by Tim Myers
As Elise transferred the last load of sheets from the washer to the dryer, she said, “Alex, do you mind if I have this evening off?”
“You’re long past due for one. It’s fine with me,” he said as he kept folding fresh towels he’d just taken from the dryer.
Elise explained, “It’s Peter. He wants us to have dinner together tonight.”
Alex said, “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. Somebody’s got to stay here and run the inn.” He saw the troubled look in her eyes and added hastily, “I’m just kidding. Have a wonderful time.”
Elise shut the door to the dryer as she said, “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine.”
After that, their conversation waned. Peter could manage that without even being there. He came between them like a wall, shutting everything else out. Alex didn’t say anything else; he just kept folding towels in a quiet rhythm. It was remarkable how much laundry they did each and every day for just one building full of guests. At least it meant the inn was nearly full. It had to be, running as short on room space as they were. Even with complete occupancy, they were still in danger of dancing over into the red. Alex admitted that a healthy bequest of cash from Jase would have eased some of his more immediate worries about money, but he still took pride in the fact that his uncle had given him his most cherished possessions, probably because he knew full well that Alex would never sell a one of them. Tony, on the other hand, would have had an appraiser in looking over the books before sundown.
Elise finally spoke up. “Alex, are you all right?”
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Elise, I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to act more together than he felt.
She stopped him from folding the towel in his hands and said, “I worry about you, Alex.”
“I’m sorry if I’m not very good company right now, but I feel like I’ve just lost my father all over again. I’ve got to deal with it; I know that more than anyone else in the world, but it’s hard.”
She nodded gently. “I know it is, and I’m not helping matters, am I? Tell you what, why don’t I cancel my plans with Peter tonight?”
“Don’t, Elise, at least not on my account. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got to get through this on my own.”
“Okay, but I’m here if you need me,” Elise said as she paused at the door.
Alex said, “I know that, and I greatly appreciate it. Believe me, I really do.”
As he finished folding the towels, Alex pondered all that had gone on so recently. The loss of Jase, plus the added pressure of running an inn with too few rooms, was all starting to get to him.
Suddenly Alex felt some of the claustrophobia Mor had mentioned. If he was strictly honest with himself, at times he felt trapped by the responsibilities of running the inn. So why not take a few hours off? They were mostly caught up on their work, and what they hadn’t done together, Elise could surely manage on her own. Since he was going to be inn-bound for the evening, there was time to go into town and see what he could learn about Jase’s death. After telling Elise his plans, Alex got into his truck without a single glance back at the inn or the lighthouse above him as he headed into town.
Alex found Nadine Crowley working at her desk in Jase’s office as if nothing had happened to the elder Winston. Then he saw the shredded tissue in one hand as she tried to file with the other. Jase Winston, a most conservative man, had obviously carried his tastes to his office more than his home, filling the law practice with somber emerald carpets, heavy woolen drapes and fine leather furniture.
“Hi, Mrs. Crowley ... Nadine,” he added quickly. She’d been his teacher in elementary school, and it had been nearly impossible to break the habit of calling her by her last name, no matter how much she insisted.
“Hello, Alex. I’m so sorry about your uncle. I know how close you two were.”
Alex said, “Thanks. What are you going to do with yourself now?” Nadine’s husband had dropped dead at her retirement party a few years earlier, and she’d been forced to go to work for a shady realtor. When he passed away as well, Nadine had ended up working for Jase.
“I’m afraid to think about it right now. I haven’t had much luck working in the private sector. I may just face it and retire in earnest.”
Alex tried to buoy her with his words. “Come on, you’ve got a lot still to contribute to the world. Don’t give up now.”
She patted his hand. “You always were such a sweet boy. Now, what brings you here, Alex? Oh, that’s right. You’ve inherited your uncle’s possessions, haven’t you?”
Alex said, “That’s what Sandra said, but I’m not here to take an inventory. I wanted to ask you about what happened the other day.”
Nadine selected a fresh tissue after discarding the shredded mess in her hand, then said, “Alex, I’ve been over this a dozen times with Sheriff Armstrong. Must I go through it all again with you?”
Alex said, “Of course not. I know you’ve been through a lot. I won’t add to your grief.”
Nadine’s gaze sharpened suddenly. “You’re trying to solve this yourself, aren’t you?”
“To be honest with you, the thought had crossed my mind. Nadine, Jase wasn’t just my uncle; he was a lot more than that to me.”
Nadine nodded. “Alex, of course I’ll help you. Jase was a good man and the best boss I ever had. It’s only fitting that you try to find his killer.” She stroked the edge of her nose, thought for a few moments, then said, “Let’s see, Jase had the reading of the Trask will scheduled for later that morning. As a general rule, your uncle didn’t sleep in. He was often here well before I started at eight a.m. every day. I wish I could tell you what happened, but no one else was here by the time I arrived.” She started to cry but fought back the tears as she added, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how he looked just lying there with that lovely lighthouse you’d given him there beside him on the floor.”
Alex realized how hard it must have been for Nadine to find Jase’s body like that. He quickly switched tracks. “Nadine, tell me this. Why did Jase keep the Trask will in his safe? Was that normal procedure for him?”
Nadine said, “Heavens no, Alex, I’d never be able to find anything if he did that. No, Jase told me last week that the situation was a ticking time bomb, and that he’d better tuck the folder away where nobody could get their hands on it. Evidently it stood to shake things up quite a bit, but that’s all he would say.”
He nodded. “That explains why it was under such tight security.”
“Oh, Alex, that’s what’s so tragic about it all. The thief didn’t have to kill Jase; that safe hasn’t worked in donkey years. All you have to do is wiggle the handle, and it opens right up. It was more of a hiding place than a safe. Jase was always meaning to get the safe repaired, but he used to claim that he never had anything valuable enough to store in it to justify the expense. I don’t have to tell you that your uncle was a careful man with his money.”
Alex tried to fight the impulse to say that Tony was reaping the benefits of that tendency now. He had to remember that he’d inherited exactly what Jase had wanted him to have.
“So who do you think killed him, Nadine?”
She looked down at her desk, shook her head and said, “I wish I knew, Alex, I truly do. I firmly believe you have to consider the Trask will as the catalyst in all of this, since it’s the only thing I can find that’s missing. Taking that into account, it could have been Trask’s ex-wife or either of his children. It could have been Julie Hart, for that matter. The sheriff called a few minutes ago and had me check Jase’s personal appointment book. Julie was scheduled for an appointment the night before he died, but I didn’t know anything about it. Sheriff Armstrong is coming over here for the book.”
Alex asked, “Was that unusual for Jase to add appointments to the schedule without telling you about it first?”
Nadine frowned. “As far as I can remember, it’s never happened before
. Our appointment books were usually identical.”
“Could you check and see if there were any other odd entries you can’t account for?”
“Of course. His book is still on his desk.”
Alex followed Nadine into Jase’s office. He could almost feel his uncle’s presence in the room, with its overstuffed chairs and the walnut desk that stretched nearly across one side of the space.
She picked up a leather appointment book and opened it to the day before Jase died.
Her voice was sharp and immediate as she said, “Alex, this isn’t right.”
“What isn’t?” Alex asked as he hurried to her.
“This notation for the appointment with Julie. It’s not in Jase’s handwriting. I knew there was something wrong about it before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
Alex couldn’t believe it. “So whoever killed Jase was trying to set Julie up?”
“It looks like it to me. I was so rushed when the sheriff called, but I can’t believe I didn’t spot it right away. What are we going to do about it?”
Alex studied the entry and said, “It’s close enough to fool just about anybody. I can see how you missed it the first time you looked at it, Nadine. You need to point out the fact that the entry is a forgery when the sheriff gets here.” Alex closed the leather-bound book and handed it to her.
Nadine said, “Alex, now that I know this is such an important clue, I can’t stand the thought of it being here with me. What if something were to happen to it?”
“No one’s going to come looking for it,” Alex said. “Especially the forger. They want this appointment found, remember?”
“What if the killer gets cold feet and wants to retrieve the evidence? Alex, would you take it to the sheriff for me?”
He started to refuse the request, but one look at Nadine’s face told him that she was honestly in fear for her safety. , He reached for it and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Her relief was obvious. “Bless you, Alex.”
As Alex tucked the appointment book under one arm, he added, “Do you have any idea where I can find Julie Hart?”
Nadine said, “From what I understand, her location is supposed to be a secret.”
Alex said, “Nadine, you’ve known me all my life. I shouldn’t have to assure you that I’m not going to hurt her.”
Nadine studied him a moment, then said, “I know you’re not, dear boy. She’s staying with our resident sculptor, Amy Lang, but don’t tell her I’m the one who told you.”
“My lips are sealed. Thanks, Nadine, you’ve been a big help.”
“Your uncle deserved a better ending than he got. I just hope you catch whoever did this, Alex.”
“Me, too,” Alex said as he headed out the door.
Stopping at the police station, Alex was told that the sheriff was at his usual hangout, Buck’s Grill.
Sally Anne, Buck’s daughter, met him with a forced smile.
Alex asked gently, “Hi, Sally Anne. How are you doing?”
“I’m better, Alex, thanks for asking. Dad’s still in a stormy mood, though.” Sally Anne’s boyfriend had proposed to her, and three months later he’d broken their relationship off with her entirely. The two of them had been planning to hold the wedding at Hatteras West, with Alex’s heartfelt approval. He loved it when the inn served as a chapel for local couples. His own parents had been married at the top of the lighthouse, and if Alex ever found someone of his own, he planned to do the same.
Alex found Sheriff Armstrong on a stool near the back, deep in conversation with Hiram Blankenship, his one-time rival for the sheriff’s elected office. Hiram was the town barber, a man who had the unfortunate habit of waving his hands wildly in the air whenever he spoke. It wasn’t so bad when Hiram held a sweet roll in his hand, but he could be frightening with a pair of scissors or a straight-edge razor slashing through the air.
“Hiram,” the sheriff said, “what you don’t know about the law could fill an ocean.”
“I still say I would do a better job than you, you old goat,” Hiram said, narrowly missing the sheriff’s nose with a barrage of icing.
“The people of Elkton Falls didn’t think so,” Armstrong said as he leaned back on his stool to get out of harm’s way.
“This time.” Hiram gestured, stabbing at the sheriff with his roll. If it had been a sword, Elkton Falls would have needed a new sheriff after all. A smudge of icing stained the front part of Armstrong’s uniform.
“You’re going to pay for cleaning my uniform,” Armstrong snapped as he pointed to the spot on his chest.
“The way you’ve been eating, who’s going to notice one more stain?”
Alex knew he couldn’t wait for the two men to wind down; they might be at each other the rest of the day. He said, “Sheriff, I need to talk to you.”
Hiram snapped, “You’re wasting your time, Alex, he’s more interested in harassing taxpaying citizens than he is in solving crime.”
Armstrong started to say something in reply when Alex added, “It’s important.”
The sheriff tried to tuck in his massive belly as he stood and faced Hiram. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got police business to see to.”
“There’s no excuse for you,” Hiram added just as they left the diner. Alex caught a broad grin on the barber’s face as he managed to get the last jab in.
Armstrong said, “One of these days he’s going to push me too far, Alex, you mark my words. Now what is it that’s so all-fired important?”
Alex held the appointment book firmly in his hands. He wasn’t ready to give it up until he made his point with Armstrong. “Nadine was too jumpy to keep this at the office.”
The sheriff asked, “And how did you just happen to be there, Alex?”
“I inherited Jase’s things, remember? I’ve got to start an inventory to see what I’m looking at.” He had decided from the start not to let the sheriff know about his own investigation if he could help it.
“Sorry,” Armstrong mumbled.
Alex said, “But since we’re talking about the appointment book anyway, there’s something you should know. Nadine swears the entry about Julie isn’t in Jase’s handwriting.” Alex flipped the pages randomly and said, “See? She’s right. None of the other entries match it, though it’s pretty obvious somebody tried.”
Armstrong picked right up on it. “So someone wanted to direct suspicion away from themselves, is that what you’re thinking, that this is a frame-up?”
Alex nodded. “Exactly.”
“I talked to Julie this morning,” Armstrong admitted. “Of course, she denied ever making that appointment, but what would you expect her to say?”
Alex said, “But why would she forge her own name and not someone else’s?”
“Hold on a second, Alex. What if Julie Hart is the real killer? She could have planted this to make it look like she was guilty at first, knowing the entry would never stand up in court.”
Alex shook his head. “Sheriff, you’ve been watching too much television.”
Armstrong bristled at the comment and grabbed the book. “First Hiram and now you! Alex, you need to leave the detecting to me. You’ve got an inn to run.”
Alex knew from the tone of Armstrong’s voice that he had overstepped his bounds, and he had to keep the sheriff’s good will if he was going to get any information from him in the future.
“I guess you’re right. Maybe I’d better get back to Hatteras West, then.”
When the sheriff saw that Alex wasn’t going to argue with him, he said kindly, “Alex, I’m sorry you lost your uncle. Believe me, I’m doing everything in my power to find the killer.”
As Alex left, he nearly added, “So am I,” but he kept that last remark to himself.
Alex had done as Nadine had requested and delivered the appointment book to the sheriff. It wasn’t time to head back to Hatteras West yet, though. If he pushed it, he still had time to pay a visit to Julie Ha
rt out at Amy Lang’s homestead near Hatteras West. It was possible that there was something she wasn’t telling him, and he was bound and determined to find out.
Chapter 8
A creeping fog hugged the road as Alex drove up the lane to Amy Lang’s homestead. It was an odd sight for early afternoon, but the weather had been strange lately as cold and warm fronts kept colliding over the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The gravel path was mostly obscured by the swirling masses of white, and Alex slowed his truck considerably as he drove.
Breaking out of the fog just ahead of him, an apparition appeared in a flash of red. Alex slammed on his brakes and stopped the truck. He’d come awfully close to hitting something!
“Why, if it isn’t Alex Winston himself.”
Amy Lang’s jet-black hair tumbled out as she pulled back the hood of her bright red cloak.
“I could have killed you,” Alex said, his voice shaking.
Amy laughed. “Nonsense. I knew where you were, even if you didn’t see me. I was ready to jump if you got any closer.”
Alex looked at her outfit and said, “I really like your cloak.”
She twirled in it, and the material danced elegantly around her with a few wisps of swirling fog dancing in rhythm. Amy said, “It’s an Irish walking cape. Stunning, isn’t it?”
Alex laughed gently. “You’re doing everything in your power to keep the eccentric artist myth alive, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “What can I say? It lets me keep my prices up.” The banter subsided as Amy asked, “What brings you out this way? I know you’re too busy with the inn to just pop in unannounced.”
Alex said, “Let me get my truck off the road first. I don’t want to get rear-ended. Would you like a ride back to your place?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Alex knew Amy well enough to realize that she wasn’t going to budge until he answered her. “I need to speak with Julie Hart.”
