by Tim Myers
Elise said, “I’ve been thinking. You’re probably right about it not being an accident. You really should talk to the sheriff about this.”
Alex nodded. “I just came from there. He seems to think somebody was outside fooling around with their gun, but he’s agreed to look around later.”
“I’m surprised you’re satisfied with that,” Elise said, “Hey, we’ve got an inn to run, remember? Armstrong can handle this by himself.”
Elise patted his arm. “He wouldn’t let you go with him, would he?”
Alex chuckled softly. “You’re getting to know me too well, you realize that, don’t you?”
Elise said, “I don’t know about that. I just know how you think.”
“I’m not sure which one of us should be more frightened by that prospect,” Alex said as Claudia Post came into the lobby.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’m completely out of towels again,” she said, then turned and headed back to her room. The woman went through laundry like boiling water through snow since the wine explosion. At least she’d recovered most of her hearing.
Elise said, “I’ll be right there.” As she left, trying to catch up with their guest, Elise glanced back at Alex and smiled. Whenever she did that, even if circumstances didn’t necessarily warrant it, Alex felt that all was right with the world.
At least for the moment the smile lasted on her lips.
A few hours later, Vince and Laura came back to Hatteras West. His sweat pants had been replaced by a set of doctor’s scrubs, and there were a few crimson stains on his shirt.
Laura said, “I hope you don’t mind, Alex, but we’re checking out a few days early.”
“It’s not a problem at all,” Alex said as she headed upstairs to pack their bags while Vince stayed behind in the lobby.
After Laura was gone, Alex said, “I completely understand you wanting to leave. Listen, I’m really sorry about all this.”
Vince sat in one of the lobby chairs and said, “Hey, these things happen. I’d feel better being home, that’s all.”
“And the doctors don’t have a problem with you leaving?” Alex asked.
Vince said, “They told me I should be fine. It was just a graze after all. Besides, we’re not driving all the way back home tonight.” He added apologetically, “In all honesty, I just don’t want to hang around here and give somebody another shot at me.”
Alex nodded. He could hardly blame his guest for not wanting to stay. People had left the inn with a lot less cause than Vince and Laura had. “Thanks for staying with us,” of Alex said.
Laura came downstairs soon enough with both their suitcases.
Alex said, “At least let me get those for you.”
“I can manage,” Laura said gruffly.
Alex insisted, saying, “You should help your husband, and I’ll get the bags.”
Laura’s stern expression softened. “Of course you’re right. Thank you.”
Alex nodded and walked them out to their car. Vince was still noticeably limping, and he saw that Laura had pillows arranged in the back seat. As Vince eased onto them, he said, “With her pampering me like this, I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth.”
Laura said, “You’ve got a free pass for the time being, so you may as well take advantage of it.”
After they were gone, Elise was waiting for Alex in the lobby. “Did someone check out?” she asked.
“The Darcys decided to cut their stay short,” Alex admitted.
“What a relief,” Elise said.
“And what did you have against the Darcys that you’re so happy they’ve left us?”
Elise swatted him with the dusting rag in her hand. “If he’s well enough to travel, the injury must not have been all that serious. It could have been a great deal worse, you know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Alex said. “Now what do we have left to do?”
“Thanks to Claudia Post, we have another load of towels to run through the laundry. Besides that, we’ve just about got everything knocked out for the day.”
Alex said, “Tell you what, let’s start the load of towels, then we can get the lighthouse windows cleaned. You’ve been after me for a month to do it.”
“You’re not worried about somebody taking a shot at us up there?” Elise asked.
“No, I can’t imagine anyone trying it. One thing’s for sure; if they do, we’ll know it’s no accident, not at that angle.”
“It’s a deal,” Elise said.
They gathered their cleaning supplies and were heading out the door when Skip Foreman, the ex-cop on Reston Shay’s security team, walked in.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“No, we were just going to start on some windows. What can we do for you?”
The big man frowned, then said, “I understand there was a shooting out here today. How’s your guest doing?”
“He’s going to be fine, it was just a graze,” Alex said. “As a matter of fact, he’s on his way back home right now.”
Skip said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What, that he’s gone? I can’t blame him for not hanging around here after being shot.”
“That’s not what I meant,” the retired deputy said. “I was hoping to get a chance to talk to him, but I was too late to make it to the hospital in time.” Elise asked, “You don’t think it was an accident, do you?”
“Now, Ma’am, I didn’t say that.”
Alex said, “But you’re here nonetheless. I take it you’re not buying the sheriff’s explanation.”
Skip didn’t answer the question. “I just wanted to clear a few things up for my own curiosity. Sorry I bothered you folks.”
Alex said, “I’m just wondering, what would you have asked him?”
“Like I said, it was nothing official,” Skip said, but Alex wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
Alex said, “I spoke with him. I know third-hand information wouldn’t be of any use in court, but I still might be able to help.”
Skip shrugged. “Do you know where exactly he was shot?”
Elise said, “The leg. Oh, of course that’s not what you meant. It was somewhere out in the woods.”
“Ma’am, there are a ton of woods around this place. Can you be more specific?”
Alex said, “Near the orchard. It had to be, from what he told me. That was the route he took every morning. He ran around the lighthouse, lapped Bear Rocks, then went through the orchard before he wound up back at the inn. The blood splatters we saw came from the direction of the orchard too; otherwise he’d have used the back porch door. There’s no way he’d walk around the inn to use the front door, not shot and bleeding, and that’s exactly what he would have had to do if he’d been coming from Bear Rocks.”
Skip nodded. “Makes sense. You ever been in law enforcement?”
Alex felt his face redden. “Hardly. It just seems logical that way.”
“So it does. Let me ask you both something. Is there anything strange that’s been going on around the inn lately? I mean besides the murder and theft.”
Elise said, “We can’t help you there. There’s always something odd going on around Hatteras West. Take your pick.”
Alex started to say something about the tube they’d found in Patrick Thornton’s toilet tank, but without anything more solid than their suspicions, he didn’t feel right disclosing that information. From the look Elise was giving him, evidently she felt the same way.
If Skip noticed the exchange, he didn’t mention it. “I think I’ll snoop around a little out there, if you don’t mind.”
“The orchard’s not Winston land anymore, but I don’t think the owner would mind. He’s been in Florida for as long as I can remember, and he lets me pick all the fruit I want from the trees. Help yourself.”
“I’ll do just that.”
Before Skip could leave, Elise said, “There is one thing.”
“Wha
t’s that?” the former deputy asked.
“If you find anything, let us know, okay?”
Skip grinned. “It’s probably a blind alley, but I’ll tell you if I stumble across something.”
After he was gone, Alex and Elise tackled the first row of windows at the top of the lighthouse. He was awfully glad they could clean them from the narrow walkway that was just above the observation platform. The glass was sparkling when Alex and Elise finished the bottom row and were ready to start on the next level when they both heard someone hailing them from below. Skip was on the front porch, and Alex and Elise hurried down the stairs to meet him.
“Did you find anything?” Alex asked, nearly out of breath.
“There weren’t any old tin cans or shot-up trees out there, not that I could see.”
“Maybe you weren’t looking in the right place,” Elise said.
“I found blood on some of the leaves and the spot where your jogger hit the ground. I did a pretty thorough search around the area, but there was nothing else out of the ordinary that I could spot.”
Elise said, “So Sheriff Armstrong was right, it most likely was an accident.”
“Just the opposite,” Skip said. “I’d say that shot was dead-on intentional.”
Chapter 13
“How do you figure that?” Alex asked.
“If I’d seen any indication that someone had been shooting up cans or even taking potshots at trees, I’d buy the accidental shooting theory. But there wasn’t a sign of it anywhere in the woods that I could see, and I’ve got a pretty good eye for that kind of thing. Even a tin can hit by a bullet will throw off some metal, but I didn’t see any sign of it. Think about it. If it was harmless target practice, why would they bother cleaning up after themselves? Anybody foolish enough to shoot at targets in the woods is bound to be too selfish to clean up after themselves. No, that shot was meant for your guest.”
“So what do we do about it?” Alex asked.
Skip said, “There’s nothing much you can do but keep your eyes and ears open. Tell you what, I’ll nose around town a little and see if I can find out anything else.”
“What’s Armstrong going to say about that?” Alex asked.
“What can he say? I’m not investigating anything, at least not officially. And if he gives me any grief, I’ll just tell him I’m getting the lay of the land. He’s already asked me twice if I’m running against him. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe the answer I keep giving him.” Skip stroked his chin. “You know what? Maybe I will run against him. I kind of miss being involved in law enforcement. This case has my juices flowing again.”
Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about the declaration after Skip was gone. He owed Armstrong his loyalty, at least a part of him felt that way, but Skip Foreman had worked high up in a large metropolitan police force, and he had to bring more to the table than Armstrong ever could. In the current sheriff’s favor was the fact that he knew the people of Elkton Falls. He’d grown up there and was a solid part of the community. If Skip did decide to run for office the next time around, Alex was going to have a tough time making his pick.
He asked Elise, “So, are you ready to finish those windows?”
She nodded. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that some of them are still dirty.”
“But we’re saving the higher glass for another day, right?”
Elise said, “Let’s see how long it takes us to finish what we’ve started.”
Alex shook his head. He’d worked with Elise long enough to know that they’d both still be on that catwalk around the lens before the sun set that night. The upper balcony had been constructed to allow the lighthouse keepers to clean the salt spray from the glass surrounding the lens on the original beacon at the Outer Banks, but it worked just as well for cleaning the red clay dust that tended to accumulate over time.
When they finished their exterior cleaning job, Alex was tempted to fire up the lens to see how brilliantly the light would shine, but he’d promised Tracy to keep his hands off the switch until she could talk to the town council about providing him with more opportunities to light it without worrying about getting fined yet again.
That night, tired and sore from the extra exertion of cleaning all that glass, Alex thought he’d fall asleep immediately. Instead, he tossed and turned half the night. Something he’d heard in the past few days was bothering him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
It made for a restless night, and a weary feeling in his heart the next morning.
Elise was a little less than her usual bright and chipper self at breakfast as well. There was a slight cloud to her smile that he immediately recognized as trouble at Hatteras West.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“Fiona’s muffins aren’t here yet, and some of our guests have been asking for them. They won’t even touch Sally Anne’s anymore.”
Alex said, “Why don’t we put out more fruit until they get here?”
“That’s not the point, Alex. Fiona should have had them here last night. At the very least, I expected the basket here when I came out this morning, but there’s nothing.”
Fiona’s white van drove up, decorated with dancing muffin magnets attached to its sides.
“Here she is,” Alex said as he headed for the door.
Elise cut him off before he could open it. “This is my area of responsibility. I’ll take care of it.”
Alex watched as Elise approached Fiona, stopping her outside before she could get to the front porch. He was glad he wasn’t on the other end of the scolding Fiona was getting, but it didn’t appear to have the slightest affect on the Muffin Lady. She listened until Elise was finished, thrust the basket into her arms, then drove off.
“How did that go?” Alex asked as she walked back in.
“I swear, I don’t think she heard a word I said. There’s something odd about that woman.”
“I’m willing to allow her a few eccentricities, as long as I get my muffins.” Alex reached in for a pumpkin one, teasing Elise to try and break her dark mood, but she failed to make even a token swat at Alex’s hand.
“Hey, if it will cheer you up, we can tackle the lens itself this afternoon, or at least get a good start on it. That’s a lot of glass we’re talking about there.”
She nodded, but her smile was still forced. He fought back the urge to offer her advice on how to handle Fiona. As Elise had pointed out, the continental breakfast they served was her area of responsibility, and there was no way Alex was going to butt in.
He grabbed a glass of orange juice to go with his muffin and walked over to the check-in desk. They had three sets of new guests coming in today, and he wanted to be ready for them.
Later that morning, Alex heard a drill in the hallway outside the room he was cleaning and wondered what was going on. Since he did all the repairs he could handle himself, or called Mor Pendleton if it was over his head, he couldn’t imagine what was happening. Amy Lang, the sculptor and now their sign painter, was pulling the plaque off room seven and replacing it with a much more ornate one. In a flowery script, it said, “The Carolina Jasmine Room.”
She grinned when she saw Alex. “So what do you think?”
“Nicely done,” Alex said. He admired her work, from as the crisply routed edges of the sign to the intricate paint job, but it was going to take some getting used to.
She laughed. “I know you, Alex Winston, you’re not a great fan of change, but Elise is right. I think it’s a splendid idea.”
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Alex admitted. “I hope we didn’t keep you from your work.”
As she drove in the last screw, Amy said, “I just finished a commission for a house in Hickory, so these signs were a nice break. I just wish the steel I usually work with was as pliable as this wood.”
Elise joined them, looked at the sign a second, then hugged Amy. “They’re perfect.” She glanced at Alex and asked, “Aren’t they?”
“Very nice,” Alex said.
Amy said, “Don’t mind him, they’ll grow on him. Now if you two will excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Alex asked, “You’ve finished them all?”
“As I said, they were fun. Oh, I meant to tell you, I got a letter from Julie Hart. She sends her love.”
“How’s she doing?” Alex asked. Julie had come to Hatteras West during a difficult time in her life, and Alex hoped all was well with the young woman.
“Never better. She’s threatening to come visit again as soon as she gets some vacation time from her new job.”
“Let me know and she can stay here with us.”
Amy said, “Are you kidding? I’d never get her away from the lighthouse. She was really taken with it.”
“It has that affect on some people,” Alex admitted.
“Well, enough goofing off. I’ve got work to do.”
As Elise went back to the lobby, Alex told Amy, “They are perfect, you know that, don’t you?”
“They’ll do,” Amy acknowledged as she got back to work. As Alex finished the room he’d been cleaning, number six since he’d been a boy, but soon to be called by another name, he wondered how the line of Winston innkeepers before him would have felt about the change. It I was something he always tried to consider before doing anything too different. After all, the inn was more than just a business to him. It was his home, his inheritance, his history.
As he left the room, now christened The Mountain Laurel Suite, Alex admired the signage again. Tracing his fingers over the carefully crafted letters, he had to believe that is at least his mother would have approved. She was always in favor of anything that made the inn feel more like a home away from home for their guests. That’s why she had spent so many hours crafting the lighthouse quilts for each room. He’d have to speak with Mor soon about building frames for the remaining quilts. That way his mother’s hand would still be on Hatteras West, a connection with his past he never wanted to lose.
Alex was surprised to see Patrick Thornton back at the inn early that afternoon. The man’s hours normally kept him out during most of daylight. There was a look of consternation on Thornton’s face as he stomped into the lobby.
