I watched Dawn for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds. Sammy was still watching Dawn and looking as confused as I was. I tucked my long brown hair behind my ears to try to hear better what Dawn was listening to, but with the chatters of the restaurant patrons around me, I still couldn’t make out the words.
Finally, I decided I couldn’t just let her sit there all limp and not do anything. I reached out toward Dawn to see if I could get her attention by tapping on the table.
Before I could even tap once, she popped up and leaned her elbows on the table. She stared at me as if I was crazy for having my arm stretched across the table. I pulled it back, knowing it wasn’t worth trying to explain that we thought she had passed out.
“Did you hear what they’re talking about?” she whispered.
So that was what she had been doing—eavesdropping on the neighboring table. It almost made sense, though it would have been less weird for her to have told Sammy and me what she was doing.
From what I knew of Dawn, eavesdropping was something she would do. She seemed to have a constant expectation that everyone around her should understand what was going on in her head. I certainly didn’t. Maybe Sammy did, based on how unfazed she seemed by Dawn’s return to the land of the living. But then again, maybe Sammy was just used to Dawn’s quirks.
When neither of us admitted to eavesdropping on the conversation next to us—perhaps because we were distracted by Dawn’s strange behavior—she filled us in. “They found a body!”
“They did?” I asked, gesturing toward the other table.
“No, not them,” Dawn said, looking disgusted. “They,” she repeated, making air quotes. “Like, people in general. A body was found.”
“Where?” I asked. “Here in Cape Bay?”
She rolled her eyes. I was convinced she thought I was too dense to tie my own shoes. “Yes, here in Cape Bay! Where else?”
“I would prefer anywhere else,” Sammy said.
I lifted my margarita glass and tapped it against hers. I could drink to not finding a body in Cape Bay. We’d had enough of those lately—first my boyfriend Matt’s father and then a local kickboxing student. It would be fine by me if no one found another dead body in town ever again.
“Where?” I asked. “Where in Cape Bay, I mean?” I clarified before Dawn could lose her eyeballs in the back of her head.
“Right next to Mary Ellen’s,” Dawn said. Mary Ellen’s Souvenirs and Gifts was located on Main Street, just a couple of blocks from my café. “They said the cops are still there. You wanna go check it out?”
“The body?” I asked.
“Yeah! Why not? Have you ever seen a real crime scene before, like not on a cop show?”
“Yes,” I replied.
I had the unfortunate distinction of being the one to find my neighbor’s body—my now-boyfriend Matt’s dad—when he was murdered, and I had been there when they processed the scene. Of course, they hadn’t known he had been murdered at first, so it hadn’t been like on TV at all, but I still wasn’t too keen on seeing another corpse.
“Oh yeah,” Dawn said.
I could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to think of another reason for us to visit the crime scene. I finished my drink as I waited for her to land on another idea.
“Do you think Mary Ellen needs us?” Sammy asked.
I immediately realized I wasn’t going to win. If Sammy was on Dawn’s side, there was no getting out of it, especially since I thought Sammy had a good point. If somebody had been found dead next to Mary Ellen’s shop, she’d probably be pretty freaked out.
In a small town like Cape Bay, we all supported each other, especially the shopkeepers. I knew if a body was found next to my café, Mary Ellen would be right there to help me in any way she could. Still, I couldn’t concede my point that easily.
“Sammy and I haven’t even started our second drinks, and you already ordered a third round,” I pointed out. “We can’t let all that money and perfectly good alcohol go to waste.”
Dawn didn’t miss a beat. She stood and picked up the two untouched glasses from the table. She turned around and placed them on the table she’d been eavesdropping on.
“Here you go, ladies! We’ve been unexpectedly called away and won’t be able to finish our drinking. Here are two delicious, untouched margaritas for you to enjoy. This one is your classic margarita on the rocks, and this pretty pink frozen one here is strawberry.”
One of the women looked as if she wanted to speak. Before she could, Dawn spotted the waiter coming with our third round perched on his tray and bellowed, “And just in time, here’s the rest of them! Put them right here, Alberto.” She gestured for him to place them on the strangers’ table. “We have another classic on the rocks, another frozen strawberry, and this one here”—she picked up the drink she’d ordered for herself—“is top-shelf and mango. Who wants it?” She glanced around the table, her gaze landing on the woman closest to the window. “You? You look like a girl who appreciates fine liquor.” She set the drink down in front of the woman and immediately reached in her own jeans pocket, pulling out a few bills. She handed them to Alberto. “Keep the change, my friend.” She turned back to us. “You ready to go?”
“Guess so,” I said, standing up. Dawn had made my one solid objection disappear in the blink of an eye and had managed to convince a group of women that drinks from a stranger’s table were suitable for consumption. It was kind of impressive and, I suspected, evidence of how good Dawn was at her bartending job.
Sammy swallowed the last of her drink, grabbed her purse, and stood up. “All right, let’s go.”
Even though it was Sammy’s comment about Mary Ellen that convinced us to head to the crime scene, I couldn’t tell whether she was actually happy about going or not. I had a feeling she wasn’t exactly enjoying herself and was just ready to leave.
We headed out of the restaurant and made our way into the heart of town. Fiesta Mexicana was situated at the end of the mile-long boardwalk that ran the length of Cape Bay’s beachfront.
Main Street ran perpendicular to the beach at the middle of the boardwalk. Mary Ellen’s shop was a couple of blocks up from the beach, and my café was a little beyond that. It wasn’t a long walk, especially on such a nice night.
If I’d had my way, I would have gone down and sat on the beach to watch the waves crash under the moon. But between Sammy and Mary Ellen, I knew I was needed elsewhere.
Soon, we could see the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars and an ambulance parked outside Mary Ellen’s shop. It looked like the entirety of Cape Bay’s police force—all nine of them—was out to aid in the investigation.
To be fair, it was still tourist season, so the police department had an extra handful of officers on staff as seasonal help, but the group was still only a fraction of the size of what would have been assembled in New York City for the discovery of a body. The ambulance wasn’t even ours—it was from the county EMS station in the next town over.
From what I could see, the police also had a spotlight shining into the alley next to Mary Ellen’s store. The light actually belonged to the town. I remembered seeing it set up during Cape Bay’s annual Founders’ Day celebration.
A big crowd of people was gathered around the group of police cars blocking the road.
Dawn was shameless and walked right past the police cars up to the crime scene tape, which was strung from the corners of the buildings on either side of the alley and around parking meters at the road. A swarm of blue uniforms blocked our view, but Dawn angled and craned her neck to see between them.
“I can see him!” she hissed back at us.
“And?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.
“Pretty sure he’s dead.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. The phrase “a body” didn’t typically refer to a living body.
“Would you idiots stop standing there and try doing some police work?” someone shouted from behind the police tape. The voice was familiar, but between my years in Cape Bay and my work at the café, I knew just about everyone on the police force.
“What do you want us to do, Detective?” one of the officers asked.
The detective sighed heavily. “Oh, for the love of…” Heavy footsteps moved toward us. “You,” the detective said. “Get a camera. Take pictures. Get everything from every angle. Use a ruler so we know how big things are. You, go with him. You, call the medical examiner’s office and find out when somebody’s going to be here. I want this body off my street.”
The officers gradually dispersed to their different tasks, revealing the scene in the alley. Just as Dawn had said, there was a body, presumably dead as evidenced by both the fact that the paramedics weren’t attending to it and that it was covered by a sheet. I was grateful for that.
There were little yellow tents scattered around, marking bits of evidence that mostly seemed to be rocks and bits of trash you’d expect to find in an alley. I remembered seeing on one of those police procedurals with the hot older man lead detective that the police had to consider all trash important until they could be sure it didn’t have any blood or footprints on it. I was glad I didn’t have that job.
On one side of the sheet-draped body—a man’s body, I guessed, from the size and shape of it—was a plastic bag full of…something I couldn’t identify. A chill went up my spine when I saw what was on the other side of the body—a gun.
Sammy must have spotted it at the same time. “Was he shot?” she whispered.
I instinctively reached one hand back toward her. Judging by how tight she gripped it, I knew the sight bothered her as much as it did me.
Dawn, however, seemed mostly unaffected. “Yeah, I think so.” She got up on her tiptoes and leaned to her right. “I think that’s blood over there.” She pointed toward the body.
“Okay, that’s it, let’s go,” I said. Still holding Sammy’s hand, I turned and pulled her along with me back through the police cars and over to the grassy median a block away, near where the ambulance was parked. Sammy’s face looked pale in the yellow-orange streetlight,
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, just…” She stopped and shuddered. “Another murder.”
“Actually, it looks like a suicide,” a man’s voice said. The dark-haired police officer had been standing just around the corner of the ambulance out of our view but apparently well within earshot. He stepped toward us. “So nothing for you to worry about,” he said with a smile at Sammy and me. As he looked at each of us, his eyes lingered for just a second longer on Sammy. “You all right, miss?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed. “You need to sit down? Here, let me help.” He popped open the handle on the back of the ambulance door. “Sit down here.”
“I’m fine, really. I—”
“Sit down,” he repeated firmly. “Don’t want to have another body on the ground.”
Sammy and I both looked at him, startled by his comment.
“No, I-I mean… sorry, cop humor. I just meant that you looked like you might pass out. And then you’d be…” He gestured toward the ground then shook his head. “Sorry, bad joke.”
Sammy sat down on the back of the ambulance. “It’s okay. I make coffee jokes sometimes when I’m stressed at work.”
The cop chuckled and ran his fingers across his close-cropped hair. “Yeah? You work at a coffee shop?”
“Just up the street,” she said, pointing in the direction of the café. “Antonia’s Italian Café. I work with Fran here. She owns the place.” She motioned to me.
“Oh yeah?” he replied with a smile. “I haven’t been there yet. I’ll have to come by sometime and see you.”
Sammy looked at him curiously, and I knew she was wondering the same thing I was: how had a Cape Bay police officer not been into Antonia’s?
The officer must have read her expression, too, a handy skill for someone who had to suss out criminals for a living. “I’m new,” he said. “Just moved here from Buffalo.”
“What brings you to town?” I asked.
“Family. I grew up in Plymouth. I’ve been out in New York for a while and just wanted to get back home.”
“Well, welcome to Cape Bay! Come into the café any time. Between me and Sammy, one of us is almost always there. We’ll get you a cup of coffee on the house.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Sammy said before he could reply. “Police and firefighters always get free coffee.”
I gave her a dirty look for blowing my secret.
The cop laughed. “Well, thank you… Fran, was it?”
“Francesca Amaro,” I said, extending my hand. “And we’re happy to do it. It’s a long-standing family tradition.” Back when my grandparents started the café nearly seventy years ago, they gave free food and coffee to the police and firefighters who protected the town as a way of not just thanking them for what they did but also to establish Antonia’s as part of the community.
“I’m Ryan Leary,” he said, shaking my hand. His hand was huge and strong, and his handshake was just on this side of uncomfortable. I suspected it was a carefully practiced technique. He gave Sammy a questioning look.
“Samantha Eriksen,” she said, reaching her hand up to him from where she was still sitting on the back of the ambulance. “Sammy.”
“Sammy,” he repeated with a smile. “You look like your color’s coming back a little.”
I wasn’t sure whether it was that or if she was blushing, but she did seem to be getting some pink back in her skin.
“Leary!” someone bellowed.
“Right here, Detective,” Ryan called, turning and raising one hand in the air.
Detective Mike Stanton stalked into view, and the second he saw me, I knew I was in trouble.
