by B R Snow
“I’ll admit nothing of the sort,” Jackson said. “It happens. Maybe he had too much to drink. Maybe he got distracted and forgot where he was.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But something doesn’t seem right. And what about Chloe?”
“Who?” Jackson said.
“Her,” I said, nodding at the sleeping puppy. “She’s a good swimmer, but the idea of her paddling alone out there all night is pretty hard to believe.”
“Maybe she was on a piece of driftwood. Or a boat cushion. Maybe she just has a strong survival instinct,” Jackson said, growing more agitated by the minute. “How would I know?”
“I think the whole thing is very suspicious,” I said.
“Me too,” Josie said.
“Okay, go ahead and play detective. Knock yourself out. But try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, and don’t annoy anybody, especially the tourists. And don’t try to arrest anybody.”
“What trouble could we possibly get into, Jackson?” I said.
Jackson looked at both of us, then shook his head.
“I’ll be back in a few days. If you need anything while I’m gone, you’ve got my number. And you be a good boy, Sluggo.”
With that, Jackson gave Sluggo one last pet and headed towards his car. Josie and I got Sluggo set up in his condo and headed for the dock. We climbed aboard, and Chloe hopped up on the seat next to me.
“I called Freddie this afternoon,” Josie said, removing her sunglasses.
“And what did our favorite Medical Examiner have to say?”
“Well, first he asked me again if I wanted to work part-time for him.”
“Why not?” I said, “You are licensed.”
“If I’d wanted to work on people, I would have stayed in med school.”
“Then why did you even bother to get your ME license?”
Josie shrugged. “It was something to do. And it taught me that I liked dealing with dead people even less than I did with the sick ones.”
I laughed. “So what did Freddie have to say?”
“After I turned down the job offer, we did our usual dance. He asked me out; I said no. Then we finally got around to talking about the deceased Mr. Crawford.”
“And?”
“Just like Jackson said. Accidental drowning, no signs of a struggle. No visible wounds.”
“What about the maple syrup?”
“Freddie said it was odd, but not any real evidence of anything. And since the family didn’t want an autopsy and the police were satisfied he wasn’t a victim of foul play, they’re going ahead with the cremation.”
“That was fast,” I said, stroking Chloe’s head.
“Families deal with death in different ways.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But something about this bugs me.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s keep our eyes open when we get there.”
“Well, if I’m going to need to do that, I need a nap.”
She stretched out on the back seat and closed her eyes. Chloe, another victim to the fresh air and soft purr of the engine, was also sound asleep. I stifled a yawn as I pulled on a sweater to keep the cool evening breeze at bay.
Chapter 5
There aren’t really a thousand islands. The number totals 1,864, but the Thousand Islands has a much better ring to it and works better on the tourist brochures. When I was a kid, I wondered why they hadn’t rounded up and called it the Two Thousand Islands, then I’d decided the area probably got its name before anyone had gotten around to counting all of them.
Candyland Island was like the majority of the other Thousand Islands; comprised of granite and dominated by pine and cedar trees. But unlike a lot of the other islands, Candyland was big. Not as big as Howe Island, the largest that was almost thirty miles long. But certainly big enough to handle the Crawford family. And probably everyone else who worked for the deceased magnate’s candy company. The island fronted the main shipping channel of the St. Lawrence Seaway, and from the water it was impressive. But it wasn’t until I steered the boat away from the Channel toward the back of the island that the grandeur of the place became evident.
A large stone and wood boathouse with more dock space than some local towns offered provided ample parking. All the slips in the boathouse were filled with a wide variety of boats and other watercraft, so I eased the boat along the dock that extended off the front of the boathouse. Both Josie and Chloe woke up at the same time, and Josie hopped out to tie the boat off. Chloe, obviously familiar with her surroundings, hopped from the boat onto the dock and sat down waiting for me.
“Okay,” I said, climbing onto the dock. “Let’s go meet the Crawfords.”
Chloe trotted down the dock and out the boathouse onto a stone trail that led up to the main house. We followed, taking in our surroundings as we walked along the trail.
“How much money do you think this guy had?” Josie said, whistling when she saw the massive, manicured lawn.
“A lot more than you and me.”
“That’s not saying much,” she said, laughing.
“Well, how about a lot more than my mother?”
“There you go,” Josie said, watching as Chloe sniffed the lawn for a favorite spot, then squatted to pee. “Good girl. You know, I was watching her around the Inn earlier. That dog is scary smart.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m having separation anxiety,” I said.
Josie snorted. “You’ve had the dog for twelve hours.”
“What can I say? We’ve bonded.”
“Can I help you?”
We both turned in the direction of the voice. A good looking tall man wearing work coveralls stained with sweat and grass cuttings was standing behind us holding a shovel. He stared at us with a curious expression, not sure who we were or why we were here. Then he fixated on Josie and slowly took her in with his eyes. Even though I wasn’t the object of his stare, I still found it a bit creepy. As usual, Josie waited it out and returned the stare. When it became apparent she wasn’t going to flirt back his eyes shifted to the horizon.
Chloe raced across the lawn and put her front paws up on the man. He smiled, bent down, and stroked the dog’s fur.
“Well, look at what we have here. I was afraid we’d lost you.”
Chloe sat down and glanced back and forth at all three of us.
“You came over here to bring Chloe back?”
“More or less,” I said. “Should I call you Mr. Crawford?”
“Hah, that’ll be the day,” he said, laughing. “I’m Carl. The gardener.”
“I’m Suzy. This is Josie.”
“Nice to meet you, Carl,” Josie said.
“Nice to meet you, Josie,” he said, on the verge of another outburst of overt leering. “They’re all up at the house. C’mon, I’ll lead the way.”
“We hate intruding,” I said. “Given the circumstances. But we thought they’d be worried sick about Chloe.”
Carl the Gardener laughed. “The only thing this group worries about is missing happy hour.” When his joke didn’t elicit any response from us, he shook his head and forced a small smile. “You’ve never been to the island before, have you?
“No,” I said.
“Well, buckle up,” he said, walking up the steps toward the house. “You’re in for a wild ride.”
Confused, I looked at Josie, who shrugged. We followed him up the steps that led to a wraparound verandah offering a magnificent view of the River. He opened the front door and gestured for us to enter. We stepped inside the wood, stone, and glass house that seemed one part hotel, one part museum. Before we had a chance to finish taking everything in, a young woman burst through a wooden door and headed towards us.
“I couldn’t care less what you want!” she screamed over her shoulder as she stormed past us and out the front door.
“That was Roxanne,” Carl said.
“Daughter?” I said.
“No,” Carl the Gardener said, chuckling.
“Granddaughter?”
“No. Girlfriend,” he said.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Josie said.
“Well, sure. That goes without saying,” Carl said. “C’mon, follow me.”
Through a large picture window that dominated one side of the foyer, I watched Roxanne come to a stop next to a large swimming pool. She stripped down to a small bikini and stretched her arms over her head. To me, it looked like she was posing, probably out of habit since there was no one else around, then she dove in and began doing laps. She was no Josie, but if you buy into the stereotype of what the young girlfriend of a rich older man should look like, she certainly fit the job description.
Carl took a quick look at the pool and shook his head, then led us into a library dominated by large wooden bookshelves and a stone fireplace.
“Roxanne, I told you I don’t want to discuss it,” a woman snapped as she glanced up from the stack of papers in her lap. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want, Carl?”
“You have guests,” Carl said, unperturbed by the woman’s demeanor.
The woman studied Josie and me, then noticed Chloe, who wanted nothing to do with her and stayed firmly planted against my leg, growling under her breath.
“What is that dog doing here?”
“Isn’t she yours?” I said as I reached down and picked Chloe up.
“It was Mr. Crawford’s dog,” she said as she looked down and started scrolling through her phone.
I looked at Josie who was not impressed by the woman’s rudeness.
“Whom should I speak with about Chloe?” I said.
The woman glanced up, considered the question, then shrugged.
“I have no idea. That would be a question for a family member.”
“Where would I find a member of the family?”
The woman again glanced up, thought about my question, then shook her head.
“There’s no one from the family here at the moment. But Mrs. Crawford will be here tomorrow if you’d like to come back.”
“I thought Mr. Crawford was divorced,” I said.
“He was,” the woman said. “But Mrs. Crawford was allowed to keep the last name as part of the settlement. She says it opens doors for her.”
“I see,” I said. “I guess we could come back tomorrow.”
“Please do,” the woman said, again focused on her phone. “Stay for dinner.”
“Excuse me?” I said, confused.
One minute she can barely acknowledge our presence, the next she’s inviting us to dinner?
“Dinner. Tomorrow night,” the woman said, forcing a smile at us. “You do eat dinner, right?”
“I’ve been known to dabble,” Josie said.
“Then it’s settled,” she said. “Besides, every minute you spend talking with her is one less the rest of us will have to deal with. Let’s say 7:30.”
“Okay,” I said, rubbing Chloe’s head. “That sounds like a plan.”
“No,” she said, holding up a stack of papers and waving them in my direction. “This is a plan. Tomorrow night is dinner.” She glanced toward the far side of the room. “George, get in here.”
A moment later, a harried man in his fifties burst through a side door and hustled until he was standing right in front of her chair.
“Yes, Rosaline?”
“These numbers can’t possibly be right,” she said. “Look, just because we’re stuck on this infernal island doesn’t mean you’re on vacation.”
Infernal? It looked pretty good to me.
“George, I’m not going to tell you again,” Rosaline said, continuing her harangue. “No drinking during the day.”
“But I wasn’t-”
“Really? Then explain this to me,” she said, pointing at a page. She glanced up and seemed surprised to see us still there. “Tomorrow night. 7:30.”
I glanced at Josie, and we quietly left the library. Outside on the front porch, we found Carl sitting in an Adirondack chair staring out at the River.
“Are you folks having fun?” he said, unable to keep the grin off his face.
“Who is that woman?” I said.
“Rosaline? She’s Mr. Crawford’s Chief Operating Officer. At least she was. Right now, I’m sure she’s trying to figure out what role she’ll have going forward. Or if she’ll have any role after Mrs. Crawford gets here.”
“She’s horrible,” Josie said.
“This is one of her good days,” Carl said. “And compared to Mrs. Crawford, she’s an absolute delight. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to meet her. She’s the sort of person who gives humans a bad name.”
“We’ll meet her tomorrow night at dinner,” Josie said.
“You’re coming back for dinner?” Carl said, beaming at Josie. “That’s wonderful.”
He gave Josie the look. Definitely creepy. On occasion, I envied the attention Josie received from men. This wasn’t one of those times.
We excused ourselves and headed down the long set of steps that led back to the boathouse. Josie untied the lines and hopped in as I started the boat and backed out.
“That was special,” I said, shaking my head.
“Wow,” Josie said. “You sure you want to come back?”
“No, but I think we owe the family the chance to decide what they want to do with Chloe. And something about this still bothers me.”
“Maybe Crawford was just trying to get away from Rosaline,” Josie said, laughing.
“Suicide by drowning?”
“Hey, it could happen.”
Chapter 6
Josie came into the living room wearing black jeans and a brown silk top that fit so well it looked hand-tailored. I knew it wasn’t since I’d been standing right next to her when she spied it on a rack at our favorite discount store and had snatched it before I or any of the other bargain hunters had the chance to grab it. Looking at her now, I knew the blouse had gone to the right person.
Josie twirled in her open-toed sandals and posed for me.
“What do you think?” she said, breaking her pose to bend down and pet Chloe.
“I think you won’t have to buy a drink all night,” I said, shaking my head. “Life is so unfair. Nobody should look that good.”
She laughed and picked Chloe up and scratched behind one of her ears. Chloe melted.
“Are you ready?” she said.
“Yeah, but we need to wait for Sammy. He’s agreed to keep an eye on the place.”
“You mean to keep an eye on Chloe, don’t you?”
“She’s such a little girl,” I said, taking Chloe from Josie. “We can’t leave her alone all night.”
“You’re such a soft touch,” Josie said.
We both turned to the door when we heard the knock. I opened it, and Sammy stepped inside. He gave me a quick once over and smiled.
“Nice outfit,” he said. Then he looked at Josie. I can’t be sure, but I think I saw his knees buckle. He coughed nervously and stammered. “Y-you look good, too, Doc.”
“Call me Josie.”
“Okay, J-Josie.”
I laughed and handed Chloe to him.
“We’re out of here,” I said. “Remember to keep her water bowl filled. She should let you know when she needs to go out, but keep an eye on her. She’s still getting adjusted to the place. Don’t give her any people food. But she can have a couple of her cookies later. And if you get hungry, there’s a fresh box of dog biscuits in the cupboard.”
Sammy flushed with embarrassment and stared down at the floor.
“I’m just kidding, Sammy. Don’t worry about it; people make that mistake all the time. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. You have both our numbers so call if anything happens. We should be back by eleven at the latest.”
“At least one of us will be,” Josie said, grinning at me.
“Don’t start.”
We headed outside, hopped in my SUV and made our way down
the driveway and onto Route 12 that would take us to Tondeuse, by far our favorite restaurant in the area. Eight minutes later, I pulled into the parking area outside the restaurant. We entered, exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, then headed to the bar. We both ordered white wine and glanced around while we waited for our drinks. I exchanged waves with several people, then looked at Josie.
“Okay, we’ll do the usual,” I said. “If this guy is a total loser, I’ll text you.”
“Just remember to do it before you order,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m starving. And if you don’t need me at your table, I’ll just eat out here.”
“Got it,” I said, standing up. “Wish me luck.”
I grabbed my glass of wine and tossed a quick wave goodbye over my shoulder. The hostess led me to my table where my blind date was already waiting. He stood up and shook hands with me, then we sat down.
“Call me Jerry,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Jerry,” I said, checking him out. He was good looking in a corporate-climber kind of way. A bit too manicured for my taste, bathed in cologne, and his skin tone had tanning bed written all over it. But at least he appeared somewhat athletic. I couldn’t see him with a fishing rod in his hand, but it looked like he could at least handle the outdoors. Overall, not a bad first impression.
I know what you’re thinking. I was being incredibly judgemental, especially about someone I’d just met. But if you’d seen some of the creatures my mother has set me up with in the past, you’d be judgemental, too. My mother calls it one of my major personality flaws. I consider it an essential defense mechanism. It’s just one more thing where we’ve agreed to disagree.
“Your mother was right,” he said. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put too much stock in what she says. She’s a drinker.”
He laughed. Too loud. And for far too long.
“No, really,” he said, placing both hands on top of mine. “You’re incredible.”
I waited a few seconds, then pulled my hands away and used them to brush the hair away from my face. I did my best to make it a subtle move, but I think Jerry got the message. He leaned back in his chair and studied my face. I forced a smile and waited.
