The Inn at Holiday Bay: Clue in the Clam, Kathi Daley [early reader chapter books TXT] 📗

pro-development, while Evelyn Child and Sonya Greenly are both against any sort of development that will drastically change the landscape of our small town. That means Oliver Halifax would have been the tiebreaker.”

Velma was the second person to mention this. Maybe the proposed resort and the local election were behind all of this after all.

     

Chapter 5

By the time I arrived home, it was after three, and Sydney had indicated that she planned to arrive between four and five. Deciding I had time to wash off the dust and fish smell from the day, I headed toward the shower. As I shampooed my hair, I considered what to wear for my dinner with our special guest. It was sort of odd that I was feeling nervous about meeting this woman. I wasn’t sure why exactly. She seemed really nice, but she had known Ben, and he’d never mentioned her, so I guessed the whole thing left me feeling off my game a bit. As I rinsed my hair, I thought back to our first conversation. Sydney had shared that she’d worked with Ezra Reinhold a few times, which was how she knew Ben. Ezra Reinhold was a reclusive billionaire who had lived in San Francisco at one time but had retired to a large estate on the very north end of Shipwreck Island after a home invasion had resulted in the death of his wife and son.

I remembered that Ben had mentioned him on many occasions, so I supposed it made sense that Ben had gone to him if he needed help with one of the cold cases he liked to work on. Ezra never left his estate, but he did employ a large staff as well as a civilian crime-fighting team Ben had referred to as a real-life Justice League.

Turning the water off, I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out of the shower. I supposed I should wear something casual but not too casual for our dinner. The woman worked for the FBI, so chances were that she might show up in a black suit of some sort.

As I dried my hair, I thought about the information Colt had dug up. Apparently, there was reason to believe that the bones Georgia and I had found on a parcel of land I owned belonged to victims of Grover McClellan, a serial killer currently incarcerated in California for a string of deaths on the West Coast. McClellan was claiming that he’d also been responsible for a string of deaths on the East Coast years ago and that the bones we’d found belonged to bodies he’d buried there. When we’d spoken, Sydney indicated that it was her job to try to separate fact from fiction.

Deciding on yellow capris, white sandals, and a flowery top, I headed to my closet. I hoped nothing came up which would prevent Sydney from showing up since, by this point, my curiosity about the woman had shifted into overdrive.

Luckily, only minutes after I finished applying a light coat of makeup to my tanned face and walked to the inn, I heard a car in the drive.

“Sydney?” I greeted after opening the door and stepping out onto the drive. The woman was dressed in dusty jeans with a black t-shirt tucked into the waistband. She had dirty tennis shoes on her feet and a streak of mud on her cheek. I had to admit she wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

“That’s me.” The petite woman with long blond hair and blue eyes, who looked a lot like Georgia, smiled as she got out of the blue sedan she’d been driving. “I’m afraid I’m a bit of a mess after digging around in the dirt all afternoon.” She reached into the car and took out a bag. “Is there a place I can change into something clean?”

“Absolutely,” I stepped aside, inviting the woman in. “I have your suite ready for you. I’ll just show you in. Do you have luggage?”

“Just one bag.” She held up a small travel bag.

After I introduced Sydney to Georgia, who was busy in the kitchen, I escorted her to suite one, letting her know that I’d be waiting in the cottage and that she should just come on over whenever she was ready. She indicated that she needed to shower and change and call her boss, so perhaps she’d meet me there in an hour. I assured her that an hour was fine and that I was anxious to get to know her.

Sixty minutes later, Sydney showed up wearing dark blue shorts and a light blue top. She wore sandals, and she’d pulled her long hair into a braid that trailed down her back. “Thank you. I feel better. I didn’t realize there would be so much mud.”

“We’ve had some rain lately. You were smart to wear jeans to the site.”

“Experience has taught me to be prepared.” She bent down to pet Rufus, who’d wandered up to say hi. Georgia had the dogs with her at the inn.

I suggested we talk out on the deck and offered her a beverage. She chose a glass of white wine, which sounded good to me as well. Georgia had made us plates that were warming in the oven, but we’d decided to start with a fruit and cheese tray and then segue into the main course after we’d had a chance to chat for a while.

Once we were settled with our appetizers, we chatted about the view, the inn, and Sydney’s trip to the East Coast. I was really most interested in her work and the bones that had brought her here in the first place, as well as her association with Ben, but decided it was best to ease into those subjects.

“So what exactly does a forensic psychologist do?” I asked after the subjects of the