Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries)

by Karen MacInerney

  “Not a whole heck of a lot,” I admitted. “I did drop by Derek’s house, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “The door was open.”

  He winced. “Tell me you didn’t go in.”

  “Well, like I said, the door was open …”

  He groaned. “Did you find anything?”

  “Actually, I did,” I said, pulling the two pieces of paper out of my pocket—and suddenly realized that with all the excitement over the skiff, I’d forgotten to tell Detective Johnson about what I’d found.

  He leaned forward, intent. “Where did you find these?”

  “In his pants pocket,” I said. “And I forgot to tell the police.”

  “I’ll tell them.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe the investigators missed these. This letter could be important, but now that it’s not in the house, we’ve got chain of custody issues.”

  “I could always put it back,” I said.

  “Still. What are we supposed to do, call the detective and tell him you found a note while you were breaking and entering?”

  “He’d suggest I planted it,” I realized.

  “Exactly.”

  “Here’s the other thing I found,” I said, handing him the note with dates and times on it.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I just thought it might be relevant.”

  “Some of these times haven’t happened yet,” he said.

  “What do they mean?”

  “Maybe we should keep an eye on things at the times listed,” he said.

  “But keep an eye on what?” I asked.

  “Wait a moment,” he said, his green eyes lighting with an idea. “Where’s the newspaper?”

  “Right here,” I said, handing him the folded copy of the Daily Mail. He flipped through until he got to the tide tables.

  “When’s the next one?” John asked.

  “Tomorrow at ten,” I said.

  He ran his finger down the page and stopped halfway down. “That’s it,” he said. “Low tide. Give me another one.”

  I read off another time and date. Sure enough, it was another low tide.

  “I’ll bet Derek was going to and from Smuggler’s Cove,” he told me.

  “But why?”

  “That’s what we’ll have to find out,” he said. “Although now that you’ve been in the cove, whoever’s using it might change tactics.”

  “Are you going to tell Detective Johnson about what I found?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t figure out a way that doesn’t involve me mentioning your breaking and entering.”

  “If they’d done a better job searching the place, it wouldn’t have been a problem,” I pointed out.

  “We’ll just keep an eye on the cove the next time the tide is low,” he said.

  “Good idea,” I said. “We can watch it from here.”

  “How’s Charlene doing, by the way?” he asked.

  “Worried about Tania. She seems … scared.”

  John’s brow furrowed. “Scared?”

  “I don’t know why. I asked Tania if she knew who Derek’s contact was—apparently he had a new source of money—and she got up and hurried into the back room.”

  “Well, at least Tania knows he had a contact. His mother had absolutely no clue who might have killed her son.”

  “So Tania has no idea what was going on with him?”

  “Detective Johnson told me she hasn’t talked with him since he left.”

  “And now she never will again.” My heart felt heavy in my chest. “What kind of trouble was he into before he left?”

  “Drinking, for sure.”

  “Drugs?” I asked, thinking of Evan’s history.

  “His mother didn’t know, but she didn’t rule it out.”

  I sighed. “Depressing subject. Let’s talk about something else.”

  John poured us two cups of tea, then grinned at me. “Like our star-crossed nuptials?”

  My heart sank further, thinking of our disappearing wedding plans. “Think we’ll ever get married?”

  “Absolutely” he said. “We need to see if we can chase down that money, but in the meantime, I’ve got an idea I’d like to run by you.”

  I felt something inside of me relax. I leaned forward, elbows on the table, and stared into John’s green eyes. “Tell me all about it.”

  _____

  By the time we’d drained the teapot, I was in much better spirits than I had been. As I cleaned up the table, John stopped and gave me a kiss, then headed out the back door. He was gone barely a moment before bursting back in. “Natalie, come here.”

  “What?” I asked, putting down a plate and hurrying to the back door.

  “Is that it?” he asked, pointing to a white lobster boat that was motoring away from the vicinity of Smuggler’s Cove.

  “I can’t tell,” I said, squinting and trying to see the buoy. “There’s no name on it, is there?”

  “No,” he said. “No dinghy, either, which would make it hard to get into the cove.”

  “Let me get the binoculars.” I hurried inside and dug through the drawers until I found our bird-watching field glasses, but by the time I got back outside, the boat had passed around the point and was lost from sight.

  “Just because there isn’t a dinghy doesn’t mean that isn’t the boat,” I suggested. “Maybe the dinghy was damaged when it hit us, and it’s somewhere being repaired.”

  John gave me a meaningful look. “Or maybe it’s in the cove.” The tide was low, I realized. It was entirely possible that the dinghy was hidden inside. “When does the tide turn again?”

  I headed back into the kitchen and grabbed the tide tables, then returned to the deck with the paper in hand. “According to this, low tide is at three-fifteen today.”

  “Ten minutes ago,” John said, consulting his watch. “They’ve got another thirty minutes or so before the water rises too high to get a dinghy out of the cove.”

  “It’s a beautiful day to sit outside.”

  “It sure is, isn’t it?”

  We turned the two rocking chairs I kept on the porch so that they faced the cove. Time ticked away, and although the breeze was lovely and the company delightful, we were both disappointed. If the dinghy had gone into the cove, it wasn’t coming back out; and the lobster boat didn’t seem interested in returning, either.

  “Were they scouting to see if anyone was around?” I asked.

  “Why use a boat to do that, when you can see from land?”

  “That only works if you’re on the island,” I pointed out. “If you’re not from here, it’s hard to get here without being noticed.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “We could always head to the cove during the next low tide and see if anyone’s there,” I suggested.

  “That would be at three in the morning,” he pointed out. “Besides, it’s dangerous. And if what’s going on in the cove has anything to do with Derek’s death, there’s a good chance the people involved are armed.”

  “Why would anyone shoot him?”

  “He was mixed up in something he shouldn’t have been, is my guess.”

  “But what? Here on Cranberry Island?”

  “There’s more goes on here than you know.”

  I glanced over at the little island, and noticed a plume of dark smoke rising. “Somebody must be burning leaves,” I said.

  “Odd time of year to be doing that,” John said. “Maybe it’s garbage.”

  “Awful lot of garbage.”

  As I spoke, the phone rang.

  “Back in a minute.” I hurried into the kitchen to pick up the phone. “Gray Whale Inn,” I answered.

  “Natalie?”

  “Charlene.”

  Her voice was breathless. “Tell John to get over to the farm as fast he can.”

  My heart clenched. “Why?”

  “One of the buildings is on fire.”

  _____

  Half
the island was gathered around the farm by the time we got there, and what was left of the shed was a smoldering ruin. Tom Lockhart was still spraying water from the pumper truck, but there were no open flames.

  The black smoldering ruin seemed out of place next to the verdant rows of vegetables, the venerable barn, and the small farmhouse. Zeke was pacing back and forth beside it, wearing mud-stained jeans and a worn T-shirt and looking agitated. Brad was curled up in a fetal position on the ground near the house, with Emmeline patting his back.

  “What happened?” I asked as we climbed out of the van and hurried over.

  “The shed caught fire while I was behind the house,” Zeke said. “I can’t believe it. How could this happen?” A gust of breeze set the wind chimes on the front porch tinkling. It was incongruous next to the smoking black shed.

  “Thank God for the pumper truck,” said Emmeline, who looked up from where she was comforting Brad. Today she wore a pink flowered housedress, and her bright brown eyes were soft with compassion.

  “Did you have anything flammable in the shed?” John asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Zeke said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m glad it was only the shed, but it’s still an inconvenience. I just don’t know how it could have caught fire.”

  “How much did you lose?” John asked.

  “A lot of tools,” he said, “and the washing sinks. It might not seem much, but that’s going to put me back a good bit. Cash flow isn’t terrific right now.”

  “Shouldn’t have been much of a fire risk; we’ve had a lot of rain up till this week,” I said, peering in at the blackened ruins.

  “You’re insured, right?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I hope they cover it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Zeke,” Tom said. “We’ll have a shed-raising sometime soon. Everyone will pitch in and help out, right?”

  “Of course,” John said.

  “I can hammer,” I said. “And bake cookies.”

  He smiled at us all. “Thanks, guys. What I can’t figure out is how it caught fire in the first place.”

  As I scanned the smoldering ruins, something caught my eye. “I think I see what might have caused it,” I said, pointing to a blackened can lying askew in the middle of what used to be the shed. “Did you store a gas can in here?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, somebody put one in here,” I said.

  “Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against you?” John asked him. He picked up a fallen branch and flipped the metal can over. It was definitely a gas can.

  “That’s not mine,” the young farmer said. “Mine are plastic. I keep them in the barn.”

  I glanced at John. “I think this may be a crime scene,” he said.

  “Wait,” Zeke said, holding up his calloused hands. “I did have one of those metal cans. I forgot; I found it in the cellar, and was going to fill the lawnmower with it.”

  John gave him a searching look. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that; I just forgot about it.”

  “I still think we need to check it out,” John said. “Having a gas can is one thing; they don’t usually burst into flames. Besides, the insurance company will probably require an investigation.”

  “It’s fine,” Zeke said, looking at John with a level eye. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll handle it.” There was a warning in his voice I’d never heard before.

  “Just trying to help, Zeke,” John said, taking a step back. “Are you sure nobody would have wanted to vandalize your place?”

  “Positive,” he said firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to thank the folks who came out to help. Thanks for the offer to help me rebuild.” Then he walked away, leaving John and me to exchange puzzled glances.

  “That was strange” Emmeline said quietly. She’d heard the whole exchange.

  “I thought so too,” I told her.

  Emmeline stepped away from Brad, then spoke in a low voice. “He’s an odd fellow,” she said. “Spends a lot of time in that barn of his, but he doesn’t have any livestock.”

  “He told me he’s working on fixing it up,” I said.

  She tsked and smoothed her pink dress. “I haven’t seen any building supplies.”

  I looked at the barn, which he’d said was too dangerous to show me, and thought about his reluctance to call in an investigator. Was there more to Zeke Forester than he let on?

  After a few minutes saying hello to our neighbors, we got back into the van and headed for the inn.

  “That was weird,” I told John as he made a U-turn and headed back to the inn.

  “He was lying about that gas can.” John’s face was grim. “And he sure didn’t want the police at his place.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said as we passed the little house of the lobsterman who had tried to give Charlene tourmaline earrings. Most of the rest of the island’s lobstermen were out on the water, but Fred’s traps were stacked up beside his small house. I still meant to talk to him about Derek; with everything that had been going on the last few days, I hadn’t made it over there.

  As we passed the pier, I noticed the police launch moored at the dock. I pointed it out to John. “Looks like they’re back on the island.”

  “I wonder why they didn’t give me a call,” he said. “Maybe they’re taking a second look at Derek’s house.”

  “I’ve been thinking about Derek, and wondering if Ingrid’s son had anything to do with him,” I said.

  “I found out why Evan came back to the island, by the way,” John said.

  “Really?”

  “I ran into Adam down on the dock, and we had a beer at the co-op. A few of the guys told me that Evan’s had a crush on Tania since high school; he just can’t stay away from her.”

  I looked at John. “I hate to even suggest it, but that sure sounds like a motive for getting rid of Derek. Particularly with that note I found warning him to ‘stay away from her.’ Do the police know about this?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t told them yet. Besides, we can’t give them the note, so the connection is tenuous.”

  “Still. It might be worth mentioning. Are they still focusing on Adam?” I asked.

  “I haven’t heard about any other suspects,” John said, and my stomach knotted.

  No sooner had we returned to the inn than the phone rang again. I picked it up, expecting it to be Charlene asking for details about the fire. As it turned out, I was half right.

  “Natalie?”

  “Charlene. I’ve been meaning to call you …”

  “I’ve got terrible news,” she said.

  My heart clenched. “What?”

  “The police arrested Tania.”

  _____

  The world seemed to swirl around me. “What are you talking about?” The words seemed to tumble out of my mouth. “John didn’t know anything about it.”

  “The officer said he didn’t want to alert John because he knew you and I were friends. He was afraid she’d run.”

  I gripped the phone and sank down onto a chair. “What evidence do they have?”

  “I don’t know, but they’re searching my house right now,” she said. I heard a muffled sob. “They say she’s into drugs.”

  “No,” I breathed. I stared out at the mountains of the Mount Desert Island, but the serene view of the green slopes did nothing to soothe me.

  “Derek was, too.”

  No surprise there, from what I was learning about him. “Do you have an attorney?” I asked.

  “No, but Murray recommended one,” she said.

  “Let me talk to John, and I’ll be right over.”

  I hung up and turned to John, who had a deep furrow in his tanned brow. His voice was urgent. “What’s going on?”

  “They arrested Tania.” Just saying the words had a ring of finality.

  His jaw tightened. “Johnson didn’t have the courtesy to tell me?”


  “They’re searching her house right now,” I said.

  John grabbed the keys from the hook by the door. “I’m going down to Charlene’s.”

  “Take me with you, okay? I need to be with Charlene.”

  “I hope she’s getting an attorney.”

  “She’s calling one now.” I gave him a quick hug. “Call me at the store if you get back before I do.”

  His face looked dark with anger. “Don’t worry, I will.”

  twelve

  Charlene’s eyes were red and swollen, her mascara smeared across her cheeks. “Oh, Natalie,” she moaned as I put down the plate of cookies I’d brought and took her into my arms. “I just can’t believe it.” There were a few other islanders at the bar; at a look from me, they retreated to the couches near the front. Eli was among them; so was Fred, who lingered at the bar for a moment.

  “If there’s anything I can do to help, Charlene, I’m a phone call away,” he said, looking at her with longing in his eyes.

  “Thanks, Fred.” She wiped her eyes. “Right now, I need to talk to Natalie, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m here if you need me,” he said, and followed the others to the front of the store.

  “Let’s get you sitting down,” I said, guiding her to one of the bar stools. “Is Tania doing okay?” I asked in a low voice.

  “They came with a search warrant,” she said in a low, trembling voice. “They found a bag of pot in her room.”

  “I thought you said they were still searching the house,” I said.

  “They are. I’m just praying they don’t find anything else.”

  “Did Tania answer any questions?”

  She shook her head. “I told her not to say anything until I got her an attorney. I called Murray for a recommendation—I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “He found you someone?” As little as I liked Murray personally, I was glad he was willing to use connections to help Tania.

  Charlene nodded. “She’s on her way down to the jail now. They’re holding her on the launch at the moment. I wish I could be with her …” Tears began flowing again, and I hugged her.

  “Poor thing,” I said, thinking both of Tania and Charlene. I glanced over my shoulder at Eli and Fred, who were talking quietly and stealing glances back at us.