Ron laughed good-naturedly, and she relaxed.
“I anticipated we’d need lunch, so I made reservations at Sophie’s Restaurant over at the Explorer’s House, one of the other fine dining places on our island. The chef’s a good friend. We can talk in more pleasant surroundings, and you can explain all about the complications that will keep this case open. Normally, it would be a bad thing, but now, it’ll give me a chance to get to know you, and that’s good.”
“I’d like that too, Ron. Lunch sounds wonderful. I’m afraid I didn’t have breakfast, but I warn you, I’m not a salad for lunch kind of girl. I like my protein, and if there’s a chance I can get seafood, I take it. ”
He chuckled. “That’s fine by me. The longer we’re there, the more time we’ll have to get to know one another. Come on. My truck’s out back. I’ll drive you back here to get yours after lunch. The restaurant is back the way you came, so we might as well travel together and save you retracing your steps. You have another half-hour or so to get to the resort. That is, if that’s okay with you? I don’t want to put my foot in it again.”
She smiled. Cute and thoughtful.
“Sounds like a plan. Can I use your phone to let my office know I’ve arrived? My boss was a little worried about the roads.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it, and be right back.”
Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out the cell phone. She thought of what Colin had said about the mayor and shook her head. Grief did strange things to people’s perceptions at times.
* * * *
After his morning run, Tony showered and dressed. The need to do something compelled him out into the foul weather. As he drove down Picton’s main street, his gaze stopped on a beautiful, black Camaro parked in front of the municipal offices. Ron’s? What a sweet ride it must be.
He parked in the lot next to Clancy’s Pharmacy. He wanted to verify what Mayor Ron had told him yesterday. According to Jackson, this had been Aaron and Lindsay’s destination. If they hadn’t made it here, where had they gone? More importantly, how did their vehicle get back to the parking lot, and why hadn’t the police impounded it?
Clancy, the owner stood behind the counter.
“Morning, Professor. Lousy weather were having. I heard about your students. It’s a damn shame.”
“Good day, Mr. Clancy. Yes. Both Aaron and Lindsay had great futures ahead of them. I’m still trying to figure out what happened.”
“I heard from Liam, he’s one of the O.P.P. officers here, some hot shot coroner is coming from Toronto. That’s good. Moorcroft has important friends. He’ll figure things out and get the bastards responsible.”
Tony started at the man’s words. “I thought the police believe it was an accident.”
Clancy’s boisterous laugh was followed by a bout of coughing. “Damn wet days just make the asthma worse. The little lady was supposed to pick up her medication that night too. I even kept the store open late for her. Such a waste.” He shook his head. “You saw the way the bodies were bundled together. No one believes it was an accident.”
The door opened and a couple of teens came in. Clancy nodded at them. “Now what can I do for you, Professor.”
Clancy had confirmed the mayor’s words. Lindsay hadn’t picked up her prescription. In fact, he hadn’t seen them, and he’d been working Thursday night. Tony had no reason to doubt the man’s word.
“I need some cold medication for one of my students. She’s pregnant. Have you got anything that might help?”
“Sure do.” Clancy led him to an aisle filled with a variety of over the counter cold and flu medications. “That stuff just flies off the shelves.” He laughed. “It works or rather people are convinced it does. Either way, with the weather we’ve had, I can hardly keep it in stock lately.”
Tony thanked him and left, but the pharmacist’s words stayed with him, forcing him to confront an unpleasant truth. Whoever was cooking the meth probably got the supplies locally. In the larger cities where meth labs were a growing problem, people purchasing certain over the counter drugs had to sign for them and were limited in the amount they could buy. The last time he’d purchased cold medication for himself, he’d had to do it. Clancy’s was an old-fashioned place in a small town. He didn’t seem to have much in the way of security either. Didn’t anyone check on these places? Were the people here so far removed from the realities of the twenty-first century they thought themselves impervious to them?
You could get the recipe for meth on the Internet for God’s sake. Regular cold medicine like the stuff he’d just bought for Lissa was the key ingredient in its production. The meth cook extracted the stimulant from the cold remedy and increased its strength by using chemicals found in battery acid, drain cleaner, lantern fuel, or antifreeze. It was easy to make—hell a good cook could produce that poison on the front seat of his or her car, but the cooking process, disposing of the waste, and using the drug were extremely dangerous activities. Why anyone would willingly ingest poison Tony couldn’t understand.
The rain continued and Tony hurried into the hair cutting place next door. Within twenty minutes, he was back in his car. His hair had been cut short and spiked. It had been years since he’d had it cut like this. It felt strange, but it gave him an extra measure of respectability. The more professional he looked, the better. He needed to make sure he got off on the right foot with the pathologist.
While he’d seen what was on the north side of the lake and knew what was to the east, he was curious about the southwest and western sides. The strange lights he’d seen last night played on the edge of his memory. If they’d come from the road, he should be able to see the resort from it, right? So far, he hadn’t seen anything, but the road around the lake seemed a long way from the water. Maybe he’d seen a farm vehicle, but what the hell would a farmer be doing out in the middle of the night?
He continued along the road, passed Mayor Ron’s Whippoorwill Winery at the south west end of the lake. It was quite an impressive sight, easily the largest winery he’d seen on the island. Obviously the man was doing well for himself. While Ron probably used spring water in the fermentation process, Tony wondered briefly what he did with his solid waste and wastewater. He’d noticed the large water tanks near the back of the building. Cleaning and reusing wastewater was a good, safe environmental practice more popular now than ever. Spreading the residue of the grapes and stems was probably excellent fertilizer too.
Next door to the winery, he saw the sign indicating Henderson’s Custom Slaughterhouse He’d heard Jim Henderson was a partner in the winery. Apparently, it had been built on his land. The man cut and wrapped the meat from domestic animals as well as wild game. There weren’t too many places left like that. Most were afraid they’d fail government inspections, but Jim’s place looked modern and well-maintained—like the winery. A huge cornfield separated the winery from the slaughterhouse, and Tony noted it was the only one he’d noticed not harvested for silage.
He kept driving. His stomach grumbled as he passed the sign for the Explorer’s House Resort. He glanced at his watch. It was after one. He pulled into the parking lot and entered the restaurant. Instead of the formal dining room, he opted for a pub lunch in The Spanish Galleon, the nautical-styled pub whose décor matched its name.
He sat at the bar, and raised his pint of beer to his lips. He looked up briefly at the game on the television set, but memories of Aaron resurfaced. The boy had played center for the university’s football team last year. He’d torn up his knee pretty badly, and though the team doctor had said he could play this year, Aaron had decided academics were safer. Bad choice. He should have played ball. He might have limped the rest of his life, but he’d be alive. Tony looked away from the television and stared into his beer.
The file with the new results confirming much higher concentrations of the deadly toxins in the water was in his briefcase, safely locked in the SUV. He couldn’t understand why the mayor refused to listen to him
. The man behaved like an ostrich with its head in the sand—as if what he couldn’t see didn’t exist.
Tony sighed and ran his hand through his neatly trimmed hair. What he should be doing right now was shadowing the good mayor to make sure he could get a word in edgewise with the coroner before Ron poisoned the man’s mind against him. Surely a forensic pathologist would understand the implications of the toxins they’d found? Every day those chemicals went unheeded into the lake increased the odds someone would die. He’d heard of kids dying because they’d eaten food kept in the same refrigerator as meth waste.
He sipped his beer. The antsy feeling he had since last night’s conversation with Joseph wouldn’t go away. Tomorrow afternoon was now. What was he waiting for?
The door to the restaurant opened, and Tony glanced at the mirror above the bar to see who’d entered. The woman wore a dark green jacket with a hood pulled up to shield her hair and part of her face, but the man was unmistakable. Mayor Ron led his companion to a table in an alcove created by lush plants. Well, well. Look who’s here.
Tony smiled smugly. Wasn’t it amazing the way things happened? He wanted to talk to Ron again. Maybe outside his office, the man would be more approachable. He wondered who the woman was.
She faced away from him, but Tony couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her walk from the door to the table and knew her jeans hugged her in all the right places. She removed the jacket and he stopped breathing as he watched the heavy, dark brown, braid fall two-thirds the way down her rust-colored back. Who was she? There was something strangely familiar about the way she held herself that made his senses tingle.
She and the mayor seemed friendly and even though Tony could only see the mayor in profile, he could tell the man was interested in his companion—more than interested, he had the hots for her. A man could always tell when another man was staking a claim.
Chapter Seven
Despite the dismal weather outside, Sophie’s Restaurant was an oasis of light and life, and enchanted Michelle. The room housed a variety of tropical plants, giving the impression she’d walked into a jungle. The green drapes covering two walls of the room were closed, and the world outside disappeared behind them. A small but dramatic waterfall fell from the top of a native stone wall into a small pond—no doubt a recycling fountain—but the theatrical effect made her feel as if she’d stepped into another world. A beautiful mural depicting an ancient Mayan temple covered the last wall.
She thought of Audra’s warning not to trust her senses. This place was proof of that. Not only was it a trompe l’oeil, but the scent and sounds befuddled the other senses as well. She shook her head. Why don’t I just enjoy lunch and forget about everything for a while?
“It’s incredible. I can’t imagine how the plants thrive in here.” She reached out to touch the leaves of a magnificent Schefflera.
Ron laughed. “Look up.” He pointed to the ceiling.
Instead of the traditional ceiling she’d expected, the restaurant’s roof was a large skylight.
“The plants get tons of natural light, even on gloomy days like this. I’ll have to bring you back on a clear day, especially in the summertime. It’s like sitting outside without the bugs. You should see it on a moonlit night with the sky awash in stars. It’s my favorite place to come in the winter when I need a boost.”
“It’s beautiful and unique. My friend Tasha would love this place. I’ll have to tell her about it. I feel like Alice, and I’ve just stepped into another world.”
“The owner’s father was an archeology professor at Queens. He dragged the family along on some of his digs. When he retired, he invested in this place. Unfortunately, he died a few years ago. Sophie and her husband run it now. I’ll show you the bar another time. It’s decorated to look like the inside of a Spanish ship—the conquistadors invading paradise.”
Michelle shivered. Had some evil invaded this island? She was almost certain those bodies would reveal information the mayor wouldn’t want to hear.
Ron ordered a bottle of chardonnay, her favorite white wine. She opted for seafood tortellini while he ordered the grilled lamb. When the food came, she was pleased to find real lobster and crab as well as shrimp and scallops in the rich white sauce.
The chef himself came over to check to see if everything was to their satisfaction. Ron introduced her, and the man sung Ron’s praises.
“He’s the best mayor we’ve ever had. Are you enjoying the wine? We serve Whippoorwill Winery wine here as our house selection. Ron and Jim make some of the best wine on the island. We support the local entrepreneurs, and they support us. Business has been better since he took office—more tourists coming to check us out too.”
“Everything is fantastic. I’ve never tasted anything better. And you’re right about the wine. It’s superb.”
Throughout the meal, a number of people stopped by the table to say hello or discuss some aspect of the island’s municipal business with Ron. Michelle was surprised and pleased. It was obvious he commanded the respect and admiration of his constituents. When he wasn’t speaking with one of his citizens, Ron was an attentive, knowledgeable dinner companion, and she enjoyed their impromptu date, something she couldn’t remember ever happening before. They were finishing a shared dessert, and the decadent, gooey, chocolate creation served with blackberries had her taste buds moaning with pleasure.
“This is so good. It probably has a thousand calories in it. I’ll have to run and extra mile or two to get this off my hips.”
Ron chuckled. “From where I sit, your hips look just fine.”
The server came and cleared away the plate, replacing it with a pot of tea and two cups. He served the steeped brew, and Michelle sniffed appreciatively. She recognized the pungent scent of Earl Gray. She took a sip and sat back. “This is wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Ron smiled. “You know, I can pick you up in the morning and take you over to my favorite running trail. Most people prefer to run on hard surfaces, but I enjoy mixing up my run—some pavement, some cross-country.”
“When I’m in Toronto, I run with a cross-country club at the university, but it feels as if I haven’t had a good run in ages. I was lucky to get in a few laps around the track at Lakehead in Thunder Bay. ”
“It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up at the resort around ten, or is that too early? We can go to the winery for lunch. We offer a nice all-you-can-eat brunch and wine tasting on Sundays. We usually have a good crowd too. I’m hoping the recent bad publicity won’t affect our numbers. The island’s cooking school students cater the meal. The food is excellent, and I can show you my little bit of heaven. You can give my partner Jim and I your opinion on our latest bottling—it’s a cabernet sauvignon. It’s done well in competition. We didn’t oak it, so it’s a lighter red wine.”
“Ten will be fine. I’m usually starving after a decent run, but promise you’ll let me go back to my room and clean up before we do brunch. I’d hate to offend anyone.”
Ron laughed, and the sound warmed her.
“Of course, I’m generally a little ripe myself by then. I’ll take you back to get cleaned up, go and do the same, and then we can go to lunch smelling as fresh as daisies.”
“It should be fun. I’ll look forward to it. Lunch was great. I probably won’t need supper, but unfortunately, I have work to do. I suppose we should talk about the case. There are things I need to know, and I’m sure you have questions for me.” Michelle sipped her tea and watched some of the light go out of Ron’s eyes.
“You’re right. As much as I’d like it to be otherwise, this isn’t just a social occasion. Fine; let’s talk about the case. In my office, you said people don’t drown anymore—you did say it had been that way since the eighties, right? Can you explain that to me? If people don’t drown, how do they die?”
“Of course people drown, but there are mitigating factors to consider. The will to survive is strong. When a person ends up in the water, there
has to be a reason why the person doesn’t survive the immersion. More often the not, an accident of some sort plays a vital role. Sometimes other medical conditions are to blame. If the victim goes into the water unconscious, there’s a reason for that. It could be a heart attack, a drug overdose, a seizure, a head injury—something. In the case of cold-water immersion, like this, you have the property of the water to deal with too.”
“What do you mean? How’s cold water a bigger problem?” He seemed genuinely interested, and Michelle warmed to her topic.
“Have you ever seen someone swimming on a hot day come out of the water shivering?”
“I have, but it’s usually a child.”
“That’s right, but the principle applies to everyone. Cold water carries heat away from the body twenty-five times faster than cold air does. That means the body’s inner temperature drops quicker as it tries to adjust to the conditions. That’s not all though. With the water barely above freezing like it is, cold-water immersion itself can be the cause of death, but I need to identify at what stage death occurred.”
“I didn’t realize it was so complicated. So what stage is the deadliest?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Any stage can be fatal. The person’s age and physical condition come into play too. Assuming they were conscious when they went into the lake, in stage one, cold shock, the actual moment the body hits the water can cause heart failure and occurs within the first three to five minutes. If they survived the initial immersion, then we need to look at swimming failure; that’s stage two. Because of the cold, the brain sends the message to the arms and legs to move, but the limbs don’t obey. Death usually occurs within the first half-hour. The colder the water, the faster swimming failure happens. Bundled the way they were, I doubt they’d have been able to swim at all.”
Echoes of the Past Page 10