Mysteries from the Keys : A Collection of Short Stories (9781927899410)

by Cushnie-mansour, Mary M. ; Jamieson, Bethany (EDT); Tanguay, Danielle (EDT)

“Get him out of his meeting; I want to talk to him right now!”

  “I’m afraid he left explicit instructions not to be disturbed, Mr., ah…”

  “Dawson. He told me my cottage would be finished by now, but it seems nowhere near completion. I want to speak to him now!” Mark’s voice rose angrily. The phone went on hold. He tapped his pen on the desk.

  Finally, “Hey there, Mark, sorry about that. I realize we are behind schedule a bit…”

  “Not a bit, Wesley, a whole lot. I need the cottage finished by the end of the month; I’m tired of living in the upstairs of that boarding house! You get your men out there tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s a pretty tall order, Mark.”

  “Well, you’ll be short on the next payment if you don’t get it done!” Mark slammed the receiver down.

  There was something strange about Mark Dawson, something he could not put his finger on. The man didn’t look him straight in the eye—something Wesley had first noticed about him. And then there was the mysterious, untimely death of Mr. Donaldson, and how conveniently Mark had taken over the business. He picked up the phone and called his building foreman.

  story when she heard the whistling. She walked over to her window and was just in time to catch a glimpse of someone stepping up onto her porch. Quickly, she shut off her computer and headed downstairs. She opened the front door just as the young man was about to ring the bell. He jumped back, startled.

  “May I help you?” Caroline asked.

  “I…I…live across the lake there,” he pointed. “Noticed we had a new neighbour so thought to come across and introduce myself.” He stuck his hand out: “Nathan.”

  Caroline did not take his proffered hand. He was scraggly looking, and it appeared as though he’d slept in his clothes. Nathan shoved his hand into his jeans’ pocket and shuffled his feet. He was wearing a worn-out pair of sneakers. “Well, I guess I must have caught you at a bad time,” he said and began to turn away.

  Caroline reconsidered her position. Maybe Nathan could tell her what his grandfather was up to. “I’m sorry for my rudeness—please, have a seat,” she motioned to the Muskoka chairs. “Would you like a drink? I have some pop in the fridge—or wine if you’d prefer.”

  “Pop would be nice. I’m too young to legally drink,” he grinned, putting an emphasis on the word, legally.

  “You look old enough,” Caroline stated, her way of finding out Nathan’s age.

  “Only sixteen.”

  Caroline headed into the cottage and returned a few minutes later with two pops. “How is your grandfather doing?” she asked.

  Nathan looked up at her. Yes, his eyes were an icy grey, just like Mr. Calvin had described, but Caroline did not see them as angry eyes—they had more of a vacant look to them. “He’s okay,” Nathan finally answered. “Miserable as ever, though; something has gotten under his skin. I think it has to do with those two girls they found.”

  Caroline sat up at attention. She swallowed hard. “What two girls?”

  “Well, they were found in the woods just down from my grandfather’s cottage. He said they hadn’t been killed at the same time; looked to have been about a week apart. What really got to my grandfather was that they were both blond and their faces had been severely burned.”

  Caroline dropped her drink. Were these the mysterious events Mr. Calvin had been going to tell her about? Her father had told her the model had not made it out of the house alive, yet the similarity of these two new victims was uncanny. Then again, she had not killed her victims, only kidnapped and drugged them.

  Nathan was handing her the dropped tin of pop. “I didn’t mean to scare you, miss…you didn’t really tell me your name,” he added.

  “Caroline.” Her voice was husky with emotion. “I heard your grandfather retired from the police force?” she added.

  “Yeah, he did, but they call him in for special cases. He told me that he worked a similar set of circumstances a few years ago.” Nathan paused. “How did you know he was a cop?

  “He was a friend of my dad, who used to own this cottage.” Caroline looked away. “I think you better go now. Please don’t tell your grandfather you met me.”

  Nathan looked puzzled.

  “I am the girl that stabbed him.”

  “Oh my God!” Nathan lifted his hand to his mouth.

  “He’d probably prefer not to know I am living here.”

  It was at that point Caroline noticed a change in Nathan’s eyes. They looked angry, almost evil. “Mum’s the word, Caroline. I don’t get along all that well with him anyway.” He got up and walked down the steps, and then turned back to her. “He usually leaves early in the morning and doesn’t come back until after dark. Come over anytime. I get lonely.” He smiled.

  Caroline definitely saw a flicker of evil cross over his face then.

  kitchen. Her nerves were tight. Princess knew enough not to bother her when she was in this mood. “What would Ruth do?” Caroline asked the cat. The phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, is this Caroline?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Mark.”

  “Oh, hello Mark, who was too busy to come and help me out yesterday.”

  “I am really sorry about that; I truly was tied up with a client and to close the deal I had to take him out to lunch. Mr. Calvin looked after you, though, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He was very informative too. He sure knows a lot about what is going on around here.” Caroline paused for effect. “Mentioned you own the new cottage at the beginning of Deerfoot Lane; I wonder why you didn’t say that when I bought this place.”

  “Actually, I was going to surprise you…”

  “And just how were you going to do that, and when?” Caroline spit sarcastically. “And why?” she added.

  “Well, I was going to ask you out for supper on Saturday night and then when I drove you home I was going to stop by the cottage and show it to you. The contractors have been messing around and are way behind schedule, but I think they might step it up now, especially after our little talk this morning.”

  “I see.”

  “So, is it a date?”

  Caroline thought for a moment. He was a good-looking man, even though there was something strangely familiar and disconcerting about him. It would not hurt to spend a pleasant evening with someone of the opposite sex; after all, it had been a while. “Sure,” she finally answered. “What time shall I be ready?”

  “How’s six?”

  “Okay.”

  No sooner had Caroline hung up the phone, it rang again. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Caroline, sorry to bother you; I believe I left one of my tools at the top of the stairs just inside your basement door. Do you think I could swing by and pick it up? You can put it on the porch if you like so I won’t have to bother you.”

  “I’ll do that, Mr. Calvin.”

  Caroline opened the basement door. There on the top stair was a small file. Funny she had not noticed it before. She took the file to the front porch and set it on the top stair. She looked across the lake and detected Nathan looking back at her. He waved. Caroline turned quickly and went into the cottage, shutting and locking the door. She had had enough company for one day.

  Caroline threw a T.V. dinner in the microwave and poured a glass of wine while she was waiting for her meal to finish cooking. Princess was nowhere to be seen at the moment. “Probably upstairs, asleep on my bed,” Caroline mumbled. When the dinner was finished, she took it up to her room and sat down at her computer. Just as she had thought, Princess was on the bed.

  “Well, Ruth, what say you about this turn of events today?” Caroline turned the computer on and went into her story–

  –a story she had started five years ago, but hadn’t finished. She leaned back for a moment, thinking. And then, she began to type…

  Ruth had stumbled across the bodies in the woods just down from Mr. M.’s place. Why had the police let him out? Oh yeah,
not enough evidence, it said in the paper. She took out her cell phone and called 911, and then waited by the bodies until the police came. She did not like the fact that both the girls appeared to have been blond, although, with the one it was hard to tell, her entire head had been burned so badly. It also appeared that they had not died at the same time, one being more decomposed than the other…

  Caroline wrote feverishly for another two hours; her fingers flying over the keys as though they were possessed. Finally, she pushed her chair back from the desk and went downstairs. Princess followed her and ran to her dish. Caroline filled it with kibble and then poured herself another glass of wine. She walked over to the window, which faced the lake, and peered over to Mr. Malcolm’s cottage. There was a light beaming on the front porch, but the inside of the cottage was in darkness. Just as she was about to turn away, she noticed a moving shadow on the lake. She tried to focus. The shadow was headed in the direction of her cottage. For sure it was a boat, but she could not tell whether there were one or two people in it.

  Caroline walked around each room and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. Who would be out on the lake at this time of night? Only a fool would dare, especially without a light to guide their way. The lake was known for rocks and was dangerous in the best of light. She looked around nervously, poured another glass of wine and headed up to her room. It was most likely nothing to worry about—probably just some new, fool cottager that was unaware of the perils in the lake. Well, they would learn soon enough if they hit one of those rocks!

  After turning her computer off, Caroline turned her television on, fluffed the pillows on her bed, and then pulled her comforter up to waist level. She rested her head on the headboard. The ten o’clock news would be starting soon. She sipped on her wine. Princess lay curled on the end of the bed. There was a quiet pause between programs…and then…

  “What was that Princess? Did you hear that?” Caroline jumped out of bed and went to the window. Pulling the curtain across, she gazed out at the lake. “Did you hear that scream?”

  Princess flicked her ears and went back to sleep. Her tail swished a couple of times to show her mistress she was not pleased with having been rudely awakened. Caroline let the curtain drop and crawled back into bed. The news came on. “Probably nothing. I guess I am just jittery with everything going on around here, eh?”

  “Another body was found today. Once again the police will have to wait for forensics to identify the young woman as the face was severely burned. Like the other two, this woman was blond. The body was found by a local police officer who lives on the lake…the body looks to have been there for about three days…

  Caroline turned the television off and buried herself deeper under the covers. Sleep finally overtook her, even though it was a restless one.

  from her bed. She put her housecoat on and went downstairs, looking around nervously as she entered the kitchen. “You need to get hold of yourself, girl,” she whispered to the emptiness. Caroline plugged in the kettle and sat down at the table. She looked over at the calendar. It was Friday. Maybe she would take the canoe over to Mr. Malcolm’s cottage and pay a visit to Nathan. Maybe she could get him to tell her more about the girl that had been found. After all, it was his grandfather who had found her!

  Caroline took her cup of tea upstairs and sat down at her computer. It was too early to pay a call on anyone, so she may as well write more on her novel. “Good morning, Ruth,” she said as the document appeared on the screen. “Whatever are we going to do now? There was another body you know—just like the others. I bet you already knew that though, didn’t you?” Caroline began to type…

  Ruth rushed up the steps of the police station. As the head crime reporter for the paper, the officer in charge was obliged to give her a statement. She went straight to his office. There was a scowl on his face as she entered.

  “I can’t give you anything today, Ruth. We have to keep this under wraps; we don’t want all the cottagers panicking.”

  “They need to know what is going on, especially the women, especially the blond women!” Ruth emphasized.

  “We are following up on some good leads right now and we don’t want to spook whoever is killing these girls. I simply cannot give you any more information. I assure you that…”

  “Yeah, yeah—I know the drill; I’ll be the first to know!” Ruth leaned over the captain’s desk. “Well, I guess I will just have to print my speculations then.” She smiled.

  “Ruth, you know you can’t do that; be reasonable.”

  “I am reasonable—for a blond!” Ruth turned and stomped out of his office…

  Caroline shut the computer off at 8:00, dressed for her trip across the lake, and headed downstairs. She filled Princess’s bowl and then poured herself a bowl of cereal. When she was finished eating, she headed down to the boat house. Princess was watching her, nervously pacing along the windowsill.

  The door to the boat house creaked open. She was happy to see the canoe was still there. She pulled a paddle off the wall and crouched down to undo the rope. It was then that Caroline saw the body!

  It was Mr. Malcolm. His hands were tied behind his back and there was a red gash on his head. It looked like he had bled a great deal, by the size of the puddle of blood beneath him. “Maybe he’s just knocked out,” Caroline muttered as she knelt down and felt for a pulse. The body was cold. She looked around nervously. Finally, Caroline stood and headed to the cottage to call the police.

  An ambulance arrived before the police. They must have placed the call because Caroline hadn’t thought of calling an ambulance. She stood up from the porch step, where she had been waiting, and led the paramedics down to the boat house. Caroline showed them the body.

  One of them felt for a pulse and shook his head. “Better leave the body until the police get here,” he said. “They will want pictures.”

  A police siren broke the morning silence. The cruiser squealed to a stop at the boathouse. Two officers got out, slamming their car doors. “What do we have here?” the male officer asked. “Oh shit!” he added when he saw who was in the canoe. “Got your camera, Sarah?” He turned to Caroline. “You the one who found the body?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Shortly after 8:00. I came down to take the canoe out on the lake.” Caroline thought it best not to mention she had actually been going over to Mr. Malcolm’s cottage to visit his grandson.

  “You live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you not hear anything during the night?” The officer’s voice was harsh.

  “Well, I thought I heard someone scream around 10:00 last night…”

  “And you didn’t think to check it out?”

  “I got up and looked out my window…it was dark…I couldn’t see anything…I wasn’t going to go outside at that time of night, especially with all those girls that have been murdered around here.”

  “You didn’t think to call the police? I mean you heard a scream!”

  “Jason, lighten up,” Sarah walked up with the camera. “She didn’t kill Malcolm; she just found the body, and she found the body because she lives here.” Sarah started snapping pictures of the crime scene. She turned to Caroline. “Did you touch anything?”

  “Just the paddle and the side of the boat,” Caroline answered. “I also felt his neck for a pulse before I called you guys.”

  “You may as well go up to the cottage; we’ll be up to take your statement when we finish here.” Sarah turned to Jason. “Better send someone over to tell Malcolm’s grandson about his grandfather. Nathan is probably still sleeping.”

  Jason walked over to the police car and called the precinct to send a car out to Malcolm’s cottage. As Caroline passed by, she noticed the irritated look on his face. “I know who you are,” he said as he stepped out of the car. “You’re the girl who stabbed Malcolm five years ago. Did you come back to finish the job?”

  “I don’t th
ink I have to answer that!”

  “Well, you will have to later.” Jason turned and walked back to the boat house.

  Once inside the cottage, Caroline poured herself a glass of wine. It was early, but it had already been a long morning. This was a nightmare! She did not want to be alone, but who could she call? She did not have any friends up here. Well, there was Mark—possibly. Maybe, if he were not busy, he would come out and sit with her. And, from the way that officer had spoken to her, she just might need a lawyer. Hopefully, Mark would know a good one. She picked up the phone and dialled the real estate office.

  “Dawson Realty, Sally here; how might I direct your call?”

  “Is Mark in?”

  “No, I am sorry, Mr. Dawson isn’t in. He phoned earlier and said he would be out of town this morning. I don’t expect him until early afternoon. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Tell him Caroline called.” Caroline shut the phone off and then downed her glass of wine. She walked over to the window and peered down at the boat house. The paramedics were lifting Mr. Malcolm’s body onto a gurney. She glanced across the lake. Nathan was sitting on his porch, watching. Caroline let the curtain drop back into place.

  “What are we going to do now, Ruth? It looks like that officer has it in for me. What are we going to do about him?”

  There was a tap on the door and the police walked in. “Where would you like us to sit?” Sarah asked.

  Caroline motioned to the living room chairs. “Here is as good as anywhere; would either of you like some tea? I have a pot on.”

  “Coffee for me,” Jason answered.

  “I don’t have coffee,” Caroline grinned at the thought of not giving Jason what he wanted. She did not like him any more than she had liked Mr. Malcolm.

  Jason drilled Caroline with numerous questions. He had a gut feeling Caroline had killed Malcolm. He had read the file on her from five years ago as soon as he had found out she was the one who had bought the cottage. He had warned Malcolm about her, but Malcolm had just fluffed it off and told him that she had just been a kid then; there was nothing to worry about. Now he was dead; found in her boathouse, by her.