Reservations for Murder

by Tim Myers

  Alex asked, “What’s so important?”

  “It’s Vernum. I can’t get the man to hold still long enough for me to have one word of conversation with him. You’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

  “Is there a problem with him?” Alex asked. Vernum, an older, rail-thin man with a heavy, flowing shock of white hair and a beard that bushed all around his face, had shown up at Hatteras West the week before, offering to do yard work and landscaping in exchange for one meal a day and a place to sleep. Alex had seen Vernum around Elkton Falls for the past few months, one day sweeping the parking lot at Buck’s Grill and the next unloading trucks at Shantara’s General Store. Sheriff Armstrong had talked to Vernum extensively upon showing up in Elkton Falls and had pronounced him harmless.

  Alex had turned down the offer of landscaping, though he gave the stranger a good meal before he left. Instead of leaving, though, Vernum grabbed a pruning saw from the storage shed near the lighthouse and transformed some gnarled old oak trees Alex had been meaning to convert into firewood into beautifully sculpted showpieces.

  Alex was convinced, and Vernum moved into the shed after refusing to sleep in any of the inn’s empty rooms.

  “There’s no problem with Vernum,” Elise explained. “I just hate the thought of him sleeping on a cot out in the shed.”

  “It’s his choice, Elise. He seems happy out there. I can’t make him come inside.”

  “Would you at least talk to him about it again? He listens to you.”

  “I will if I can find him,” Alex said. He knew there was no point arguing with her. Once Elise made up her mind about something, it was nearly impossible to get her to change it. He had to admit she’d come up with many improvements since she’d arrived at the inn, none more popular than the continental breakfasts they now served every morning.

  As Alex walked the grounds, he marveled at the work Vernum had done in the short time he’d been at Hatteras West. The unofficial arborist had thinned and pruned the stand of oak and hickory trees that had grown up around the lighthouse’s base, transforming the area into a park-like setting, revealing rather than obscuring the stone and brick foundation. Even the copse of trees between the lighthouse and Bear Rocks had never looked so good.

  Alex finally found Vernum thinning the plantings around the inn’s main building.

  “Got a second?” Alex asked.

  Vernum looked startled as he realized Alex was standing so close by. The man never failed to remind Alex of a spooked horse, afraid to stay in one place too long, especially if anyone else was around.

  “What can I do for you?” the man grumbled as he started to move away.

  “Elise is worried about you sleeping out in the shed. Are you sure you don’t want to move into the inn while you’re working here? We’ve got plenty of room right now.”

  Vernum called out over his shoulder, “I’m fine where I am, thanks,” as he disappeared into the copse of trees that led to Bear Rocks.

  Alex didn’t have time to chase him down. He had an inn to run. Peering inside through the glass, he could see the Trask family still gathered around the patriarch’s urn. It was time to finish dusting that desk.

  Hopefully, he hadn’t missed much.

  “Where is that man? Honestly, he shouldn’t be wasting our time like this,” Cynthia said as she looked at her watch for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.

  Steven asked, “Is there somewhere you need to be, Mother? I thought we were all going to be staying the entire week.”

  “We are. That was your father’s last request, and goodness knows, he’ll probably come back and haunt anyone who tries to leave early. It’s hard to imagine this dreadful town was his boyhood home. He never showed any interest in coming back while he was alive, so why in the world did he feel the need to drag us all here against our wills? I just wish we could get this part of the ordeal over with.”

  Ashley said, “Do you think it’s possible he actually left us something valuable? The attorney hinted as much when I spoke with him on the telephone last week. Maybe he still has his stamp collection. That was worth a fortune twenty years ago.”

  Steven said, “I’m not so sure any of us deserve his money or anything else. He was gone a long time. Father carved out a new life for himself.”

  Cynthia said, “Donate your share to the poor if it eases your conscience, Steven. I for one earned every dime coming to me.”

  “We all did,” Ashley said.

  Steven stood abruptly. “It’s getting a little stale in here. I need some fresh air.”

  Ashley snapped, “You’ll just have to get it later, little Brother. Nobody’s going anywhere until this lawyer shows up.”

  Alex watched openly as Steven and Ashley locked glares. The older sister ultimately won as Steven reluctantly slipped back into his seat.

  Alex was so caught up in the exchange between the brother and sister that he was startled when Sheriff Armstrong walked into the inn. Normally, Alex knew it whenever a car approached on the gravel entrance outside. As the sheriff headed straight for Alex, the innkeeper had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was there to deliver bad news. Armstrong didn’t come to Hatteras West on many social calls; something had to have happened to dynamite him off his barstool at Buck’s Grill.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff,” Alex said, trying to act more casual than he felt.

  “Alex, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

  “What is it?” Alex asked as a wave of dread swept over him.

  “It’s your uncle. I’m afraid he’s dead.”