by Nancy CoCo
I made five different kinds of fudge and placed them on trays for boxing. When I was done, it was 7 A.M., and the first rays of sunlight had finally started to creep over the street in streaks of pink. Frances unlocked the front door and came in with Mr. Devaney in tow.
“Is there coffee?” Mr. Devaney asked. He rubbed his hands together to warm them.
“What’s the temperature?” I asked. “Should I start a fire?” I was hot from cooking fudge and working. But it was clear from the red on Frances’s nose that the outside world was cold.
“It’s thirty-five degrees,” Frances said as she unbundled herself from her coat, scarf, and hat to reveal a long denim skirt, sturdy black boots, and a sweater with a black cat on it. Mal jumped up and begged her for pets. “You’ll need to layer up when you take the pup out for her walk.”
“When was the coffee made?” Mr. Devaney asked. He sipped it and made a face.
“Oh, I guess it’s the first batch. I made it at five. I forget to freshen it when we don’t have any guests. I’ll have to start making it later so we can share one batch. When do the construction workers come?”
“They’ll be here at eight,” Mr. Devaney said. “Did you get a look at the floor?”
“I poked my head in last night, but I didn’t take a good look. Do you think we can refinish the wood and skip carpets?”
“I’ll assess it and let you know.” Mr. Devaney gave Frances a kiss on the mouth and went upstairs to the second floor.
I made fresh coffee, and Frances started a fire in the fireplace, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. “Well, we certainly look ready for guests, even if we don’t have any,” I said. I handed Frances a cup of coffee. “What are you going to work on?”
“The new booking system we ordered,” she said. “It came yesterday, and I need to install it and then transfer our files from the old to the new.”
“I know it’s hard to start up new software, but I think that it will be much better come next year. It allows us to have online reservations and put specials on those travel sites when things get slow.”
“I doubt things are going to get slow next year,” Frances said. “You’ve been pretty popular since that reality show. It’s a shame you didn’t win.”
“I’m kind of glad I didn’t. If I had, I would have had to go on a speaking tour, and I’d rather stay on the island.”
Frances went to her desk and studied her screen for a moment, then looked up at me. “Rex was here late last night.”
I felt the heat of a blush race up my cheeks. Perhaps having cameras on the outside of the building wasn’t always a good thing. My private life was pretty public among my team, and there was little that they didn’t know. I shrugged.
“Yes, well. We wanted to make sure neither of us had a concussion.”
“Right,” Frances said with a smile before going back to work.
The doorbells rang as the remodeling crew walked in, in painter pants. They were talking and laughing and pounding their arms because of the cold. Some had Carhartt jackets on, but others wore only a light shirt with their painter’s pants. It was clear the cold had caught a few of the men off guard. “Mr. Devaney’s upstairs.” I pointed the way.
“Is Elmer here yet?”
“Not yet,” I answered.
“Coffee?” One of the young guys looked familiar.
“Over there. Rick Manx, right?” I asked. “Haley’s husband?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you were part of this crew, too.”
“Yeah, I’m good, so Elmer brought me on.”
“This guy’s an expert painter,” one of the other guys said, putting his arm around Rick and pounding his chest. “Glad to have him.”
The doorbells rang to signal the entrance of Elmer Faber. He wiped his feet on the doormat and pulled off his hat. “All right, you motley crew, let’s get to work.” He turned to me. “Morning. Did you have a chance to look at the work so far?”
“I’ll go up with you,” I said. “I was wondering if refinishing the floors instead of laying carpet would be an option.”
“That could work. Refinishing is an option for most places,” he said. “Not sure about that spot by the window that had the chicken blood from the prank those kids did last month. Stuff’s hard to get out.”
“I thought we got it out of the carpet?”
“Maybe the carpet, but it stained all the way through to the floor. We can try to sand it out.”
“Will that work?”
“It depends on the thickness of the floorboards. These are old boards, so they may be able to take a deep sanding.”
“Keep me posted,” I said. “I really think that polishing the original floors could be the way to go.”
“We can coat them a few times with poly to really make them shine, but then you have to be careful with your older guests. They slip on rugs and slick floors.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” I said, biting my bottom lip. “I’ll talk this over with my staff. In the meantime, the walls will be painted and stenciled, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, if that’s still what you want. Most people put up wallpaper.”
“I know,” I said. “Your crew did great work removing the old paper. I’d like to try the paint and stencils, though. I found a photo from the opening of the McMurphy, and the rooms were painted then.”
“Whatever you like—you’re the boss.”
“Thanks,” I said. Mella came strolling out of one of the open rooms being remodeled. I picked her up. “Silly kitty. The second floor is off-limits.” I turned and made my way back down to the lobby when the bells over the front door rang again.
Rex walked into the lobby. My heart picked up. It wasn’t fair, really. He looked like he’d slept eight hours, and he was showered and wearing a freshly pressed uniform. I knew I was a bit rumpled, with my hair put up in a messy bun and my white shirt and black slacks smelling of fudge. In fact, I was a bit sticky. Mella was licking my arm, her tongue like sandpaper. Her fur stuck to me in the places where I hadn’t washed off the hardened sugar. His eyes took in the messy sight of me, and he grinned. “Hi.”
“That kind of look got me into trouble last night,” I said.
“I hope to get you into trouble more often,” he said, walking right up to within an inch of me. Mella rubbed up against him and pawed at his arm, as if to ask him to take her from me.
“What’s up, Rex?” Frances asked, breaking the tension between us as she came down the stairs. “Any news on the bombing at the senior center?”
“Whoever did it set the charges in the roof.”
“What? I thought the bomb was in the box.”
“You were supposed to think that,” he said. “The bomber wanted to incite panic, but then they waited. As soon as they were certain everyone was out of the building, they literally blew the top off of it.”
“Well, that’s still terrible. Did they leave a note or something? Anything to give us a reason why they would do such a thing?”
“We have no motive at this time,” Rex said. He looked at me. “Why did you think bomb when you saw the box?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Frances said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It seemed suspicious, and the first thing that came to mind was bomb!”
“Good thing you’re suspicious,” Frances said.
“I think the bomber was counting on it,” Rex said. “I’d like to see the pictures you and Liz went through from the night of the zombie walk, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” I put Mella down. “They’re up in my office. Do you think the two things are connected?”
“I don’t, but you do,” he said as he walked up the stairs behind me.
I turned to him. “I never said anything.”
“You didn’t have to say. I could see it in your expressive eyes. You thought they were bombing the senior center to threaten people who might give you some clues.”
�
��Maybe you’re right—that would mean they had to know that I was investigating, and only Liz and Frances knew that. Neither of them would have bombed the center.”
Rex gave an inelegant snort. “Honey, whenever there’s a crime on the island, everyone figures you’re investigating. They also all know you don’t hang out at the senior center for the company. The senior gossip line is ground zero for any investigation. I know because that’s what I use when I’m trying to figure out who might have a grudge against whom.”
I turned forward again and resumed climbing the stairs. We passed the second floor, and Rex looked curiously at the group of men working away. “I’m remodeling,” I said.
“I knew you were going to redo the room that the prankster ruined, but I didn’t realize you were redoing the entire floor.”
“Now’s the best time,” I said. “I don’t have guests this week, and next week is also pretty empty. Except for Friday and Saturday, and the guys won’t work those days.”
“It’s nice you’re adding to the local economy.”
“It needed to be done.” We made it to the fourth floor and walked into my office. Mal barked and ran across the room, flinging herself at Rex. He picked her up and rubbed under her chin. “I see you have more than one fan,” I said.
“Are you a fan?”
“I was referring to my dog and my cat,” I teased, walking into the office. The pictures were in a packet on the top of the desk. “Here are the photos I printed off. Liz will have a fit if you take them into evidence, though.”
“There’s nothing to take into evidence,” he said as he put Mal down and went through the pictures quickly. “I can see why you think it might have been a case of mistaken identity. These two guys have the same build and the same jacket. The killer could have been nervous. The alley was dark. He might have taken his opportunity and left in a hurry without checking that he had the right person.”
“Except we didn’t find the murder weapon,” I pointed out. “So they had enough forethought to take it with them and get rid of it. Did you look in all the garbage bins along the alley?”
“Of course. My guys thoroughly combed the area, and no weapon was found. Most likely, the killer took it out into the street with them. It was a zombie walk, after all. A bloody weapon wouldn’t have been paid any attention.”
“It sounds like it was premeditated,” I said. “The killer had to have been planning it to pick that night.”
“I agree,” he said. “But we still haven’t found a motive yet.” He pulled a photo out of the group. “I’m going to take this one and send it to a friend who’s good with pictures. Maybe he can help us figure out who the other guy is.”
“Oh! After the chaos of yesterday, I completely forgot,” I said. “Before the bomb, I was talking to Ethel Thigbee. She said that this other guy was Josh Spalding. I can’t be sure, though. She said she recognized him by his butt.” I blushed.
Rex, frowning, moved right past that last detail. “Is that what you intended to do at the senior center? To ask seniors if they could identify the other man in these pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Who knew that?”
“Liz did, of course, and a few of the seniors who thought I should investigate. I have no idea who they might have told.” I studied his handsome face. His expression was cool. “You think it could be connected, then? That the killer knew what I was going to do and bombed the place?”
Rex sighed. “Could be. Either way, those bombs took time to place. How long did you have those pictures?”
“Only since the night before. Liz and I looked at them the day before that, though. Did anyone see a person on a ladder at the senior center? It took a ladder to get the explosives up there, right?”
“I’ve asked that question myself. Most of the seniors were pretty shaken up by the bomb and don’t have a clear memory of that day or the day before. Officer Brown is chasing that angle, but he hasn’t had much luck.”
“I’d like to go back to the senior center,” I said.
“Why? It’s a pile of rubble. Once the fire chief releases the scene, we’ve got volunteers set to come and haul the busted piles away. It will be next summer before we can build a new center.”
“Then I’ll have the seniors come to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ll volunteer the McMurphy’s lobby for the senior activities. Most of them are leaving for the winter months. It won’t be crowded, and I will get some use out of the McMurphy in the off-season. Other than the Christmas tourists and the snowmobiling enthusiasts, of course.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rex asked. “You are in the middle of renovating, after all.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Frances said from the doorway. “I was going to ask you if we could do that.”
“I’m all for it,” I said. “Why don’t you go tell Mrs. Tunisian and Mrs. Anderson to spread the word? I’ll have boxed lunches a few days each week. We can put up card tables and have artists come in to do different crafts.”
“It’s a plan,” Frances said.
“Is that why you came up?” I asked her when she stayed in the doorway.
“Oh, actually no. Brenda Baker is downstairs. She says she might know something about the bombing.”
“I’ll head right down.”
“Wait,” Rex said after Frances had left. “Why would she come to you with information, and not go to the police”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe I feel safer.”
“Are you saying the police aren’t safe?”
I leaned closer toward him. “I think you’re pretty dangerous, myself.”
That comment took him off guard, and he grinned.
“But, in all seriousness, most people seem to find it easier to share gossip with me. You need facts and proof, right?”
“Right.”
“Then I’ll gather gossip until we have facts and proof.”
“Just be careful, Allie.”
“I’m always careful,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I turned to my puppy. “Come on, Mal. Let’s go down and greet our new guest.”
Brenda was short, with long brown hair and a pixie face. She had large green eyes that looked at me expectantly.
“Hello,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Allie McMurphy.”
“Hi, Allie, I’m Brenda.” She shook my hand. “I stopped by because I heard from my grandmother that you were there for the senior center bombing.”
“Yes, I was. So was Rex—er, Officer Manning, I mean,” I said, awkwardly pointing behind me toward Rex.
“Rex Manning,” he said, extending his hand as well.
Brenda shook his hand. “Thank you for helping to save my grandmother and the others from the bombing. It’s horrible that someone did that. What were they thinking?”
I put Mal down. She went to Brenda and jumped up, begging for attention. “Why don’t you come and sit? Can I get you a coffee or a cocoa?”
“Coffee will be fine,” she said, sitting down in one of the flowered, wingback chairs.
“I’ve got to be on my way,” Rex said. “Allie, we’ll talk later?” I nodded and tried not to blush. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Baker.”
We both watched as Rex left. There was something about the way he moved that exuded power and control. I turned and poured two coffees. “Cream or sugar?”
“Cream, please.”
I added half-and-half to both mugs and carefully brought them over to the chairs, where I sat down across from her. Mal jumped up on the settee and snuggled in beside me. Mella was already curled up on the back of a third settee sleeping. “How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s okay. A little shaken up, and some bumps and bruises. I was wondering if you had any idea who did this?”
“I don’t,” I said, shaking my head.
“But you’re going to find them, right? I mean, everyone knows you’re good at finding killers.”
“Well—”
“You’re investigating Anthony’s death, right?”
“Yes.” I shifted uncomfortably. “But it’s not official or anything. Rex has his men investigating. They have all the resources to do a good job.”
“But you are looking into it,” she pressed.
“Yes, I promised Maggs I would. In fact, that’s why I was at the senior center. I mean, in addition to supporting Frances and Mr. Devaney in the card tournament.”
“You are so funny,” she said with a slight chuckle.
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head.
“You just said, Frances and Mr. Devaney. She’s Mrs. Devaney now, you know. I think you can call him Douglas. Everyone else does.”
“Do they?” I felt the heat of a blush. “I’m so used to thinking of him as Mr. Devaney, but I guess you’re right. Since Frances is Mrs. Devaney now, it might seem disrespectful to only call him Mr. Devaney. I’ll have to ask them how they feel about that.”
“Feel about what?” Frances asked as she came down the stairs to join us.
“Brenda pointed out that I call you Frances and your husband Mr. Devaney. It’s kind of disrespectful.”
“Oh, I’m sure Douglas wouldn’t mind you calling him by his first name,” Frances said. “And no, it’s not disrespectful. We work for you, dear.”
“Okay,” I said. I settled back in the chair. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Brenda, Frances thought you might have some information for me.”
“I might. I think I know who might have wanted to hurt Anthony,” she said.
“Wow, who? Why?”
Her mouth became a thin line. “I think it was Philip Lemkin.”
“Who?”
“Philip Lemkin has an adventure tours group that comes to Mackinac to run the outer trail and climb Arch Rock.”
“I’ve never heard of him before,” I said. I looked to Frances to confirm his identity. She nodded.
“He’s about Anthony’s age. Didn’t Anthony take one of Philip’s adventure tours?” Frances asked.
“Yes,” Brenda said. “There was some kind of incident during the tour. The two had a disagreement, and Anthony left a bad review for the tour.”