Anchored Inn

by Karen MacInerney

"He does. And I love you," John said, kissing the top of my head, then giving me a sly grin. "And I might love you even more if you let me have some of that cake when it comes out of the oven. It smells amazing."

  "I will," I promised, "as long as you help me get dinner together."

  "What are we having?"

  "Chicken pot pie," I said, "with leftover roast chicken from the other day. I froze some pie crust a few weeks ago, but I'll need a sous chef to chop veggies."

  "I'm your man," he said. "And those gluten-free folks have no idea what they're missing."

  I laughed. "Thanks for reminding me; I have a recipe for dairy-free pumpkin custard I meant to make. Of course, I have no idea if or when they'll be here to eat it, but I thought it would be good to have in the fridge just in case."

  "Sounds good to me," he said, "and just right for this fall weather. The sky is a perfect blue, and I think the maples are at their peak."

  "They are, aren't they?" I said, glancing out the window at the brilliant red maples against the dark green backdrop of tall spruces and pines.

  I just wished Tania were here on the island to see them.

  13

  Dinner was a cozy affair. I took some pot pie up to Adam; Gwen had finally managed to keep down not just one, but two cups of broth, and her heart rate had dropped enough that it seemed safe to wait for tomorrow's house call.

  "Has it been this bad before?" I asked him as Gwen dozed off.

  "She hasn't been well for a few weeks, but it's the first time it's been this bad," he said. "I'm worried."

  "We'll make sure she's taken care of," I told him. "Do you want to come down and join us for dinner?"

  "I'd rather stay here with her, to be honest," he said. "I brought a copy of Two Years Before the Mast."

  "I'll bring some up for you," I promised. "And if you need another book, you're welcome to pick one from the library downstairs."

  "Thanks!"

  As John chopped vegetables, I told him what Adam had passed on to me upstairs.

  Max and Ellie invited John and me to join them, so we had a very companionable meal in the dining room. The temperature dropped as the sun did, so the warm, rich pot pie, studded with carrots and celery and my secret ingredient, leeks, was perfect with a glass of Pinot Gris Max had picked up on the mainland and kindly shared with us. I had paired the pot pie with salad for a bit of greenery; dessert was warm fudge cake, along with a little of my secret stash of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream, accompanied by coffee.

  "University of Maine," Max said when we reported what the police had found out about Tania's Instagram post. "Not exactly a romantic B&B, is it? Kind of an odd place for a romantic assignation, unless whoever she's with is a student."

  "That's what I thought, too," I said.

  "They've sent a picture and are alerting the local police," John said. "With luck, she'll turn up soon."

  "Unlike that poor girl who disappeared all those years ago," Ellie said. "I heard someone say they arrested someone local."

  "They did," I said, "but I'm not convinced they've got the right person." I looked at John; I'd told him what I'd learned from Adam earlier while we were making dinner.

  "Boston accent. Interesting," he said.

  "Are there a lot of people from Boston on the island?" Max asked.

  "Quite a few, actually," I said. "Particularly in summer."

  "My family did the same thing, only in Snug Harbor," she said. "I spent summers there as a kid; it's still one of my favorite places in the world."

  "I do love Snug Harbor," I said. "It's such a cute town, and it's got lots of potential for a store! If I hadn't moved to Cranberry Island, I might consider starting an inn there; the coastline is gorgeous, and there are so many neat shops!"

  "And tons of gorgeous places to hike," she said, her eyes lighting up for the first time since I'd met her. "I'd love to live there, and have something like you have here."

  "You've been in the book business a long time, it seems," I said.

  "Oh, yes," she said. " I used to help Loretta out with stocking the shelves and running the registers part-time when I got older." She glanced at Ellie. "So I guess I got my start early."

  "You’re a natural," Ellie said.

  "Thanks," Max said, blushing a little bit. "Whether Loretta wants to give the shop up or not, I think I'll offer to help her clean it up; it's in disrepair, or at least it was when I was there last year. I didn't say anything, but the place just hasn't been kept up like it used to be. It was kind of sad, actually."

  "I think you should get in touch with her," Ellie reiterated. "Even if she doesn't want to give up the shop, she might appreciate it if you offered to partner with her, and bring the place back to life. And you could stay at your mom's camp, at least until you found a better place; real estate prices are better in Snug Harbor than Boston.".

  "I never thought I'd say it, but I love having my mother next door, actually."

  "I'm not so sure that would work for us," Max said. "Our relationship has been... well, let's call it tempestuous. But it might be a good call for the short term."

  "Don't rule anything out at this stage," I advised. "You never know what will happen!" As I speared a carrot from my pot pie, the phone rang. I excused myself to pick up; it was Charlene.

  "Thanks for calling earlier; my phone's been wonky. Terrible timing; what if Tania tried to reach me and I couldn't answer?"

  I resisted the urge to ask if she'd heard anything; if she had, she would have told me. "I'm sure she'd leave a message," I told her.

  "What a terrible week this has been," she moaned.

  "Do you want to come over?" I asked. "I've got leftover pot pie and apple cake."

  "I'm not really hungry, but I could use company tonight... do you mind?" she asked.

  "Of course not! Come on over!" I said. "You're welcome to stay the night, too."

  "I'll head out in a few. Thanks, Nat," she told me. "You're the best friend ever."

  I hung up and returned to the dining room, where there was a lively discussion of whale watching expeditions in Snug Harbor.

  "Charlene's on her way," I told them.

  "How's she doing?" Max asked.

  "Stressed," I said. "Worried sick."

  "Of course she is," Max murmured. “Poor thing. Particularly since they found that missing girl from twenty years ago."

  "They sure made that arrest fast."

  "They did," John confirmed, his mouth tugging down at the corner.

  "You don't think they got the right person, though," Max observed. "Why?"

  "I've known Tom almost my whole life," John said. "I think they may have made a mistake."

  "That's rough," Max said.

  As she spoke, the front door opened. A moment later, Brandon and his entourage appeared at the door to the dining room.

  "We're back for dinner," Rebecca announced.

  "You were supposed to let me know by four if you were eating here," I said.

  "It's been a busy day," she said.

  I sighed. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll see what I can do."

  John raised an eyebrow. I shook my head slightly; I'd bill them handsomely, I'd decided.

  As I stood up, John did, too. "No... stay here," I told him. "I've got an idea of what I'll do; you can clean up. Besides, someone needs to keep Charlene company when she gets here."

  "If you change your mind..." he said.

  "I'll come find you," I promised.

  I retreated to the kitchen, already formulating a plan. I had several options on hand intended to meet their dietary requirements, including coconut milk, vegetables, and a container of firm tofu. I scooped rice into the rice cooker, added water, and set it to cook, then grabbed the ingredients for a Thai curry from the fridge.

  As I finished slicing the tofu and set it on a paper towel to drain, Charlene appeared at the door. Not for the first time, I wished my cousin Robert lived on Cranberry Island, not Bangor. They'd been dating long-distance
for a while. It was too bad he was in Australia right now; Charlene was having to make do with phone calls when he had a break between sessions. I knew he wanted nothing more than to be by her side, but the timing was awful.

  "Hi," I said, giving her a hug. She smelled of fall leaves and crisp salt air, but her face was still drawn.

  "Thanks for having me over," she said.

  "I love having you here," I told her, giving her another squeeze. "I have to put together an impromptu dinner for some impolite guests, but John is in the dining room with Max and Ellie; they know you're coming."

  "Impromptu dinner... the multimillionaire?"

  "Yup. You know him, you know."

  "Do I?"

  "Remember Brendan Marksburg?" I asked.

  "Wait... what?" She blinked. "That's him? The kid who set all those fires?"

  "He changed his name, I guess to leave his past behind him."

  "That's crazy! And now he owns like half the world."

  "I know. I want to hear everything you can remember about him," I told her.

  "Why?" Then her eyebrows rose. "You think he might have had something to do with what happened to Mandy?"

  "I don't know, but he was on the island when Steve died, and on the island when Mandy died, too. It's kind of a weird coincidence, don't you think?"

  "It is," she said. "I'll think about it... he was an odd duck."

  "He's not exactly run-of-the-mill now, either," I informed her. "Pot pie is in the oven... help yourself. I'll be in as soon as I can.."

  "How is our lovely Gwen?" Charlene asked as she pulled a plate from the cabinet.

  "She's upstairs with Adam," I told her. "She kept two cups of broth down, so we're not making her go to the emergency room on the mainland tonight."

  Charlene scooped a small portion of pot pie onto her plate, then returned the casserole to the oven. "What's going on with her, anyway?"

  "She's just having a hard time keeping things down, and she's so thin that she can't really afford not to eat."

  "I know," Charlene said. "She's always been a waif."

  My niece was verging on skeletal now, I thought as I chopped up an onion and then reached for a bell pepper. "She's been under so much stress this summer with the Art Guild, I'm wondering if that's not causing the trouble."

  "She needs to get that checked out."

  "We'll make sure she does," I reassured her.

  "Could she be pregnant?" Charlene asked.

  "I don’t think so," I said. "She said they were waiting for the Art Guild to get better established before thinking about having a family."

  "Well, things happen sometimes."

  "That's true," I mused. It would be better than some awful condition, but I wasn't sure they were ready to start a new family yet. And I didn't know how to bring it up; I guessed I'd figure it out with time. "Ah, well. I'll find a way to ask her about it. Now go be social while I get this curry together."

  "You need help?"

  "I'm good," I said.

  I finished chopping the veggies, poured some oil into a pan and let it heat. Once it was shimmering, I tossed in the tofu, letting it turn golden brown before turning it out onto a paper-towel lined plate. Then I added the veggies, sautéing them until they were slightly softened, before adding some of the curry paste I kept on hand and a can of coconut milk. While the curry cooked, I tossed together a quick salad, then drizzled it with some of the Asian dressing I had made a few days earlier; it was a delicious mix of rice wine vinegar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, and a touch of soy, and would be perfect with the curry. When the veggies were cooked and the rice was done, I added the tofu back in. I plated four salads and took them out to the dining room; Ellie, Max and John were busy keeping Charlene distracted. I headed up the stairs to tell Brandon and his entourage that dinner was ready.

  I was about to knock on his door when I realized it was ajar. Someone was talking inside.

  "You never told me you spent time here." It was a woman's voice; it must be Rebecca.

  "It wasn't relevant." Brandon's voice was unmistakable. It did have a bit of Boston in it, and I recalled reading that he'd attended Harvard before dropping out. Could he be the mystery speaker?

  "That man asked if you'd burned down any buildings lately. What the heck is that all about?"

  "Childhood experiments," he said. "And please stop asking questions."

  "Did you know the guy who died, too?" she asked.

  "Again," Brandon said in a flat voice. "Please stop asking questions. I hired you to be my assistant, not my interrogator."

  That seemed to work, since she didn't respond.

  I padded backward down the hall a few steps, then walked back to the door and knocked. "Dinner's ready downstairs," I announced when Rebecca opened the door a few inches. Behind her stood Brandon, his back to the door, staring out at the water, as usual.

  "Thank you," she said politely, but distractedly. There was a small groove between her brows I hadn't seen before; she looked worried. "We'll be down shortly."

  I retreated back downstairs, my curiosity about Brandon inflamed even more. Had he been responsible for what had happened to Mandy all those years ago? And had he killed again, here on the island?

  If so, why?

  Was it because Steve knew he was a killer?

  Again, it didn't make sense; why comb the bottom of the ocean if you knew you'd left a body there?

  I was missing something. I just didn't know what.

  "Hey," I said quietly to Charlene and John as I walked back through the dining room. "Do either of you know if Brandon had anything to do with Mandy way back when?"

  "He had a crush on her," Charlene told me. "He sent her a long poem once, in meter. She thought it was funny."

  I winced at the cruelty of youth.

  "Did she tell him that?" I asked.

  "Oh, yes," Charlene said. "It was horrible."

  I caught John's eye, and I could tell he and I were thinking the same thing.

  Maybe we'd been harboring a murderer under our roof.

  14

  The curry was, if not glowingly received, at least not rejected, and nobody said thank you for the trouble, but since Brandon was not the most appreciative guest, I didn't take it personally. I just mentally added another twenty percent to his bill.

  I had a bit of the curry myself; it was delicious, or at least I thought so, and I looked forward to enjoying some tomorrow for lunch. Once I'd finished wrapping up the leftovers, I cut myself a big slice of moist apple cake and went into the dining room to join John and Charlene, who were still in conversation with Max and Ellie at the table.

  "Did they go back upstairs?" I asked, referring to Brandon, Rebecca and Antoine.

  "About ten minutes ago," John informed me.

  I glanced at the doorway to the parlor. "Do you mind moving to the kitchen? I want to ask questions, but I don't want to risk being overheard."

  "Got it," Max said.

  "I'll put on a pot of coffee."

  "Decaf, please," Charlene said. "I'm having a hard enough time sleeping as it is."

  "I can add a shot of rum to it too if you like,” I offered. "Or whiskey."

  "Oooh, Irish Coffee sounds fabulous," Charlene said.

  "I'll make you one," I offered.

  "Can you make two?" Max asked.

  "Or three?" John added.

  "Irish coffee all around," I promised. "Let's go."

  They all followed me into the buttery yellow kitchen, sitting down at my big farm table.

  "I'll make coffee," John offered. As he ground beans and filled the filter, I retrieved cream from the fridge and reached for the whiskey I kept in a cabinet next to the laundry room.

  "So, did you all remember anything else?" I asked as I assembled cups on the counter.

  "Just that Brandon—Brendan—was desperately in love with Mandy," Charlene said. "He never talked to her, though. He never really talked to any of us. He just walked around the island, picking things
up off the beach, and spent time assembling things in a shed at the house his parents rented."

  "How long before Mandy disappeared did he send the poem?"

  "It was at the beginning of the summer," John said, "if I remember correctly. He'd evidently been thinking about her all year. I can't imagine how long it took him to craft that poem, much less gather the courage to give it to her."

  "It was cruel what she did," Charlene said.

  "What did she do?" I asked.

  "When we were all together, hanging out at the playground by the school and smoking cigarettes Tom had snuck from his parents' house, she sat on one of the swings and read the whole poem to all of us."

  "Was Brandon there?" I asked.

  "No," she said, "but he found out about it. Anytime anyone saw him that whole summer, they asked how his Wonder Witch was doing."

  "Wonder Witch?"

  "The name of the poem was ‘The Wonder Witch is You.’"

  "Ouch," I said.

  "Kids are cruel," Charlene said, grimacing. "I still regret it."

  "Me too," John admitted, wincing a little.

  "And when did Mandy disappear?" I asked.

  "It wasn't long after that," John said. "Maybe a few weeks." His expression was grim. "Maybe he was angry enough that he got rid of her? There isn't much to go on, is there?"

  "Was there anyone else in her life?" I asked as I poured whiskey into each of the glasses.

  "She was always interested in hooking up with one of the rich summer boys," Charlene said. "She was kind of obsessed with the idea of a wealthy Prince Charming coming and sweeping her into a life of luxury. Her parents were teachers, so they couldn't afford to rent a house on the island."

  "The local rich boys didn't seem too interested in fulfilling the fantasy, alas," John said. "There were a couple of them here, but they largely kept to themselves. They all had access to their family's boats, so they spent a lot of time over on Mount Desert Island, trying to sneak into the bars on Bar Harbor. They didn't hang out with us."

  "I remember the time one of them showed off his father's yacht to her," Charlene said. "She was sure he was going to ask her out on it, but he never did. She went on and on about him for weeks."