Claws for Alarm

by Karen MacInerney

  He scanned the labels. "Unless what's in the bottles is different from the labels, none of these supplements could have resulted in this, but the Klonopin could be an issue. Thanks for getting them."

  "How's she doing?"

  "Same," he reported. "But I found a contusion on the back of her head. She might have hit it on a rock when she fell. They'll want to do a CAT scan, look for signs of internal bleeding."

  Or someone might have hit her, I thought, thinking of what had happened to Francine.

  "I hope they get here soon," I fretted, scanning the blue water.

  As I spoke, there was a thrumming noise. I squinted at the sky.

  "I think they'll be here momentarily," John said as a helicopter made a beeline for the island. Within minutes, it had landed on a knoll nearby and two women jumped out.

  "How's Ravi?" John asked as Sebastian and the paramedics exchanged notes.

  "I think he feels guilty," I told him, reporting what he'd told me about his interlude with Kellie. "He didn't tell me about the Klonopin at first, either. At first, he said he wasn't sure if she was on a prescription and suggested I look in her suitcase. A few minutes later, though, he 'found' the bottle in the night table, and then told me she'd taken one before she walked out."

  "Do you think it's possible he slipped it to her?"

  "That's what I was wondering. The bottle was supposed to be a thirty-day supply, but there aren't very many pills in it."

  "Was he trying to kill her, or just trying to settle her down?"

  "I don't know what he'd have to gain by killing her," I said. "If she does die, he's going to have an awfully heavy conscience, I think."

  We watched as the paramedics loaded her into the copter and made their farewells to Sebastian. As it lifted off, he brushed off his hands and walked over to us.

  "How is she?" I asked as we watched the helicopter speed over to the mainland.

  "We'll see," he said. "Any way to get in touch with her next of kin?"

  "We'll ask Ravi and Willow when we get back," I told him. My heart sank at the thought of the unconscious young woman. I prayed she survived—and that she wasn't incapacitated by a brain injury.

  * * *

  We were just getting back to the inn when a sleek white yacht slid up to the dock.

  "Who's that?" Sebastian asked.

  "My mother's date," John said tersely.

  "We don't know if it's a date," I pointed out feebly. As we watched, a handsome graying man tied up, then leaped lightly to the dock, a bouquet of exotic flowers in his hand. We watched as he knocked at Catherine's door. She opened the door, took the flowers, and disappeared inside, leaving him on the front step.

  "Looks like a date to me," John said.

  A moment later, she emerged and closed the carriage-house door behind her, looking summery and beautiful in a floral fit-and-flare dress and a springy green cardigan.

  "Your mom's a good-looking woman," Sebastian commented. "Great style."

  "I know," John said as the man took her arm and escorted her to the dock. As he helped her aboard, I saw another yacht purring by, a few hundred yards offshore.

  It was Murray's.

  11

  Dinner was strained that night, to say the least.

  "At least we have lobster," John said as we plated one of the pound-and-a-half shellfish Tom had dropped off earlier. I'd kept a few back for the lobster bisque I planned to make later in the week.

  "Too bad we can't give them wine to go with it. Things are a bit tense out there."

  "We do what we can," John said as I added some of my homemade slaw to each plate. "Ready?"

  I finished up the last few plates and nodded. "Showtime."

  Together, we ferried the cooked lobster out to the dining room.

  Sebastian and Gage were huddled together by one of the windows, and on the other side of the room, the Texas trio whispered to one another. Ravi was in a corner, staring at a cell phone, while Sequoia and Willow talked in faux-chipper tones. The only comfortable pair was Virginia and Andrew, who had fallen into an easy companionship.

  "Are weekends always this exciting?" Virginia asked when I set a plate down in front of her.

  I smiled. "No, thank goodness."

  "Ooh, this looks fabulous," she said. "I love fresh lobster; what a treat!"

  "I'm almost more excited about the potatoes," Andrew replied. "Is that real butter on them?"

  "It is. There's plenty more if you need it," I told him. "And flourless chocolate cake for dessert."

  "That sounds amazing. Can I just move here permanently?" Virginia asked.

  I grinned at her. "Why not? I did!"

  She sighed and stole a glance at Andrew, then out at the panoramic view of Mount Desert Island. "Despite everything going on, this has been just magical."

  "It has," Andrew agreed in a tone of voice that made me think they might be on the way to becoming more than friends. At least one romance on the island might be going well, I thought as I retreated to the kitchen for another few plates.

  I had just finished refilling water glasses when the phone rang. It was Charlene.

  "I heard you found another body," she said when I picked up.

  "Not a body... at least I hope not."

  "One of the yoga people, I hear. The whole island's talking about the helicopter. So far, the theories involve a Bigfoot attack, a fall from a cliff, and a lovers' quarrel."

  "Well, they may be part right."

  "Which part? Bigfoot?"

  "Lovers' quarrel," I said. "Although it's looking like it might be an accidental overdose of some antianxiety medication."

  "Poor thing," she said. "Although I totally get it."

  "Maybe," I said. I suddenly realized she hadn't said a word about her own romantic visitor. "Where's Alex, by the way?"

  "Off on a lobster boat, taking pictures," she said in a surly tone of voice.

  "What?"

  "He's shooting the island for a magazine. I'm beginning to wonder if that's the only reason he came."

  "I'm so sorry, Charlene."

  "I should have known it was too good to be true. Maybe I'll just embrace the single life." She paused. "Or move to Portland."

  I gripped the phone. "Portland? Why?"

  "More eligible bachelors," she said. "I figure Tania could take over the store and I could get a job in a bookstore or something."

  Charlene couldn't leave Cranberry Island. What would I do without her? "Why don't you start with an online dating service?" I suggested, trying not to sound desperate. "Maybe focusing on Mount Desert Island? If Alex is willing to fly across the country to be with you, I'm guessing there's no dearth of men on the mainland who'd be happy to take the ferry."

  "Only he didn't fly across the country for me," she pointed out.

  "You don't know that," I reminded her. "And even if that is the case, there are other fish in the sea. Closer ones."

  She sighed. "I'll think about it. But I found two jobs I'm going to apply for. Just to see."

  Maybe I should suggest she list me as a reference. I could say she was a horrible employee who had a thing for flinging potatoes at customers. Even if was Francine who'd been doing the potato-flinging. Don't be selfish, Nat, I chided myself.

  "Come over tonight," I said. "I could use the company."

  "I'm supposed to have dinner with Alex," she said. "But if he doesn’t show by seven, I’m coming over."

  "When is dinner supposed to be?"

  “Who knows? I'm not even sure when he'll be back."

  "I've got flourless chocolate cake that needs eating. It's good for bad moods."

  "You're tempting me."

  "I'll even make Irish coffee if you ask nicely," I offered.

  "All right," she said.

  "I'm here all night," I told her.

  "Lots of cream in the coffee?"

  "As much as you want," I promised.

  * * *

  "I almost forgot to tell you," Charlene said when sh
e'd finished her first piece of cake. Alex had been "running late," and my friend was less than pleased with him. She'd arrived at eight and allowed me to ply her with chocolate and whiskey, both accessorized with lavish amounts of cream. I hadn't been able to talk her out of applying to jobs in Portland yet, but I was hoping the second Irish coffee would help. "Matilda came to the store in a tizzy today."

  "What's going on?"

  "Apparently, her lighthouse museum plans may have been quashed. Ingrid just came over and informed her that the board of selectmen is considering other uses for the building."

  "I knew Francine was pushing for it, but Tom didn't say anything about that going ahead," I replied. "What did she say?"

  "That it's going to be a coffee shop/bookstore," Charlene said. "Which makes no sense at all. Who's going to walk all the way from the pier to the lighthouse?"

  "Apparently, that's not the plan.” I told her what I'd heard about the alternate pier.

  Charlene sat up and waved her fork at me. "That would destroy all the businesses on the main pier!"

  "Unless the merchants moved," I pointed out. "But I'm sure the rent will be exorbitant."

  "How are they going to get people over there?"

  "I don't know yet. Maybe they'll add a ferry stop."

  "Or get rid of the existing one, more likely," she said. "What I want to know is, who's behind this?"

  "Francine, from what I've heard."

  "She can't do much to champion it now, but the damage may have already been done. And Murray, I'm guessing. He's wanted to develop this island since he set foot on it."

  "Maybe when Catherine gets back from her date with the mystery yachter, we can ask."

  "What?"

  I filled Charlene in on what had happened earlier that day.

  "Two bouquets of flowers in one day," Charlene said, looking at the vase of roses and delphiniums on the kitchen table. "Where am I going wrong?"

  "I told you there were eligible bachelors here," I said.

  "Yeah, but Murray Selfridge?" She lifted her Irish coffee to her lips, the door to the back opened, and Catherine swept in, her cheeks pink as roses.

  "We were just talking about you. Irish coffee?" I offered, lifting my glass mug.

  "No, thanks.” She perched on one of the kitchen chairs and touched her hair, which looked rather windblown. "I've already had half a bottle of champagne."

  "How did your outing go?"

  "It was wonderful," Catherine gushed. "Nicholas is such a gentleman. Champagne, lobster, sunset at sea... it was a perfect evening."

  "How do you meet these amazing men?" Charlene asked, eyes wide.

  "They just kind of fall into my lap," Catherine said. "I met Nicholas at a gallery in Northeast Harbor a few weeks back, and well... we just hit it off."

  "Maybe you need to develop your interest in art," I suggested to Charlene.

  "It might be worth considering," Charlene mused. "So," she asked Catherine, "does this mean Murray Selfridge is back on the market?"

  "Does this mean you're interested?" I asked.

  "I don't think he's my type, but I'm just wondering."

  Catherine pursed her lips. "We've been having some differences of opinion," she said primly.

  "Does that difference of opinion have anything to do with the new pier he's thinking about putting in?"

  "Among other things," she said.

  "So what's the skinny?" Charlene asked, pushing a strand of caramel-colored hair out of her eyes. "Did Francine talk him into another big development?"

  "She bought two parcels of land by the lighthouse, and Murray owns the third. She needed him to make the whole thing work. She offered him good terms, and well..." She shrugged an elegant shoulder. "You know Murray."

  "I hear Ingrid and Tom may be on board," Charlene said. "How did they manage that?"

  "They made a nice offer for the lighthouse, and said a portion of the profits will go to the school," Catherine said. "Tom's really concerned about keeping the school viable—he's got kids there—and Ingrid, as you know, is big on island beautification."

  "Don't they have to have an island-wide vote, though, to make it work?"

  She shook her head. "Unfortunately, they don't. What they'll need to do, though, is figure out how to get people from the mainland here. So far, George hasn't been too amenable to the idea." George McLeod was the captain of the Island Queen, the mail boat that provided transportation to and from Cranberry Island. "Personally, I think it's a terrible idea, but I have to admit, it could be good for your business, Natalie," she said. "Although I'm sure they're planning on building accommodations near the lighthouse."

  "A second pier would completely change the island," Charlene said.

  "It would," Catherine said. "And not for the better." She sniffed. "Which is why I told Murray if he agreed to go along with it, I wouldn't date him anymore."

  "You what?" I asked.

  "You heard me," she said. "I'm standing on principle. Plus," she added, "there are a few other things I'm not crazy about."

  There were a lot of things I wasn't crazy about when it came to Murray. I was curious what her list looked like.

  "What did he say?" Charlene asked. "He's totally smitten with you!"

  "He said I'll come around," she told me. "I said I would... but only if he didn't go along with this harebrained idea of his."

  "Good for you!" I told her.

  "I don't think he believed me," she said. "In fact, that's part of the problem. Lately, he's been a bit... callous, I guess. That's why I was okay with the date with Nicholas." She played with the pearls at her graceful throat, and her eyes took on a misty appearance. "But we did have a really magical time together..."

  Nicholas certainly was better-looking than Murray, I thought. And his personality could hardly help but be better. "When are they deciding on the pier?" I asked, bringing Catherine back from whatever romantic yachting fantasy she'd embarked on.

  "The vote is in a few days," she said. "Although I don't know what's going to happen now that Francine has... passed. They might have to delay the vote."

  I sipped at my own Irish coffee. "Who has the say now? I wonder. Gus?"

  "If they were married for forty years, I imagine so," Catherine said. "It may take some time to get everything through probate, though, depending on whose name is on the deed."

  "Maybe we could get it designated a historical site," I mused.

  "The lighthouse?"

  "It does have the underground railroad history," I pointed out. We'd discovered during the initial renovation a few years back that the lighthouse had been a waypoint for escaped slaves.

  "It's worth thinking about," Charlene said, "but right now, I'm a little more worried about the fact that we seem to have another murderer on the island." She took another sip of her coffee. "Have you heard anything about Rainy?"

  "Why would I hear anything about Rainy?" Catherine asked.

  "Oh, that's right... you weren't here! She's one of the yoga folks. John and I found her unconscious out on the cliffs."

  "Do you think the same person who... well, who did in that annoying woman went after one of the guests?"

  "She was having some... er... personal problems," I said delicately.

  "As in her boyfriend was making out with another woman," Charlene supplied, rather less delicately.

  Catherine winced. "No wonder she was upset! How rude!"

  Which was a little rich, I thought, considering she'd spent the night being wined and dined by Nicholas while Murray looked on jealously. I never imagined I'd feel bad for the developer, but there was a first time for everything.

  "She did have a bump on her head, though," I said. "We don't really know if she fell and that knocked her out, or if it was the medication."

  "What was she taking?"

  "Klonopin. Quite a bit of it, actually, it seems."

  "I've heard that stuff can be addictive. When did she disappear?"

  "Last night," I said. "Why?
"

  "Someone else from the inn was out and about," she said. "I saw them come back at around two."

  "What were you doing up at two?"

  She turned a delicate shade of pink. "Texting."

  "Uh-oh," Charlene said. "Murray's in trouble."

  There was an awkward silence. Catherine examined her nails.

  "Anyway, back to the person you saw out last night," I said, getting back to the topic at hand. "How do you know they were from the inn?"

  "Whoever it was had a flashlight, and he or she came in the back door."

  "So you couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman?"

  "No," she said. "Are you thinking maybe whoever it was did in Rainy?"

  "She left the inn last night, and as far as we know, she didn't come back."

  "But we don't know that," Charlene pointed out. "Maybe she went out really early this morning."

  "But Ravi said she didn't sleep in the room last night," I said.

  "Maybe she didn't. Maybe she slept on the couch downstairs. Or maybe he's lying."

  I sighed. "Even if someone from the inn attacked Rainy, it doesn't explain what happened to Francine."

  "You think they're connected?" Charlene asked.

  "They both suffered bumps on the head," I said. "One a little more extreme than the other, but still."

  "But Rainy might have passed out because of the Klonopin," Charlene said.

  "True. But I wonder. Willow's yoga studio is based out of Florida. Francine Hodges was from that area." I forked up a piece of chocolate cake and considered it. "It seems like a weird coincidence, don't you think?"

  "It does, now that you mention it," Catherine said. "Cranberry Island isn't exactly a well-known resort town. I mean, the inn is lovely, as is the island, but I'd expect a yoga retreat to be somewhere like Hawaii, or California, or something."

  "Maybe I should move there," Charlene grumbled.

  Catherine blinked. "Move?"

  "She's talking about getting a job in Portland," I told Catherine. "Please help me talk her out of it."

  "What?" Charlene said. "It's simple numbers. There are bound to be a lot more men in an urban area."

  "What about Alex?"

  Charlene let out a heavy sigh. "He’s totally unreliable," she said. "Besides, he's never going to want to settle down here. And even if he did, do I really want to be with someone who's hardly ever around?"