I’m sure it’s a tough job.”

Grace laughed lightly. “Would you listen to me? Go. Fix your coffee and get on your way. It’s a beautiful morning. Enjoy it. And walk on down to the Bay. It’s a wonder with the sunlight sparkling on the water.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled and picked up her pen and turned her attention back to her notes.

He poured a sugar packet and some cream into the cup and replaced the lid, then waved to Carlo and Grace on his way out. It was slightly disconcerting to him that people here seemed so comfortable discussing the business-both private and public-of their friends and neighbors. Grady had never been exposed to small-town life, so Grace’s inquiry about Maggie had taken him aback somewhat. He hadn’t sensed any malicious intent on the older woman’s part, though; her questions appeared based more on concern than on gathering information to be randomly repeated and passed along, but still, it wasn’t his place to give out information about the family his sister had just married into.

From the top of Kelly’s Point Road, he could see the Bay beyond. Grace had been right. It was sparkly and beautiful in the morning sunlight. In the distance, sailboats skimmed along in the breeze, and a catamaran was just edging out from its slip. It was all very peaceful and gentle on the eyes. He’d never lived on the water-had never considered it-but he could see its appeal.

He soaked up sun and small-town atmosphere as he walked to the municipal building and resisted an urge to whistle. It was that kind of morning.

He stopped at the reception area and gave his name and asked to see Hal. The day dispatcher, Garland, introduced himself and reminded Grady that they’d met at the wedding on Saturday before buzzing Hal’s office.

Of course we met at the wedding, Grady mused. Was there an adult living in St. Dennis who I did not meet at the wedding?

“Grady, come on back.” Hal waved to him from the end of the hall. “I see you stopped for coffee. A wise move on your part. I’m ashamed to say our coffee is as bad as most other police stations I’ve been in.” He shook his head. “We really need to do something about that. It’s such a cliché…”

Grady laughed and followed Hal into a conference room, and Hal closed the door behind them.

“I’m acting chief this week but I hate to use someone else’s office, so I set myself up in here,” Hal explained. “Gives me more room to spread out the morning paper and put my feet up, if nothing else.” He rolled his chair out from under the table, and sat. “That was a joke, by the way.”

Grady smiled to acknowledge the comment. “I just thought I’d stop in and see if there’s been a response on those prints that Sue lifted over the weekend.”

“I was just getting ready to call you.” Hal had a stack of papers in front of him, which he gathered in one hand. “I had Gus print out everything that came in. We have a couple of matches. There’s no doubt in my mind that these are the two we’re looking for.”

He slid a couple of sheets across the table. “Jackie Weston here is probably the woman who called herself Candice. She was picked up on bad-check charges in Wisconsin about six months ago but didn’t serve any time, not sure why, but I’ve requested her picture, so we’re going to need Vanessa to take a look, see if that’s the woman who was in her shop. The other one, this Edmund Dent, he’s the one who has me worried. Check out his criminal history.”

Grady’s eyes scanned the second sheet. “He’s got a history, all right.” He read down the list, then glanced up at Hal. “Assault, assault with intent to kill, sexual battery… and this guy is out on the street?” He shook his head.

“This arrest for arson in Wisconsin…” Grady tapped his finger on the section he read from. “Vanessa told me that one of her ex’s brothers and a cousin burned down her house after Medford was sentenced.”

Hal nodded. “The date’s just about right. I’m still waiting for his picture. If this is the cousin, Vanessa will be able to identify him.”