“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” I said. “By the way, we need to get flyers out for the murder mystery event we’re planning this fall.” Bookings were usually slower once summer passed, so we were experimenting with ways to drum up more business. “They’re supposed to be delivered today. Would you mind printing out labels while I’m at Lorraine’s?”
“Sure,” he said, “but why are you headed to the Lockharts’ house?”
“I told Charlene I’d try to find out what happened to Captain Bainbridge,” I said. “I have to start somewhere.”
“Speaking of Charlene, any word on Smudge?”
“Smudge?”
“The kitten,” he said, looking a little bit embarrassed.
“You two seem to be getting along famously,” I said as I fitted the cover on the container of raspberry bars. “She’s asking around... unless you’d rather I keep it quiet?” I added with a grin.
“Of course not,” he said. “I don’t want to steal someone’s kitten. But if she needs a home... she’s good company in the workshop.”
“Biscuit begs to differ, I’m afraid.” I still hadn’t seen her since she stalked out of the kitchen earlier.
“She’ll get over it,” he said.
“Just like Bridget’s gotten over Gwen moving to Maine,” I said with a grin.
“I forgot about that. How’s that going?”
“Bridget’s off on the mainland scouting out galleries.”
“And Gwen?”
“We talked this morning, and we’re good again. For now, anyway.”
“At least something’s going right,” he said as I grabbed my windbreaker from the hook by the door. “Are you taking the van?”
“I’ve got to pick up groceries, so yes,” I said. “Do you need it?”
“I’ve got to take some more toy boats over to Island Artists, but I can use Mooncatcher. See you later this afternoon?” he asked.
“I look forward to it,” I said, walking over to give him a quick kiss that morphed into a rather longer kiss. I did love my life on Cranberry Island, I decided as I waved goodbye to my handsome husband and prepared to head out into a beautiful morning. Besides, what else could possibly go wrong? I thought to myself as I opened the front door of the van and rolled the window down, enjoying the cool sea breeze as I backed out of the driveway.
Ha.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I stopped by the Lockharts’ house first; I had to pick up the inn’s grocery order from the store, and even though I carried a cooler in the van for that purpose, I liked to take the food straight back to the inn. Lorraine and Tom had recently moved to one of the old sea-captain’s houses overlooking the harbor. Bright red geraniums that had miraculously escaped the attention of Claudette’s goats Muffin and Pudge flanked the white-painted porch, and ruffled curtains framed the sparkling windows.
Lorraine’s son Logan answered the door, a dollop of what looked like green frosting on his nose. “Hi, Miss Natalie,” he said. “Did you bring us cookies?”
“Not today, I’m afraid,” I said; the raspberry bars were for Charlene to sell at the front counter. “But what’s your favorite?”
“Chocolate chip,” he said.
“I’ll make some this week and take them down to the store,” I told him. “Is your mom home?’
“She’s in the kitchen. We’re making cupcakes for my birthday!” he announced.
“Who’s there, Logan?” Lorraine called from somewhere near the back of the house.
“Miss Natalie from the Gray Whale!” her son called back.
“Invite her in!” Lorraine said brightly, and I reflected that she didn’t seem terribly broken up about the loss of her former flame. Did she even know? I wondered as I followed Logan through the house to the Lockhart’s cheerful, if small, kitchen.
Although the counters was covered in mixing spoons and batter-splattered bowls, there was a happy air to the old kitchen. Children’s artwork covered the old Frigidaire fridge, and jars of sea glass and shells were lined up on the window sill, gleaming in the sun.
“It smells delicious in here,” I said, inhaling the vanilla-scented air.
“We’re making Logan’s favorite recipe,” Lorraine told me. “His birthday is tomorrow.”
“Happy Birthday!” I told the brown-eyed boy.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Lorraine asked as she applied frosting to a cupcake. She was a pretty, curvy woman in her mid-thirties, with glossy brown hair swept up into a clip and big coffee-colored eyes. Right now, there were shadows under her eyes, though, and I could see why. A few feet away from her, Logan grabbed a plastic jar of sprinkles and shook it over an already-frosted cupcake, causing a small blizzard of blue sugar to fall to the floor. “Careful!” Lorraine said. “Gentle, and try to keep it on the plate.”
“Lady doesn’t seem to mind,” I said, watching as the family beagle licked up the fallen sprinkles and a stray dollop of frosting from the hardwood floor. “And yes, I’d love some coffee, if you have some made. Thank you.”
“Let me just finish frosting these last three cupcakes so that Logan can decorate them.” Lorraine gave him a stern look. “Carefully.”
“Yes, Mom,” Logan said.
“Why don’t I pour us some coffee while you finish up?” I asked.
“That would be great. The mugs are in the cabinet above the coffee maker; black for me, please,” she said. “After all these cupcakes, I don’t need any more sugar,” she said, patting her slightly padded waist line as I poured us some coffee. She frosted the last cupcakes and rinsed her hands as I doctored my mug. “Remember,” Lorraine reminded her enthusiastic son, “the sprinkles go on the cupcakes, not the dog.”
“I know,” Logan said, biting his lip with concentration as he picked up the jar of green sprinkles.
“Let’s go out on the porch,” Lorraine suggested. “I need a break from the sugar; besides, it might be better if I just don’t watch.”
I laughed and followed her out to the front porch. As we settled ourselves onto two rockers, she breathed a tired sigh, then took a sip of her coffee and turned to me. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a chat,” she said. “How are things at the inn?”
“We’ve had a bit of excitement the last few days—I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Tom mentioned that there was an incident, but didn’t say what—and I’ve been too busy getting ready for Logan’s party to get out much. What’s going on?”
“Captain Bainbridge appears to have been murdered,” I said, watching her face.
She froze for a moment, the coffee cup halfway to her lips. “Oh, God,” she said, and the cup started to shake in her hand. She put it down quickly, sloshing some of the brown liquid onto the wicker table. “Why didn’t Tom tell me?” She wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock back and forth. “How?”
“Someone tied him to the anchor and dropped him overboard,” I told her.
“Oh, God,” she said. “That’s awful.”
“I’m sorry to have to break the news. I didn’t realize until today that he used to stern for Eli,” I said, introducing the topic cautiously. “I understand you and he knew each other, too.”
“Yes,” she said. “He spent a summer on the island a long time ago—probably fifteen years, now. I didn’t recognize him at first when he came back—different last name.”
“Were you friends?”
She gave a low laugh. “Yes—we dated for a bit, too. He is—was—a handsome man. Oh, Carl,” she said softly. “Who did you make so angry?”
“What makes you think he made someone angry?” I asked.
“That was how he was,” she said. “Such a strong personality; he did what he wanted, and sometimes there was hell to pay.” She looked at me. “I’m surprised he lasted with Eli as long as he did.” Her eyes seemed unfocused, as if she were watching a replay of something that had happened long ago. A small smile twitched on her mouth, and then her face crumpled, and she le
t out a sob that seemed to come from deep inside. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.” .
I reached out to touch her shoulder as she sobbed. We sat together for several minutes, until it passed, and she swiped at her eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need to lie down? I can keep an eye on Logan if you want.”
“I’m fine,” she said, sitting up and waving me away.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.
“He’s not mine anymore,” Lorraine said, with something that sounded like a pang of regret. “Never really was. Still, it is sad... he was young.” She picked up her coffee and took a mechanical sip, her eyes far away. “Do they have any idea who did it?”
“The police arrested the naturalist this morning,” I told her.
“Alex?” She blinked. “That doesn’t seem right. I only met him twice, but he was so nice!”
“I know. Charlene is devastated.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Do you have any idea if maybe he still had some old connections the island?”
Lorraine turned to me. “You mean you think he might have been killed by a local?”
“I have no idea what happened,” I told her. “I was just hoping you might be able to tell me a little more about him—and his time on the island. He was all business at the inn; I don’t know much about him, to be honest.”
“But that was years ago,” she said, puzzled.
“You’re right,” I said, backing off. “Did you get a chance to talk to him? Maybe he said something that could point us in the right direction?”
“I only saw him briefly twice,” she said, looking away from me. “It stirred up old things that should have stayed buried.” The bitterness in her voice was barely masked.
Strange, I thought, that he should choose to base his tours here, then.
She glanced back toward the house. “It really isn’t relevant now, anyway; I’m married with kids. Our lives had moved on.”
“He never married, did he?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Or if he did, he must have divorced; he told me he was still single.”
“It must be a real shock.”
Lorraine’s hand leapt to her mouth, and she let out another sob. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting down her coffee and swiping at her eyes. “I shouldn’t be so upset... after all, it’s not like we were close.”
“It’s always upsetting when someone you were once close to dies,” I said, reaching out and touching her shoulder again.
“He came over twice,” she said. “He stopped by the house the day before the tour started, and came over for coffee... the kids were at school.” She flashed me a guilty look. “I never told Tom about it.”
“You were just catching up with an old friend,” I suggested. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
She shot me a look that suggested otherwise. “You’re right, of course.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes again, and I began wondering exactly what exactly they discussed over coffee. “He just... things seemed to be going so well for him, and now this.”
“Did he tell you how the business was going?”
“It seemed to be booming,” she said. “He was negotiating the purchase of a second boat, and looking to expand the business to the Caribbean.”
“How long had he owned the company?”
“About five years, he said. Before that he was involved in some Japanese company.”
“Japanese company?” I asked. “He didn’t mention that.”
“I think he captained a boat he was part owner of,” she said. “I don’t know what it was called... Kobe Maru... something like that.”
Interesting, but I didn’t see how it related to his death.
“Why did he change his name?”
“I think he must have thought it sounded more captain-like,” she said with a wry smile. “He told me it was for professional reasons.”
“Did he say what made him decide to base tours out of Cranberry Island?” I asked.
“It’s closer to open water than the mainland,” she said. “Not so far to get to the whales—and the accommodations are a little less expensive,” she said. “Plus, we’ve got that island mystique...”
I knew it well; that’s what had drawn me to buy the Gray Whale Inn a few years back. “Did he mention visiting anyone else when he was here?”
She shook her head. “He was only here for a summer,” she told me. Tears welled up again. “I’m sorry... it’s still just so hard to believe he’s gone.”
“Mommy?” Logan stepped out onto the porch, covered in green frosting. “I had an accident with the sprinkles.”
Lorraine swiped at her eyes again and stood up, taking a deep breath. “What happened?” she asked Logan in a bright voice.
“I dropped the whole thing on the floor, and Lady ate all the sprinkles.”
“I’ll be right in,” she said. “Give me just a moment, okay, sweetie?”
“It’s really messy,” he warned her.
“I know,” Lorraine said. “Give Mommy just a moment.”
“Why don’t you take a few minutes?” I said. “I’ll go help.”
“Are you sure?” Lorraine asked, looking at me red-eyed.
“Of course,” I said, heading into the house as Lorraine dabbed at her eyes. “Take your time.”
Logan wasn’t kidding about the mess. Lady was busy licking up the floor; her muzzle had turned blue-green, and there were so many sprinkles the kitchen floor looked like a technicolor beach.
“Do you have a broom and dustpan?” I asked Logan as I grabbed Lady by the collar and escorted her to the back yard.
“Right here, he said, opening the pantry door and reaching for the broom.
“Wait!” I said as he yanked it from the rack on the door. The broom lurched sidewise, knocking off the mop and the duster, which slid into the cleaning supply shelf, sweeping the motley assortment of bottles onto the floor and causing Lady to start barking at the back door.
“Why don’t you go out back and keep Lady company?” I asked, surveying the mess—the cap had come off the window cleaner, and blue fluid was mixing with the blue and green sprinkles to create a lurid pattern on the floor.
“Okay,” he said, and opened the back door. Lady came skidding into the kitchen and promptly galloped through the blue puddle, spreading the mess further. “Lady!” I chased her down and grabbed her collar, and promptly sent both of them to the back yard. There were times when I regretted not having children; as I surveyed the chaos Logan had created in less than five minutes, I reflected that this was not one of them.
I had just finished mopping up the last of the sprinkles and was putting the broom back on its rack when a letter caught my eye. “I’m sorry I had to leave in such a hurry. Know you are in my heart... always. I love you. Carl.”
I glanced toward the front door, then picked up the letter. “I can’t marry you now—but someday, I promise, you will be Lorraine Bridges.”
“Everything okay in here?”
I dropped the letter back on the counter and stepped away from it as Lorraine walked down the hallway to the kitchen. “I just finished sweeping up,” I said. “Are you doing any better?”
“Yes,” she said. “Sorry about that. Silly of me. I mean, he was just a summer fling.”
“It’s okay,” I said, thinking that from what I’d read, it sounded like a lot more than a summer fling. “Grief is a funny thing. How did you two end up drifting apart?”
She shrugged. “He got a job overseas. We just kind of... lost touch.” There was a sadness in her eyes I’d never seen before.
“And then you met Tom,” I said.
“Yes,” she told me. “It’s for the best, really,” she said, her eyes drifting to the back yard, where Logan was running around with Lady. “I have a good life.”
“Yes,” I said, taking in the sunny kitchen with its rows of lumpy cupcakes, the cheerful drawings on the fridge, the jars of sea glass on the windowsill. I knew she and Tom had had problem
s—he had had a fling with another woman a few years back—but overall, they seemed to have smoothed things out, and the kids certainly seemed happy. “You’ve made a good life for yourself, Lorraine.”
“Last week I was happy,” she said. “But sometimes things happen that get you to thinking about the road not taken...” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone. And besides, I made my decision a long time ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Lorraine,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm.
She looked at me with welling eyes. “I hope they find out who did that to him. He wasn’t perfect, but was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die that way.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it.
“I hope they find out too,” I said. “If anything comes to you—anything he said, or anything you may have seen—let me know, and I’ll tell John.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“And I hope the party goes well tomorrow,” I told her, looking out the back door to where Logan was romping with Lady.
Lorraine’s eyes followed mine, and her face softened into a smile. “I’m sure it will,” she told me. “He’s getting a light saber. How long do you think before he whacks his brother over the head?”
I laughed. “Might want to start a betting pool,” I suggested. “Seriously, though,” I added. “If you need to talk—or need anything at all—I’m here.”
“Thanks, Natalie,” she said, her sad eyes crinkling at the corners as she gave me a wan smile. “Want a cupcake?” she offered.
I looked down at the virulently green frosting and smiled. The cupcakes looked pretty appalling, but the vanilla scent in the air was too tempting to ignore. “Why not?” I asked. “But only if you can spare one.”
“The less sugar in the house, the better,” she said, handing me a lopsided cupcake. “There are ten boys coming over tomorrow. Every cupcake that gets eaten before that is one less cupcake I may have to scrape off the walls.”
I took a bite; despite appearances, it was delicious. “This is great,” I said. “What makes the frosting so good?”
“A bit of almond extract,” she said. “But don’t tell Logan. He thinks he hates nuts.” She looked out at her son, who had turned on the hose and was spraying Lady as the beagle rolled in a patch of bare dirt, creating a muddy mess. “I can’t wait until he starts school,” she groaned.
Whale of a Crime (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries Book 7) Page 10
