Free The Body in Bodega Bay by Betsy Draine

she began organizing the protests, naturally I came along, and I met Peter at one of them. I fell for him on the spot. And pretty soon the three of us were hanging out together. I think Rose took him under her wing just to encourage our relationship.”
    Toby began to fidget in his chair. The relationship thing again. That’s testosterone for you; the eyes glaze over. I could guess he wanted Rose to get to the part about the icon. Rose noticed it, too. She tilted her head at him. “I’m telling you all this for a reason.”
    He sat up straighter, chastened.
    She took a sip from her cup and resumed. “That would have been the winter of 1962. Peter came up to Bodega Bay in January with some other members of the crew to get ready for the shoot. He was doing preliminary sketches for the storyboards and drawing some of the locals to get the costumes right for the actors. They didn’t start the actual filming until the spring. I guess that was the happiest time of my life. Peter was working hard, we were in love, the protests against PG&E were growing, and there were Hollywood types walking all over town. It was all so exciting. And then—everything fell apart. It started with the icon.”
    Rose paused. “Am I going too fast?”
    I shook my head. “Please go on.”
    â€œPeter was Russian by descent. Did I mention his last name? It was Federenco. One day he showed up at my house very upset and asked me to hide an heirloom that had caused a fight in his family. That was the icon. He wanted me to hold it for safekeeping until the dispute blew over.”
    â€œDid he give you any background on the icon, like where it came from?”
    â€œHe was pretty evasive about it. I did piece together that this icon was part of a set he was given by his father, but a cousin had questioned the inheritance and was trying to get it back. From what he told me, the dispute had gone on for years, but a story had just appeared in the newspaper that had stirred things up. He was worried about what this cousin might do. Afraid of him, in fact. Said he was unstable and prone to violence. So would I keep the icon under wraps until things cooled down? He said the cousin didn’t know who I was, and I’d be safe. That’s how the icon came to me, and that’s all I’ve ever known about it. Because shortly afterward, Peter died. By the way, I didn’t tell this whole story to your friend when he called. It was too personal. But I’m telling it to you now.”
    We sat in silence for a moment.
    â€œI’m very sorry you lost Peter,” I said. “What happened?”
    â€œIt was just a couple of weeks later. He’d gone home for the weekend to San Francisco. He was with a friend who told me about it. They were getting out of a taxi when a motorcycle came roaring around the corner and clipped Peter while he was standing in the street. He was thrown to the pavement and smashed his head. By the time the ambulance arrived, he was gone. The kid who hit him never went to jail. He was the son of a policeman.”
    â€œHow awful for you.” I placed my hand on Rose’s arm.
    â€œAnd you know, there’s something about his last words that still puzzles me. I’ve always wondered what he meant. According to his friend Terry, just before he died, Peter murmured, ‘Tell Rose Gaffney …’ But he never completed the sentence. Tell Rose Gaffney what? Or was he trying to tell me something but because of his head injury he mixed up my name with hers? I’ll never know. I’d like to believe he was thinking of me at the end, but. …” She shook her head sadly. “That’s why I told you about Rose Gaffney.”
    â€œI see,” said Toby.
    There was another pause. “Rose, would you mind answering just a few more questions?” I ventured.
    â€œNo, it was all a long time ago. Go ahead.”
    â€œDid Peter mention the name of