Read Online Murder at Redwood Cove by Janet Finsilver - Free Book Online Page B

the building with its multiple roof peaks and inviting covered porch. “It appears really well-kept.”
    â€œVolunteers maintain the home and do an excellent job. They offer tours of the house and Redwood Cove. The Redwood Cove Visitors’ Center is next. It’s housed in a structure that was built in 1885.”
    â€œI appreciate the time you’re taking to help me get acquainted with the area.”
    â€œGlad I can help.” Suzie headed down the boardwalk.
    â€œHow long have you been in Redwood Cove?”
    â€œAbout fifteen years.” Suzie shoved her hands in her pockets. “I was living in Los Angeles. When I went through a nasty divorce, I decided on a complete change of scenery, and I wanted to get far, far away from my ex.”
    â€œI know all about difficult divorces.”
    We looked at each other. Unspoken communication about the depth of the pain and hurt passed between us.
    â€œI ended up back at the family ranch.”
    â€œWhere had you been living?”
    â€œSan Francisco. I went home and worked on the ranch. I ventured out a few times and tried several different jobs. I was a newspaper copy editor for a while, but I didn’t like the hours. A stint as a travel agent didn’t click. I got teaching credentials, thinking that would be a better fit. Nope. A class would end at six minutes after ten and another begin seven minutes later. You had twenty-eight minutes for lunch. Living a life by minutes wasn’t for me. The kids were great though.”
    â€œHow is it you came to be here?”
    â€œOur ranch is a resort in the summer. People horseback-ride, hike, and fish. I helped out while I was growing up and again after the divorce. The family wanted me to stay and work there like my brothers and sister. I wanted something of my own. Dad knows Michael Corrigan, owner of Resorts International. He talked to him, and Corrigan gave me a temporary job in Colorado as an assistant. I helped with a difficult situation, and he promoted me to executive administrator. Here I am.”
    â€œThanks for sharing.” Suzie stopped in front of a modest white house, the United States flag whipping in the wind at the top of the pole in front of it. “This is the Redwood Cove Visitors’ Center. It has information about the area as well as exhibits. They lead a variety of walks. The north side of town borders the cove, and most of the land around it is parkland.”
    I was glad we’d stopped. Between my talking and our fast pace, I needed a chance to catch my breath.
    â€œThere are more places to see, but it’s time to head to Noah’s Place. I need to get back to work soon.” Suzie pointed across the street. “That’s the Ralston Hotel, where I’m general manager. We can cut through over there, and you can see more of the town.”
    The building she indicated was a lovely Victorian with wood shingle siding in a scalloped pattern skirting the bottom of the building. The upper part of the hotel displayed traditional vertical boards. The chosen color was cream with white trim. The lush vegetation spoke to the optimal coastal weather conditions for plants.
    Locals, many with long hair and ragged jeans, were easily distinguished from visitors. Whenever one saw Suzie, there was a wave or a nod. She led me to a light yellow building with black trim, then opened the screen door and held it for me.
    We found a place in the back with menus between salt and pepper shakers. Staff bustled among the tables. The rich smell of baking pizza and the happy chatter of locals and tourists enveloped me. A young boy eating, as well as wearing, his ice cream leaned against his mother’s leg. I surveyed the list and determined it was raspberry chocolate fudge by the colors on his T-shirt.
    â€œThey have lots of pizza choices, salads, and vegetarian options. Most of the ingredients are organic.” Suzie scanned the menu. “The ice cream is