I pulled aside the covers and sat up, slipping my feet into my rubber dock shoes. A peek out the window revealed an overcast sky. Well, that was a blessing. We’d still need sunscreen, but at least we’d escape the worst of the sun’s reflective rays.
I dressed quickly and went into the cabin’s main room to pump water for our morning beverage. I’d wanted to give Maureen some extra time to sleep, but the squeal of the pump and the rush of the water hitting the sink were so loud she was soon at my side, commenting on the proper method for making tea.
“Did you rinse out the mugs with boiling water first?”
I smiled. “I do that at home, but I don’t want to waste any more water here than necessary.” I handed her a mug. “English breakfast this morning. Okay with you?”
“Mmm. My favorite,” she said taking a sip, sinking down onto the bench, and setting her mug on the picnic table. She’d chosen a short-sleeved T-shirt and was tugging at the neckline with one finger, trying to keep the fabric from touching the tender skin on her neck.
I studied her carefully. “How are you feeling this morning?” I asked, noticing that her face was still red and her cheeks were puffy.
“To tell you the truth, Jessica, I feel foolish. I know how easily I can get burned and should’ve been more careful. I’m really embarrassed that I was so excited about fishing that I forgot the basics of redhead skin care. I made a serious mistake.”
“You’re certainly paying the price for not slathering on more sunscreen, but I’m not asking about your mental state,” I said, sipping my own tea.
“As for my physical well-being, to quote my uncle Basil, ‘It ain’t great.’” She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Still hot, and sore, too. Do we have any more of those pills?”
“We do,” I said, pulling down the bottle of ibuprofen I’d left on the shelf and shaking out two for her. “Who’s your uncle Basil? I don’t remember your speaking of him.”
“He was my mother’s brother only no one ever met him. She was forever quoting him, but we thought she simply made him up. ‘According to your uncle Basil,’ she would say, and then invent whatever piece of advice she wanted us to follow.”
“What does your uncle Basil say about your sunburn?”
“He would say that I probably should rest in the shade this morning.”
“Good advice.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I stayed behind in the cabin while you went out with Brian this morning? I should be fine by afternoon.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’ll stay behind with you.”
“Jessica—”
“We’ll let Brian know when he shows up.”
“Jessica—”
“He won’t be surprised. We talked about it last night.”
“Jessica!”
“Yes?”
“I won’t stay back if you insist on staying with me.”
“But I don’t mind, Maureen. I’ve got all week to fish.”
Maureen crossed her arms, then thought better of it and plucked at her shirt. “If you insist on staying with me, you’ll force me to go out fishing with you and Brian this morning, and then I’ll get an even worse sunburn and I’ll tell Mort that it’s all your fault.”
I laughed. “Maureen, really it’s all right.”
“It’s not all right with me. As Uncle Basil would say, you have to take responsibility for your own actions.”
“Well, I agree with that, but what would you do all alone here for hours?”
“I could take a swim. In fact, the idea of cold water on my skin sounds heavenly right now.”
“More reason for me to stay behind, just to make sure you’re safe.”
“If you’re going to worry about me swimming, I can go wading or stay out of the water altogether and take a walk in the woods.”
“I’ve been up here before, but you don’t know these woods. What if the mama bear came back?”
“I can take a nap, read one of your books, just rock on the porch, figure out a wonderful way to prepare perch for lunch.”
“I don’t know, Maureen. I don’t think Mort would like it if I left you here alone.”
“Who was it who told me I was a strong, competent woman?”
“I did.”
“A strong, competent woman doesn’t need the permission of her husband or her good friend and fishing partner.”
“Okay, you win.”
“Then that’s settled. When Brian gets here, we deliver the news that he has one less fisherperson to guide today.”
“One less fisherperson,” I echoed, but I wasn’t a happy camper.
I went into the bunk room, pulled out a few books that I’d brought with me, and laid them on Maureen’s cot. If I could have been sure she would spend her time reading, I’d have felt a lot more confident about leaving her alone. I chided myself for being so uneasy. I had been planning on spending a week all by myself with no “buddy” or partner staying with me, or stopping by to verify my safety. Why was I so concerned with leaving Maureen alone for what might end up being three or four hours at the most?
She lowered herself on the edge of the cot and picked up the books one at a time. “Who do you recommend?” she asked.
“Depends on what you like to read,” I said, pointing to each one in order. “Molly MacRae writes about a haunted yarn shop. This Sheila Connolly book takes place in Ireland. And Mary Kennedy analyzes dreams in her mysteries.”
“That’s going to be a tough choice. But what if I can’t finish it today?”
“If you’re really nice to me, I’ll let you take it home. I also brought my tablet so I can access my books online, that is if we get any Internet service up here.”
We heard a knock on the screen door frame. “Ahoy there. Anybody home?”
“Be right there, Brian,” I called out. I hurried into the main room, Maureen close on my heels.
“Sorry, I’m not Brian,” said a short man standing outside the screen door. “He couldn’t make it today. I’m Hank Thompson, filling in for him. Here’s my guide ID and fishing license, and I believe you ladies are participating in the Cabot Cove Derby Days.”
“But we left our fishing rods in Brian’s boat,” Maureen said.
“Not to worry. I’ve got your gear, the measuring trough, extra flies, a bucket for any nontrout fish you want to keep, everything you need.”
“Do you cook?” Maureen asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We all have to know how to take care of ourselves in the wilderness.”
“Well then, it’s all right,” she said, looking at me.
“Why was Brian unable to make it today?” I asked. “Last night he was pretty sure he would be here this morning.”
“Guess I’m not in the need-to-know category,” Hank replied. “All’s I can tell you is that he sent me up here to take you ladies out.”
“You’re just taking Jessica out this morning,” Maureen said, handing me my fishing hat and a paper bag of fruit she’d readied the prior evening. “I’m taking a well-deserved rest and I’ll join you both this afternoon.” She pushed me toward the door. “Leave me some big rainbows to catch later.”
Maureen stood in the doorway like a mother waving her children off to school. I looked back several times but she shooed me on. “Be a good girl,” she called out, laughing. “Uncle Basil says to have a good time.”
I smiled and waved as Hank steered the boat away from the dock, its bow pointed toward the distant shore. And then we motored around a bend in the lake and Maureen was gone from sight.
Chapter Nine
“Maureen, guess what I caught today?” I called out as I trudged up the path from the dock to the cabin, exhilarated and exhausted from the morning’s fishing.
Hank and I had fought with a large rainbow trout. When we’d hauled up the fish next to the boat
and I’d put our net in the water to scoop it out, the trout had given one last jerk, slipped the hook, and disappeared below the surface.
Talk about the one that got away! That trout had been at least twenty-four inches, maybe as much as six or seven pounds, but, sad to say, I never got to take its picture.
Hank had dropped me off, promising to return at three o’clock for our afternoon session. I’d told him that I couldn’t imagine a more exciting time fishing and that if Maureen still needed rest, I’d skip the final hours of the derby and keep her company until her husband came to pick her up.
“I’m paid up for the day,” he’d said. “I’ll stop by anyway and you can tell me your decision then.”
“Maureen? Wait till you hear this fish tale,” I said, laughing as I climbed the steps of the cabin and opened the screen door.
The main room was empty. I walked into the bunk room. Maureen’s cot was unoccupied, and the bathroom door was open.
“Maureen,” I called out, but there was no answer. I looked around to see if she’d left me a note. There wasn’t one, but the top of the ice chest was resting on the table; the foil-wrapped ice blocks inside were mushy. What did she do with the food that was in there? And there was that smell again, the same odor I’d detected the other day.
Bears?
I hurried out the door, yelling Maureen’s name. There was no response. I circled the cabin, looking for something that might indicate where she’d gone. My bike was still leaning against the log wall, the laundry line was still strung out to a tree, and our bearproof garbage bag hung in the center. But there was no sign of Maureen. I strode down to the water and looked to see if any new bear tracks had joined the previous ones but didn’t see any. I walked out to the end of the dock, cupped my hands around my mouth, and shouted for her. The only answer was the sound of flapping wings and the alarmed calls of a flock of Canada geese as they lifted off the water and flew away.
Back in the cabin, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Maureen’s number. Maybe she’s just out for a walk in the woods and didn’t hear me call her name.
There was silence until the familiar ring indicated that the call had gone through. I sighed in relief. A buzz from the bunk room caught my attention, and I listened to ringing on the other end of my call as I slowly walked to Maureen’s cot. There, peeking out from under her pillow, was her cell phone, vibrating and buzzing quietly until I hung up. I sank down onto her cot and picked up her phone. Why would Maureen take a walk and leave this behind?
A million questions flew through my mind. In my imagination’s efforts to explain her disappearance I pictured an equal number of possible scenarios, some reasonable and some terrifying. I walked back into the main room holding Maureen’s phone and told myself to calm down. There was no reason to believe that Maureen was in danger. So what if she decided to explore the territory and accidentally forgot her cell phone? How many times had I found myself somewhere with my phone either dead or in another handbag? Well, not too often, thankfully, but it was possible.
I dropped her phone in my pocket and began examining the cabin, methodically taking inventory of what she’d brought and what, if anything—other than herself—was missing.
She hadn’t packed her clothing yet. Her waders and fishing vest were hanging from two pegs on the wall in the bunk room. I patted the pockets of the vest and could feel the outline of her wedding band in one, but her tube of sunscreen was missing. That’s a good sign, I told myself. Two out of the three books I’d offered her were stacked on the nightstand. Maybe Maureen took a walk and found a sunny glade in which to read her book and lost track of the time. A good book can do that to you. Look up and it’s hours later and you’ve forgotten to eat or make the calls you’d promised. That was probably what happened. Maureen would come back all excited about the story and full of apologies for being late.
I turned in a circle in the main room, letting my eyes scan all the surfaces. Alice’s “miracle cure” aloe vera lotion was standing on the picnic table. My eyes kept returning to the ice chest. Why would Maureen have forgotten to put the top back on? What food had we left in there? Could bears have made off with anything not canned or secured in plastic containers? Maybe Maureen had been out for a walk and on coming back had interrupted the mama bear raiding our food supply. I was pretty sure that she would have taken off at a run. If you meet a bear on a hiking trail, running away is not the best idea, however. A bear can outrun a human on most days, and climbing a tree would have been useless; bears are better climbers than we are. If I remembered my wilderness instructions correctly, the best thing to do would be to make yourself as tall-looking as possible by raising your hands overhead and waving them, speak calmly while backing away, and keep an eye on the bear so you know what it is about to do.
I looked at the ice chest. Wouldn’t a bear raiding a cooler have knocked it off the picnic table? Even if it didn’t knock it over and simply used its paws to scoop out any food, there would be water on the floor. But the floor was dry and the chest was where we’d left it, even though the top was off. That was peculiar but not necessarily suspicious.
I replaced the top, peered out the screen door, and consulted my watch. Maureen would certainly realize that I should have returned by now. Where was she?
I pulled down a jar of peanut butter and jelly already swirled together. I planned to make two sandwiches. If Maureen was out for a walk, she’d probably be hungry when she got back. Where was that knife? I was sure I’d put it back on the magnetic rack. It was not in the sink, nor on a shelf with the rest of the silverware. I ended up using a spoon to spread the peanut butter and jelly.
I’d give her another half hour before I went out looking for her. Hank, the guide from this morning, was coming back at three and if—I was almost afraid to think about that—if Maureen hadn’t shown up by then, we could alert the authorities. What time was Mort coming to pick her up? Did she ever say? Should I call him now? Or wait? If I called now, I might panic him for no reason. Better to give Maureen a chance to show up.
I ate one sandwich and drank a bottle of water while sitting on the porch, alert for any movement or sound that might indicate Maureen was coming back to the cabin. The woods were surprisingly quiet. Every snap of a twig had me jumping to see what had made the noise, but there were few snaps, and no sign of my friend.
After lunch, I went inside, donned my fishing hat, and wrote a note for Maureen, which I taped to the top of the ice chest: “Please stay here until I get back!” I filled a zipper pack with the other sandwich, two bottles of water, the last two granola bars from an open bag, my pocket emergency kit, and a small LED flashlight. I rummaged in my duffel bag for the auxiliary battery for my phone that David at Charles Department Store had convinced me to buy and added that to the bag. I packed for the worst but trusted that I wouldn’t have to use any of my supplies, except perhaps the water and sandwich.
Outside, I retrieved my bicycle from the side of the cabin, secured my zipper pack to the bike’s basket, and walked down the grassy hill to the dirt road. If Maureen had decided to take a walk and had gotten lost, I hoped that she had the sense to stay put. It’s a lot harder to find someone who’s lost if they keep wandering about. If she had fallen and injured herself, the same held true. STOP was the order of the day, the initials standing for “Sit, Think, Observe, and Plan.” Without her phone, however, she would have a difficult time navigating, and anyone searching for her couldn’t take advantage of the phone’s global positioning application.
The sky was clear; the sun had burned off the morning’s haze, and the rays beat down on my back as I pedaled up the dirt road that followed the shoreline of Moon Lake. I was aiming for Mayor Shevlin’s second cabin. I knew there was an abandoned logging road somewhere along here that led to it; I just wasn’t sure where it was. From the end of our dock we could spot the float that was anchored off his shoreline, but the cabin itself was hid
den in the woods. Even long after the leaves had fallen, the log house was impossible to see thanks to the dense pines that marched down to the water.
A clearing up ahead turned out to be a state-run boat ramp, and I was delighted to see a parked pickup truck and two men wrestling with a motorized rowboat, backing it off its trailer into the shallow water. I hopped off my bike and approached.
“Get that motor up, you gawmy ape, or it’ll get stuck in muck.”
“Ah’m on it, Newt. Don’t get all haired up.”
“Well, stop frigging around. Didja ’member the bait tub?”
“Course I did.”
“That little thing?”
“We’re not goin’ after horsefish here.”
“I tell ya, Pete. We better not run out.”
“If we do, I’ll cut up your cap and put it on the hook. There’s enough hair oil in that thing to catch a bear.”
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
Both men looked up. The one called Pete let go of the back of the boat, which dropped into the lake with a splash, setting off a string of curses from his companion.
“No need for such language, Newt. We got a lady present.”
“I apologize for interrupting,” I said, “but I could use your help.”
Newt pulled off his cap and nodded at me. “Sure thing, ma’am. What d’ya need?”
“A friend was staying with me at a cabin back down the road, and now I can’t find her. I’m afraid she may have taken a walk and gotten lost. Her name is Maureen. I’m just asking you to look out for her.”
“What’s this Maureen look like?”
“She’s about this tall”—I raised my hand to Maureen’s height—“and has red hair. She was wearing a white T-shirt and tan shorts when I left her this morning.”
“Why’d’ja leave her?” Pete asked.
“We’re fishing in the Cabot Cove Derby, but she got a bad sunburn yesterday and was taking the morning off.”
“Yeah? The derby, huh? Yah get any big’uns?”
Murder, She Wrote Page 7
