Читать книгу The Beastly Island Murder - Carol W. Hazelwood - Страница 8

When the day arrived to leave the island, Clarence, an old salt who ran a ferry and fishing guide service, picked up Jennifer in his sturdy trawler, the Bertie Blue. As usual he dropped anchor beyond the buoy marker. Although his hull had a shallow draft, he didn’t take chances. Sudden wind storms at low tide had grounded many boats around Beastly.

Clarence’s gray-whiskered face was always a welcome sight. He was a bear of a man, with a belly that protruded over his belt. His wife, Bertie, a jolly woman and a long time friend of Jennifer’s family, was as wide and as tall as Clarence. It had been Clarence and Bertie who had convinced Jennifer’s grandmother that, despite the breed’s size, a Newfoundland would suit a sea kayaker.

“How’s the cabin?” Clarence asked after she and Lydia were on board with her kayak, duffle bag, and other gear.

“I think I need a new roof on the water tower, maybe the cabin too,” Jennifer said. “Know anyone?”

“I’ll ask around.” He chucked Lydia under the chin. “She looks like she had a good time.”

“Are you referring to her tangled fur?”

“Yep.” He grinned, then motioned to the open water beyond the cove. “Ocean’s stirred up. Coming over was rough and it’s getting worse. Going to make for a nasty crossing back to the mainland. I’ll winch up the anchor while you secure your kayak,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the bow.

Lydia stayed out on deck sniffing the sea air, while Jennifer joined Clarence inside the wheelhouse and stood next to him, swaying with the trawler’s motion as it cut through the cold sea. “I had a visitor. A guy named Rick Carlson. Do you know him?”

Clarence scratched the bristle on his cheek. “Nope.”

“He owns a 36 foot Morris sloop called The High Life.”

“There was an old Morris docked up in Grotto Place a long while back. Wood, old, a real relic.”

She shook her head. “This one was pristine, totally refurbished.”

“The one I’m talking about would have cost a pretty penny to overhaul. I think it was sold for salvage.” He motioned to a tin on a shelf behind him. “Help yourself to some of Bertie’s chocolate chip cookies.”

“Thanks.” Jennifer pried open the lid and handed a cookie to Clarence before taking one herself. They munched as they watched the spray wash over the prow of the boat.

After a while, Clarence said, “Now tell me how you’re really doing. I’ve been thinking of you out on the island all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone; I had Lydia and the unannounced visitor.”

“Damn it, Jennifer. You know what I mean. Bertie and I have been getting calls all week from your mom and dad. Said you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

“Sorry they pestered you. I go to the island for peace, not to keep in touch.”

“They blame me for taking you out there.”

“They want me to sell the island and I’m not going to.”

He nodded. “I know that.” He kept his eyes on his course. “You never talk about Alex. He wasn’t a bad sort. Where is he?”

“He got married about a year ago.”

“Oh. I guess the gossip was too much for him.”

“I don’t blame him. He said the suspicion thrown on him would ruin our relationship.” She shrugged. “He was right.”

“Well, he sure passed up the best gal around here. That’s for sure.”

“You’re prejudiced because you’ve known me forever.”

“True.” The boat shuddered as a big wave hit, forcing him to spin the helm to take on the next one. “You used to be a lot more chipper. Have you thought of being an outdoor guide again? Seems that made you happy.”

She shrugged. “It did, but they fired me. Didn’t want the kind of publicity an accused murderer would bring.”

He shook his head. “Daft to let you go.” He turned the wheel. “What about selling the bookstore, go back to Seattle and take up with your friends there?”

“The store’s important to the town, to Emma Mae and to me.”

“Emma says you got into appraising and selling books. Says that’s kept the store going. Emma says ….”

“Emma says too much.”

“She cares about you just like Bertie and I do. Keeping yourself locked up in Brandon isn’t the best place for a young gal. You had Joe Baker out to the island awhile back.” He gave her a side long glance. “How did that go?”

“Not for you to know, Clarence. You said you’d keep our trip to yourself.”

“I have. No sense giving food to the tongue waggers. Did you know he’s got a job offer from a company in Bellingham?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Joe hadn’t said anything to her about a new job, much less moving.

“Some kind of company security job,” Clarence continued. “Wonder if he’ll take it.”

“Joe’s a good friend,” she said, covering up her surprise. As another wave washed over the bow, she glanced out the window. “It’s getting rougher; I’ll bring Lydia inside.”

“Good idea.”

For the rest of the trip, Clarence remained at the helm telling one sea yarn after another. The boat’s rolling motion and Clarence’s voice lulled her into a dreamlike state as she rode out the trip seated on the floor next to Lydia. She knew he wouldn’t take offense at her dozing nor would he lose his craggy smile.

When she awoke, rain drummed on the roof of the pilot house as they passed the old lighthouse and cruised into the small harbor north of Brandon. In the calmer water Clarence nudged the Bertie Blue into a slip. Pulling on her Gore-Tex jacket, she went out on deck, jumped onto the pier with the bowline in hand and secured it to the cleat, then hurried to the stern to do the same. Lydia leaped off the boat and trotted up the ramp to where Bertie stood wearing a yellow rain slicker.

“Storm came in faster than expected,” Bertie yelled to Clarence as he stuck his head out of the wheelhouse, waved, and shut down the engine.

“Hey Jen,” Bertie called out. “Come up to the house for a hot drink and sit by the fire.”

Bertie and Joe were the only ones who called her Jen. “Gotta get home,” Jennifer said as she walked up the ramp to get a hug from Bertie. “I need to get Lydia to the groomer before he closes.”

Bertie glanced at Lydia. “She does look ratty.”

“But she’s happy.” Jennifer laughed and gave her dog a scratch behind the ears. “I enjoyed your cookies. Delicious as usual. Thanks.”

“Take ‘em home with you. Clarence doesn’t need any more calories and neither do I.” She grinned. “Of course, I’ll bake him a hearty dinner tonight.”

“You’re the best cook around. You should open a restaurant.”

“No thanks. That would be too much work. I cook for fun.” Bertie followed her back to the trawler, and grabbed the duffle bag that Jennifer slung off the boat. The wind kicked up and the rain pounded down as Clarence and Jennifer carried the kayak to the parking lot and tied it to the roof of her old jeep. After she stowed her gear inside the car, Clarence and Bert hugged her good-bye, then waved as she left.

With Lydia in the backseat, Jennifer drove toward Brandon with the car smelling of wet dog. On the outskirts of town, she stopped at Shu Lee’s Dog Groomers. Inside the small shop, Shu Lee took one look at Lydia and shook his head. “It take two people three hour to untangle fur. Comb out difficult,” he said. “What you do?”

“Romped in the wild, and she loved every minute of it.” Jennifer stroked Lydia’s head. “Can I pick her up about six or is that too late?”

“We open, but no later.” Shu kept shaking his head. “You promise. Brush her every day. You no keep promise. Bad for dog!”

Shu always made her promise to groom Lydia daily, and she’d agree, then fudged the grooming and returned Lydia full of snarls. “I’ll try, Shu,” she said, handing Lydia’s leash over to him. “Be a good girl, Lydia.”

She dashed out to her car through the downpour and drove to the post office, dreading the usual litany from skinny old Miss Burns, the postmistress. The heat inside the building felt like a steam bath. She spotted Joe’s six foot four frame near the front of the line with a package under his arm. When he turned and saw her, he left his place in line to stand next to her. “Hi, Jen.” His ruddy complexion glowed and his deep blue eyes twinkled as he gave her his warm crooked smile. He looked great in his policeman’s uniform with his athletic build. Although he’d been three years ahead in school, they’d been friends. Six months ago that friendship had become something more, but both were careful to keep it a secret from Brandon gossip. So far they’d succeeded. “Glad you’re back.” he said quietly in his baritone voice.

She nodded, smiled and resisted the impulse to brush back the lock of his sandy hair on his forehead.

“Have fun?”

“It was marvelous and for the most part the weather was good.”

He glanced at the folks around them and lowered his voice. “How about a hike Sunday? Storm might pass by then.”

“Rain’s no problem, but I’ve got an appraisal to do in Seattle. If it’s complicated, I may need to spend the weekend doing research.” She wanted to ask him about the job offer in Bellingham that Clarence had mentioned, but this was hardly the place to do that. “I’ll let you know, okay?”

His grin made her feel warm. “You go first.” She moved behind him. “I know you don’t have much time for errands.”

“Okay, thanks.” He lifted his package. “My sister’s kid left his teddy bear behind.” After it was his turn at the window, and he’d settled up with Miss Burns, he turned back to her. “I gotta get back to the station. You take care, Jen.” He winked at her shielding his face so no one else could see. “Bye.” He hurried out the door.

“Bye,” she said and faced Miss Burns, who said, “He’s such a nice fellow. You two ought to get together. He’s not like, well, you know who.”

“Yes, Joe’s great.” Starting a conversation with Miss Burns was a mistake, and she’d learned the hard way that the best defense was to either agree with her or ignore her. “You’ve got my mail?”

“Well, of course. You know, dearie, we’ve been worried sick about you out on that island. Fog’s been thick as mush and now we got rain. Lordy, but it’s enough to make a body depressed. You give your mother such a time,” the postmistress rambled on. “Looks like you got a fancy letter from Seattle.” Miss Burns hung onto the letter longer than necessary, as if she wanted Jennifer to open it in front of her. Jennifer said nothing as she waited with an open hand.

The woman could gossip the day away if given a chance. Grasping the packet firmly, Jennifer said, “Thanks for holding my mail. And by the way, the island was lovely; so peaceful, not a soul to tell me what to do.”

“Humph.” Miss Burns breathed out her displeasure, while Jennifer retreated, smiled at the people in line, and made a quick exit. In Brandon everyone knew everyone else’s business. At times Jennifer felt she should take Clarence’s advice and move to Seattle where no one, except close friends, knew you. But she’d tied herself to Brandon, the bookstore and Joe.

She stuck her mail under her parka and ran for the car. Once inside, she went through the magazines and catalogues, tossing the throw-outs on the floor by the passenger seat. She took a closer look at the letters and bills then eyed the beautifully embossed envelope that had intrigued Miss Burns. She pulled open the flap. It was an invitation to the Wedgeworths’ open house three weeks from Saturday. Her appraisal of his collection must have sparked the invitation, because she didn’t know either of them personally. Intrigued, she planned to RSVP with a “yes.” Placing the rest of the unopened envelopes on the passenger seat, she drove into the center of town.

Books & Tea was located in a one-story building on the main drag across from Tucker’s Inn and Restaurant, the best place to eat and stay in the area. She turned left onto a side street, then right into the alley behind the store and parked next to Emma Mae’s old green sedan. Her aunt wasn’t expecting her until tomorrow, but Jennifer thought she’d check in.

There was little crime in Brandon, and they often left the back door unlocked. Not wanting to surprise Emma Mae, Jennifer called out, announcing her presence as she entered the long hall off the back storeroom. She found her aunt sitting in one of the maroon-colored upholstered chairs by the cash register, reading. Her marmalade-colored longhaired cats, Crabapple and Maxie, lolled on top of the counter. There wasn’t a customer in the place.

Emma Mae turned and waved to acknowledge Jennifer’s approach. “You’re home early. Glad you’re back. Your mother’s been in a tizzy.”

“So I heard from Clarence and Miss Burns.” Jennifer stood at the counter and stroked Crabapple, who looked at her momentarily, then laid her head down and purred.

“Well, you know Eleanor can’t stand Beastly.” Emma Mae’s gray hair hung in strands on either side of her pale, handsome face. “I’d suggest you sell just to have some peace with my sister, but I know how you feel about the island.”

“You’ve been a rock, staying out of the fight.” Jennifer turned toward the bookcase behind her and scanned the books waiting to be picked up by patrons. “I see Peter still hasn’t picked up the three books he ordered.”

“I called him. Said he’d come in soon.” Emma Mae rolled her eyes. “You know what that means. Time doesn’t seem to mean anything to old Pete. At least they’re paid for. Except for today, the store’s been busy since you’ve been away. This is the first day I’ve been able to relax. When it rains people like to burrow in at home and read by a fire.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe it’s a good thing we’re up here in the northwest. Rains all the time, so people are forced to read unless they veg out in front of the TV, a nauseating thought.”

“Sometimes I could use a little more sunshine,” Jennifer said.

“We got another shipment from Random House.” Emma Mae continued to bring Jennifer up to date on the store’s business. “David Dowden has been asking about that book on insects you promised you’d find.”

“Actually, I did find it on the Internet. Should’ve come in by now.”

“Might have. There’s a package on the desk in the office for you.”

“If that’s it, maybe you’d call him tomorrow for me and let him know,” Jennifer said, giving Crabapple an extra rub. “I have to go out to the Wedgeworths for the appraisal.”

“I noticed the appointment on the calendar. Should be interesting. Almost wish I could go with you to see the place.” Emma Mae shook her head. “Amazing what you do on your computer. I’m too old to learn that new fangled technology.”

“No you’re not.” Jennifer stood at the register glancing over the sales sheet. “You just don’t want to bother. You’d rather crawl into a good book instead.”

They both knew that the store couldn’t survive without Jennifer’s commissions as a rare book dealer. Her newly acquired skill had paid off for the store’s bottom line, but had not helped in finding Carla’s missing book. The Internet was a boon, but she’d learned to be careful. Book thieves and unscrupulous dealers abounded. EBay, although a wonderful source, was sometimes referred to as the largest legalized fence of stolen property.

Emma Mae rose and stretched. “Maybe keeping hours on Sunday afternoon isn’t such a good idea. What do you think?”

“You’re the one who insisted we open on Sunday afternoon. Have you checked how many Sunday sales we do?”

“I knew you’d ask me that.” Emma Mae rose and walked stiffly over to the magazine rack and re-stacked them. “So how was your stay at Beastly?”

“Lovely. Cabin repairs had to be made, but the kayaking was great. Lydia loved it.” Jennifer walked back to the office and checked the package and personal mail that Emma Mae had left for her. She and her aunt shared the desire for independence and privacy, which is why they worked so well together and why both had trouble getting along with her mother, Eleanor. Emma Mae and Eleanor were as different as Carla and Jennifer had been. Loving one’s sister doesn’t mean one thinks or behaves like her.

Looking out the office door to the front of the store, Jennifer saw Maxie jump off the counter, follow Emma Mae toward the bookshelves and swat at her mistress’s long wool skirt.

“Where’s Lydia?” Emma Mae called out. “The cats miss her. Maxie has nobody to pester but me.”

Jennifer came out of the office holding a few letters. “Dropped her off at Shu Lee’s. Her fur was a briar patch.”

Emma Mae frowned and studied her niece. “Well, have you looked in the mirror lately? You could do with a groomer, too.” She swished her skirt away from Maxie. “By the way, a fellow came in asking about you last week. Didn’t leave a name, but said he’d be back when you were in town. A good looker, on the thin side, nice manners, smooth talker.” She grinned at Jennifer. “Have you been holding out on me?”

“Hardly. What did he want?” Jennifer scanned through the mail.

“Didn’t say, just asked a lot of questions.”

Jennifer stopped and stared at her aunt. “What kinds of questions?”

“Where you were, when you’d be back. Those kinds of things.”

Jennifer stilled, a sense of unease rode her. “Was he soft spoken, wiry, about my height, short hair, graying at the temple?”

“You do know him.” Emma Mae grinned and with raised eyebrows walked over to Jennifer. “You’re a sly one, keeping a new beau a secret.” She poked Jennifer in the side. “Maybe Joe will get jealous and ask you out.”

Jennifer ignored the jab about Joe. At least there was one part of her life that her aunt knew nothing about and she liked it that way. “The mystery man is a new acquaintance,” she said, but didn’t add that he was also someone she needed to learn more about.

Emma Mae pointed to a calendar on the wall. “You won’t have much time to spruce up. Your due to do the appraisal at nine in the morning.”

“Right. Sorry to leave you to do my shift again. I’ll make it up next week.”

“Don’t be sorry. The income from your outside book activities more than makes up for my doing extra duty in the store.” Emma Mae picked up a stack of books to shelve. “Go home. You need to dress like you were in civilization, instead of in the boonies.”

“Right. I just wanted to check in.” After Jennifer left the store, she picked up groceries, then went home to her cold, damp, rented house nestled in the hills on the outskirts of town. A long gravel driveway led to the one-story bungalow. It wasn’t much to look at, but it suited her needs. She entered through the back door, placed her groceries on the kitchen counter, and turned on the heat. Having no garage meant going into the rain each time she retrieved something from her car. She dropped her duffle bag off in the back room by the washing machine, wrestled her kayak off the roof of her Jeep onto a dolly, and stowed it in the backyard shed. Knowing it would be a while before she’d go kayaking, she gave the craft a long wistful look, sighed and shut the door.

After stowing gear and starting a load of laundry, she took a long hot shower and donned a pair of black slacks and a red turtleneck jersey. At her desk in the living room she phoned her mother. It wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but knew if she didn’t, her mother’s wrath would be worse. Better to get it over with. After only two rings, her mother’s strident voice snapped into her ear. “Jennifer?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m home. The island was wonderful, and the cabin is in good shape.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Going out there alone is foolish.” In her usual flow of consciousness speak, her mother continued without listening to anything Jennifer had to say. “I have a real estate agent who can get you a great price for the island. Then you can buy a house here in town. I’m sure you’ll be much happier.”

Jennifer’s body went rigid. “Mother, I am not selling!” It was like talking into a vortex. Her mother rattled on, and finally Jennifer interjected, “I have to pick up Lydia before the groomer closes. I’ll be in touch. Give my love to Dad. Bye.” She slammed down the receiver.

Jennifer closed her eyes and yelled, “Mother, why must you be so impossible?” Her head began to pound. She slumped onto the couch and stretched out. Her mother’s litany of sell, sell, sell had recurred every week since she’d become the sole owner. Her mother also disapproved of her renting this small home. Control was her mother’s major flaw.

Jennifer understood why Carla had chafed at their mother’s need to dominate. Their father had essentially stayed out of the arguments. Jennifer often wondered how he withstood Eleanor’s carping. Perhaps burying himself in his work as a self-employed architectural consultant was his flagship of survival. However, his relationship with his daughters had suffered because of it.

Looking around her living room, she was comforted by the furniture and artifacts she’d inherited from her grandmother. The cherry wood credenza and matching desk, the grandfather clock that no longer chimed, and the coffee table with marks left from children’s mischief gave her a sense of her past. A bookcase was piled high with old and well-read books. A Rosenthal vase her grandmother had bought in Germany held dried pussy willows, and an old oil painting of her great-grandparents’ home in Wales hung on one wall next to a seascape by a local artist.

Despite moments of loneliness, Jennifer enjoyed her life in her small rental house. It was a far cry from her modern apartment she’d rented in Seattle before Carla’s murder. Everything in her life was either pre-Carla or post-Carla.

Renovations had been made to the old house before she’d moved in a few months post-Carla. The wood floors had been sanded and re-stained, the insulation had been improved, and the windows and doors had been replaced with double-paned glass. However, Jennifer rented it not for the house, but for the large backyard and the proximity to the open hills behind the property. She and Lydia spent hours roaming the thick fir forest with its moss-covered ground and tangled shrub where birds and wildlife thrived. It was the next best thing to the island.

The ringing phone burst through her reverie. She hesitated, wondering if her mother might be calling back, but walked to her desk to answer it. When she heard the voice on the other end, she sank into the swivel chair.

“How are you, Jennifer?” The familiar voice came over the line as if from another world.

“Alex?” She frowned and stared at the wall, seeing nothing. “I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been,” she was going to say, “eons,” but settled for “a long time.”

“I hope you don’t mind my phoning.” There was hesitation in his voice.

“No. It’s wonderful to hear from you. Is anything wrong?”

His voice changed slightly as if she’d offended him. “No. I’m gong to be in Seattle in three weeks, and I was hoping we could get together.”

Get together after two years. And he’s married. “What brings you up this way?”

“Book collecting, naturally.” His chortle made it sound as though he were embarrassed. “I’m meeting Clifford Wedgeworth, a bibliophile. He has some interesting new acquisitions in his collection.”

Wedgeworth, the same man who’d hired her to appraise his newly acquired books? She sat with the phone in her hand, thinking about the eerie coincidence.

“Hello? It must be a poor connection. Are you there?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m just surprised to hear from you.”

“It’s been too long. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

She felt her cheeks get hot. “Of course, why not?”

“I’ll be at the Wedgeworths on Saturday afternoon. Could we meet late afternoon, perhaps have an early dinner together? Would you come down to Seattle? Visiting you in Brandon might not be a good idea, or have your parents mellowed toward me?”

“Let’s not get into that, Alex.” Even after all this time, the anger of her parents and most Brandon residents toward Alex was palpable. They remained convinced he was responsible for Carla’s murder.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up the past, but I’d like to see you.”

“Yes, that would be nice.” Nice! Such an insipid word for a meeting with her former fiancé. Should she tell him she’d been invited to the Wedgeworths’ open house? No. He shouldn’t have all the surprises. “I can meet you in Seattle.”

They settled on a time and a restaurant for that Saturday evening.

Before hanging up, Alex said, “Jennifer, I’ve missed you.”

Her breathing fluttered. “I look forward to seeing you.”

After she hung up, she reflected on the conversation, her thoughts overriding the quickening pulse of her heart. She had to admit she still cared for Alex, but love was another matter. Too much had gone wrong between them for that. However, there was no reason they couldn’t meet as friends.

Since Alex had left, Joe had come into her life. If she’d been interested in dating a variety of eligible men, she’d have allowed her friends in Seattle to set her up. They’d kept after her for a year, but when she hadn’t responded to their offers, they gave up on her. She didn’t blame them. Her life had taken a different turn: searching for a book and a killer. Joe understood that. Joe was her anchor. But what if he left Brandon?

With Alex’s phone call, the past stormed in like a blast of cold wind. Her reaction to his voice made her wonder if she’d been lying to herself about her feelings toward him. When she’d heard he’d married, she’d mourned and then forgotten him. Now she wondered if she had. Damn. She didn’t want to complicate her life.

The wood floorboards creaked as she paced and listened to the splatter of rain on the roof.