Clambake Murder: A Rocky Cove Culinary Cozy - Book 2 by Summer Prescott Page A

dropped out of the social scene, his
wife of 30 years divorced him, and he’d been virtually a recluse ever since.
    Becca
nodded, lost in thought. “Yeah, I can understand Hubert’s position, but
honestly, I’m not exactly thrilled about them tearing down homes that have been
a beautiful part of Cape Cranston for centuries, and replacing them with
condos.”
    “Well,
that’s progress,” Katie’s response was steeped in sarcasm.

Chapter 2
    Becca
drove home exhausted, but content. She met with 10 new clients, while Katie
oversaw the restocking of supplies and prep for the upcoming weekend, and Julio
hit the local markets for fresh produce and seafood orders. She felt so
incredibly fortunate to have risen from the ashes of divorce to start her own
business, indulging her culinary creativity, surrounded by a staff of top-notch
people whom she’d grown to love like family. As she pulled to the end of her
black-topped driveway, hitting the button on her visor for the garage door, she
was upset to see that all of the flowers that she had growing in a mulched
garden that ran along the entire side of the house that faced the Marshall’s
stately Victorian, had been pulled up. Katie’s nephew Ryan came over once a
week during the season to take care of the lawn and gardens, but she couldn’t
imagine why he would have done such a thing. There was soil and mulch all over
the driveway, and when she took the stone footpath from the garage to the back
door of her bungalow, she saw every one of the plants that had been pulled up
scattered all over the steps that led into her screened in porch.  The mesh in
the screen door had been slashed, as had every window screen on the porch.
Becca’s heart leapt to her throat at the sight. Obviously Katie’s nephew had no
part in this, someone had been up to no good. She desperately hoped that
nothing had happened to her cranky, but beloved cat, Poppy.
    Becca
hurried back to her car, not wanting to go inside alone, and locked the doors
behind her. She dug in her purse for a card that she had used months ago, when
her ex-husband’s wife had been murdered, and she’d been framed as a suspect.
    “Detective
Reynolds?” she asked, trying to sound calm when the handsome detective who had
helped prove her innocence came on the line.
    “Speaking,”
he said curtly, a man of few words.
    “Hi…this
is Becca Rogers.” Detective Lance Reynold’s manner warmed considerably once he
discovered with whom he was speaking. Becca told him about what she had found,
and he agreed that staying in the car until he arrived to check out the scene
was a good idea. She told him to come in the garage by the side door, and that
she would stay put until he arrived.
    Becca
nearly jumped out of her skin when the door to the garage opened, but was
relieved when she saw the detective raise his hand in greeting. She got out of
the car and headed for the side door.
    “Thank
you so much for coming out, Detective,” she smiled gratefully, offering her
hand. “I felt kind of silly, being scared to enter my own home, but seeing my
garden violated like that, just spooked me,” she admitted.
    He
shook hands with her, careful not to use the full strength of his grip. “Not a
problem, you did the right thing. It’s always better to err on the side of
safety,” he offered her a brief smile. “Let’s go take a look.”
    Becca
showed him the garden that had been beautifully filled with flowers when she
left, early this morning, and then took him to the porch area. He frowned,
examining the ground around the steps and the cuts in the screens.
    “Well,
if anyone did enter the residence, it was prior to the damage that was done out
here,” he observed.
    “Really?
What makes you say that?” Becca folded her arms nervously across her middle.
    “There
are no footprints in the soil, no soil on the door latch. You should be okay,
but I’d like to take a look around inside, if you don’t mind. Can we go in the
front