A Reel Catch

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “You’re thinking twentieth century. What she needs is a dynamite website. Then people who’ve heard about her could just Google her name and find her online.”

  “You’re forgetting we live in rural New York. I’m pretty sure that around here, pinning a card on the bulletin boards at Tom’s Grocery and the hardware store might be just as good.”

  “You did a fantastic job setting up the Swans Nest and Cannon Bait and Tackle sites. Would you be willing to do the web design?”

  “Sure,” Tori said.

  “How much would it cost to set up a website?” Kathy asked.

  Again Tori shrugged. “Maybe a hundred bucks, depending on how long you pay for the domain name and host server.”

  “I think that’s the perfect gift for an entrepreneur like Anissa.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. You don’t chart the website hits on a spreadsheet and compare them week to week. I do,” Tori said, sounding discouraged.

  “I do, too. And we’re offseason. Interest in our sites is bound to explode as we move into summer.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Tori muttered.

  “We could split the cost for cards and a website.”

  “Yeah, we could,” Tori reluctantly agreed.

  “I’ve been taking pictures of Swans Nest’s revival since day one. We’ll have no problem putting together a portfolio of photos to chronicle her accomplishments,” Kathy said.

  “Yeah,” Tori agreed, seeming to warm to the idea. “We need an idea for a theme—or at least a logo.”

  “And what would we call the business?”

  “Anissa Jackson contractor dot com works for me.”

  “Sounds rather pedestrian,” Kathy commented.

  “Yeah, but if people know her name, it could be an easy Google search to find her.”

  “That’s true. Okay, let’s start working on it. How about tonight?”

  “We could at least pick some pictures and write out the copy. Then during the next few days, I could round up the domain and server, but the security certificate is going to double that hundred dollar quote.”

  “We’ll charge it to overhead.”

  “I just hope we have some income to pay for it.”

  “I got seventy-five bucks from my guests.”

  “And by early next month a couple more boats will be in my slips,” Tori said.

  “Then things are definitely picking up for us. I’m optimistic about the summer.”

  “Which is officially almost two months away,” Tori pointed out.

  “Spoilsport.”

  “I’m just being realistic.”

  Kathy studied her friend’s face. “You’re brooding about your tea with Lucinda.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m wondering what I should say to Gramps about it—or if I should even mention it.”

  “There’s no reason to tell him anything until you know what your options are.”

  Tori nodded.

  Kathy got up and spilled her wine down the sink. “I guess I’ll get those veggies going. Do you want corn or peas?”

  “Surprise me,” Tori said, but there was no hint of joy in her voice. As she thought about the people—guests she reminded herself—who’d return to her B and B and stay there alone in her painstakingly renovated house, Kathy couldn’t say she blamed her.

  6

  Both Tori and Kathy were glad of the distraction of pulling together the elements for Anissa’s website and worked far longer on it than they’d anticipated, During the evening, they heard bikers coming to and leaving The Bay Bar, but Kathy got no call to open Swans Nest’s door for her guests.

  Eyes drooping with fatigue, Tori went to bed around midnight, leaving Kathy to sit up in the living room’s recliner waiting for the call to open the inn. Meanwhile, Tori had dozed off and must have slept for at least an hour when the call finally came. She heard Kathy talking, and then the kitchen door close. She rolled over and went back to sleep. Several times during the night when she’d awoken, she noticed the lights in the living room were still on, but then she’d dozed off again.

  It was still dark out when, still in her jammies and with a bad case of bedhead, Tori staggered into the kitchen, taking in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The room was empty, but she found Kathy, already showered and dressed for the day, standing at the window in the darkened laundry room, binoculars in hand, staring across the road at Swans Nest.

  “What the heck are you doing?”

  Kathy didn’t bother to look back. “Keeping watch.”

  Tori laughed. “You’re like a parent waiting for a naughty teenager who stayed out all night.”

  “Just the opposite of that. Swans Nest is my baby and I want to make sure it’s safe and sound.”

  “You know, when you find out nothing bad has happened, you’re going to feel awfully foolish in the light of day.”

  “So be it.”

  “Come on into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. You’ll be able to hear when that guy’s motorcycle takes off. It’ll be loud enough to wake the dead.”

  Tori wandered back into the kitchen and put the kettle on for a pot of tea. She could drink coffee, but she preferred not to. That morning it would be English breakfast tea. She favored black teas—and thought it funny that it was Kathy who had gotten her into the tea-drinking habit back in college, but who now drank more coffee.

  Kathy set the binoculars on the kitchen table and took a seat, then immediately got up again and began pacing the kitchen floor.

  “Are you going to be this nervous every time you have a guest?” Tori asked.

  “Maybe for the first hundred or so,” Kathy admitted. “But I suppose I’ll eventually get used to it. I’ll feel better once I have enough money and can add my own living quarters at the back of the main house.”

  “That’s a few years down the line,” Tori muttered, taking from the cupboard one of the old Lotus Lodge mugs her grandmother had commissioned more than a decade ago, before staring at the kettle as though daring it to hurry and boil.

  “Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll make us both a nice breakfast. By the time you take a shower, the tea will be stewed—just the way you like it.”

  “Okay, but only because you might tear your hair out while waiting for your guests to leave.”

  It didn’t take Tori more than ten minutes to get washed and dressed, and she found Kathy just sliding a vegetable omelet onto a plate as she reentered the kitchen. As though on cue, two slices of toast popped up from the toaster.

  “Here you go,” Kathy said, putting the plate down on the table in front of Tori’s usual spot.

  She sat down and grabbed the pepper shaker. Salt made you retain water, but pepper was just…peppy! Tori picked up her fork, ready to cut a piece off the end of the eggy semi-circle when the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life cut through the virtual silence on Lotus Bay and they heard it thunder even louder when it took off.

  Abandoning their breakfasts, the women flew out the home’s door and hurried across the road.

  Kathy reached for her keys, but they were unnecessary: the front door was unlocked. “I told them—I told them to make sure to lock the door when they left.”

  “What does it matter? The house has been empty less than a minute,” Tori said reasonably.

  The light in the stairwell and entryway shone brightly, and Tori knew Anissa had set them on a timer. “You take the parlor, I’ll take the library,” Kathy said, her voice tight with anxiety.

  Tori shrugged and turned to her left, switching on the lights as she went. Everything looked in perfect condition. She met Kathy in the hall. “Nothing wrong in there.”

  “You check out the dining room, I’ll do the kitchen.”

  Tori couldn’t see that anything had been disturbed in the dining room, either. All the pretty dishes, cups and saucers were in their usual places in the china cabinet and on the sideboard along the east wall.

  She soon joined Kathy in the kitchen, which was
n’t in such pristine condition, as evidenced by the empty half-gallon milk container—some of which had been spilled on the granite counter—along with the two gummy glasses, and crumbs from the now-empty cookie jar.

  “Somebody had quite a snack,” Tori said unnecessarily.

  Kathy shot her a sour look.

  “The price of overhead?” Tori suggested.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Kathy said, turned, and headed toward the staircase at a fast clip.

  She charged into the bedroom to the far left, switching on the light. “Oh no!” she wailed and stooped to pick up a pile of towels. From the look of them, they were heavy with water.

  Tori looked around the room. The bedclothes were on the floor in a heap, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Holes were punched into the walls—a bunch of them—and the globed sconces on either side of the bed were both smashed. Someone had stepped in said glass as evidenced by the bloodied footprints, washcloths, and splatters on the pretty hooked rug that sat beside the left side of the bed.

  “What the heck went on in here?” Tori asked, taking in the destruction.

  “My room—my beautiful room—is ruined,” Kathy literally cried, her voice breaking with emotion.

  “I’m sure we can fix it. Just a little drywall, some new globes for the lights, and some OxiClean.”

  Kathy shook her head. “That wallpaper is discontinued. Anissa had to be careful to make sure what we had would cover the room. We’ll have to steam it off and start all over again. And this rug. The bloodstains might have come out if we’d found them when fresh, but they’re hours old.” Silent tears ran down Kathy’s cheeks as she gazed around the once-pretty room.

  Tori didn’t know what to say.

  Kathy let out a long, shuddering breath. “I knew it was a mistake to take in guests before I was ready. I knew it—but—”

  “You wanted to help out Noreen. I’m sure she had no idea anything like this could happen.”

  It was Kathy’s turn to say nothing.

  “Come on. I’ll help you clean up. We’ll get these sheets in the washer and when it’s a decent hour, we’ll call Anissa to see what she can do to pull things back together.”

  Kathy nodded. “But first, I need to document the destruction.” She took out her cell phone and tapped the camera icon. Once she photographed all the damage, Kathy threw the wet towels into the tub, shook out the obviously soiled sheets, then gathered them up and left the room. Tori looked for broken glass but found the biggest chunks in the wastebasket in the bathroom. No doubt Kathy would want to pretreat the bloodied washcloths before she did another load.

  She heard the washer start pumping water and pulled out her phone, wondering if it was too early to call Noreen—probably. She didn’t quit work until after ten most nights but was usually back in the kitchen between eight and ten each morning to get things ready for their lunch and happy hour crowds. She’d call later…and say what? The people you sent to stay at Kathy’s B and B trashed the place and it’s going to take real money to fix it. She would probably sound like a tattletale. She’d ask Kathy what she wanted to do and then … somehow they’d fix this. They had to. Kathy was supposed to open Swans Nest in less than two weeks.

  Anissa studied the piece of paper before her, wincing. “Not counting the cost of the wallpaper, five hundred to a grand.”

  Kathy hung her head, but she didn’t cry. She was determined not to cry. “When can you start work on it?”

  “I can give you today—but tomorrow I’ve got a laminate floor, a toilet, and a vanity and sink to install over in a rental property in Warton. I scheduled three days for the job, but I’ve also got a couple of windows to replace in a cottage up at Lotus Point before the weekend.”

  Great. Anissa had been hungry for other jobs all winter, with not much more than the projects Kathy could provide, and now the work was piling up. Kathy supposed she understood. It was inconvenient to do repair and cosmetic fixes when the weather didn’t cooperate. But Swans Nest was scheduled to open in exactly twelve days. She had two confirmed bookings and one of them was meant to be in this room.

  “What if … what if you repaired the walls? I could paint instead of wallpapering them. Maybe put up a border from the hardware store in Warton under the crown molding to dress the room a little until we can buy and then schedule the time to re-wallpaper.”

  “That would work. Fixing the holes is going to take some time. The joint compound has to cure between patching and sanding. The floor could take even more time. I can rip up the boards, but I don’t know if I have enough stock to repair them and finding it could be a problem. It’s not a modern-standard size. Then they have to be sanded, stained, and get a couple of coats of poly. I can do that in the evenings and next weekend—if I don’t get any other paying jobs. But if someone calls me, I really need to take the job.”

  “I know you do. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done on the house—and I know you haven’t charged me what you’re worth—”

  “You’ve said thank you enough. You’ve fed me, and you and Tori have entertained me. We’re square as far as I’m concerned. Besides, I’ve been taking lots of photos. One day I’m going to have a website and this job will be my big portfolio piece.”

  Kathy nodded, thinking about the site she and Tori were already planning. She was about to say thank you once again, but Anissa gave her one of those no-you-don’t looks, and Kathy managed a smile. “Okay, why don’t you start working on the walls. Meanwhile, I have some detective work to do. I need to find the bastards who ruined my room and make them cough up for the damage.”

  Anissa smiled, shaking her head. “I’m sure glad it ain’t me in your sights.”

  Despite her bravado, Kathy wasn’t at all sure she would be able to track down the destructive duo who had done so much damage to her fledgling inn. But if she could, she was determined to extract payment.

  She had to.

  7

  The bait business was not exactly lucrative in early April, Tori decided. She’d had a spate of customers earlier that morning. Diehard fishermen who weren’t afraid of choppy water, cold winds blowing across the lake from Canada, and a little drizzle. Most of them fished off the bay bridge, but a few of them rented her aluminum boats and motors and went trolling.

  Since she hadn’t had a customer in almost two hours, Tori was contemplating closing for the day when she heard a car pull into the gravel parking lot. She decided to wait a few more minutes before shutting down the little heater that kept the shop heated to a tolerable sixty degrees.

  Tori waited and waited, but no one came into the shop or down to the dock. Her interest piqued, Tori got up, left the building and headed for the parking lot and saw with alarm that the door to her home was open.

  She didn’t dare go inside. Her Gramps had left his shotgun behind when he’d moved to Florida some six months before. She kept it in her bedroom closet, unloaded, but there was a box of shells right next to it.

  Tori withdrew her cell phone from her pocket and was about to call 911 when a somewhat familiar and unwelcome voice hailed her from within.

  “Where the heck have you been?”

  “Amber?” Tori asked, annoyed.

  A woman, just about her own age, was suddenly visible behind the storm door. “Where the heck have you been?” she repeated.

  Tori advanced, wrenching the door open and storming inside. “How did you get into my house?”

  “I have a key,” Amber said and brandished it, a sneer plastered across her face.

  Tori reached to grab it, but Amber pulled her hand back. “Uh-uh-uh!”

  Tori glared at her cousin. They’d never been close as children, and it had been several years since she’d even seen the woman. “What do you want?”

  “I just came to see what Gramps gave you.”

  “I bought the business and the property from him,” Tori asserted.

  “Yeah, for a buck,” Amber jeered. “He won millions of do
llars, and you’re the only one who got anything out of it.”

  Tori said nothing. She had worked hard the previous summer to bring Cannon’s Bait and Tackle back from the brink of insolvency. And she had no say in what their grandfather did with his lottery winnings. He’d once mentioned setting up some kind of a trust for certain family members, but he hadn’t given her specifics and she hadn’t asked.

  “What did you expect? You haven’t seen Gramps for years. You never even called.”

  Amber glanced around the shabby kitchen. “This place is still a dump, but at least it’s not a pig pen anymore.”

  Tori’s cheeks grew hot with anger. Yes, their grandmother had been a packrat, but the house had never been dirty—just terribly cluttered. Tori figured she’d eventually update the kitchen, but there was no money for that. And as long as the appliances still worked, what was the point?

  “Where did you get the key to my house?” Tori demanded.

  “Mom and Dad.”

  “Do they know you have it?”

  Amber shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The whole family is angry with you and Gramps. This place should have gone to his children first.”

  “Your mother and my dad had plenty of opportunities to become part of the business. They declined. You didn’t even come to grandma’s funeral.”

  “I had to work.”

  “You couldn’t have taken a day off or called in sick?” Tori demanded.

  Again, Amber shrugged.

  “What made you decide to come all the way out here today?”

  “I saw your name in a news story online. You sure make a habit out of finding dead guys. Maybe that’s why you can’t keep a man.

  Tori fumed in silence.

  Amber turned toward the living room, but Tori raced to block her.

  “Get out of my house or I’ll call the police,” Tori said—no bluff.

  Amber scowled. “Fine. But I’ll be back. Count on it.” And she pocketed the key, pushed past Tori, and exited the kitchen.

  Tori stood behind the storm door and watched as her cousin got in her car, started the engine, and then burned rubber—sending clods of dirt and gravel into the air as she peeled out of the compound’s parking lot.