Say No Moor

by Maddy Hunter

  “Anyone want a closer look at my doubloon?” asked Dick Teig as the gang started to break up. “Private viewings begin in my room in five minutes.”

  It was so like Dick to want to show off his coin. I just hoped he had sense enough to secure it in a safe place afterward.

  “My wig has to be here someplace,” reasoned Jackie as she checked the dresser drawers yet again in the improbable hope that she’d missed seeing it the previous six times she’d looked. “How does a wig just disappear into thin air?”

  “You’re absolutely sure you packed it?” I said, yawning. I was in my cot, my forearm braced across my eyes to block the glare from the overhead light.

  “I don’t remember packing it as much as I remember unpacking it. I shook it out and put it right here in this drawer.” Her tone grew anxious as she crossed the room to the closet. “This is a disaster, Emily. I haven’t even paid the charge on my credit card for it yet.” She hauled her suitcase out of the closet and threw it open. I turned my head on my pillow and squinted at her through one eye.

  “Any luck?”

  “Not here.” She shoved the suitcase back in the closet before slumping onto the bed, shoulders bent, head hanging down to her chest, her voice laced with self-recrimination. “I never should have bought it in the first place, but I was so angry at Thom that I decided I needed to treat myself to something expensive.” A slight lilt returned to her voice. “It actually made me feel much better at the time. I wonder why doctors pooh-pooh the curative powers of shopping, especially since the side effects don’t include things like nausea, constipation, diarrhea, dizziness, internal bleeding, or death?”

  “Maybe they’ll give it more attention when debt and bankruptcy get relabeled as medical conditions.”

  She let out a groan that conjured an image of an animal whose paw was caught in a trap. “I really stepped in it this time, Emily. I’ll never be able to pay that bill. I am so screwed.” She sniffed pathetically, on the verge of tears. “Do you know what a ‘non-payment of bill’ notice will do to my credit rating? It’ll send it nosediving into the toilet. I loved my credit rating. It was almost perfect: eight hundred thirty-three. Did you know some institute conducted a study recently that suggested a high credit score was a better predictor of a successful marriage than a compatible astrological sign?” Her voice grew small and wistful. “Except, of course, in my case.”

  Even though she’d left me high and dry for another man, upended my acting career, and turned my life into an American telenovela, seeing her this miserable tugged at my heartstrings. I boosted myself onto my elbows. “Do you need a hug?”

  She nodded, teary-eyed. “Okay.”

  She shuffled over to my cot and sat down on the edge, crumpling against me, her head nuzzled into the crook of my neck. “Things will get better, Jack. You’ll see. They always get better.” I patted her back in a soothing rhythmic motion.

  “No they won’t. They’re only going to get worse. I can picture the outcome now. I’m going to end up homeless and alone, like some sixties cult-film antihero.”

  “You are not. You’re made of stronger stuff than that. Look at your ancestors. Did they throw in the towel after they were convicted of selling underweight bread? No. They improved their efficiency, expanded their product line, and became the premiere bakers to three of the most famous royal houses in England.”

  Jackie sighed. “A lot of good that does me.”

  “But Jack, you have their genes! They weren’t quitters and neither are you.” I paused as I recalled her work history. “So what if you resign from positions on a regular basis? That usually happens only after you’ve achieved success, so you’re not really quitting. You’re…you’re moving on to greater challenges.”

  She chewed on that for a moment. “What you’re saying is, I have a short attention span and get bored really easily.”

  I bobbed my head. “In so many words.”

  She eased away from my hug as she knuckled tears from her cheeks. “Is my mascara smearing?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s a new kind.” She blinked rapidly, sniffling. “Guaranteed not to smear even after exposure to torrential rain, jet spray shower heads, or Oprah book club novels.”

  I studied her lashes. “Wow. So how do you take it off?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  She executed a little shimmy-shake that appeared to reboot her emotional state to a less melancholy setting, at least momentarily. “Okay, so I have noteworthy genes. Famous genes. What I don’t have is a job.”

  “I’m getting to that.” I’d probably end up kicking myself in the morning, but it suddenly occurred to me that I could address two immediate problems with one simple solution. “I’ve given your request for a job at Destinations Travel further consideration, and I’m willing to make an offer.”

  “Omigod! You are?”

  “Employment starts immediately.”

  “How immediately?”

  “Tomorrow morning immediately. Are you up for it?”

  “Yes!” She threw her arms around me in a crushing hug. “Thank you, Emily! You won’t be sorry. I’ll be the best travel escort ever. I’ll make you so proud. Guests will be lining up to sign onto my tours. Where am I going? Someplace really exotic? I’d love to do the South Pacific islands before the ocean swallows them up. Tahiti. Fiji. Bora Bora. Or maybe Antarctica, but I’d have to buy warmer boots with a fur lining and maybe two-inch heels instead of five. So don’t keep me in suspense.” She pushed away from me, her eyes bright with excitement, her hands effecting little pattycake claps. “Where’s it going to be?”

  “The kitchen.”

  She froze up like a plaster body cast. “Did you say kitchen? Or did you mean Ketchikan? Because I could certainly conduct a tour in Alaska. I’d just have to buy more boots.”

  “I did say kitchen—the kitchen here at the inn. I think Nana’s workload might wear her out more than she realizes, so as a probationary assignment, I’d like you to act as her sous chef.”

  “But…I thought you were hiring me as a tour escort.”

  “This is one of those responsibilities that falls under the umbrella of ‘other duties as specified by the employer.’ If you knock it out of the ball park, I’m sure you’ll earn enough rewards points to be in line for other assignments.”

  “But…it involves cooking. I can’t do what Mrs. S did at dinner, Emily.” A nervous tremor distorted her voice. “Now that I think about it, I really can’t do anything more complicated than toast n’ serve.”

  “If your ancestors could do it, you can do it. All you have to do is tap into those dormant genes and you’ll be golden. It’s in you, sweetie. Where’s that famous confidence of yours?”

  “It went into hiding when I found Thom in bed with his bleached-blond bimbo.”

  “C’mon, Jack. This could be the start of a whole new future for you. Are you going to let Thom’s behavior stand in the way of that? Because if you do, he wins. Is that what you want?”

  She gnawed her bottom lip like a squirrel gnawing nuts. “You really think I can do it?”

  “I know you can.” At least, I was pretty sure she could…as long as she followed Nana’s directions, was okay with being out of the spotlight, and didn’t get bored in the middle of meal preparation and flounce off. That was possible, wasn’t it?

  My stomach fluttered with a legion of hyperactive butterflies.

  Oh, God. What have I done?

  She gave her head a single decisive nod. “Okay. I’ll do it.” She gave another pattycake clap. “Should we discuss salary?”

  “We should, but I’ll need to finalize the numbers with Etienne before I present them to you.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “I’m sure he’ll contact me as soon as he gets his cell phone back.” And I wasn’t looking
forward to the call because I had no idea how he was going to react.

  But we had to feed the guests, so if Jackie was willing to help Nana out, wasn’t it my moral obligation to hire her whether we could afford the expense or not? Besides, Jackie’s having a job might prevent her from suffering an immediate nervous breakdown, so that was a bonus, wasn’t it?

  Etienne couldn’t fault me for my motives, could he?

  The butterflies treated me to a repeat performance.

  “The next thing we should discuss is my wardrobe allowance,” Jackie said matter-of-factly. “Is footwear normally included in that or are shoes covered under a separate allowance?”

  By the time the alarm on my cell phone went off in the morning, Jackie’s bed was already empty, but she’d propped pillows behind Teddy and written a note that she’d placed between his paws. “Thanks, Em,” it read, followed by the happiest smiley face ever drawn.

  I was tickled that my job offer had buoyed her spirits so much. I just hoped that Nana would find her assistance to be more help than hindrance and that her enthusiasm would last for more than a minute.

  Cradling my phone in my hand, I stared at the screen, wondering if this would be a good time for me to compose a message to Etienne, explaining why I’d found it necessary to hire a new employee without consulting him first.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Darn. Guess I’d have to put it off until later.

  “Just a sec!” Giddy with my reprieve, I threw my robe over my shoulders and opened the door to find Alice Tjarks looking nervously apologetic.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning, Emily.”

  “That’s okay, Alice. What’s up?”

  “It’s Bernice.”

  A frisson of alarm slithered down my spine. “Is she all right?”

  “I have no way of knowing. She’s not in our room.”

  “Is she in the dining room?”

  “Nope. The thing is…she’s been gone all night.”

  eleven

  “She wasn’t in the room when I got back from the show-and-tell last night, but I figured she might have sneaked out the back way to the spa, so I got ready for bed without thinking too much about it. You know Bernice. As much as she enjoys acting like a drama queen and getting all upset, she doesn’t stay upset for long.”

  After throwing on some clothes, I’d scurried Alice off to Wally’s room, so she was obliging us by giving us the blow-by-blow of the night before.

  “What was she upset about?” asked Wally.

  “You were in the kitchen when the melodrama erupted,” I explained. “Long story short, the gang was trying to rein in Bernice’s negativity, and she reacted with a rant that ended when she left the dining table in a snit.”

  “So she was mad at her friends,” concluded Wally.

  Alice nodded. “And vice versa.”

  “So…you called it a night despite Bernice’s being absent from the room,” Wally reiterated. “What happened next?”

  “Well, I washed my face and brushed my teeth and flossed, of course. Then I crawled into bed and fell asleep. When I woke up this morning, I was still alone in the room and Bernice’s bed hadn’t been slept in, so I figured there was no help but to ruin your day by telling one of you.”

  “We appreciate your alerting us first thing, Alice. Thanks.” Wally stared at me, befuddled. “You have any ideas where she might be?”

  “She could still be in the spa.”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  “Did you find a note anywhere?” I asked. I mean, even Jackie had taken the time to write a note.

  Alice shook her head. “I didn’t see one.”

  “What about her belongings?” questioned Wally. “Is her stuff still in the room? Pocketbook? Cell phone?”

  “Her suitcase is still in the closet. I didn’t look for anything else. But if she spent the night in the spa, she’s probably wearing her bikini. She was keeping it in the top drawer of her dresser with her underwear.”

  That stopped me cold. “Bernice packed a bikini?”

  “Sure did. Ordered it from Frederick’s of Hollywood online. It has a strapless top and one of those bottoms that’s got less fabric than a headband.”

  “A thong?” asked Wally, trying unsuccessfully to mask his disbelief.

  She snapped her fingers. “That’s what it’s called. A thong.” She pursed her lips in thought. “These high-fashion suits might be fine for Bernice, but I’m a full-coverage kind of girl myself.” Eyeing her watch with some anxiety, she stood up. “I’ve told you all I know. Would you mind if I head out to the dining room? Breakfast starts in a half hour and if I wait much longer, all the good seats will be gone.”

  “Go right ahead,” said Wally as he ushered her to the door. “But would you mind if we gave your room a once-over to make sure there’s no note hiding in an obscure place?”

  She reached into her pocket and retrieved her key, dropping it into his palm. “Bernice’s dresser is the one closest to the window.”

  Wally exchanged an apprehensive look with me when she’d gone. “I’ll run out to the spa. You check their room.”

  “What if we come up empty?”

  “I’ll contact the Port Jacob police.”

  “Will we have to wait forty-eight hours before we can report her as officially missing?”

  “Not in England. The authorities want to be notified as soon as possible.” He handed me Alice’s room key. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Their room was neat as a pin. For all Bernice’s complaining about lack of maid service, both beds were made up with military precision with throw pillows and stuffed bears arranged almost playfully. I searched the closet, the bathroom, and every horizontal surface for a note but found nothing obvious. Moving on to her dresser, I found her pink and black polka-dot bikini right where Alice said it would be—in the top drawer with her lacy push-up bras and thong panties. As eye-poppingly risqué as the swimsuit was, it did symbolize a milestone for Bernice.

  At least she’d discarded the idea of going au naturel.

  I finished searching the dresser just as Wally arrived back from the spa. “She’s not there. Did you find anything here?”

  “Way too much; none of it good. Her pocketbook was in the bottom drawer with her wallet, driver’s license, and credit cards still in it. She might have been angry enough to leave the tour, but not without taking her pocketbook with her. She wouldn’t get very far without her credit cards.”

  “What about her cell phone and passport?”

  “Not in her pocketbook. She usually kept her passport and extra cash in her neck wallet. I haven’t found that yet. Her cell phone isn’t here either, but—” I looked across the room, suddenly enlightened. “Missed a drawer.”

  I walked around the bed to the nightstand, opened the top drawer, and removed the lone item that was tucked inside. “One cell phone. So she’d stowed her phone for the night, but she still must have been wearing her neck wallet, else I imagine that might be here, too. It’s too far for her to walk into town to find other accommodations. She might have called a taxi, but I didn’t hear a car drive up last night. Did you?”

  He shook his head. “Could she have taken a walk along the coastal path?”

  “I hope not. A chunk of the bluff disintegrated beneath my feet yesterday, so if she went anywhere near that spot…” My mouth went dry. “It’s a sheer drop-off to the rocks below.”

  He stared at me, his silence causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.

  “I think I’ll just have a run outside to see if there’s anything suspicious going on near the cliff.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “Nope.”

  “But what if—”

  “Let’s not panic until we have good reason.”

&n
bsp; I demonstrated my tentative assent by nodding like a bobblehead doll. “I’d take the back exit if I were you. That way you can avoid having to explain to the breakfast crowd why you decided to explore the coastal path before having your first cup of coffee.”

  By the time I changed into some decent daywear and applied a little makeup, Wally was knocking on my door with his report.

  “I located the landslip you told me about, but I didn’t see any further erosion along the bluff, so I hope that’s good news.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I also took the liberty of calling Constable Tredinnick. He was pretty reassuring that missing persons usually show up within twenty-four to forty-eight hours of their disappearance, but in deference to our schedule, he allowed me to file a report over the phone. I passed along every detail I could think of, including Bernice’s emotional state at the time of her disappearance, where we’ve searched, and what she left behind. He asked for a physical description, so I sent him the photo I have of her in my current guest photo file. How did we ever function without smartphones? I couldn’t tell him what she was wearing yesterday, but maybe Alice will remember. He said he’d show her photo around at the local hotels and B&Bs, and he’d stop by the inn sometime today to look around the premises, but he didn’t sound overly concerned.”

  “Does he need to question anyone?”

  “Only if she doesn’t reappear within forty-eight hours.”

  “But she could be dead by then. Can’t we do something more proactive? Like…like form a search party or hire a pack of bloodhounds?”

  “I don’t make the rules, Em.”

  As nerve-wracking as it was to be told to take a deep breath and let the law handle it, it occurred to me then that Constable Tredinnick wouldn’t have to question the entire group because everyone had been gathered in one room when Bernice went missing.

  Well, almost everyone.

  Unlike Constable Tredinnick, I knew three bloggers I’d very much like to question.

  Wally and I arrived in the dining room just as the breakfast crowd was breaking up.

  “Awful good breakfast,” Dick Stolee announced to me as he gave his stomach a satisfied rub. “Too bad you missed it.”