by Jeramy Gates
“I don’t understand,” Angus said, scratching the back of his head. He was standing next to Blake, leaning at an odd angle as if his balance was a little off. His hair was mussed, and he had bags under his eyes. He was wearing black silk pajama pants with a matching bathrobe that was hanging open at the front. He looked every bit the strung-out musician. “Why would someone poison Charlotte?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’re going to find out.”
“Do you think it had something to do with Jacob?” said Dana.
I glanced at Tanja, not wanting to say too much. George spoke up: “My opinion? It definitely had something to do with Jacob. Two deaths in a twenty-four hour period can not be a coincidence.”
“Is that true?” said Angus, staring at me. “Was Jacob murdered, too? I thought the sheriff said it was an accident.”
Tanja and I exchanged a glance, but neither of us answered. It wouldn’t be good for us to delve into the details of Jacob’s death, considering that the killer might be right there in the room with us.
“We need to contact the sheriff,” Tanja said.
“You can’t,” said Miguel. “De phones are out, remember?”
“I can try the CB radio,” Dana said. “But I doubt he’ll be able to fly up here in this storm.”
“What about the Jeep trail? The sheriff must have access to a good four-wheel drive.”
“I’ll tell him,” Dana said, hurrying into the hall.
Tanja scanned the room. “In the meanwhile, we need to protect the crime scene. No one should touch anything.”
I rose to my feet and turned to face Angus. “Grab a sheet,” I said. “We need to cover the body.”
“Hold on there,” Blake said. “Isn’t there some law against contaminating a crime scene?”
“It’s a sheet,” Tanja said. “It’s to protect the crime scene.”
“What about DNA?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, if the sheet was bleached correctly. Besides, we’re not going to find the killer’s DNA on her body. Charlotte was poisoned. Whoever murdered her might not even have set foot in this room.”
“All right,” Blake said grudgingly. He looked her up and down, and for the first time took note of her parka. He looked at me and frowned. “What were you two doing just now?”
“We went for a walk,” I said.
“Out there, in that storm? You must be kidding. It’s after midnight!”
“It’s true,” said Miguel. “Look at his shoes. Dey are all muddy.”
Blake couldn’t argue with that, but it was clear from the look on his face that it cast us in a suspicious light. I knew what he was thinking. Our unusual behavior may have been curious, but did it mean we were somehow connected to Charlotte’s murder? If we had been outside, how could we have committed the crime? It was an almost-perfect alibi. Too perfect, and a little too odd to dismiss right out of hand.
I didn’t blame him. I would have suspected us, too, which was exactly the sort of thing I had been trying to avoid. Charlotte’s sudden death complicated everything. When the sheriff learned of it, he would also learn that we had broken into the lighthouse for a second time. We had seen her there, and we would have to tell him that. He wasn’t going to like it, and he would probably arrest me, if not both of us.
It seemed like everything we had done from the moment we set foot on the Lost Coast had been another incriminating misstep. We looked guilty, there was no denying that. It would be hard to convince the sheriff otherwise, and we didn’t have much time to figure out how.
Angus returned with a clean white sheet, and I helped him unfold it over the body. We all stood there in silence for a few minutes, until Dana returned from her radio call. I could tell from the look on her face that it wasn’t good news.
“We’ve got a problem,” she said, confirming my suspicion.
“What’s the matter?” said Blake.
“Somebody broke the radio. I can’t get anything but static.”
“I can take a look at it,” Angus offered. “I know a little about electronics. I might be able to get it working.”
The two of them disappeared back down the hall. As they vanished, Blake said, “Nobody touch anything. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” said Nancy.
“I’m getting my camera.”
“What for?” Now that Charlotte’s body was covered, Nancy had found the courage to face the room again. She was still standing out in the hall, but had been inching closer over the last few minutes, listening to our conversation.
“I’m going to document the scene,” Blake said. “I need to take pictures. Lots of ‘em.”
George reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and pulled out his smart phone. “Here,” he said, offering it to Blake. “Take all the pictures you want. I’ll text them to your phone when we’re done.”
Blake accepted the phone. He proceeded to walk around the body, carefully photographing not only the sheet-covered corpse, but the wineglass, Charlotte’s desk, and just about everything else in the room. A full ten minutes passed before he finally announced that he was finished.
“Now what?” said George as Blake handed his phone back.
“Who has a key to this room?”
“Charlotte,” said Miguel. “She’s the only one with a key. It’s probably in her pocket.”
“Perfect,” said Blake. “Everybody out. We’ll lock the door behind us, and it’ll stay that way until the sheriff gets here.”
“And then what?” said George. “We just go back to bed? With her body just laying there?”
“No, we can all go to the dining room. We’ll wait there until the radio is fixed. That way, we can keep an eye on each other and make sure nobody comes back here and messes with the body. I don’t want anybody coming anywhere near this room.”
“Makes sense,” said George. “Can we get dressed first?”
“Go ahead. If there’s anything in your rooms that you need, y’all better get it now.”
I hated to admit it, but I was actually in agreement with him. Blake clearly didn’t know as much about forensics as he pretended, but he was on the right track, clearing out that room and locking it. His domineering attitude was a little grating, but I couldn’t think of any reason to argue, and it didn’t look like anyone else wanted to, either. That was fine. It made our job that much easier, and Tanja and I didn’t have to run the risk of anyone accusing us.
We all filed out of the room and Blake locked it behind us. We watched him test the handle to make sure the lock held, and then went to our separate suites to change clothes. Ten minutes later, we were all gathering downstairs. On our way through the lobby, Tanja and I checked in with Angus, who was still fussing with the CB radio.
“Any luck?” I said as we approached the front counter. He gave us a sour look.
“I don’t think the radio is broken,” he said. “It’s the antenna. It must have blown over in the storm.”
“Can it be fixed?” said Tanja.
“Sure. All we have to do is climb up on the roof. Any volunteers?”
A gust of wind hit the wall next to us and seemed to shake the entire building. The rain was coming down in torrents, and a quick glance outside showed that runoff streams had formed along the slope behind the building. If it got much worse, we might have to start worrying about a mudslide.
“Didn’t think so,” Angus said with a wry grin. “So what now? We can’t contact the sheriff until we can get up on the roof.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Even if we could, I doubt he would be able to get here until this storm passes. Driving that Jeep trail tonight would be a suicide mission.”
“Wonderful. So what now? We’re trapped here, stuck in this building with a killer?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t deny it, and there was no way to sugar-coat the truth. Jacob’s death could have been written off as misfortune, but Charlotte’s death clinched it. She had clearly been murde
red. I had a strong suspicion that someone had laced her wine with rat poison. I couldn’t help wondering if Jacob’s autopsy results were going to come back with some sort of poison in his bloodstream as well. If so, I hoped it would be something we could trace to the killer. Otherwise, I didn’t have the slightest idea how we would prove who it was.
“Let’s join the others,” said Tanja. “The best thing we can do is keep an eye on each other while we wait this storm out. It’s safer that way.”
Angus agreed. He joined us, and we proceeded into the dining hall where most of the others were already waiting. The Lincolns had curled up on the sofa by the fireplace with a big feather blanket. Dana, Miguel, and Paul had gathered at the bar. Blake wasn’t there yet, but he arrived a minute later. He stood in the entryway for a few seconds, looking us over, verifying that everyone was there. Once satisfied, he crossed the room and settled into one of the mighty lounge chairs next to the fireplace across from the Lincolns. I noted that he had brought his briefcase along with him. I had to wonder what was so important in there that he couldn’t leave it in his room.
We were mostly quiet after that, speaking in subdued voices, if at all. The lights were low, and the crackling sound of the fireplace was hypnotic. It threatened to lull me to sleep right in that uncomfortable dining chair. Rather than letting that happen, I hobbled over to the bar to start a fresh pot of coffee.
I returned to our table with two steaming mugs a few minutes later. Tanja was grateful, and over the next few minutes, most of the others got up and helped themselves, too. Less than halfway into my cup, I realized I’d better start another pot.
Eventually, Angus helped himself to a glass of whiskey and then ambled over to the piano and began playing something soft and somber. It must have been after two a.m., and the storm was raging outside. Icy rain drove in sheets against the windows; the wind buffeted the walls and shook the trees up and down the hillside. Inside, we were toasty warm and comfortable, but I couldn’t forget that we were sharing the company of a murderer. That made it impossible to let down my guard and relax, even for a moment. If we started drifting off to sleep, there was no telling what the killer might do. I didn’t think he or she would try to kill us all -the logistics of that were nearly impossible- but it wouldn’t surprise me if the killer tried to escape. If that happened, Tanja and I would look quite foolish. If word of it got out, it might even destroy our business.
Tanja sighed and said, “I wish we could just curl up on the rug next to the fireplace. There’s nothing more romantic than that.”
“I’d be all for it, except for one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Somebody in this room is a murderer.”
Her dreamy smile vanished, and she shivered. “I definitely won’t be sleeping now.”
“I don’t think we’re in any danger. If anything, the killer will be looking for a chance to sneak off when no one is paying attention. Whoever it is probably just wants to get out of here.”
Tanja took a sip from her mug and threw a casual glance around the room. “I’ve been trying to figure it out,” she said in a quiet voice. “Which one of them could it be?”
“You’re asking me? I thought you’d have it all figured out by now.”
She snorted, and rolled her eyes at me.
“What about their body language?” I said. “You must have picked up something from one of them.”
“Sort of,” she said into her mug. I narrowed my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
Tanja leaned closer. “Joe, have you ever had the feeling that everyone in the room was lying to you?”
My eyes widened. “Are you saying they’re all in on it?”
“No, it’s just that… I’m getting these mixed signals. Maybe it’s just that they don’t trust me. I can’t be sure. All I know is that everyone here is sending out vibes that they’re hiding something.”
“Great,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “That should make this real easy.”
“Relax. It just means we’ll have to rely on more traditional methods to solve this. We’ll use logic, deductive reasoning. We can do that, can’t we?”
It was my turn to snort. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
Tanja giggled. I took a long look around the room, studying their faces. “I think we can disregard the Lincolns,” I said after a moment’s consideration.
“Why? Do you know something I don’t?”
I shrugged. “Just that they’re in their sixties, they’re comfortably retired, and they don’t appear to have any relationship with Charlotte.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Tanja said. “The Lincolns have been here before, remember? This is their third visit, if I remember right.”
“Good point.”
“Still, I’m inclined to agree with you. Based on the facts we have at the moment, they do seem the least likely suspects.”
“What about the others? Does anybody else stand out?”
“Dana,” she said without hesitation. “We already know she had a problem with Jacob, and remember the way she acted last night when Charlotte announced the sale?”
“You’re right,” I said. “She was furious about Charlotte selling the place. That means she had motive for both killings.”
“Yes, but there is a problem with that theory.”
“What’s that?”
Tanja leaned forward, tossing her blonde bangs as she gazed into my eyes. “Dana may have had motive to kill Jacob and Charlotte individually, but how is there a connection between those two motives? She didn’t like Jacob personally, and she was angry at Charlotte for selling the place, but she wouldn’t methodically choose to kill them both for different reasons at completely different times. Not unless she was psychotic, and that’s not the case.”
Tanja leaned back, with those beautiful hazel eyes still fixed on me. Despite it being the middle of the night, she was vibrant; energized. She was in her element. It was ironic, considering how the trip had begun.
“Well, if you want to use logic,” I said, “then we have to start with the facts we know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Charlotte was poisoned,” I said.
“Correct.”
“And poisonings are usually done by women.”
“Statistically speaking, yes, usually. That being said, it’s a rare method of murder, and even women are far more likely to use a gun or some other weapon first.”
“Really?”
“Really. Sixty percent of murders committed by women are done using a gun or a knife.”
“Lies and damned lies,” I grumbled. “Let me put it like this: If the victim was poisoned, does that make the likely killer a male, or a female?”
“A female, I suppose. Statistic-”
I hushed her with a wave of my hand. “So that really only leaves us with two suspects, doesn’t it?”
Tanja glanced at the Lincolns, who were still reclining on the sofa next to the fire. She shook her head. “No, we already dismissed the Lincolns for good reason. I doubt Nancy has it in her to kill someone, much less two someones. And George wouldn’t be much help. I suppose the two of them could have pulled this off together, but the whole idea is pretty far-fetched. They wouldn’t be my first suspects. Or second, either. They don’t even live in this state.”
“Fine. That means Dana. Consider this: If it turns out that Jacob was poisoned, too, then that would explain the broken chair. He could have fallen down after drinking the poison. Remember the empty vodka bottle?”
“True, but if Jacob died in his house, that means the killer must have dragged him to the cliffs. Could Dana have done that without any help?”
We both turned our heads to look at her. She was sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, engrossed in a fashion magazine.
“I don’t think so,” I admitted. “If she did, we would have seen marks on the ground outside the lighthouse.”
Tanja t
apped her nails against the side of her coffee mug. “I suppose Jacob could have wandered off the cliff after being poisoned. He might have been in a confused state of mind.”
“Or, she could have had an accomplice.”
“That would make sense.”
“Then it’s a sound theory?”
“I suppose. But again, we still have no motive to connect the two murders. We need to find some connection between Jacob and Charlotte. That’s where we’ll find the motive, and that’s where we’ll prove the killer’s identity.”
I stared at her as I weighed the possibilities. I felt more confused than when we’d started. Did Dana kill one, or possibly both of them? Could she have done it, and why would she? I couldn’t even hazard a guess at that point.
I rose to fill my cup again, and offered to do the same for Tanja. She refused. “I’m pacing myself,” she said. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
I went to the bar. While filling my cup, I looked Dana up and down. She was transfixed by that fashion magazine. The cover article was something about a soap celebrity in rehab. It may as well have been about aliens landing on the moon for all the relevance it had in that place.
I tried to imagine her moving Jacob’s body without help, and I couldn’t do it. She was fit enough, but she was just too small. I couldn’t picture the five-foot-four blonde carrying a two hundred and twenty pound man any distance, much less the thirty yards from the lighthouse to the cliff. On my way back to the table, I considered the others who might have helped her. Chef Melville or Miguel could have helped, I supposed, but I couldn’t imagine either one of those two wanting to kill Charlotte. There was just no motive in it. She was their bread and butter.
And what about Angus? Or Blake? The problem there was that they were both out-of-towners. In Blake’s case, he did have a business relationship with Charlotte, but he was buying her property. How could he possibly benefit by killing her? That left Gerard. I went through the checklist:
Motive for killing Charlotte? Check. That was easy. What about Jacob? Maybe. Anyone who knew Jacob probably wanted to kill him, at some point. Check. But then I was back to the same problem we had with Dana. Two separate motives with no connection. It was just like Tanja had said: there had to be another motive we were missing.
