Four Seasons of Mystery

by Karen MacInerney

  "Charlene," I said. "They were dating for a while, but broke up a few months ago."

  "Why is he here, then?"

  "Hope springs eternal?" I said. No need to mention the details.

  She played with a strand of her hair. "If she broke up with him a few months ago, he must not be too into her."

  "I'm afraid I can't comment. He is handsome, though; you two would make a good match, with your interest in science."

  "What... me?" she said, flushing. "I'd never thought about that."

  The roses in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes made me think otherwise.

  "Worth asking him to dinner," I suggested.

  "Huh. That's a good idea."

  "I'd be happy to make something here, if you like. I can even find a bottle of wine. "

  "Would you?" she asked. "I'll just wait for him to come down, then," she said. "What's for breakfast, anyway?"

  "Migas," I told her.

  "I haven't had those since I visited Austin a few years back." She took a sip of coffee and plugged in her computer. "I'd gain fifty pounds in a year if I had your job."

  "Oh, you work off a lot of it, I promise you," I told her. "I'll go get breakfast started."

  "Thanks," she said, flipping open her computer. I caught a glimpse of the web page she had open as I turned back to the kitchen; it was Alex's Facebook page. She was obviously more interested in him than she'd let on. I hoped he'd be willing to have dinner with her. If nothing else, maybe it would distract him from his pursuit of Charlene.

  It didn't take me long to assemble the migas, a favorite from my home state of Texas that was a delicious mix of eggs, garlic, onion, tortilla chip pieces and just a touch of jalapeño (for northern palates). I was serving it alongside link sausage and a fruit salad made with chopped melon and fresh blueberries I'd picked just yesterday. Even after years of living in Maine, there was still something wonderful about berry picking, and I still made time for it.

  Alex had come down by the time I returned to the dining room with a plate for Georgina.

  "I think I've met you before," she was saying to the handsome photographer, who was standing next to her table. She was leaning toward him, her head tilted at a coquettish angle, a strand of dark hair falling over her cheek. "At the endangered species conference in Denver last year. You told me you always had a thing for brunettes, remember?'

  He glanced at me, and unless I was mistaken, a faint blush colored his cheeks.

  "I meant to ask you yesterday," she continued, "but our paths never crossed."

  "I was busy," he said vaguely.

  "Anyway, I was hoping I'd convince you to come and take some photos for me. I'm submitting an article to Discover Magazine, and having your photos would just make it shine."

  "Photos of what?" he asked as I put the plate down in front of Georgina. She barely noticed; it was obvious that Alex had worked his charms on yet another hapless victim.

  "Lupines," she said, in a breathy voice that made me want to roll my eyes

  "I usually rely more on the fauna side of the nature equation," he said, not convinced.

  "Oh, these are special lupines," she said. "Endangered."

  "Are they?" he asked. "How do you know about them?"

  "I'm a science writer and researcher," she said. "Sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

  "Go ahead," I encouraged him. "I'll bring breakfast out in a minute."

  "Is Charlene going to be here this morning?" he asked. At the mention of my friend's name, a shadow passed over Georgina's face.

  "Who's Charlene?" she asked.

  "His ex-girlfriend," I answered for him, even though I knew Georgina already knew about her. Alex's mouth tightened before opening as if to contradict me, but I kept going. "You two get acquainted; I'm sure you'll find you have a lot in common. I'll be back with your breakfast shortly." And before he could protest, I high-tailed it to the kitchen.

  I'd just returned from delivering breakfast to what I hoped would soon be lovebirds when John came downstairs, smelling of soap and the wonderful woodsy aroma that was uniquely his.

  "Hey, were you doing some gardening yesterday?"

  "No," I said. "Why?"

  "When I opened the curtains, I noticed it looks like someone's been plowing up the bed by the roses," he said.

  I groaned. "The treasure hunters have found us."

  As I spoke, the phone rang. I was about to grab it when I saw the caller ID; it was Gertrude Pickens, the intrepid (and very nosy) reporter from the Daily Mail.

  "Don't answer that!" I warned John as he reached for it.

  "Why?"

  I related the new hidden treasure story that was going around the island. "Matilda dropped off a copy of her diary yesterday. It looks like Margaret did bury it somewhere around here, and she lived here for at least part of the time, so there's a chance we've got a giant ruby somewhere on the property."

  "Wouldn't it belong to her heirs if it was found?"

  "You mean like Murray?"

  "He doesn't really need a ruby, does he?" John mused.

  "No. But I guess it could, if he could prove it belonged to his ancestor," I said. "But if it's on our property, wouldn't it be ours if someone found it?"

  "If people are digging under cover of night, they're probably not going to announce where they found something valuable, are they?" John pointed out.

  "Probably not," I agreed. "Charlene was going to come over with her metal detector, but with Alex here... Speaking of Charlene, she's been getting some nasty poisoned pen letters."

  John's face took on a serious cast. "Any threats?"

  "Not directly, but it's upsetting."

  "Tell her to save them; I want to take a look at them. Maybe we should go over to pick up the detector, and I can take a look at what she's been sent. "

  "I'm hoping Georgina can convince Alex to go take pictures of lupines today so Charlene can come here... I suggested Georgina invite Alex to dinner, too. Maybe that'll keep him from stalking Charlene."

  "Has Charlene considered a restraining order?" he asked.

  "All he's done is leave flowers on her doorstep and propose to her," I said. "Does that qualify?"

  "I doubt it, but I'll look into it," he promised. "I'm headed down to assess the damage, then do a bit of work in my workshop, but I'll take care of the dishes after breakfast, okay?"

  "Sounds like a plan," I said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He gave me a quick kiss and headed out the back door, and once again I thanked my lucky stars that I'd married him.

  I had just finished making a second pot of coffee when the phone rang. It was Charlene.

  "That jerk."

  "What?"

  "Someone left a pile of goat poop on my doorstep. With a nice note calling me a five-letter word starting with 'w.'" She paused for a moment. "And the word wasn't widow. I'll send you a pic."

  My phone buzzed, and a picture of what she had described popped up on the screen, complete with a note, the letters in the same block print as the last one. Again, the 'w' had curved bottoms and a graceful flourish at the top completely at odds with the stark nastiness of the word.

  "Classy," I said. "Any ideas?"

  "Do you think it could be Alex?" she asked.

  "What? I thought he was trying to woo you!"

  "He is, but I think he's mad I'm with someone else," she said.

  "I'm still guessing it might be your earlier letter writer. Could it be Fern? Robert just came into town, after all; maybe she's upset that he's staying with you?"

  "It could be," she said. "She did come down to the store yesterday, come to think of it. She didn't look happy when Robert gave me a hug."

  "On the other hand, if it was Alex, that would explain the person who came in tracking mud at 11:30 last night," I said. "Although maybe it wasn't mud."

  "If I wasn't already over him, I am now," she pronounced, but I still heard that note of doubt in her voice.

  "Where's Robert?" I asked. />
  "In the shower," she said. "He's going to hang out at the store with me, in case Alex decides to come back."

  "You know you're doing the right thing, don't you?" I asked.

  "I guess," she said. "It was a lot of fun to be with him, though."

  "It was, for about 21 days a year," I said.

  She sighed. "So true. He's a fantasy, isn't he?"

  "He is," I confirmed. "Much better to have someone you can share your life with."

  "It's the day-to-day that makes a relationship worthwhile, isn't it?"

  "Having someone who's there for you," I said, thinking of John.

  “I guess you're right. Anyway, I've got to run," she said.

  "Let me know if anything else happens, okay?" I asked.

  "Of course."

  I poured myself another cup of coffee and decided to let Alex and Georgina have a few minutes alone before I headed back into the dining room. As I propped my feet up on the chair across from me, I spied the copied pages Matilda had dropped off the day before. I grabbed them and began leafing through them.

  William returned from a voyage to California, she had written in one entry. He brought me a lovely white spiked flower with a pod that is oddly inflated, like a bladder. It grows next to the sea, so it is possible it might survive the coast here. I will attempt to germinate the seeds, but they are small and I am not hopeful. I read on; between entries about the weather and her missing William, she wrote about her garden and the botanical oddities her husband brought her from around the world. He supplied her with seeds and plants from all his travels, it seemed, both pressed and preserved, from many ports of call. I wondered what had happened to her botanical collection.

  Margaret was a talented writer, and quite a botanist, it seemed. And her husband was happy to bring her all manner of books and specimens from his travels; he apparently pressed the leaves of several unusual specimens, and even brought her back a cactus or two.

  I thought about Charlene and her former beau, Alex. Like them, Margaret and William hadn't spent much time together, but it was obvious from the notes of Margaret's diary that it wasn't by choice; they had a deep and abiding relationship, and although I did not have her letters to him, she referenced them often in her diary.

  As coffee brewed, I turned to a page that mentioned lupines.

  The name, he tells me, is Lupinus, or big-leafed lupine, and it is a tall, regal flower with purple and pink spikes. I look forward to trying them in the meadow below the house, not far from the roses along the path. It resembles a flower I've seen on the island, a legume from the pods and the leaves, but larger. The name is intriguing and I plan to research it.

  My mind whirled as I stood up. Georgina had said the lupines on the island had a different genetic make-up from the ones on the mainland. Could it be because the population was started by Margaret long before the plants were brought to the mainland? Did Cranberry Island have its own Mrs. Rumphius?

  I marked the pages with a slip of paper and headed out to the dining room, hoping Georgina would still be there.

  She wasn't; both she and Alex had vacated the dining room. Since she hadn't asked me to cook dinner, I was guessing her invitation hadn't been accepted—or if it had, they'd decided on the co-op.

  Georgina's laptop was gone, but Alex's camera was still on the table. Which was weird, since he never traveled without the thing; Charlene always used to say he liked the camera more than her. Georgina's breakfast had barely been touched, and there was a fork on the floor, along with some migas, as if it had been knocked there accidentally.

  As I bent down to pick up the fork, I spotted a notebook open on the floor beside Georgina's chair. It was a list of locations, presumably of lupine stands. She must have left it behind accidentally.

  As I picked up the notebook, the name Southwest Harbor jumped out at me.

  Not the name.

  One of the letters in the name.

  My stomach lurched as I hurried out of the dining room into the parlor. There was no sign of them.

  What had happened while I was in the kitchen?

  I raced to the kitchen and threw open the back door, running down to the workshop at top speed. John looked up, startled, when I burst in.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, putting down the chisel he'd been using to transform a chunk of driftwood into a whale.

  "Georgina is the one who was leaving nasty notes for Charlene," I said.

  "How do you know?"

  "I recognized the handwriting in her notebook," I told him. "It matches the letters Charlene got. I think Georgina's obsessed with Alex. I left her in the dining room with Alex, but when I went back, his camera was there but they were gone."

  "He never goes anywhere without his camera," John said.

  "Exactly. I think she may have forced him to go somewhere. They weren't in the dining room or the parlor. I was about to go upstairs, but I came to get you."

  "I'm glad you did," he said. He retrieved a two-by-four from the stack in the corner of the workshop and gave it an experimental swing. "Let's go."

  Together we ran back up to the inn. I showed him the scene in the dining room. "You're right. They left in a hurry," he confirmed.

  "We should check upstairs," I said.

  "That was my thought."

  Together, we hurried up the stairs to the second story. "Which rooms are they in?" he asked in a low voice.

  "She's in the Lupine room," I told him.

  "Of course she is," he said. "Stay behind me," he said, and I was happy to oblige; after all, I wasn't the one carrying the two-by-four.

  As we approached the Lupine Room, I could hear voices.

  "She's not your type," Georgina was saying in a rather whiny tone. "You need someone who's into the same kinds of things you are. When we met, I knew we were meant to be together."

  "I don't even know you," Alex was saying. "Please. Put that away."

  "No," she said. "Now. Tell me what you're looking for in a woman."

  "I... well, someone who isn't threatening me, for starters."

  "I'm not threatening you," she purred. "I'm making sure you notice me."

  "It's working," he said. "Now... can we put that aside, please? I'd like to get closer, but I don't feel comfortable with you holding that."

  John and I exchanged glances. If she was holding a gun on him, breaking down the door wasn't a good idea. John shook his head; we both stayed frozen.

  "Don't you think you can trust me?" she asked.

  "Of course I think I can trust you," Alex said. "It's just... uncomfortable. I don't want to shift and make it go off or something." He was quiet for a moment, then, in a voice like melted chocolate, said, "Georgina. Trust me."

  After a pause during which I held my breath, she relented. "All right," she said. There was a soft clunk—a gun being set on a table?—and then silence for a moment.

  Then I heard Alex say, "Isn't that better?"

  "It is," Georgina said in a simpering voice. "I told you in Denver we'd make a good match. Why didn't you listen?"

  "I was... distracted," he said.

  "What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

  There was a cracking sound from inside the room, then Georgina shrieked, "Alex! No!"

  John tried to turn the knob; the door was locked. He motioned to me to back up, then kicked the door in with one blow.

  Inside, Alex had grabbed the gun and was pointing it at Georgina, who looked like she was about to launch herself at him from the bed. Both turned, startled, as John barreled into the room, two-by-four in hand.

  "It's not what it looks like," Alex said quickly. "She pulled the gun out of her purse at breakfast and forced me to come up here."

  "I know," I said. "We heard through the door."

  "You ruined it," Georgina said to John and me through gritted teeth. Then she turned on Alex. "You said I could trust you. You're a liar, is what you are. A liar. I wish I'd never met you, Alex Van der Berg."

  "The feeling, ma
dam," Alex said as he relinquished the gun to John, "is mutual."

  The mainland police were on the spot within a half hour, and we weren't unhappy to see Georgina go.

  "I can't believe she stalked me here," Alex said as we had a cup of coffee at the inn's kitchen table. He'd retrieved his camera, and kept reaching out to touch it, as if he were afraid it might vanish. "Apparently she's had a mad crush on me since that conference. I got a few e-mails from some woman online, but I just kind of ignored them; I didn't realize it was the same person."

  "You didn't recognize her?"

  "There are a lot of people at conferences," he said, and shivered. "It's weird to think she was stalking me."

  "Speaking of stalking," I commented, "don't you think it might be time to let Charlene go?"

  He blinked. "Stalking? You think I'm stalking her?"

  "She's dating someone else, but you show up on the island, you follow her around, you keep leaving her flowers, and you've asked her to marry her."

  "But she was my girlfriend! That's different!"

  "Do you really want to move to Cranberry Island full-time?"

  "Well... maybe not full-time," he said, his eyes not meeting mine.

  "Let her go," I said.

  "But I love her," he protested.

  "You had her for a year, and you only showed up to see her a few times."

  "I was busy," he said.

  "Let her go," I repeated.

  "I'll think about it," he said, draining his coffee. "I'm going to go shoot some photos while it's still light. Thanks for the coffee—and thanks to you and your husband for helping me out."

  "You're welcome," I said. He left his coffee mug on the table and sauntered out the door, leaving me to wonder what Georgina had seen in him. Other than good looks, there wasn't much there, from what I could see, except for a selfish little boy who hadn't grown up.

  At least Georgina hadn't killed him in the Lupine Room, though.

  Speaking of lupines, I reached again for Georgina's notebook. There were two species names written on the first page: Lupinus polyphyllus and Lupinus perennis. We had a smaller lupine of our own in Texas—Lupinus texensis, the Texas Bluebonnet. Named after...

  "Wolves," I said. "Lupus is Latin for wolf." And the stand of lupines at the inn seemed to have a different origin from the other lupines in the state, which had arrived in the 20th century. I grabbed my phone and headed out the back door toward the stand of lupines on the meadow below the inn, and looked out to the water. Sure enough, there in front of me was Gull Rock.