Murder in the Mist

by Loretta C. Rogers

  Mitch, Laura, and Bryan looked to where the spotlight outlined the inert body of Benjamin Noone, lying face down, spread-eagled on the boat’s bow.

  Mitch yelled, “Is he alive?”

  “Well, he ain’t movin’, but lemme check.” The boat rocked back and forth as the old sailor approached the body. Mitch and the others watched as Harmon used a toe to nudge Noone. He knelt and rolled the body over, then looked up and shouted. “Deader’n an iced mackerel.”

  Mitch nodded his understanding. “Can you move the boat over to the beach area and get close enough for me to wade out?”

  Harmon waved. “Sure thing.”

  Mitch finally smiled. He squeezed Laura’s hand. “Your aunt’s worried sick about you. I know she’d appreciate a call.” He shook a finger as if saying not to challenge his next statement. “Have her meet you at the hospital. Bryan will drive you.” He’d noticed how Laura favored her right hip.

  She offered a weary smile. “What happens next?”

  “Harmon and I will get the body to Ken Musuyo for a routine autopsy.” He shrugged. “I’ll come by in a couple of days and take your statement. Right now, Bryan’s going to wrap you in a blanket and get you to the hospital.”

  ****

  Days later, Laura sat on the sun porch, her hip and leg bound in a brace. She lifted the glass of iced tea and drew a sip. Mitch paused, a glass midway to his lips. He took no joy in the birds’ morning songs, or the sight of tourists along the sidewalks. He hadn’t changed his mind about returning to El Paso and running for sheriff. The weight of his decision settled hard on his soul. Laura was thinking of him. He could feel it.

  A look of haunting anxiety sprang to her gaze. “Benjamin Noone suffered from more than paranoia schizophrenia. He was physically sick, wasn’t he?”

  Mitch set the glass on a coaster, and picked up the brown envelope to extract the report. “It’s a wonder he was able to function as long as he did. Ken’s report states Noone suffered from a massive tumor on the limbic system. This kind of tumor turns a normally gentle individual into a violent, aggressive person. Pair that type of violence with the paranoid episodes of hearing voices and it made Noone a dangerous time bomb. I guess the ironic part is, according to the report, he had maybe less than twenty-four hours of life left before the cancer would have killed him.”

  Laura waited a moment. “He said Bennie was his twin. Was it the schizophrenia that caused him to think he had a brother?”

  Mitch relaxed against the chair. “Ken phoned the asylum where Benjamin spent ten years of his life. Since he’s dead, the judge didn’t have a problem issuing an order for the asylum to release his records. It seems there was a twin named Bennett. Benjamin was the older by seven minutes. At the age of three, Bennett fell from Thunder Hole and broke his neck. The mother, Rose Noone, went bonkers and blamed Benjamin for not looking after his brother. Also, according to the medical records, Benjamin was the victim of a circumcision gone bad. His mother apparently called him names—little girl, sissy boy, homo—always telling him his twin was smarter, cuter. By the time he was five, she had disappeared. The record states they resided with Rose’s father in the cabin where Benjamin lived. He stated his mother was suffering one of her screaming attacks when the grandfather tried to quiet her, but he broke her neck. Instead of reporting it, he chopped her up, rowed out into the bay, and fed the remains to the sharks. Benjamin held the lantern and was witness to this. For a while he got to live a normal life, until he entered school. Apparently he was bullied by the other kids, who gave him the nickname ‘Beenie with the little Weenie,’ until he killed his first victim, Brenda Alligood.”

  Laura placed her hand to her mouth to hold back the disgust. “Poor Benjamin. How horrible.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry for what he suffered, but I’m also relieved that he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

  Damn. Why did she have to be so pretty…so tempting? He would like nothing better than to stick around a while longer. His time to leave Cole Harbor was drawing close. He stood and shoved his cap on his head.

  “Mitch, you could stay.”

  “Can’t. I still have a stack of paperwork to finish before putting the case of Benjamin Noone to bed. I want everything shipshape when Sheriff Gilman returns next week.”

  She stared up at him, her hands folded in her lap. “I meant stay in Cole Harbor. You could run against Sheriff Gilman or whatever her married name is now.”

  A warm glow passed through him. “Roberta is homegrown. Her father was sheriff. I’ve been here less than a year, and folks take care of their own, Friday. I’m the outsider. Even if I stayed, I’d always be the deputy, and the interloper. Playing second fiddle isn’t my style.”

  He wished he could find something clever to say. He stared down into her expectant blue eyes and drew a deep breath. “We’ve talked about this. There are bad guys in Texas I need to catch. I won’t—can’t—rest easy until they’re either behind bars or dead. That’s my first priority.”

  His feet stayed rooted to the spot while he watched the sunlight caress her skin in a golden hue.

  A sudden frown firmed Laura’s mouth. She crossed her arms and stared away from him.

  “Laura, where are you?” A rasp of enthusiasm rang out in Bryan’s raised voice.

  She looked at Mitch, squared her shoulders, gave him an “oh, damn” look, and called, “I’m on the sun porch.”

  “Take care of yourself, Friday.” Mitch turned and walked away while he still had the good sense and willpower to do so.

  He met Bryan at the top of the stairs. The ranger’s dark eyebrows rose into a smile. “How’s our girl today?”

  “Improving.”

  Mitch hesitated. Bryan stood there, tall, shoulders squared, his voice dropped to a whisper. “I have to ask—are you my competition? It’d take a blind man not to see how she looked at you that night at the hospital.”

  “No,” Mitch ground out. “We’re just friends.”

  Bryan sighed as he glanced toward the sun porch. “Thanks, Mitch.”

  Halfway down the stairs, Mitch turned. “I’m heading to El Paso next week. I won’t be returning to Cole Harbor.”

  “Should I tell Laura?”

  “She knows.”

  Bryan clenched his jaw and nodded.

  Mitch didn’t have that much paperwork left to close the Benjamin Noone case. In fact, he considered he was leaving the office in better shape than when he’d first arrived. Part of him thought about hitting the road earlier than planned. Just ride off into the sunset and never look back.

  Outside, he squinted against the sun’s bright glare and pulled the sunglasses over his eyes as he walked the short distance to his office, located inside the courthouse.

  “Hiyah, Mitch.”

  “Mayor Shipley.” His eyes went to the man’s lapel. “I see you’re not wearing a white rosebud.”

  The pudgy man’s face screwed into a nervous smile. “Ayuh. Pink or red from now on.” He tsked. “Terrible…just terrible about Benjamin. Who would have ever suspected we had a homicidal maniac living amongst us all these years? Why, my Martha—”

  “Sorry to cut you off, Mayor, but I have a ton of paperwork to finish before leaving next week.”

  “Ayuh. Wish we could entice you to stay. But, you understand, small community like ours can’t afford to offer you a bigger salary.”

  Mitch reined in his thoughts. “Have a nice day, Mayor.”

  “Oh, Mitch, I guess you don’t know. Roberta and her new husband pulled in about twenty minutes ago. She’s already at the office.”

  Surprise blanched him. He kept his voice calm. “Thanks for the information.”

  In minutes, he bounded up the courthouse steps. He slid the dark glasses over the bill of his cap and allowed long strides to take him toward the sheriff’s office.

  Louise gave him a cocky grin when he entered the office. “By the scowl on your face, I guess you heard. She’s ba-ack!”

  Chapter Thirt
y-Five

  The bookstore door squeaked as he opened it. He was sorry he hadn’t taken the time to oil the creak. Phyllis looked up from the computer. “Good morning, Mitch. We heard Roberta had returned early.”

  He reached around and removed a white envelope from his back pocket and laid it on the counter. “Would you give this to Laura after I leave?”

  Phyllis frowned up at him, then stared at the envelope. “She’s upstairs.”

  “It’s easier this way.”

  She opened her mouth as if to form a polite denial, then nodded. “Ayuh, ’spose so.”

  Warm relief spread through him. He went around the counter and gathered the older woman in his arms, then released her with a peck on the cheek. “You’ve been a good friend, Phyllis. If you’re ever in El Paso, look me up. I’ll treat you to a Texas-sized steak.”

  She swiped a tear from her cheek. “I might just take you up on that, you handsome galoot.”

  He gave her an appreciative smile. “You understand why I can’t stay?”

  She darted her gaze toward the back room, where the stairs led to the apartment, and back again. “Ayuh. I read in a western novel where the good guy always tells the sheriff to keep the sun to his back. I hope you catch the men who destroyed your family. Take care of yourself, Mitch.”

  Mitch released a heavy sigh. “I’ll do that.”

  He turned and walked out into the sunshine, closing the door softly behind him. Relief washed over him, quick and easy. He was on his way home.

  ****

  Phyllis quickly whispered a prayer as she climbed the stairs. She knew she’d find Laura working. The sun porch had become her temporary office. Her heart swelled with love and a tinge of sadness when she spotted her niece’s blonde head bent over the laptop.

  A gull’s shadow crossed in front of the screened area as it soared high above and then disappeared in the glare of the morning sunlight. A companionable silence filled the porch. Phyllis held out the envelope.

  Laura looked up. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

  “Ayuh.”

  Laura offered a sad smile. “I don’t know whether to be angry or relieved that he chose to write a note instead of saying goodbye in person.”

  Phyllis noted the dejected set of her niece’s shoulders and the tears swimming in her eyes. “Would you like privacy while you read it?”

  Laura gazed off where the sparkling aqua waters of the cove met the pale blue horizon. She sighed. “No.”

  She ran her finger along the sealed flap and removed the folded note. She scanned the page, and then looked at her aunt. “His handwriting is exceptionally neat for a man. I think I’ll read it aloud.”

  Phyllis settled in a rocker and waited. The sadness in Laura’s voice tugged at her heartstrings. She looked so fragile sitting there with her face flushed and somber.

  “Dearest Laura…” She held the note against her chest. “Aunt Philly, he called me Laura—not Friday.” She blinked several times, then continued, “Saying goodbye isn’t easy. Maybe this note is the coward’s way out. I’d like to think it’s easier for both of us. We knew a storm was building between us. I’m not sure whether it was love or the kind of psychological emotion victims seek when they’ve experienced extreme trauma. Maybe we simply needed each other to heal our recent hurts. Either way, a future together isn’t in our cards. I have bad guys to catch, and you have a lifetime of adventures to share with your aunt, and a newspaper to run. I will always adore you in a very special way.

  “Bryan is a good guy, Laura. I’ve already told him that I’m not his competition. It doesn’t take a fool to see he’s head over heels in love with you. Give him a chance to prove it. Be happy!”

  She racked her teeth across her bottom lip as she folded the letter and gently placed it back inside the envelope. “He’s right, Aunt Philly. I’m not sure what I feel for Mitch is true love, but I sure would have liked the opportunity to find out. I’m going to miss him, more than he’ll ever know.”

  Phyllis rose from the rocker. She patted her niece on the shoulder. “It’s too hot for amaretto hot chocolate. How about a cold beer to drown our sorrows?”

  Laura’s cell phone rang. She looked at the ID and frowned. “It’s Bryan.”

  “Well, answer it.”

  She rubbed a hand over her face and through her hair. “Hi, Bryan.”

  “I’m downstairs. Okay if I come up? I have lobstah rolls.”

  She sighed. What was it Mitch had said? Set the rules, Friday. Let Bryan know you want to go slow and easy. “A guy after my own heart. I never turn down my favorite food.”

  Her aunt smiled. “I guess that’s my cue to go back to the bookstore.”

  “Never, Aunt Philly. Please stay. He has lobster rolls.”

  Phyllis laughed. “My lovely niece, you have a lot to learn about courtship. Put mine in the fridge for later.”

  With that Phyllis walked down the stairs, meeting Bryan halfway. “She’s in a slump. Go easy.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Let’s put it this way—if you were ever worried about Mitch being your competition, you can stop. He left this morning.”

  Bryan pressed his lips together. “Somehow, I don’t feel as glad as I thought I would. I really liked Mitch.”

  ****

  Uncertain of her feelings for Mitch, Laura felt the pain jabbing her chest and stealing her breath. If she didn’t love him, then what was wrong with her? She glanced at the novel sitting in her aunt’s rocker and thought about how Phyllis had complained about the ending. A small smile quirked Laura’s lips as she surmised that life was like the last chapter in a book. If you don’t like the ending—write a new one.

  “Laura?”

  “Out here, Bryan.”

  She sighed and slid the envelope under the laptop. “There’s cold beer in the refrigerator. I’d get it, but…”

  Bryan sat down, then stood again. “Can we talk before we eat?”

  She looked up at him. “Sit down, Bryan. You’re making me nervous.”

  Today was his day off. Instead of his usual ranger uniform, he wore khaki shorts, a green T-shirt, and tan boating shoes without socks, a typical summer outfit that highlighted the blond hairs on his tanned legs and arms. Her emotions careened like a billowing storm, her thoughts equally scattered.

  He leaned forward and placed his forehead gently against hers. “I know you don’t like sailing or deep sea diving, and marriage isn’t on your mind, but can I convince you to change your thinking about cohabitation?”

  The memories of Jolly’s death and of her recent violent encounter with Benjamin Noone floated through her mind. All too new and fresh to shove aside. Mitch had saved her. Bryan had held her. Mitch had said goodbye. Bryan was a safe harbor.

  Like a shaft of sunlight slicing through thick fog, a warm glow spread through Laura. She leaned forward and, with a wry smile, brushed her lips against his. “Cohabitation…hmm. I’ll give it serious thought.”

  Bryan trailed a finger down her smooth cheek. Then both his hands settled on hers. “If your leg weren’t in a brace, I’d be willing to give you a lesson right this minute.”

  She suddenly wanted to cling to him, love him, sink into his strength, drown in the solid, muscular feel of his body and the musk fragrance of his aftershave. “Doctor’s orders. Can’t remove this contraption for another ten days.”

  “I’m not trying to rush you.”

  “Bryan…shut up and kiss me.”

  “You’re beautiful, Laura.”

  Not quite ready for that particular sentiment, she was glad he hadn’t declared his love. She laughed and plumbed his gaze. “If you’re not going to kiss me, then I’m hungry. How about a lobster roll and a beer?”

  He stood and, like a gallant knight, bowed at the waist. “Your wish is my command. By the way, you can cook, can’t you?”

  She knew what a kind heart he had as she lifted one corner of her mouth into a tiny smile. “Not really, but why should I, when th
ere are so many fine restaurants in Cole Harbor?”

  Cocking his head to one side, he studied her with mock concentration. Then as if tired of the wordplay, he leaned forward and kissed her. “Touché.”

  She filled her mind with pleasant thoughts, and planned to enjoy setting the rules while she and Bryan forged their lives together—slow and easy.

  If you enjoyed MURDER IN THE MIST, you’ll want to read the sequel, SHADOWED REUNION, coming soon from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. Here’s a sample:

  Laura Friday peered through her sunglasses at the smiling waiter as she accepted the frosty piña colada. After savoring a long sip, she looked at her aunt. “Isn’t Hawaii glorious? I can’t believe we’re wearing shorts in December.”

  Phyllis Friday wriggled her bare toes. “I don’t envy our friends in Maine. Cole Harbor is a ghost town this time of year. Poor Maudine, having to shovel snow at her age. I wish she had agreed to come with us.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Philly.”

  Phyllis lowered her sunglasses to peek over the rim. “Whatever for? I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve made my long-awaited dream vacations come true. Paris in September, and now basking in the sun with my favorite niece.”

  Laura laughed. “I’m your only niece.”

  “Ayuh, and you’re a keepah.”

  Silence stretched between the two women as if each were lost in her own thoughts. It was Phyllis who broke the interlude. “Have you given thought to Bryan’s proposal?”

  “I swear, sometimes I think you’re psychic.” Laura kept her voice casual. “He’s handsome, caring, and kind, a senior park ranger. His future is secure, but we’ve only know each other a few months. It hasn’t been a year since Jolly’s death, and I’m still traumatized over being kidnapped and nearly killed by Benjamin Noone. I need time, Aunt Philly. That’s why being here with you is so special.”

  “Ayuh, you’ve had your share of grief, that’s for certain. Nonetheless, Bryan loves you.”

  Laura harrumphed. “Love? I don’t even know what that means. I loved Jolly like a brother. I love you, I love my job as a reporter, and I love the lobster rolls from the Silly Lobster. I have feelings for Bryan, but I don’t think what I feel is love. Aren’t you supposed to experience euphoria, and giddiness, and want to dance on air?”