Claws for Alarm

by Karen MacInerney

  "Well, I'll just start by making beds then," she said, and bolted down the hall, leaving me with a handful of thorny flowers and an unpleasant message to deliver.

  I walked back to the kitchen, confused as to what had just happened. Catherine had been over the moon about Murray since they started dating several months before. And now, all of a sudden, they were taking a "break," she was off on an unofficial date on someone else's yacht, and he was turning up with roses, champagne, and something of a desperate look in his eye. What had happened between them?

  "Where's Catherine?" Murray asked when I got back into the kitchen, holding the flowers gingerly. One of the roses had pricked my thumb.

  "She can't make it today," I told him. "With the inn at capacity, we're swamped."

  For a split second, he looked like someone had let all the air out of him. Then he puffed up his chest. "I should have arranged things first. That's the thing about Catherine; business is important to her," he said. "Besides, I've got a conference call with my accountant this afternoon. Anyway," he went on, swaggering to the door, "tell her to let me know when she's ready to collect on her rain check."

  "Will do," I said as he let himself out the back door. I watched him from the window; as he walked, his shoulders sagged, and as he clambered aboard his sailboat, I saw him look sadly at the inn, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Catherine from one of the windows.

  "What was all that about?" Gwen asked.

  "I don't know," I told her as I pulled a vase from the shelf above the cabinets and filled it with water, then arranged the flowers and washed my hands, making sure to clean the little puncture wound. If Catherine didn't want the flowers, I'd take them; the roses were already perfuming the kitchen with their winey scent. Although it did make me a little sad to look at them.

  "Did Catherine say anything?"

  I took the butter out of the microwave and dumped it into a bowl. "She didn't want to talk about it."

  "Uh-oh," Gwen said. "Think she was swept off her feet by someone else, or is there something else going on?"

  "I have a feeling it's more than just another suitor, somehow. Maybe John can find out."

  "Catherine's a smart cookie; she'll figure things out. I never was overly fond of Murray anyway."

  "I never thought I'd feel sorry for Murray Selfridge," I mused as I set the vase on the table, "but I do."

  "He can take care of himself, Aunt Nat.” Gwen glanced up at the clock. "I can't believe it's almost time for lunch. Think John'll be back in time to help out, or do you need a hand?"

  "I'm making shrimp salad for lunch, and the shrimp is already cooked, so I'm good," I told her. "Besides, I want to finish up these lemon cookies."

  "Are they for the retreat, or us?"

  "Us," I told her as I added sugar to the butter and turned on the mixer, then reached for the eggs. Once the sugar and butter were pale and creamy, I started adding the eggs one by one. "How's the wedding planning going, by the way?"

  "Don't ask.," Gwen groaned. "I've been so slammed trying to get these prints together for the shop and helping out with painting workshops, I haven't even thought about it."

  "Maybe once things settle down in the fall," I suggested. I zested and juiced two lemons, then added the zest and juice to the batter along with a dollop of vanilla.

  "Maybe," Gwen said doubtfully. "I was hoping to get married in the fall, but apparently you're supposed to book things months, if not years, in advance."

  "The church is booked?" I asked.

  "Not the church. The caterers!"

  "We can help with that," I offered as I mixed the dry ingredients into the creamy batter, turning the mixture into a soft dough. The oven had come to temperature and the kitchen smelled of lemon-vanilla deliciousness, mixed with a hint of rose from Murray's flowers.

  "I want you to be a guest, not a caterer, Aunt Nat!"

  "I can do both," I said. "Besides, it would be cheaper... that way, you two could save your money for something else. Like a house." Adam had rented a small house since moving to the island, but I knew they both hoped to buy a place of their own someday.

  "I'll think about it," she said. "After I get these prints taken care of."

  I grinned at her. "To think, your mom was worried you had your head in the clouds."

  "I could use a little more time with my head in the clouds about now!"

  "No kidding," I said, rolling the dough into little balls, lining them up on a baking sheet, and thinking of what I had to do between now and lunchtime. Once I got the cookies in the oven, I'd start on lunch preparations. I smiled at Gwen. "Thanks for all your help this morning. Have fun!"

  "I'm just hoping I'll have a few minutes to sketch!" she said with a grimace before heading out for the day.

  * * *

  The lemon cookies were all iced, and Biscuit and Smudge were eyeing me hungrily when John walked into the kitchen.

  I looked up from the shrimp salad I was putting together; my husband's tanned face was grim. "Any news?" I asked.

  "Homicide for sure," he reported. "But that was pretty obvious. Not a lot of bricks falling out of the sky on Cranberry Island."

  "What was the plastic thing she had in her hand?" I asked.

  "It was a lighter, actually," he said, confirming my suspicion. "And she had a knife in her pocket."

  "What was she doing with a lighter and a knife? Was she planning on lighting the co-op on fire or something?"

  "It's a theory," he said. "Need a hand with anything?"

  "I've got it," I told him. "Your mom is doing the rooms; help yourself to a cookie."

  His green eyes lit up. "Lemon?"

  I nodded. '"Just save a few for Eli. I promised I'd slip him some."

  "I think he's going to need them," he said.

  I chose to ignore the implications of that. "Why do you think she was carrying a lighter? Low-tech flashlight?"

  John shrugged and bit into a cookie. "Maybe she was a closet smoker. These are amazing, by the way. Mind if I have another?"

  "I made a double batch, so there are plenty." As I tore up some kale for the salad Sequoia and Willow had requested, I asked, "The police have any theories?"

  "I think so, unfortunately."

  I winced. "Claudette?"

  "Pauline reported the food fight at the store. And someone mentioned that one of the goats looked injured."

  I sighed. It had been too much to hope that the police wouldn't find out about what had happened at the store—or Pudge. "Have they questioned Claudette?"

  "They were headed to the Whites' house when I left," he said as he filled a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table.

  I ripped the kale with fresh energy, wishing it was Pauline. "Great."

  "Any news here?"

  "Well, the romance between your mom and Murray appears to be on the rocks.” I told him about Murray's appearance that morning... and Catherine's yacht date.

  He groaned and reached for another cookie. "I thought life on an island was supposed to be idyllic and drama-free."

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sequoia burst into the kitchen. "They're fighting on the lawn," she gasped. "Help!"

  6

  I looked at the cats, and then at the shrimp salad. "You go," I told John. "Let me put this in the fridge." John followed Sequoia out to the back lawn; I could hear the yelling from the kitchen. I quickly wrapped up the salad and tucked it into the fridge, out of the cats' reach, then hurried out the back door.

  What greeted me looked like some maniacal version of Twister, only with lots of spandex and multicolored yoga mats. Rainy had Kellie on the ground, one hand gripping the Texan by the hair, and despite Willow's efforts to separate them, it just wasn't happening.

  "I told you to stay away from him, you..." The words that came next would have made a sailor blush.

  "Rainy!" Ravi was wringing his hands—literally—from the sidelines. "There's nothing going on, I promise you!"

  "Right," Rainy
spat. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I know what you two are up to."

  "I'm a married woman!" Kellie gurgled. She couldn't do much else, because Rainy was sitting on her head. Her face looked like a squashed plum.

  "Like that matters," Rainy growled. Kellie turned a deeper shade of purple.

  "Let's break it up," John said in his most authoritative voice. Rainy continued to put the pressure on Kellie, but when John gripped her shoulder, she released her hold, sat up, and burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, and ran to the inn, slamming the door behind her.

  Kellie lay prone for a moment, catching her breath, before propping herself up and adjusting her spandex top. "What is that woman's problem?"

  "I'm guessing she's jealous," Blue suggested in a dry voice.

  "You think?" Kellie asked, looking more than a little bit pleased with herself despite her faux-perplexed expression. Her face was still mauve, and her blond hair was mussed.

  "I'm so sorry that happened," Willow said in a soothing tone. "Are you okay?"

  "My hair's messed up, and I think she tore my top a little," she said, pointing to a microtear in her neon sports bra, "but I think I'll be all right." Her eyes drifted to the hotel. "I don't want to be around her anymore, though." She looked at Ravi, who looked like he was hoping the earth would swallow him up. "No wonder you were thinking of breaking up with her."

  I didn't think it was possible for Ravi to look more mortified, but I was wrong.

  "Would you like to take a break and have some iced tea, or would you prefer to keep going?" I asked Willow, not sure how she wanted to proceed.

  "What kind of tea?" Blue asked.

  "Green, with mint."

  "Lots of catechins," James pronounced. "And fat-burning, too. I want to continue the session, but hydration is important."

  "Iced tea it is, then," I said. I'd made a big batch for the retreat; I was glad I'd prepared. "I'll put the pitchers out in the dining room, along with some snacks."

  "Low-carb?" James asked.

  "I'll have a variety of options," I said politely before heading into the house. "You're welcome to come in; I'll have everything out in about five minutes."

  "I'll help," John volunteered, following me into the kitchen.

  "I thought yoga retreats were supposed to be about relaxation and harmony," I commented as I retrieved the jugs of iced tea from the back of the fridge.

  "I'm not sure everyone here is looking for relaxation and harmony," John replied as he retrieved a few pitchers from a cabinet and filled them with ice. "I get the impression Kellie enjoys a little drama."

  "Where do you think Rainy went?" I asked. I hadn't seen her in the dining room or the parlor.

  "Probably to her room," John said.

  I groaned. "You know this means Ravi's going to try to camp out on the couch again tonight."

  "There's always Kellie's room," he suggested.

  "Isn’t she rooming with Barbara Sue? I can’t keep them all straight."

  "There's always the chance it'll be Barbara Sue who ends up on the couch," he commented.

  "You think?"

  "I've spotted Kellie and Ravi together a few times now. They seem... intimate."

  "That's what Rainy thinks, that's for sure." As John filled the pitchers with tea, I arranged a plate with an assortment of seaweed snacks, fruit, cheese cubes, and rice crackers. My eyes strayed to the cooling cookies. Was carbohydrate withdrawal part of the tension I was feeling at the retreat? "What do you think? Should I put out some cookies?"

  "I thought those were for us! Don't you have anything else hidden in the cupboards?"

  "Stale Cheese Nips," I told him. "And one package of emergency shortbread, but it’s not enough to feed everyone, unfortunately."

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You really think carbohydrates are going to smooth over a love triangle?"

  "Chocolate would be better, but I'm saving the cake for tonight," I said.

  "All right, I guess.” He watched like a hawk as I laid out about half the cookies, and snagged one of the ones I had left. "These are amazing," he repeated through a mouthful of crumbs. "How many are you saving for Eli?"

  "I'll make another batch. I promise."

  "I hope so," he said as I put the cookies and the snacks on a tray.

  "Ready?"

  John grabbed the pitchers, and as we headed toward the dining room, the phone rang. He put down the pitchers and answered it, then mouthed the detective. I sighed and went out into the dining room alone.

  "What are those?" James asked, jabbing a finger at the plate of cookies.

  "They're lemon cookies," I announced. "Dessert tonight is going to be gluten-free. Unfortunately, these aren't... still, I thought it might be nice to have some comfort food. There are rice cakes, too, if you can't have flour."

  "Who would eat rice cakes when you've got these?" Blue asked, reaching for one of the cookies and pouring herself a glass of tea. "Mmm," she groaned. "I feel better already."

  "I need one, too, after that," Kellie said. Her face had returned to a normal color, and she seemed none the worse for wear. She turned to Barbara Sue, and then me. "I still can't believe she did that to me. Should I report her to the police?"

  I gave her a bland smile and didn't remind her that my husband was the island deputy. "I'm sure it will all work out," I said, and drifted back to the kitchen for the tea. As I picked up the pitchers, I glanced at John, who was listening intently to the detective on the other end of the phone and didn't look happy. My heart twisted a little in my chest; had they fingered Claudette? I put the thought aside as best I could and carried the tea into the dining room, where the yoga folks set upon it as if they'd been in the desert for a week.

  "Has anyone seen Rainy?" I asked Willow in a soft voice, once everyone was settled. She had moved out of the dining room to near the front desk, and we took a few more steps until we were out of sight of the other guests.

  She shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into her."

  I had some idea—I'd been cheated on myself—but I drew the line at sitting on someone's head. Besides, if anyone deserved to be squashed, to my mind, it was Ravi; unless Kellie had held him at gunpoint, nobody had forced him into intimate trigger-point-massage time with a spandex-clad Texas belle. "How are you going to manage things during the rest of the retreat?"

  She glanced toward the hallway leading to the guest rooms. "I'm going to have to talk to her, I suppose."

  "It might not be a bad idea. It would be nice to make it through the week without another murder."

  "Another murder?" she asked.

  I grimaced. "I guess you haven't heard."

  "What?"

  "Francine Hodges—the woman who came by last night—was found next to the lobster co-op this morning."

  Willow's eyes grew round, and her delicate nostrils flared. "Murdered? How do they know?"

  "It's hard to hit yourself in the head with a brick."

  "That's horrible. Is it some kind of serial killer?"

  "I doubt it," I told her. "But it might be best to suggest the guests take precautions."

  "Like having a buddy system," she said. "But wait. What if your buddy is the serial killer?"

  So much for the powerful calming effects of yoga. "I doubt the murderer was one of the retreat members," I reassured her. But was I right? There had been an odd change in the air after Francine came to announce her desire to press charges, and she'd left in an awful hurry for someone so intent on pressing charges that she'd trundled all the way to the inn. Had she recognized someone at the retreat?

  Or had someone recognized her?

  "Maybe we tell them to stick to threes," Willow mused, tugging fretfully at one of her dark corkscrew curls.

  "I wouldn't put Rainy, Ravi, and Kellie together," I advised.

  "Probably best not," she agreed. "In fact, I don't think I want to put any of them together. I can't handle much more relationship drama.” Her eyes welled up, and she swiped at them.
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  "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

  "I'm trying to be," she answered through a haze of tears. "James broke up with me a week ago."

  "James?" I asked. "You mean, the James at the retreat?"

  She nodded.

  "Then why on earth is he here?"

  She rolled her eyes. "You've met him. He paid for it, so he sees no point in not getting his money's worth."

  "Oh, Willow. I had no idea... I'm so sorry." And I hadn't. James seemed so health-obsessed and completely self-contained, I couldn't imagine him having a relationship with anyone other than a juicer. "You've been holding up just great."

  "On the outside, anyway. I should be over it.," Willow sniffled. "After all, it's not like he's giving anyone 'trigger-point massages' or anything."

  "Still.” I reached out and squeezed her buff arm, then handed her a Kleenex from the tissue box I kept on the desk. "What happened?"

  She thanked me and dabbed at her eyes. "He said I was interfering with his work and fitness schedule. I think I may be the only woman in the world ever to be dropped for a fitness app." She let out a short, bitter laugh that came out almost as a gurgle.

  "Why don't you let Sequoia take over more of the retreat so you can take care of yourself?" I suggested.

  "I was thinking of doing that, but with the whole Rainy thing, I really can't abandon her that way."

  "I understand. It's your business."

  She nodded and took a deep breath, then wadded up the Kleenex and made her hand into a fist. "It's time for me to put on my big-girl pants." Her eyes crinkled into a smile; with her dark curls and moist eyes, for a moment, she looked more like a teenager than a grown woman.

  "James was an idiot, by the way," I volunteered.

  The crinkles around her eyes deepened, and she ducked her head. "Thanks. And thanks for listening." She took another deep breath, and the professional mask smoothed her features. "I'm going to have to tell everyone about the murder."

  "I'll do it with you."

  "Thanks," she said. "But first, I'd better go talk to Rainy."

  "What are you going to tell her?"

  "That if she pulls anything like that again, she's going to have to leave." Her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted out. "Without full pay."