Free Murder at Redwood Cove by Janet Finsilver Page B

replied. “I’m getting a lesson in local history.”
    â€œThanks for asking, Daniel.” Suzie smiled.
    â€œYou’re welcome.” The vehicle sputtered down the road.
    â€œHe and Bob tinkered on that thing for hours together. Daniel’s love. Bob’s way to be with him.” Suzie seemed to be ready to say more but stopped and shoved her hands into the pockets of her red jacket. Her blond ponytail swung with her long strides.
    â€œWere they close?”
    â€œDaniel was one of Bob’s ‘saves.’ He was always the first to step forward when someone needed help.” She shook her head. “Daniel’s wife left him, clearing out their bank account, taking most everything except for the VW and . . . Allie. Bob loaned him the money to keep the house and hired him full-time when the opportunity presented itself.”
    I imagined the pain Daniel felt. Too easy to remember the aching heart. I wasn’t ready to go down the relationship path again anytime soon. And Allie, how devastating for her.
    â€œHere’s where I split off,” Suzie said.
    â€œThanks for taking me to Noah’s Place.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” Suzie waved. “If you need anything, let me know.”
    We parted. The tall Victorian steeple of the B&B on the next block was framed by a sky dotted with small puffs of white and the blue-green ocean in the background. Had Charlie been lying? The happy persona he displayed had disappeared for an instant.
    I glanced to my left. Tommy, Allie, and several boys were on the far side of the empty lot I was passing. Tommy’s bike was on the ground, his legs spread apart, his fists clenched as he faced the boys. The ever-present Fred sat next to him. As I watched, Allie put her bike down and stood next to Tommy. She jabbed her finger at the boy in front and leaned down toward him. Allie was a commanding head taller than any of them. I decided to detour in their direction, following a dirt path through the weeds.
    As I got closer, Tommy’s flushed face became more pronounced and Allie’s yelling became clearer. Allie took a step closer to the boy, towering over him. “You leave him alone, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
    Fred’s doleful eyes rolled in my direction, and he wagged his tail.
    â€œAnd my dog’s not a retard,” Tommy shouted. His white-knuckled fists curled even tighter.
    â€œWhat’s going on, guys?” I asked with my schoolteacher voice.
    â€œHe was going to hit Fred with a stick.” Tommy’s face was blotched red and white.
    â€œNo, I wasn’t,” said a chunky boy in a gray T-shirt that sported a picture of a skull with flaming eyes. “I was only messin’ with you.” He tossed the branch he’d been holding.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    He scowled at me from under heavy dark eyebrows.
    â€œMicky Donovan,” Allie spat out.
    â€œI’m Kelly Jackson, Micky. Tommy works for my company. Fred’s the inn’s mascot.” Okay. I was inventing a bit. “If I hear of you doing anything to either of them, I’ll not only contact your parents, but I’ll let the deputy sheriff know.”
    â€œC’mon, guys. Let’s go.” Micky shot me a mean look. The one in black leather with chains, greasy hair, and acne peeking through the strands moved away. The younger, plumper version of Micky followed.
    â€œAnd, Micky,” said Allie, “remember what I said. Tommy’s my friend. You mess with him, you mess with me. And another thing, your trick with the e-mails to get me in trouble didn’t work.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sneered at her.
    â€œI got called in to the principal’s office because teachers had been getting nasty e-mails supposedly from me. You snuck up behind me when I was logging on this morning in computer class, and I bet you saw my