by Tim Myers
She pinched his cheek. “You’re getting cuter every day, young man. Why don’t you have a wife yet? I see you all over town with Sandra Beckett. Anything happening there?”
Alex shrugged, feeling his face redden slightly. Armstrong stepped in and saved him from replying.
“Investigator, we’re on a case. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t harass a potential witness.”
Irene rolled her eyes at her cousin, reminding Alex of a ten-year-old instead of the sixty-year-old woman standing before him. “Ducky, why don’t you lighten up a little.”
It was Armstrong’s turn to redden. The story around town went that, as a toddler, he’d become so attached to a yellow plastic duck that he carried it everywhere with him. The name “Ducky” was obviously one the sheriff hoped the town would forget. Most of them had, with the one glaring exception of Irene.
Alex asked, “What did you find out?”
Irene nodded. “Okay, let’s get down to business. The murder was pretty much what Doctor Drake thought; a thin sharpened wire was jammed into the victim’s neck.” She paused, then said. “With all the traffic you get climbing the steps, it was impossible to pull a legible print off the railing. Sorry I didn’t have any luck. About the only thing out of the ordinary I found up there was a handful of rocks.”
Doc Drake, who seemed to have a real fondness for the beautician, said, “They most likely fell out of the deceased’s pockets. We can’t expect you to find clues when there aren’t any around, now can we? You did good work up there, Irene, don’t let it bother you.”
She offered the physician a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek. Seeing the red brand from her lipstick, Irene took her hankie out and scrubbed the doctor’s face clean. “We can’t have that pretty new nurse thinking things, now can we?”
Irene turned to her cousin. “I’ll be in the car while you men have your chat. Hurry up, Ducky. I’ve got to give Mrs. Anderson a perm in twenty minutes. Career women these days don’t even have time to get their hair done. It’s disgraceful, I’m telling you. After you drop me off, you can go over to the One-Hour Photo lab and develop the pictures I took of the crime scene.”
Alex turned to the sheriff and said, “Any idea when the ambulance is going to get here?” The thought of Reg’s body on the upper balcony was beginning to make Alex nauseous.
“I’ll radio over and see what’s keeping them.” While Armstrong was in the squad car making his call, Drake spoke softly to Alex. “I’ve got the feeling we’ll never find out who did this, or why. The modern world is filled with random acts of violence. The only thing that surprises me is that it took so long to come to our little town here.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t think there was anything random about Reg’s death, Doc, but I agree that Armstrong might never find out who the real killer is.”
Drake said heavily, “Don’t sell Armstrong short. I’ve seen him at work a lot more than you have. He’s got a decent mind, and when he gets to thinking about a murder he doesn’t think about anything else. If anybody has a chance to figure this out, it’s him. Armstrong’s the kind of man who thrives under tense situations. It’s the normal aspects of life he doesn’t handle all that well.”
Alex wondered if the sheriff was as competent as the doctor supposed.
He suddenly knew in his heart that he couldn’t afford to take that chance. Who would knowingly stay at an inn where a murder had recently taken place? And without paying guests, Hatteras West would die as surely as Reg had. Alex had to face the fact that finding the murderer himself was the only way he could save the inn.
Armstrong rejoined them. “There was a big accident up on Route 70, so they’re going to be late. Do you mind if I run Doc and Irene into town, Alex? I’ll be back before the ambulance gets here.”
Alex nodded. “Fine by me.”
As the sheriff walked to his car, he said, “You might want to lock those doors again. “We don’t want anybody wandering upstairs.”
Alex agreed and did as the sheriff asked. After securely locking the doors, he watched in silence as the squad car disappeared from view. As he turned to head back up the path to the main part of the inn, Alex saw movement in one of the bushes planted near the annex’s side porch. By the time he got over to the spot, whoever had been standing there quietly eavesdropping had gone. Alex had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that whoever had murdered Reg Wellington was not going to be satisfied with just one body. He was going to have to do everything he could to be sure the killer didn’t have the opportunity to strike again.
Chapter 5
Just as Alex reached for the knob, one of his guests opened the front door. Joel Grandy looked like everybody’s favorite grandfather, from his portly frame and silver hair to the craggy lines of his face. This was his first visit to Hatteras West, but it hadn’t taken Alex long to get to know the outgoing man. A recent widower, Joel was touring the country in an effort to rediscover himself. He’d told Alex on the first day of his visit that he had spent sixteen months watching cancer slowly, painfully destroy his wife of thirty-four years. When death had finally come for her nine weeks ago, he’d embraced it as a welcome friend, a final relief to her heroic struggle.
At least the man didn’t have money problems added to his personal grief. Joel was wearing an expensive and obviously custom-made suit. Several large diamonds glittered from the gold rings adorning his massive fingers.
His eyes lit up when he spotted Alex. “Just the fellow I’ve been looking for. I understand there’s been a bit of trouble around here.”
Alex’s heart sank. It looked like the news of Reg’s death had already gotten out. Still, it wouldn’t do to assume anything. “Trouble?”
Joel grinned. “That crazy bird Matthews cornered me in the hallway. She said something about the lighthouse being shut down.”
“That’s true enough.”
He could feel Joel’s gaze studying him. “It’s surely not a gas leak. You told me the power supply had been converted to electricity thirty years ago. What’s up? You can tell me, lad.”
Alex knew he couldn’t keep the truth from his guests any longer, not with a murderer possibly still loose on the grounds. “I’m afraid something tragic has happened. Somebody murdered Reg Wellington.”
Joel walked over to one of the porch rockers and sat down heavily. Alex joined him.
The older guest stared at the floorboards for a few moments before speaking again. “Who’d want to kill that old codger? We had a chess game scheduled for tonight after dinner.”
Alex had seen the two men engaged in a heated discussion over a game the night before. They appeared to take their chess seriously, and Alex had been forced to step in to prevent a brawl in the lobby. Could tempers have flared enough to cause murder?
Trying to sound casual, Alex said, “When’s the last time you saw Reg, Joel?”
His guest thought about it a full minute before answering. “He was going to the lighthouse tower two or three hours ago. I happened to be looking out my window and I saw him go inside.”
“And you didn’t see him after that?” Alex asked.
Joel looked at Alex carefully. “I don’t like the direction this conversation is heading. You’re not accusing me of anything are you, Alex?”
Alex bit his lip. If Joel had murdered Reg, he’d needed to be more careful in his questioning. “No, I was just wondering if you might have seen anyone else. You must have been the last person to see him alive.”
“Besides the murderer, you mean.”
Alex nodded in agreement, then said, “I knew Reg for a long time. I just want to be sure that whoever killed him is found.”
The suspicion left Joel’s face, replaced by sympathy. “I’d forgotten about you two being friends. Reg mentioned how much he wished Junior had turned out more like you. To answer your question, no, he was alone when I saw him. It’s a damn shame, that’s what it is.”
The two men sat in silence for a few moments
, then Joel popped out of his chair. The older man did everything with vigor, and Alex suspected that if Joel had committed the murder, he would have acted with more passion, attacking his victim head-on. Stabbing from behind was a sneaky way to murder someone, and Alex had a hard time believing it was a method this particular guest was capable of. But Alex was the first to admit that he’d been wrong before.
Joel said, “Well, you know what they say. Life goes on. I’m heading into town for a bite to eat and some entertainment.”
Surprised by his guest’s sudden shift in mood, Alex
said, “Joel, under the circumstances, I’ll understand if you want to cancel the rest of your stay here.”
Joel said, “Are you shutting the inn down?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that—”
“Alex, my boy, if you’re willing to put up with me, I’m going to hang around a little longer. I’m not afraid of dying.” He winked at Alex. “I’ve got too much going on right now to check out of this lovely inn or of my life.” As he walked out to his late-model Lincoln, Joel added with a wink, “Don’t wait up for me tonight, I just might be late.”
One thing was certain; Joel didn’t seem to be wasting any tears over the death of his new friend. Maybe watching his wife die had taught him to deal with death better than most. Or maybe Joel Grandy wasn’t all he said he was. Alex was still thinking about the older man when Junior walked up the path toward the keeper’s quarters.
Alex would have to break the news to him that someone had jammed a blade into his father’s neck.
Studying the man, he searched for the right words. Junior looked like he’d been outfitted from L. L. Bean’s wilderness catalogue. From his high-top leather boots to his khaki safari hat, he was more suited to explore the great uncharted depths of Africa than the relatively tame Blue Ridge Mountains.
Junior dropped down with a loud sigh in the rocking chair Joel had just vacated. “What a hike! I’ve been gone four hours and I didn’t think I’d ever make it back.”
“You did the loop trail?”
Junior nodded once, emptying the last sip from the canteen clipped onto his belt.
Four hours, for a three-mile hike? “What in the world took you so long?”
Junior looked sheepish. “Don’t tell him,” he gestured to the upstairs room his father had recently occupied, then explained, “I was studying a clump of wilderness off the path, and the sun was so warm ... I... I must have fallen asleep.”
Alex had a hard time believing that. He supposed it was possible Junior could have taken a nap on the trail as he said, but there were no signs that his clothes had been slept in. Alex couldn’t see a speck of dirt or a grass stain anywhere on Junior; the outfit looked brand new.
Alex took a deep breath, then announced somberly, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your father’s dead. I found him at the top of the lighthouse.”
Junior’s face didn’t exactly turn ashen—his complexion was already pasty white, but his eyes did grow large at the news, and he jerked backwards in the chair.
“My God! What happened? Was it his heart? I warned him about climbing those stairs, but he never would listen to me. Mr. Winston, I’m holding you personally responsible for his—”
Alex tried to keep his voice calm as he interrupted. “It’s not what you think. I guess I didn’t make myself clear. Someone murdered your father.”
The news rocked Junior back even farther. Alex worried that the man would topple over in the chair before he managed to steady himself. Junior’s surprise was either sincere or very well rehearsed. “Who...I don’t understand. Do they know who killed him? Why would somebody do that? How did he die?”
Alex chose to answer the latter question first, since he didn’t have a clue as to the who or the why. “It appears that he was stabbed in the back of the neck. The doctor says it’s most likely he didn’t suffer, if that’s any consolation.”
Junior shook his head. “Oh, my Lord. What am I going to tell the board?”
Alex watched the man closely as he said, “I suppose this means you’ll be taking over your father’s duties at the company immediately.”
Junior nodded numbly. “I never wanted it to happen this way.”
He started to get up, then plopped back down heavily. In a shaking voice, Junior asked, “I don’t suppose you have a shot of something around here, do you? I could really use a drink to steady my nerves.”
Alex was ashamed of himself. Instead of playing detective, he should be comforting his guest. It wasn’t his job to separate the innocent from the guilty, but it was up to him to take care of his guests, no matter what his suspicions were. “If you like bourbon, I’ve got some Maker’s Mark in my room. I’ll be right back.”
He left Junior alone on the porch and headed inside. Elise was at the front desk studying the sign-in book. When she saw Alex, she was obviously startled, a little like she’d been caught with her hand deep in the cookie jar.
Elise said, “I hope you don’t mind me looking at the guest registry. I just wanted to see if there were any more rooms to clean. Can you think of anything else I should do around here?”
“I don’t have any secrets from you, Elise. You’re welcome to look at everything and anything here. You could do me a favor, though.”
Elise asked warily, “What’s that?”
“I’ve got a despondent man out front who just lost his father. It’s Reg’s son. His name’s Junior, believe it or not. Could you take him a drink and get him off the front porch? The ambulance should be here any minute, and I don’t want him to have to sit there watching while they cart off his father’s body.”
Elise nodded immediately, a look of sympathy crossing her face. “I’ll take care of it.”
Alex retrieved the bottle, two-thirds full, and handed it to Elise. “Thanks. I appreciate you helping out around here on such short notice.”
“No problem,” she said as she filled a single plastic glass from her housekeeper’s cart, then headed outside to the porch.
Alex watched her walk through the door, then glanced down at the registry. It was turned to the week’s current guests, and Alex felt a tug in his chest when his eyes fell upon Reg’s name.
Elise walked back inside a minute later with Junior in tow, the two of them looking rather chummy.
A moment later Alex saw an unfamiliar car drive up. When a large, heavyset woman somewhere in her forties got out of the red Subaru wagon, he realized that it must be Emma Sturbridge. With only ten rooms split between the two houses, Alex usually had a pretty good idea of who was coming and going each night. In the rush surrounding Reg’s death, her scheduled arrival had completely slipped his mind.
Walking out to meet the handsome woman, Alex introduced himself and asked if she was Mrs. Sturbridge.
She took his hand with a grin. “Emma, please. Business must be bad if the owner himself is greeting visitors. I must say I’m flattered by the attention, though.”
Alex liked the woman immediately. There were deep laugh lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Dressed in brand-new denim jeans and a man’s golf shirt, she exuded an air of delight with the world around her. The smile on her face was genuine and inviting.
Alex said, “I’m not trying to discourage you, but there’s been a murder here today. If you’d like to find other accommodations, I’d be happy to refund your deposit and see if I can find another place for you to stay tonight.”
Emma studied him for a moment before answering. “Alex, I’m from Washington D.C. Something like murder isn’t going to put me off my rockhounding. Have you had any big gem strikes around here lately?”
“Not that I’ve heard. You’re a little far from Hiddenite to be looking for emeralds, aren’t you?”
Emma winked. “I’ve got a theory of my own about the geologic formations around here, so if you’ll put me up, I’m willing to take my chances with your bad guy. Over the years I’ve learned to watch out for myself
.” The smile vanished for a moment. “I lived with Harold Sturbridge for nineteen years, and he never managed to lay a glove on me in all that time.”
Alex took the bag out of Emma’s hands. “In that case, I’m pleased to have you stay with us. Welcome to Hatteras West.”
After they walked inside and picked up Emma’s key, Alex offered to show her to room 8. She grabbed her suitcase out of his hands and said, “Just point me in the general direction, and I’ll find my own way.”
He gestured down the corridor and watched her easy, loping gate as she headed to her room. Emma Sturbridge’s warmth and charm would be a welcome addition to the guest list at Hatteras West.
What was keeping the sheriff? Alex walked out onto the porch and was rewarded with the view of the ambulance driving up, Armstrong right behind them in his squad car. At least they weren’t traveling with their sirens blaring.
Alex walked out to meet them as they parked. Armstrong pointed the attendants toward the lighthouse, and Alex saw they were carrying a lightweight aluminum stretcher between them. A discreet gray blanket was tucked into the frame. They’d be able to cover Reg’s body on the way out.
The sheriff walked over to Alex. “Anybody disturb the body?”
Alex said, “Not that I know of. It’s been—”
One of the attendants yelled from the lighthouse base, “Hey Sheriff, this place is locked. How are we supposed to get inside?”
Armstrong turned to Alex and said, “I need the key, if you don’t mind.”
Alex took the old-fashioned skeleton key off his ring, handed it over, asking, “Is it a good idea to move the body before the state police get here?”
“Alex, I don’t call the State Bureau of Investigation every time something happens in Canawba County. I can handle it myself. Hold on a second, could you? I want to talk to you. I’ll be right back.”
