by Amber Boffin
AMBER BOFFIN
LETHALLY LOGGED
Maggie Flanagan Cozy Mystery
Number Three
AVENOAK
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Other books in the series
Text © 2019 Amber Boffin
Cover Illustration by Steve Thomas
www.stevethomasart.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN (print): 978-1-7751028-5-4
(digital): 978-1-7751028-4-7
Avenoak
505 Hwy. 118 West
Suite 420
Bracebridge, ON P1L2G7
Canada
First Edition
Chapter One
In the middle of a round clearing in the maple forest stood an old log cabin. The wooden door was swinging in the wind, hitting the doorframe as if it marked the rhythm of their approaching footsteps.
“Strange…I just don’t get it. Is it that hard to close a door to keep animals out?”
Maggie had trouble keeping up with Adam’s increased stride. It was as if Adam, who had become a good friend, had all of a sudden put on his game warden hat and become serious. It was a change from a moment ago when he showed her how to make a moose call, with much laughter. Maggie kept quiet, sensing something was amiss.
He whistled as if he were calling a dog. No sign of movement aside from orange and red leaves tearing off the maple trees under the strength of the wind.
Maggie stumbled into Adam’s back, nearly ending up like a second bag hooked to his large rucksack were it not for him springing up as fast as he had crouched down.
“Hey, matey, you’re all right?” asked Adam.
Maggie rubbed her nose, feeling for moisture. “Yeah, but what’s going on?” She knelt down before an indentation in the soil where he had stopped. “Do you think there’s a bear in the cabin? It looks so inviting, a little cabin in the woods, and winter is coming…”
Adam put a finger to his lips, his long nail appearing to cut across his thin upper lip. Maggie attempted to listen, but the wind was too strong in her ears. She stood up and raised her binoculars to her eyes. “Look!”
“Shh…” Adam whistled again and cupped his ears with his hands to the east of the cabin’s entrance. He shook his head. “Nope, can’t hear him.”
Maggie pulled his arm and on tiptoes thrust the binoculars in front of Adam’s eyes, pointing to the cabin door. “But I see someone, look,” she insisted, taking a few steps toward the cabin.
“Lazy bugger…”
Maggie looked at him, surprised, as he let her take the binoculars back.
“Ted—he’s a recluse living a mile away and takes care of this place for the hunters and hikers. But he should’ve heard my whistle back then, even with this wind.”
Adam’s forehead furrows seemed to have just been plowed ready for planting as he raised the binoculars to his eyes. Maggie couldn’t resist the tug from the strap still sitting around her neck. She found herself facing his chest, as if a magnetic force had attracted her to him. A sweet smell of hay tickled her nose. Adam was riveted behind her binoculars, oblivious to her attempt to untangle her red curls from the strap.
“Blimey—but that’s not Ted.” Adam thrust the binoculars into her hands and gently pushed her aside, his eyes still focused on the door as it swung open, revealing a figure hunched over a table.
Maggie raced next to Adam, still fighting with the strap that was pulling painfully on a strand of her hair. Each time she managed to focus her sight on the immobile figure to see who or what it was, the wind slammed the door shut on the image.
She had looked forward to the stay in this legendary cabin, but now that it already seemed to be occupied, they would have to set up camp elsewhere. Adam would know another good place, no doubt, but after the two-day hike and canoe trip to reach it, she was disappointed. She had heard so many stories about it, in particular from Heidi, the owner of the Horizon Cafe, who had warned her to be careful. Adam had only told her about this place because she had insisted on knowing whether they would stay in a hut if the weather turned on them. She didn’t like camping in the rain and hadn’t camped in the wild for a long time, so she was a little apprehensive. The rest of the camping spots were to remain surprises and were known only to him.
The little log cabin was said to be haunted by the ghost of a Métis trapper who had built the place one hundred years ago. The hunters and hikers Heidi had spoken to had all recounted stories of food disappearing, items displaced, and strange squeaking sounds at night. Some even heard footsteps as if someone was walking in the loft above the bunk beds. Adam had laughed when Maggie questioned him about it and said with a naughty gleam to his eye, “You’ll see for yourself. Maybe you can figure it out.”
As they reached the door, Adam’s body partly obliterated Maggie’s view. He knocked, then pushed the door open. Smoke particles in the air irritated Maggie’s throat. It was a place fit for a ghost yet cozy at the same time with its black wood stove, hand-cut logs, and low ceiling. Perhaps it was just this Ted who wanted to keep the cabin to himself and made sure to scare away any visitors. This time he hadn’t succeed…
Maggie approached the man slouched over the wooden table in the middle of the room. The sunray coming through the little wooden window illuminated the scene as if it were staged, drawing attention away from the dark corners of the room. The man’s auburn hair, a hint darker than Maggie’s, glistered like a copper helmet in the sun. After closer inspection, the golden specks turned out to be little shards of wood and vegetation interspersed in his thick hair, a perfect nest for a mouse.
One arm was stretched out as if he were reaching for the mug on the table, his head resting on the other arm. She couldn’t see his face. He appeared strong, with broad shoulders; someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. She peered into the empty mug. A reddish deposit layered its bottom, similar to the balsamic vinegar residues that gather over time at the bottom of a bottle.
Adam placed two fingers on the bare neck, holding his other hand up to Maggie. She took a step back, stumbling on hiking shoes twice the size of her own feet. As she steadied herself, she caught sight of the polka dot socks the man was wearing.
Adam shook his head. “He’s dead. Can’t help him. I checked all the signs. Check the pulse too.”
Maggie jumped to Adam’s side, stepping over a broom that was leaning against the table. She was about to put her fingers on the neck when the sight of his pale face and dried blood under the nose held her back. Her hand hovered instead over a plate with the remains of an omelet sprinkled with the same wood dust and bits of vegetation as was in his hair. She looked up at the ceiling and blinked fervently in an attempt to rid her eye of what had just fallen into it. I should know better than look up. It must be full of mice up there.
Having wiped the tears away, Maggie felt for the pulse. None. She shook her head. “He feels cold.”
“Sad business.” Adam gently put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s too late. We should leave him as we found him. We need to alert the police.” He ran his hand along his belt. “Arrg, of course, I didn’t bring my radio with me.”
He appeared to be thinking, his mouth twitching in the process as if it were manufacturing the words before spitting them out in one go at high speed. “Ted would have known he was staying here. He always keeps an eye on visitors. More with a view to direct them away from his own camp than anything else…although he’ll never admit it.”
Adam scanned the room like an owl, his body immobile while his head swiveled around with a remarkable reach. Maggie fell silent, absorbed in their surroundings. It was as if two people had been sitting at the table, the other chair pushed back, leaving behind a dust-free line on the uneven planks. The stove’s door was open, revealing ashes and the black shape of a half-consumed log that was still smoking.
Maggie walked around the table. Two backpacks were upright against the log siding toward the bunk beds, but only one pair of hiking boots. A sleeping bag was rolled out on one of the beds, with a book about Ontario edible wild plants and mushrooms of the region, the same books she had recently purchased to learn about what she could consume from her own backyard. If only she could see the page at which it sat open, face down on the bed, but she didn’t want to touch anything.
The omelet had green and brown bits in it. Perhaps he had picked the wrong plant or mushroom, although she couldn’t see any evidence so far, aside from what was in the half-consumed dish. Maggie had never attempted to pick wild mushrooms, because she simply didn’t like their taste. She did like taking close-up pictures of them and was compiling a photo book on the subject.
Next to the stove, a box of Earl Grey teabags with its lid open lay next to a pan filled with water and a second mug. Pieces of what looked like nettle leaves stuck out from a roll of newspaper. It reminded Maggie of eating little nettle pancakes prepared by her friend’s mother when she visited her in Italy. They were delicious. After that experience, she ventured on to harvest nettles herself and make her own nettle pesto, with success.
What could be a loaf of bread or a cake, given its narrow long shape, was neatly wrapped in a purple cotton cloth. Maggie tilted her head over it. The sweet smell of almonds brought her back to the first cake she had baked with a friend.
They had been seven years old and both loved almonds. She remembered the pleasure she took looking through the oven window at the rising cake. It seemed like a miracle to her that something all gooey could turn into this mouth-watering, spongy substance.
Adam snapped her out of her contemplation. “Maggie, do you think you can handle staying here, watching the place, while I get hold of Ted?”
“Yes…but…” The thought of a second person having fled the premises made her hesitate. Perhaps the person was distressed in search of help, but what if… Maggie shivered; she couldn’t get rid of the thought. Her recent experiences might have influenced her view a little too much, always suspecting foul play.
She could suggest hiking back to alert the police, but she had followed Adam blindly through the woods from the lake, where they had left the canoe. They had taken two days to get here, stopping numerous times and taking detours dictated by the wildlife. Between listening to a moose in rut, following the tracks of an otter along the lake, and checking out a tree where an owl had nested earlier in spring, Maggie had totally lost any sense of orientation.
She would get lost, no doubt about it. And Ted—she had never met him, let alone had any idea where he lived. If a second person had left the cabin in search of help, a rescue team would have arrived by now, except if the person hadn’t made it to the village or to Ted’s hut… Unless it wasn’t an accident…in which case, if she were to stay in the cabin, she might be in for a nasty surprise…
Maggie had made up her mind when Adam looked at her gently. “Just come with me then, you can look out for me. But when I tell you to stay put behind a tree when we get close to Ted’s lair, you’ll be okay with that?”
Was Ted that dangerous? Maggie shuddered but nodded. She felt more afraid of other humans than of any animal in the woods, so sticking with Adam seemed a safer option no matter what. It was his territory. He was just like an alpha wolf that knows the boundaries of his patch inside out. He was evaluating the danger. She could see it in his tense forearms and piercing look.
A thought held Maggie back as Adam stepped out the door. “Shouldn’t we…”
He turned around. His silhouette in the doorframe cast a long shadow on the floor. The numerous footprints on the dusty floor were suddenly invisible, as if an eclipse of the sun had darkened the room. He looked menacing.
Maggie whispered, sensing the presence of a being other than Adam. “I was wondering…”
“What?” Adam asked loudly. “We have to get going, we need to catch Ted as quickly as possible.”
Why did he need to catch Ted? Did he think he killed the man? Or perhaps he would run away just in case anyone would think that. Or Ted knew who did it. Maggie felt emboldened, challenged by his tone. “If someone comes back and gets rid of the body, we wouldn’t have any evidence, unless I take some snaps. I can be very quick, just a few pictures.”
“You’re always suspicious. Be very quick. I’d like to reduce the chance of another casualty. When people panic, they do foolish things. I’ll take a look outside, see if I can find a lead on the direction the other person might have taken. I want to get to the radio fast, so you’ve only got a few minutes.”
“You also spotted that there had to be another person there—the two rucksacks and two mugs?”
“Some people take two bags with them, if they want to stay out for longer, especially if they use cabins and canoed up most of the way. No, that wasn’t it.” Adam left the doorway, turning his back to her.
Maggie, feeling the urgency of the situation, swung her binoculars aside, picking up her camera. What had Adam seen?
She was still standing next to the table, careful to avoid spreading her own footprints around, when she heard a strange scratching sound above her head.
Chapter Two
Maggie looked out the door and window, but Adam was no longer in sight. She listened, pointing her camera toward the sound in the ceiling. It wasn’t very loud, but loud enough to freeze her attention. Was it the ghost the hikers had talked about? No, she didn’t believe in ghosts, not even friendly ones. It had to be a mouse, or perhaps a squirrel.
Keeping an ear out for the noise, which had ceased, Maggie fiddled with her lenses, fishing out her wide-angle lens from her pocket. In a balancing act, she proceeded to switch lenses without touching anything around her. A drizzle of fine wood dust made the process trickier. Annoyed, she glanced at the ceiling. She blew the dust from her camera, checking nothing had gone into its body before attaching the lens.
She took a set of pictures from her vantage point behind the table facing the door to the outside, her back to the sleeping quarters. She checked that the table and the body were clearly visible in spite of the back light coming from the door.
Dried moss and fern fronds were sticking out of seams of the low plank ceiling. The only explanation Maggie could think of was that there was an attic space above it, where mice must have set up their winter quarters, hence the noise. The spider webs adorning the ceiling w
ere laden with flies, aside from the ones above the table, which appeared lighter in color. She swiveled on her feet to face the back of the cabin, careful to minimize her footprint coverage.
A rickety wooden ladder leaned against the ledge of the opening in the ceiling, a clear invitation to take a look at the attic. The only way to find out if the ghost was indeed a simple field mouse was to follow the sound. She sighed; it meant adding her own DNA on the ladder and leaving more footprints behind. The rhythmical scratching sound started again. That was it—she had to check it out.
This time, the sound resembled the scratch of the talons of a bird of prey—an owl? Feeling her pulse race, she reached for her sunglasses on top of her head. None there; she had put them away earlier. Her head would be the first to pop up in the attic. Owls closed their eyes to protect them when they approached their prey. She did the same with an added shield of her phone, ready to switch the flashlight on.
The ladder had been used recently, dust covering only the ends of the bars. She stepped up into the darkness. A stuffy smell of dried plants filled her nostrils as she wiped away a cobweb from her forehead. Nothing flew at her or jumped at her.
She carefully opened her eyes. It was too dark to see much, aside from the corner right next to her. Little droppings were scattered around a cluster of leaves and plant debris. It must be the nest of a rodent of some kind. She took a picture with her phone, not having a flash on her big camera. A glance at the screen revealed a few mice skeletons and dust intermingled with plant debris and gravel pellets, as far as she could tell. No ghost and no live animal to be seen. The mouse must have escaped, scared away by her clumsy approach.
Maggie climbed back down at the sound of her name.
“What on earth are you doing up there? You said you’d be quick.” Adam waved his large hand. “Come on, I’ve spotted some tracks in the direction of Ted’s hideaway.”
