“I’ll think about it,” she said, and pulled into Chicky’s Auto Shop.
Jake checked his phone, and that’s when she saw the gold ring on his finger. He reached for the door handle.
She wasn’t thinking when she suddenly grabbed his forearm. “Your ring,” she said.
He stared at her hand where it pinched his skin.
She released him, embarrassed by her outburst. “It’s interesting, that’s all,” she said.
“It was my dad’s,” he said.
The blood rushed to her ears. She wasn’t able to speak.
After a short pause, he got out of the car. “Let me know what you decide about the interview.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the lift.” He walked into the repair shop, where Chicky was waiting.
She put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. Her heart beat loudly. She couldn’t stop her body from shaking.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Linnet was about to walk down to the guesthouse to bring Pop up for breakfast when Charlie knocked at the side door. He stood on the stoop dressed in blues, his chief’s hat in his hands. Her father and Charlie had played chess every Sunday morning for as long as Linnet could remember. Charlie had often worn jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and an old fishing hat, but never his police uniform.
“Charlie,” Linnet said, hesitating for a split second, and then stepping aside to let him in. Ian lowered the paper.
“Pop is in his study. I was just about to go and get him.”
“Hang on a second,” Charlie said. His eyes looked tired. “I want to talk to you first.” He glanced at Hank sitting at the table in front of an empty bowl of cereal. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
Ian sprung from his chair. “We’ll leave you two alone.” He motioned to Hank. “Let’s head over to the batting cages for a while.”
Hank shot up from his seat. “I’ll go get my bat,” he said, and rushed out of the room.
Thank you, she mouthed to Ian.
He crossed the kitchen and kissed her cheek. “Fill me in later, okay? I’ll take Hank out the front,” he said, and disappeared to follow their son.
Once they were alone, she motioned for Charlie to sit. She could hear the murmurs of her guests in the next room. They’d migrated to the dining room looking for their promised complimentary meal that came with the weekend package they’d purchased.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked Charlie, putting off dealing with the newlyweds for the moment. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to offer you. Myna went to pick up some pastries. She should be back shortly.”
“Coffee is good,” Charlie said.
She poured him a cup and set it on the table.
“Excuse me,” a male voice said from behind her. She turned to find her young guests standing in the doorway of the kitchen. What was his name? She searched her memory. “Yes, Mick, good morning.” His new wife poked her head out from behind him. “Hello, Emmy,” she said.
“We were wondering what time breakfast would be served,” Mick said, and touched his stomach. “We skipped dinner, and we’re a bit hungry.” Emmy hit his arm, smiling behind his back.
“I imagine you are,” Linnet said. “Breakfast is going to be a little late this morning.” Out of the corner of her eye she caught Charlie shifting his body in the seat in an impatient way. “On second thought,” she said to Mick and Emmy, “there’s a really good diner in town. Breakfast is on me.” She put the coffeepot down and grabbed her purse from the countertop. She pulled a couple of twenty-dollar bills from her wallet and handed them to Mick.
“Are you sure?” Mick asked, taking the money from her hand.
“Of course,” she said. “All you have to do is take a left onto the mountain road and follow it straight to town. If you go right you’ll end up going over the mountain, and you don’t want to do that.” Never mind why, she thought. “Keep going straight through town. At the second stoplight make another left. Murphy’s Diner is on the corner. I apologize for any inconvenience,” she added. “It’s, uh, not a typical weekend around here. I’m sure you can understand.”
Once the newlyweds were gone, she topped off Charlie’s coffee. She’d never had to chase her guests away before, but she didn’t feel as though she had any other choice.
“Why don’t you sit down with me,” Charlie said.
There was something in Charlie’s voice that made her sit on command, the coffeepot still in her hand.
“I got the medical examiner’s report this morning on Professor Coyle. He died of blunt force trauma to the face and head.”
She kept still, but she thought she might’ve gasped. It wasn’t some heart condition or other medical condition that had caused his death. “Could he have tripped and fallen?” It was possible. The ground was uneven along the path and at the edge of the yard where the grass met the woods. Tree roots and rocks jutted from the ground. If a person wasn’t watching where they were walking, they could trip, turn an ankle, become the victim of an unfortunate accident. She’d warned her guests over the years to watch their step not only on the B&B’s property but also around the dam. There was the bird dirt to consider, too. Snow geese eliminated an amazing six to fifteen droppings an hour, and when it was fresh, it was slippery underfoot. Linnet had posted Watch Your Step signs at the path and next to the pier. The town had posted their own signs at the public parking lot and boat launch.
Charlie continued. “We believe someone or something struck his face, the force of which sent him falling backwards and subsequently causing a blow to his head.”
“I don’t understand.” Her mouth was dry, arid.
“The trauma to his face and head caused bleeding into his brain. If he had been taken to the hospital right away, who knows, maybe he would’ve survived. But somehow I don’t think so.”
She was listening, but at the same time she wanted to cover her ears. Why was the truth so hard to hear and a lie so easy to believe? She suddenly needed a drink to wash away the sand that seemed to coat her tongue. The faucet was only a few feet away, but she didn’t move. She stayed seated, composed. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, putting the coffeepot down. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it the entire time.
“I think your dad may know what happened to Professor Coyle. He might’ve been the last person to be with him.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Come on, Charlie. Pop may forget what he had for dinner or where he put his slippers, but he’s not violent or even hostile. He’d never hurt anybody.” Water. She needed a glass of water.
“I’ve known your dad a longtime,” he said. “And I agree with you, but the fact remains he was the last one with the professor. Maybe someone else was with him that night. We just don’t know unless your dad tells us. I need to talk with him again. It’s the only way I can help him.”
“You can’t force him to remember. That’s not how it works.” She wouldn’t look at him.
“We’ve got the entire nation watching what we’re doing right now,” Charlie said. “And once the word gets out this is a homicide investigation people are going to start asking questions.”
“Homicide.” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the word.
“I need for him to try to remember something, anything that will help clear this up. It’s important,” he said, and touched her forearm. His hand was warm. “I promise to go easy on him.”
She pushed back from the table, pulling her arm away, and went to the sink, filling a glass with water. She gulped it down. When she finished drinking, she set the empty glass on the counter and turned around, meeting his gaze. Concern hung on his face, worry filled his eyes.
“Okay,” she said, understanding she didn’t really have a choice. “I’ll go and get him.”
* * *
Linnet stood in the doorway of the dining room. Pop had his back to her, so she wasn’t sure whether or not he knew she was standing there, listening. C
harlie sat opposite him, and every now and again he’d look up from the chess game to glance at her. Thirty minutes in, and he hadn’t asked Pop one single question about Professor Coyle. She’d warned him if her father was having a bad day, he wouldn’t be much help. If he was having a good day there was a chance he’d remember something about that night, something other than the professor failing to take the geese to the university lab. Please, Pop, be having a good day, she thought. Tell us it was somebody else’s fault. Behind her, the side door slammed.
“Linnet,” Myna called. “Where are you?”
Reluctantly, Linnet turned and made her way to the kitchen.
Myna was pulling a box of pastries from a shopping bag along with several bagels and cream cheese. “Sorry I’m late,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” Linnet said, distracted. She was straining to hear what Charlie was saying in the dining room.
“Did you know there’s a group of people passing out flyers about the apocalypse?”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I bumped into Jake in town.”
It wasn’t until she mentioned Jake that Linnet noticed how pale her sister’s face was.
“I saw the ring,” she said. “I asked him about it. He said it was his dad’s.”
Linnet felt as though the ground shifted below her feet. She steadied herself against the countertop. “So what?” she asked.
“I think it’s more than a coincidence.”
“What does any of this have to do with us?”
“It has everything to do with us,” Myna said, her voice pitching high. “What if he had a son? What if Jake is his son?”
Linnet spread her hands flat on the counter. “So what if he is? Who cares? It means nothing to us. Why are you so hell-bent on stirring things up now? We have enough going on around here.” She talked through clenched teeth and pointed to the dining room. “Charlie is in there giving our father the third degree, and you’re concerned about some guy who may or may not be who you think he is.” She knew which buttons to push with her little sister, and she couldn’t stop herself now that she’d started. She hated herself before the words even left her mouth. “Do you think he’s good-looking? Is that what this is about? Is he the next guy on your list of men? What about Ben? Or is that why you came running home, because you broke up with him?”
“What? No.” Myna took a step back. She looked at the floor, shaking her head, cowering away from her.
Myna had never been one to defend herself, and for once Linnet wished her sister would fight back, show some backbone. Myna’s answer to everything was to run away, and Linnet was tired of shouldering all of the weight of this family on her own.
After a long stretch of silence, Myna asked, “What do you mean Charlie is giving Pop the third degree?”
Linnet rubbed her brow. “Professor Coyle’s death was ruled a homicide. And Charlie thinks Pop knows something about it.”
A ruckus came from the dining room. Linnet raced past her sister and found both Pop and Charlie on the floor picking up chess pieces.
“What happened?” she asked. Myna rushed in behind her.
“Nothing,” Charlie said. “Your dad just bumped the board with his arm.”
“It was an accident,” Pop said, and looked up at both Linnet and her sister from where he knelt on the floor.
Myna moved past Linnet, bumping into her arm as she did. She slipped her hand underneath Pop’s elbow. “Let me help you up.”
Linnet stared at Charlie. She knew it was more than Pop simply bumping the chessboard with his arm. When he was frightened or agitated, he acted out. It had been occurring more and more lately. Recently, he’d knocked the microphone out of the news reporter’s hand when he’d kept after him, pressuring him with questions.
She also knew Charlie was aware of the new development in Pop’s recent behavior.
“Accidents happen,” she said.
* * *
Linnet and Ian were sitting on the bench by the dam. The moon was high in the sky. A thousand stars sparkled, winking at them from above. The water rippled in the cool breeze. The fallen geese were gone. Only the faintest scent of death lingered, staining the otherwise fresh air.
She told Ian about Charlie’s visit. It was the first opportunity she’d had in the long day to talk with him alone. The newlyweds had packed and gone.
Ian had remained quiet while she talked, nodding occasionally, rubbing the back of her neck in a soothing way.
“For what it’s worth,” Ian said when she’d finished, “I don’t think Pop would hurt anybody.” He stopped, and she knew what he was thinking without him saying it. No, Pop wouldn’t hurt anyone—not intentionally anyway.
She rested her head against his shoulder and looked out across the water. The waves lapped against the shore. The air buzzed with silence.
In the quiet, her thoughts wandered to her exchange with Myna earlier that morning. Her sister hadn’t mentioned Jake or the ring again, and Linnet hoped she’d heard the last of it.
“Ready to call it a night?” Ian asked after some time had passed. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
They walked hand in hand on the path through the woods and entered the yard. They passed the guesthouse. The small light was on in the back room where Pop slept. She turned to Ian. “I’m just going to check on him,” she said.
“Don’t be too long,” he said, and squeezed her hand before letting her go.
She slipped through the front door, tripping over one of Professor Coyle’s boxes that had been left in the foyer. She flicked on the light, staring at the two boxes containing empty test tubes, clean slides, latex gloves. Pop and Myna had taken the samples out and left the rest of the supplies here. She supposed she should call the university and have someone pick them up.
Then she had a thought. What if Charlie’s men had missed something? What if she could find something to indicate someone else had been with the young professor that night?
“Pop,” she called quietly. She didn’t want to startle him or wake him if he were asleep. When he didn’t answer, she bent over the boxes and looked through them. Nothing looked out of place or suspicious. The light in the foyer spilled into the living room. She poked around, looking for signs someone other than Pop had been here. She spied the empty plate of cookies from the night before but saw nothing to suggest that he’d had company. The only evidence Professor Coyle had been here at all were the boxes from the university.
She picked her way through the living room and poked her head inside the bedroom. Pop was sitting up with his eyes closed, his spectacles crooked on his nose. Carefully, she removed them from his face and laid them on the nightstand in the exact spot where he’d put them every night so he’d know where to find them in the morning. She gently lifted the journal out from under his arm, the page opened to a picture of a snow goose.
Oh, Pop, I miss them, too. She set the journal on the nightstand next to his spectacles. She turned out the light, closing the door softly behind her, wondering how this gentle man who had loved his birds could have possibly done what Charlie suspected.
* * *
A seventeen-year-old Linnet opened the ledger on top of the bed where she’d been lying down. She propped herself on her elbows and poured over the B&B’s books her mother was supposed to have been keeping. Myna was lying next to her in the reverse position, her feet next to Linnet’s head. She was studying for an algebra test, or trying to anyway. She kept whining about how it was stupid to study math when you either knew how to solve the equation or you didn’t. The winter wind blew, rattling the shutters. There were six inches of snow on the ground.
“There’s no bullshitting with numbers,” Myna said. “There’s only one right answer, and that’s why I hate it. I like options.” She kicked her legs, knocking her feet into Linnet’s face.
“Watch it,” Linnet said, and pushed her sister’s feet away. She didn’t like what she was seeing. Her mother had written down names and ph
one numbers, but very little else about the guests and how they’d paid for their rooms. They’d had so few visitors, it was easy to track the money coming in and out, and still her mother failed at keeping basic records.
Myna sighed and slammed her math book shut. She flipped onto her back. “I hate homework,” she said, and stared at the ceiling.
“Look at this.” Linnet sat up and put the book in her lap. Myna pulled herself upright and looked at the page where Linnet was pointing to a list of names, sliding her finger to indicate where the money should’ve been recorded under the credit column. Myna’s long curls draped over Linnet’s arm, mixing in with Linnet’s straight hair, the dark brown matching perfectly together. “There are more here and here.” She turned the page. “And here. But there’s no documentation of whether or not any money was exchanged. And did you notice there’s no mention of that man who’s been coming for the last ten months?” Neither sister knew the man’s name, only his face, but it was clear he wasn’t in the books. It was as though he hadn’t existed, and Linnet imagined that was the point. But he did exist.
He did.
“Where did you find this?” Myna asked.
“I found it in the kitchen drawer.” It wasn’t like she went searching for it. Well, not really. She had a project for a business course she’d added as an elective at the start of the second semester of her senior year in high school. She had to come up with a plan for how she would successfully own and operate a small business. The assignment had excited her. She’d jotted down her ideas on how to improve The Snow Goose, on how to enhance the guests’ experiences so they’d keep coming back year after year. She’d envisioned showing her mother the proposal once she’d put it all together, sitting down with her and her sister to discuss her plans. She hadn’t shared any of this with her sister yet. She’d wanted to surprise them both.
“Besides,” she said to Myna. “If Mom didn’t want anyone to see how the business was doing, she would’ve hid the record book somewhere where no one could find it.”
The Sisters of Blue Mountain Page 14
