Chapter Four

Frank strolled up to the Palms Resort. He'd had a pleasant four mile run. This place was gorgeous. Beautiful blue sky, ocean breezes, and crisp, salty air. He inhaled deeply. Ahhh, a person could get use to this.

Then he noticed the police cars. Two of them. And an ambulance.

Frank instantly thought of Nancy. This morning she had said she was going to check on Mr. Graves. Frank turned in the direction of Mr. Graves' bungalow. Police officers, four of them, were gathered outside the bungalow. And Nancy? Frank spotted her there, too. He saw the tension in her body, the rigid way she stood. Jeremy Hill was next to her. Why?

Frank headed toward Mr. Graves' bungalow. Tim and Molly Kincaid were talking with police officers at a discreet distance from the bungalow. Other Resort guests watched from a greater distance. Everyone was curious, but respectfully kept out of the police officers' way. Best to let them do their job. News of what happened to Mr. Graves would eventually reach everyone. After all, the Resort was small – only ten bungalows. Word of Mr. Graves' fate would spread quickly. That is, once it was known.

Frank saw Crime Scene techs with yellow tape and yellow number markers. This did not bode well for Mr. Graves. Frank's initial thoughts of a heart attack vanished. Crime Scene techs did not show up for a heart attack.

Nancy turned and saw Frank. "Frank, you're here."

Frank walked closer.

Nancy's eyes were red. She brushed away a tear. "Oh, Frank. He's dead. Murdered. I .. um, Jeremy and I found him."

Frank cast a glance at Jeremy. One corner of the Jermey's mouth lifted in a slight grin and he shrugged a shoulder. Hey, don't blame me. Stuff happens.

Frank did not have time to ponder Jeremy's reaction. A detective strode up to him and Nancy. Frank spent the next five minutes answering the detective's questions. Where had he been this morning? Which bungalow was his? Oh, he shared a bungalow with Ms. Nancy Drew, one of the people who had found the deceased. Had Frank seen anything suspicious this morning or last night? No. Well, don't go too far. The detectives might have more questions for him later. Right now, they wanted to interview Ms. Drew and Mr. Jeremy Hill. Separately.

Frank went to his and Nancy's bungalow to take a shower while the detectives herded Nancy and Jeremy to the Palms Resort. Tim had offered the use of his office for the interviews.

# # # #

Molly busied herself in the dining room. She needed something, anything, to keep her mind off of the events of the morning. A regular lunch service was out of the question. Molly wasn't up to waiting on people. Her concentration was shot. She was in shock and operating on auto-pilot. But people would be hungry and thirsty so she told the wait staff to prepare pitchers of water and iced tea and set up a servicing station.

Next, Molly had the breakfast bar turned into a sandwich bar. Law enforcement personnel and guests would eat for free. Charging people money was out of the question. Molly couldn't think about money, not today, not after a detective had taken her and Tim aside and said those horrible words: He's been murdered.

Those words rang in her head. Mr. Graves had been murdered in one of their bungalows. He'd been stabbed with a steak knife from their dining room. A weapon of means and opportunity. Easy to steal. Tuck it in a back pocket or under a shirt. Everything the killer needed had been provided by the Kincaids.

They'd only been in business eight months. Eight short months and now this. A murder. At their Resort. This was not good for business. Definitely not good. Molly feared guests would pack up and leave. They'd want to get out fast. Quick before the killer strikes again. What could she and Tim do?

Molly carried a pitcher of ice water to a serving table and set it down. Tim came up and wrapped his arms around her. He'd seen the shattered look on her face and the bleak, weary glint in her eyes.

He kissed her on the head. "It'll be okay, darling. I promise. We'll get through this."

She shook her head. "It's awful, Tim. Just awful."

Tim drew back and looked at his wife. She was shell-shocked. No doubt about. "Maybe you should lie down. Rest a bit. I can manage things here."

"No!" She was vehement. "I need to do something. If I don't have anything to do I'll think about …" She looked up into her husband's dark eyes. "I'll think about what happened. I'm sorry, Tim, but I don't want to think about what happened." Her moist eyes pleaded for understanding.

Tim smoothed Molly's silky, blonde hair off her forehead. "Of course, darling. Of course. I understand."

Tim turned his attention to the dining room. The wait staff were busy carrying trays of sandwiches to the breakfast bar. "What's going on here?" Tim asked. "No regular lunch?"

"Sandwiches, water, and tea. It's all I can manage," Molly's voice was small and childlike.

Tim nodded agreeably. "Fine. Understandable. How much will we charge?"

"Charge?" Molly looked horrified. "We can't charge the police. Well, what I mean is, … this is for them, too. The guests and the police. Seriously, Tim I can't think of money right now. It's all I can do to get lunch ready."

Tim felt he must step in and take decisive action. "I understand, darling, I do. But we can't afford to give away perfectly good food. Not at this early stage in our business. How about we put out a donation box? People can give what they feel is appropriate."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, that would be fine." And then she smiled, her first smile since hearing those horrible words: He's been murdered.

Tim pressed a kiss to Molly's forehead. "I'll leave you to things here and get on those donation boxes. Have you informed the wait staff that we're not charging for lunch today?"

"I'll do that now." Molly pulled her husband into an embrace and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you, Tim. Thank you for understanding."

Tim smiled and left to find donation boxes. Probably something in one of the storage rooms, he thought.

Molly headed to the kitchen to speak to the staff. She felt renewed. A surge of vigor rippled through her. The dread of before had been replaced with hope. Tim had shown confidence in her decisions and compassion for her feelings. What a wonderful husband. His stoic demeanor had impressed her. He had remained strong in the face of catastrophe. Calm and logical. No, he wouldn't give away food. A wise decision. So level-headed and business oriented. He was always thinking of their future. A donation box was the perfect solution. The beautiful blending of both their ideas.

Oh yes, Tim was a wonderful husband.

Molly smiled to herself. She was lucky to have him. So very lucky.

A/N: Thank you to those who left a review. Your comments are greatly appreciated. I love murder mysteries, too. I'm just not that good at writing them! However, I'm trying. We'll see how well I do. ;)

Sorry if there are typos. I proofread, but stuff always gets past.