snored at my feet. It was still early, though the light was dimming, but I had time for the one thing that would help everything that happened this day make sense. I had time for a run on the beach with my favorite partner.
I went upstairs to change into running clothes and Emma sat by the door whining while she watched me get ready. The dog loved to run. Typically, we ran in the morning when the beach was empty. Doing it this late meant she’d have to stay on her leash the entire time, but I knew the dog wouldn’t mind. A leash run was better than no run at all.
As I suspected, the beach was packed. We started jogging as soon as we got down the stairs but it was a slow process. We swerved to avoid a family coming up from a day at the beach. The kids, cranky from the sun and surf, were stomping their way through the sand, not wanting to leave. The mother, with a bag filled with wet towels and other beach toys, was leading the way, calling after the kids like they were baby ducks. The dad was in the rear, picking up the lost sandals and blow-up toys. For not the first time, I felt blessed that all I had to do was clean up after my dog.
The mayor had tried to get a “no dogs allowed” sign on the beach, but so far, the council had vetoed his idea. Mostly because a lot of the council members had dogs that they liked to bring with them on their own beach excursions. The mayor didn’t have any pets at all. Not even a gold fish. That told you something about the man, didn’t it? I thought that should be a mandatory question on any politician’s request to run for office. What pets did they have?
I dodged a trio of surfers coming up from the waves, their wet bodies glistening in the sun and their surfboards dangerous to passersby.
“Looks like you picked the wrong time to run,” a familiar voice called out to my left. Looking over, I saw Carrie from the diner sitting on a towel with a book in hand. I moved toward her and plopped down on the sand next to the towel.
“It’s crazy busy for a weekday.” I glanced at my watch. “And it’s after five. I would have thought most of the tourists would have left by now.
“Oh, they have. This is mostly town regulars.” Carrie waved at the young girl playing in the surf with a bodyboard. Carrie pointed to her. “That’s my Hannah. My daughter’s oldest. I’ve been drafted as her beach buddy for the summer as Sarah works in town. We come out here after I get out of the diner. I get to read, she gets to play. It’s a good system.”
“What are you reading?” I glanced at the cover. “I love that author but I haven’t read that book yet.”
“I bought it over at your store if you’re wondering.” Carrie tucked a bookmark in the pages. “That girl you have working afternoons? She suggested the first one and I’ve been hooked ever since. She got Hannah into some mystery series too. The girl can sell books, that’s all I have to say.”
“Sasha knows her stuff.” I loved hearing that she was doing a great job, even if I already knew it. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I didn’t kill Barry.”
The frankness of her answer surprised me for a second and it must have shown on my face.
She laughed. “Girl, don’t you know you already have a reputation for figuring out who the killer is long before that lovely young man of yours.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I pulled the leash close and Emma plopped down next to us. “But since you brought up Barry, what do you know about your cook?”
“Tiny? You can’t think that man had anything to do with Barry’s death. He’s a sweetheart. I don’t think he even lets a mouse be killed in the kitchen. He bought no-kill traps for the place when we had that problem last year.” Carrie shook her head. “Your murder radar is off on this one.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t think he killed Barry, but I can’t find anything on a Tiny Colsen. It’s like he showed up and started cooking for Lille fully grown.” Emma watched a seagull land a few feet from us and I could feel her muscles tense.
“That’s because Tiny Colsen isn’t his birth name. Once he left wrestling, he started to use his mother’s maiden name. I think you’ll find what you want to know if you look up Ralph McMasters. He changed his life and I think Tiny fits him better than Ralph, but who am I to judge.”
“He wrestled? Professionally?” I shouldn’t have been so surprised. With Tiny’s body type, he would have been a great athlete.
“Right up until he left six years ago. There was some sort of accident with one of his stunts. The guy felt so bad about actually hurting someone, he quit the sport and went to culinary school. He’s been at Diamond Lille’s ever since.”
As I was running back to the house after my talk with Carrie, I knew one thing. None of the three men who were on the fire training exercise with Barry had killed him. Now, I just needed to prove it and find out who did. The clock was ticking and I didn’t have any clue as to what had actually happened.
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