Page 36 of The Beach Cottage
“Thanks, Dad. But not if it’s too much for you.”
He waved her off. “No trouble at all. I’m not dead yet.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” she warned him, and he laughed.
“It happens to us all.”
“I’m painfully aware of that. Speaking of which, do you remember when Penny’s grandmother, Mary Brown, was killed?”
His smile faded. “Of course. That was a horrible tragedy. The whole island was shaken by it. Why do you ask?”
“The girls and I are looking into it.”
“Why would you do that?”
She sat up, her eyebrows knitting together. His tone was defensive, and his reaction surprised her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s old news. Let it go.”
“Why does this bother you so much, Dad?”
He shook his head but didn’t respond, instead staring out the back window at the children who were flicking ice-cold water at each other and squealing as Harry chased Dani around the deck.
“I found some old photographs in the wall of my cottage when we were renovating.”
“I remember that,” Dad replied.
“It turns out they were photos of Penny’s beach house…”
“Yes?” he said, as though irritated at how slowly she was speaking.
“Photos of her family and of Rowan’s family — you know, the Clementses?”
He sighed. “I know the Clementses, and I know the beach house. What’s your point?”
“I’m not sure really, only that it got us interested in Penny’s history. Her grandmother is in some of the photos, and Penny told us she was killed. So, we were down at the library looking for more information, and we discovered something strange.”
“Oh?” He leaned forward.
“It seems the murderer was never caught.”
“I knew that.” He relaxed into his chair.
“But we also found Betsy Norton’s name in the article — apparently, she was one of the witnesses for the case. It doesn’t say what she saw, but don’t you think it’s strange that she never said anything to Penny about it?”
He lurched to his feet, his fists clenched. “Just stop it. Let the past stay in the past.”
She stood as well, reaching out to comfort him. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Your mum was obsessed with the case before her death as well. After everything that happened, I would be happy never to talk about it again for as long as I live. I don’t want you to follow in her footsteps.”
He stormed from the lounge room and out the front door, slamming it behind him. Beatrice stared after him, astonished. Her heart thudded against her rib cage. She understood him connecting it with her own mother’s death, but his words only brought more questions to mind than answers. Her mother had been obsessed with Mary Brown’s murder … but why? What did it have to do with her, or with Bea’s family? And why was Dad so upset that she wanted to talk about it?
Sixteen
The moonlight lit a silver trail along the beach, and stars twinkled in the partially clouded sky overhead. Penny sat on the second step leading up to her porch door and leaned back to study the sky. It was beautiful. A world full of stars, some bright, some dim, like dot art on a black canvas.
She was still damp from her surf earlier, her wetsuit pulled low about her waist, but her stomach growled with hunger. With a sigh of disappointment at having to tear her gaze away from the heavens, she took an outside shower, then went inside to change and make herself some dinner. Before she got started cooking scrambled eggs and pancakes, her favourite breakfast-for-dinner combination, she hesitated with her phone in hand.
