by Duffy Brown
“Because someone has on my last pair of clean ones!”
“There is that.”
I followed Fiona through the fog. After a lifetime here she could probably navigate the island in her sleep and on one foot. We cut across the wet grass of Marquette Park; the big bronze statue of Father Marquette, who watched over us all, was hidden in fluffs of white. At the back of the art museum we caught the steps—officially called Crow’s Nest Trail, but I’d personally dubbed them the steps from hell—that zigzagged straight up the hillside. Wheezing and panting and trying to ward off death by exhaustion, we reached the East Bluff. “Hope we don’t peek into the wrong house or fall off the blasted cliff,” I panted. “I can’t see a blasted thing.”
“You need to get to the gym,” Fiona said, not breaking a sweat.
“You never go to the gym. Why aren’t you ready to pass out?” We headed up Huron Street, with the Mackinac Bridge in the distance and the town below swallowed in clouds, the ghostly foghorn echoing around us.
“It’s a proven fact that we islanders are born with great lungs, can smell a snowstorm twelve hours before it hits and know from birth how to drive a snowmobile. What are Chicago babies good at?”
“Putting toppings on pizza.”
Fiona stepped around the black wrought iron gate that marked the entrance to SeeFar and squeaked like something from a Hitchcock movie. It also announced intruders and was most likely why the family never oiled the thing. We did a stealthy tiptoe up the walk, flattened ourselves against the side of the house, then clam-crawled around the concrete statue of the Virgin Mary to the kitchen window. A light was on; the window was open a crack and the scent of burned bacon washed over us.
The Seniority was the older contingent of the family and last year acquired SeeFar in a real estate settlement. They also got the owner as a live-in cook in retribution for trying to swindle them out of a boatload of money. My guess was that the live part of the deal had definite appeal over the obvious alternative. That the window was only open a crack this morning and not flung wide meant former owner Dwight Wainwright the Third’s cooking was improving.
Angelo sat at the table drinking something steamy. A younger guy with dark wavy hair, intent black eyes and a backward Detroit Tigers ball cap stood beside him studying something spread out on the table.
“I know him,” I whispered to Fiona as I pointed inside.
“You mean you wish you knew him. Hubba hubba, come to mamma. That is one delish Italian stallion, and I got to tell you he is a fine way to start the day.”
“And Luka belongs to Molly,” Mother said from behind as she joined in the staring. “Angelo set the two of them up and they seem to be getting along.” She held up a pink Blarney Scone bag. “Breakfast?”
I took a blueberry scone, Fiona cranberry, Mother chocolate. Mother was definitely Carman this morning in her fringe jacket, skinny dark denim jeans, hair tumbled and curly, and not one hint of Ann Louise anywhere. “He got off the same ferry as Peep and Zo,” I said. “I remember the hat.”
“If the hat’s what you remember about the guy, you need a shot of that hormone therapy stuff.” This time Fiona was the one panting and it had nothing to do with climbing steps. “I’m getting a cardio workout just looking at the guy.”
I took a bite of scone and mumbled, “So, what exactly does the family engineer do?”
“Fixes things like SeeFar’s crumbling foundation,” Mother chimed it. “He’s got the blueprints right out there in front of him. He’s so shy I don’t think he’s ever been out of Detroit till now.”
“Or it’s a great cover,” I added. “It’s those shy quiet types you have to watch out for.”
Mother patted me on the back. “Luka isn’t like that. He leaves the exciting part to his brother. He got the personality genes, and I think he’s a cover model for books or magazines or something.”
“In L.A.?” I dropped my scone, then picked it up quick to stay within the no-germs rule of things retrieved off the ground within five seconds. “That’s the connection. What if Peep had something on Luka’s brother and Luka went after Peep?”
“And,” came Angelo’s voice out the window as he leaned over the sill. He had a Kiss Me I’m From Detroit mug in his hand, dark eyes dancing, hair mussed and sexy. “What if the moon is really blue cheese and those astronaut guys didn’t let any of us know so they could corner the market and make a killing? I know you’re all trying to find out who plugged that Peep guy, but Luka here’s not your man. We’re a family here, and just like all families we got our ways of doing things. Wasting good olive oil is not our style; we save it for the lasagna and a nice ziti. And we pick up after ourselves—no messes left behind, if you know what I mean—and Peep croaked was a big mess. Now I’m making my hot chocolate here, so if you girls wanna come on in instead of stomping all over my new red geraniums, that would be fine by me.”
Mother stood, kissed Angelo through the window then sauntered off toward the back door. I passed Angelo the wallet with the picks and mouthed thank you, and Fiona and I faded into the fog, neither of us up to facing a guy we’d just accused of being a killer.
“Well, that was a little awkward.” Fiona popped the last bite of scone into her mouth when we reached the steps leading down to town. “Do you think Angelo’s hacked off that we accused Luka of murder? I mean, we’ve got enough problems around here without adding him and the rest of the family to the list. And I think it’s all for nothing. Luka didn’t come here to kill Peep. When I was in L.A. I never met him or his brother or heard anything about either one.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been gone for a year. Whatever got Peep dead was something recent that came up. But why come to Mackinac?” I stopped Fiona before we started the steps. “You’re the link in all this, the one thing that’s in common with the island and Peep. What aren’t you telling me?”
Fiona puffed out a deep breath and stared down at the wood platform. She kicked an acorn, sending it flying over the side into the white abyss. “Peep wanted me back. The Scoop is doing well and he needs an editor, someone who already knows the paper and the contacts. He said he wanted to start cutting back on work, which makes no sense since Peep is all about work and money, but that’s what he said. I hated the Scoop, but I was a good reporter until . . . until I got fed up and had to get out of there no matter what.”
“Okay, so Peep was using the stuff he had on you to get you back to L.A., I get that. But like we’ve said before, he could have bullied you over the phone. He didn’t have to come to a place he didn’t know existed. Everyone loves you on Mackinac. No matter what you did or got involved with, it’s over and you’ve moved on.” I took Fiona’s hand. “What’s so important that Peep thought he could get you back?”
“Threats up close and personal are more effective than three thousand miles away.” She pulled in a deep breath. “And if you really must know, I just happen to have Orlando Bloom’s phone number. Nothing’s more important than Orlando Bloom except maybe that new hottie, Channing Tatum.”
“I’m trying to be serious here and save your butt and you’re not cooperating, and who the heck is Channing Tatum?”
“Girlfriend, you so need to get out more.” Fiona raced down the steps, her footsteps slapping against the wood planks breaking the early-morning quiet as she faded into swirling white puffs.
I did a quick Google on Channing while considering the fact that whatever was on Peep’s phone meant a lot to Fiona personally, but I couldn’t imagine anything that would have her so upset and—
Holy mother of pearl! I stared at Sheldon, my retinas starting to sizzle. Fiona was right about one thing, I really did need to get out more, especially if that was what was out there. Yowzer!
Weak in the knees, I stumbled down the steps, then followed the sound of the foghorn out in the harbor, figuring I’d either wind up on Main Street or stumble into the lake.
>
“Glad you’re here, but the ferries aren’t running in this pea soup so you didn’t have to hurry,” Rudy said to me as I came into the shop. He was standing on a teetering stool and lovingly polishing his euchre trophies displayed on the shelf over the workbench. Bambino and Cleveland were sprawled across the pool table enjoying an early-morning snooze that would morph into a noonday snooze that would give way to an afternoon snooze interrupted periodically by meows of servant, give me tuna now or I pee on your clothes.
“But once the fog lifts,” Rudy continued, “all those fudgies waiting on the other side will descend upon us like a swarm of locusts, and I know that’s a good thing but it sure does make for a crazy day.” He cut his eyes my way. “And what’s wrong with you? You’re all flushed and you just knocked over two bikes and didn’t even notice.”
I picked up Nancy Drew and Babe Ruth. “Well, since you asked, there’s this guy, Channing Tatum, that Fiona was talking about and—”
“That new pooper-scooper who follows the horses around and cleans up? I hear he’s terrific and doing a great job.”
“Not exactly, but you got the terrific part right.”
Rudy’s shoulders slouched as he climbed back to earth, and he plopped down heavy on the stool where he’d been standing. He picked up a brown wicker basket and a screwdriver. “At least something’s going right around here. Like Twain says, the world owes you nothing, it was here first, so I’ll just have to figure things out on my own.”
I took the stool beside Rudy and patted him on the back as he attached the basket to Harry Potter. “I wish there were something I could do.”
“Finding a new euchre partner is going to be tough.” Rudy nodded at the shelf of trophies. “There’s room for two more and I need someone who can help me whip the pants off Trevor Fallon down at the Stang.”
I looked from Rudy to the trophies. “I . . . I thought you were having a meltdown over the wedding.”
Rudy waved his hand in the air as if shooing a fly off a beer. “Not to worry, things’ll work out just fine. I love Irma and she loves me, so what else really matters? We’re friends who found each other and now we’re inseparable; we’re together for better or worse, through thick and thin. The wedding is just window dressing.”
I didn’t think Irma would agree about the window dressing part; she wanted the celebration, the ceremony, the romance, but I was sure she’d agree that she and Rudy were . . . friends.
“Actually,” I said, as little gears in my brain started to turn, “you’re best friends.”
“Nothing better than that.”
“You two would go to the ends of the earth for each other. If one of you showed up dragging a dead body, the other would grab a shovel, lead the way to the garden no questions asked and start digging, and when the cops came you’d hide each other in the attic.”
Rudy put down his screwdriver and looked me dead in the eyes. “I got a feeling we’re not just talking about me and Irma now, are we.”
“I think Fiona has a friend, a really good one, and my guess is that whatever’s on that phone that we can’t find involves someone Fiona’s close to. She’s not freaking out about her own well-being but someone else’s, and she is not going to give him or her up. I’d say it’s why Fiona left L.A. She’d had enough when Peep’s peepholing got personal. Maybe she even got fed up enough to knock Peep off when he showed up here with his threats. You know Fiona, I know her, and she’s true blue, one of those till-death-do-us-part kind of people.”
Rudy’s eyes darkened. “That’s a big leap, Chicago. And we have other suspects, you know, good ones.”
“We do have other suspects,” I said, not feeling nearly as confident as I wanted to. I grabbed the screwdriver and handed it to Rudy. “But it’s a darn good thing we have an attic in this place, ’cause we just might have to use it.”
“Use what?” Cal asked as he rolled through the door.
Rudy gave me a wide-eyed look that said what do we do now? Cal was a great guy, a soldier for real some years ago, and it was how he ended up in the chair. He did the reenactment thing now but still took protecting the law seriously, proven by the protect our butterflies assignment. And he was a good friend of Sutter’s. This was not a man who needed to know about Fiona in the attic.
“Use our connections to find Rudy a euchre partner,” I blurted, needing something to fill the void. “I don’t know a spade from a club, so I’m out, and my mom’s a ringer, so no one will play with her.”
Cal shrugged his broad shoulders, pulling his T-shirt that read Honk if you find men in wheelchairs sexy tight across his broad chest. “I do a little Texas hold ’em, so I’m not much good either.”
He rolled his way to the workbench. “Thought I’d stop by to see if you’d take me on here. I bought the Newfoundland and now I’ve got to figure out a way to pay for the thing.” He grinned. It was the boyish kind of grin that made women swoon. “I was over at the VI and Nate was there getting coffee to go; he was on his way to the Grand. Seems one of those Hollywood hellions got her bracelet stolen, a gold turtle or something. This Peep Show thing sure keeps old Nate hopping; we’ll never get a chance to do some fishing if this keeps up. He said you needed a fill-in for Rudy here when he’s on his honeymoon.”
Zo’s turtle? The one that used to belong to Fiona? Drat! Another nail in Fiona’s coffin, and the reason I found out about it was from Cal here in the shop talking to me. So, maybe Cal being Sutter’s pal wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe it was a good thing in that if he worked here I’d be the one getting information for a change.
“You’re hired,” I said to Cal. From behind him Rudy shook his head and mouthed, Have you lost your mind? Okay, I got that because just as I might find stuff out about Sutter and what was going on, Cal could very well carry tales back to our dear police chief. A lot of chitchat went on at Rudy’s Rides, but it was worth the gamble of what got spread around. I needed information.
“And,” I added, “Rudy here will teach you how to play euchre.”
“I will?” Rudy’s eyes bulged.
Another great place for local gossip was the Stang. I put my hand on Cal’s shoulder and pointed to the trophies. “Wow, just look at those beauties all big and shiny. One of those babies is what you need to keep that Best Chili Ever trophy you got company. Just picture them side-by-side in your mahogany trophy case with the light shining on them. Great idea, huh?”
Cal’s eyes glistened, his jaw slacked and a little drop of drool caught at the corner of his mouth. It was the same reaction I had when looking at a new Coach purse. “Yeah,” Cal said, all breathy. “It is a great idea.”
“Perfect,” I rushed on before Rudy could protest. “You can start now. Rudy will show you around the shop and how it works and where he keeps his lucky euchre deck. I’ll get us some fresh scones to celebrate. Yippee.”
Both dudes looked at me as if I needed Prozac. I guess the yippee was a bit over the top. I grabbed Nancy Drew and raced out of the shop. I hoped it dawned on Rudy what I was up to with getting Cal as an in-house informer. If not, I’d explain things later. Hey, Rudy couldn’t be too upset; I found him a euchre partner, didn’t I?
I pedaled toward Cadotte and the Grand Hotel instead of heading for the Blarney Scone. I was a quart low on fat and sugar and could really do with another scone, but it would have to wait. What mattered most right now was Fiona. What had she gotten herself into with stealing the bracelet, and how close was Sutter to locking her up for real?
It might also be a good idea to pay attention to what I was doing and not get lost in the fog. I still couldn’t see a blasted thing and someone was behind me, I thought. Another bike? I heard them approach and pedaled my little heart out to get to the side and out of the way, till I was rammed hard.
What the—I held on to the handlebars but it didn’t help. Again I went flying ass over appetite, not sure
which of those body parts would hit the ground first because this time there was no dead body to stop me.
12
“Like, my favorite turtle bracelet is gone, I’ve looked everywhere for it,” Zo screeched from inside the Grand Hotel. I could hear her as I limped up the back steps, nearly running into Idle coming down. She took one look at me and hurried off.
“It was that Fiona person, I tell you,” Zo went on as I got to the lobby. I joined the growing crowd of hotel guests, maids and waiters and even a few of the morning gardeners wandering in to see what all the hoopla was about. Hoopla was not a common occurrence at the Grand; the place was more martinis, Manhattans, high tea with piano music . . . usually. Today the yellow-shirted Corpse Crusaders, orange-shirted Body Baggers and purple-shirted Murder Marauders wrote furiously in their notebooks and Sutter had one of those Lord take me now expressions on his face.
“Like, she still thinks that bracelet belongs to her even though she, like, gave it to me years ago,” Zo ranted on.
“It is hers.” Walt elbowed his way through the crowd. Geraldine followed behind him, clutching a refill stack of Town Criers. “Her mother and I gave Fiona that bracelet with the turtle when she graduated college to remind her of Mackinac. The island’s shaped like a turtle, in case you didn’t know.”
Zo sneered. “Yeah, right. This place is, like, nothing but a chunk of rock in a lake. Big deal.”
Geraldine jabbed her finger at Zo. “You got that bracelet when Fiona was desperate for money out in that L.A. hellhole, and you wouldn’t let her buy it back like you promised.”
“I didn’t promise anything. That turtle is my good-luck charm; I wear it all the time except to sleep. I even had a turtle necklace made to match it.” Zo reached in her blouse and slid out a thin gold chain with a turtle suspended at the end. “And now Fiona’s broken the set, she’s broken my good luck.” Zo glared. “She never did like me or Peep.”
“What’s to like?” Geraldine roared.
