So maybe Lori Trent had buttonholed Ned on the ferry, and maybe Ned had gotten spooked. Maybe he had admitted something he shouldn’t have, and maybe he had realized it and had whacked Agent Trent over the head with something—surely there were plenty of smooth, round objects on board the ferry that he could have used—and then he had stashed the body somewhere and waited until the ferry got back to Waterfield late Friday night, before he heaved the body over the railing and into the water. He wouldn’t necessarily realize that Waterfield wasn’t where she belonged. Or maybe it even happened on Saturday morning; Agent Trent’s body could have been kept on the ferry, docked in Boothbay Harbor, all night, until the first run the next day. Where Waterfield was the first stop.
I turned to Irina. “Who was the conductor on the ferry when you came over on Friday night?”
She blinked. “No idea. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Young kid? Blond hair? Sweet smile?”
“I really couldn’t say. Sorry, Avery.”
“No problem.” It didn’t really prove anything either way. But if I was right—and it did all hang together, including the fact that Ned had been at Shaw’s Supermarket the night Irina and I had seen Gert there—then maybe the thick fog was a good thing, because it kept the ferry away and Ned off Rowanberry Island tonight. He probably had an accomplice, but with Ned gone, at least we wouldn’t have to worry about both of them.
“Maybe she asked for directions at the store,” Gert suggested. “If I came here for the first time, that’s where I’d start.”
I nodded. “Me, too. Derek and I were in there yesterday, though, to buy cat food for the kitten, and the owner said he hadn’t seen a visitor since August. I guess you”—I turned to Irina—“haven’t stopped in?”
She shook her head. “Should I have?”
“Not necessarily. It isn’t very nice. Dust all over everything except the floor, and canned goods that looked like they’d been sitting in the same spot on the shelves for a year, at least. I made sure Derek checked the expiration dates on everything we bought. Although . . .” I trailed off.
“What?” Gert said.
“Nothing. Just . . . he said he hadn’t seen anyone new since last summer, but someone must have bought a snow globe recently. You know, one of those touristy things with a scene inside that says ‘Memories of Maine’ or ‘Greetings from Rowanberry Island’ on the base? When you shake it, fake glittery snow falls on everything.”
They both nodded.
“There was a thick layer of dust all over everything, and I could see where there had been a snow globe until recently. There was a hole in the dust, you know, next to the others? So if there haven’t been any tourists around for six months at least, who’d have bought a souvenir snow globe? Surely none of the locals.”
Gert and Irina looked at one another. “Maybe it fell?” Irina suggested. “And broke? When he was . . .” She broke off.
“What?”
“I was going to say when he dusted, but he didn’t dust, if you could still see where the snow globe had been sitting.”
I shook my head. “Other than the floor, no one’s cleaned that place for months. Someone could have picked it up and dropped it, though. And then he had to mop. It would explain the clean floor, when everything else was so dusty. And”—I thought back—“that actually makes a lot of sense, because the floor wasn’t just clean, it sparkled. Like there were tiny specks of something on it, between the floorboards maybe. Like the sparkly silver snow inside the globe.”
“It couldn’t be very well made,” Gert opined, “if accidentally dropping it would make it break open.”
“They’re souvenirs. You know, made in China. So no, probably not. Although I picked one up, and it was actually a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Not as heavy as Irina’s Easter egg, but not a lot lighter, either. The glass must be really thick. And they’re big, too.”
“As big as the Easter egg?” Irina wanted to know.
I thought back. “A little bigger, actually. With a heavy base. Maybe it’s something the guy makes himself—or someone on the island does—because I haven’t seen anything like it anywhere else. We can go take a look if you want. If the store’s open. There were several others still left on the shelf.”
“No,” Irina said, “I don’t think I want to do that.”
“Why not?” Gert and I both turned to look at her.
“Because”—she hesitated—“well, what if Agent Trent did make it all the way to Rowanberry Island, and she did stop at the store to ask directions . . .”
“And she picked up a snow globe and accidentally dropped it?”
Irina shook her head. “And the snow globe didn’t fall, but someone used it to hit her on the back of the head?”
Gert blinked. So did I. It was one of those ding-dingding lightbulb moments when you realize that—duh!—maybe you’ve been looking at things wrong.
I found my voice. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“It would explain a number of things,” Gert said. He looked at Irina. “You know, Hal was in Shaw’s Supermarket that night when you thought you recognized my voice. I saw him and ducked out of the way so he wouldn’t see me, since I go into the general store all the time in the summer, and I didn’t want him to recognize me and realize I was still around.”
And that was also interesting.
“He was one of the people you said you spoke to last summer about the smuggling, right?”
Gert nodded, and I could see the same dawning realization in his eyes that I figured was in my own.
“Maybe we need to see if Irina recognizes his voice,” I suggested. “I know that you two both have good reasons for why you don’t want him to see you, but maybe I could just open the door and stick my head in, you know, and just ask sort of offhandedly if he knows whether the ferry is still running. If I keep the door open, maybe you’d be able to hear his answer.”
Gert and Irina exchanged a look. “Fine with me,” Gert said. Irina nodded.
“Just be sure to stay back far enough that he won’t see you. Or lurk over to the side, or something.”
They both nodded.
“I think it should be a little farther down this way.” I started making my way carefully down the cobblestoned street.
The lights were on inside the store now, making it easier to find in the fog. Irina and Gert faded to one side, while I tried the knob. It didn’t budge. But the light was on, so although the sign in the window was still turned to Closed, I knocked. If I’d truly wanted to ask whether the ferry was still running, that’s what I’d do.
The first couple of knocks didn’t produce any result, so I knocked again, harder. After a moment, the store owner’s face appeared behind the counter, popping up like a jack-in-the-box. What the heck had he been doing back there; taking a nap on the floor?
I put an ingratiating smile on my face and waved. He glanced over his shoulder before he came out from behind the counter and started walking toward me. Slowly, like he hoped that if he took too long, I might give up and disappear.
Fat chance. I waited, that same big-eyed, apologetic grin on my face, until he’d woven his way between the shelves and over to the door and had unlocked it. He pulled it open just far enough to speak to me through the crack.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “Remember me? My boyfriend and I stopped by yesterday to pick up some cat food? We’re renovating the old Colonial on the other side of the island?”
He nodded. So much for trying to get a few words out of him for Irina to hear.
“I came out this morning, you know, to make sure the kitten was OK. And then the fog came in, and now I’ve been waiting for the ferry for a while, but it’s not coming, and I was wondering, you know, how long it’s gonna be before I can get off the island and back to the mainland.”
He looked at me in silence as the seconds ticked by. I started to worry that he wouldn’t answer when he finally op
ened his mouth. “Ferry gets canceled when the fog’s this bad. Won’t run till morning.”
“Seriously?” I made a face, trying to make it look like I hadn’t already heard this information.
He nodded.
“What am I supposed to do?”
He shrugged. “Can’t do nothing but wait.”
“Do you have a phone that can reach the mainland? Or a computer?”
He shook his head.
“Does anyone else? How about that lady who has the rooms for rent? Mrs. Harris? I met her yesterday. D’you think she might rent me a room for the night? I’m not sure I want to spend the night sleeping on the floor back at the house.”
“Glenda’s off the island for the day,” Hal said. “Went to church on the mainland this morning and can’t get back with the ferry not running. Only Calvin’s home.”
The implication was that I wouldn’t want to ask Calvin to rent me a room and risk being stuck in an empty house with him overnight. Which was absolutely correct. I had a sort of a-ha moment when I realized that that’s why the name Harris had sounded familiar; it was Calvin’s name, as well. Glenda must be Calvin’s mother.
“Can I at least buy something to eat from you? If I’m going to be stuck here overnight?”
He hesitated. “Whatcha want?”
“How about a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread and maybe a bottle of Diet Coke? Oh, and a candy bar.”
I expected him to open the door for me, but instead he told me to wait. And locked the door while he gathered the things I’d asked for. While I waited, I made sure not to look to my left, where Irina and Gert were skulking.
“Ten bucks.” He handed me the brown bag. I dug in my wallet and produced a ten. The price was outrageous, but this wasn’t the time to haggle. “Thank you. Guess I’ll just head on back to the house now. If you’re sure about the ferry?”
He nodded. I turned on my heel and walked away. And kept walking, even after I heard the door close and the lock catch. And then I kept walking some more, just in case he had followed me to make sure I was actually going back to the house.
“Pssst!”
The summons came from the opposite side of the street. I walked closer and saw Gert gesturing to me from a narrow space between two houses. I could just barely make out Irina behind him.
“Well?”
She nodded. “It’s definitely him.”
“The same guy whose voice you heard in Shaw’s Supermarket last week? The guy who brought you into the U.S. three years ago?” Just making sure . . .
Irina nodded again. “It’s him.”
“So do you think your sister is there somewhere?” Gert looked at her. “In the store? Above, perhaps?”
“More like below,” I said, realizing for the first time what I’d seen earlier. “Listen to this. When I first knocked on the door, I couldn’t see the guy anywhere. So I knocked a few more times, and suddenly he pops up behind the counter. Like he was crouched down or something, you know? And I guess he could have been, except what if there’s a door or something back there, in the floor, that goes down to that room you mentioned?”
“That’s . . .” Irina stopped. Somewhere in the fog we could hear a sound. All three of us held our breaths as we faded farther into the narrow space we were occupying.
The sounds were footsteps. And it sounded like they were coming closer. In fact, it sounded like they were coming straight at us. Dammit, he must have followed me from the store. Far enough behind that I hadn’t heard him.
Except we didn’t see anyone. And then the steps stopped, and we heard a knock. A sort of special knock. First three short taps, then a pause, then two more.
After a moment, a door or window opened. A voice said something; I couldn’t hear what, or who it belonged to. I did recognize the other voice, though. We’d just been discussing it.
“It’s time.”
The other voice said something more, maybe an objection or a query, because Hal the shop owner answered, “Even if someone was around, they couldn’t see nothing. It’s like the inside of a cloud out here.”
The voice inside the house said something else, and then Hal spoke again. “Ten minutes. They’re ready to go. I’ll bring ’em up.”
The door closed again, and the footsteps faded into the fog. We looked at each other.
“Them?” I whispered.
“Up?” Irina added.
Obviously we were all thinking the same thing. That “them” was the Russian women and “up” meant out of the storage room we’d just postulated existed under the floor of the store. Mr. Shopkeeper and his accomplice were planning to move the women under cover of the fog. Either to another location on Rowanberry Island or maybe somewhere else entirely. Maybe to someone like Irina’s Mr. Eagan. And once that happened, we’d never be able to find them.
“We should probably follow him, don’t you think?” I whispered.
Irina nodded.
“What about this guy?” Gert gestured with his thumb toward the house we were skulking beside, the one where the window had opened and the shopkeeper’s accomplice had answered.
“Hal said ten minutes. If we hurry, maybe we can get back to the store and overpower him before his friend shows up.”
Irina was already moving toward the corner of the house and the cobblestoned street.
Gert glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe I should stay here. . . .”
I shook my head. “You’re the one with the gun. We need you. How else are we going to make him give us the girls?”
“What if this guy decides to show up early, though?” He indicated the accomplice in the house beside us.
“That’s why we have to hurry,” I said.
Gert demurred. “I’m not really sure about this. I mean, I’ve been having fun skulking around this winter, playing superspy, but I’m not really very brave, you know. I’m a writer. All my daring is on the page.”
“At least you’re daring somewhere. I’m quaking in my boots right now. But Irina needs us. If we don’t go after her, she’s going to take on the guy on her own. And then he’ll have three of them. Now stop arguing and go.” I gave him a push.
He went. We scurried off down the street, back in the direction of the general store. The lights had been turned off by now, so it was harder to find in the thick fog, but we did make it to where Irina was hugging the wall.
“What now?” Gert whispered. “Doesn’t look like he’s coming out. What do you want to bet he’s waiting for his buddy to show up first?”
Damn. That was a scenario I hadn’t considered, and probably should have.
“I know!” Irina said. “We’ll knock on the door. The same way he did. Three knocks, then two more. The signal. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for.”
Gert and I looked at each other. Made sense.
“I’ll go,” Gert volunteered.
“I’d be happy to . . .”
He shook his head. “It has to be me. I know he won’t be able to see much with the fog and no lights, but he’ll see my outline, and no offense, but you look nothing like a man.”
No arguing with that. Plus, the guy had just looked at me less than fifteen minutes ago. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize my outline and realize I was back.
“I think it should be me,” Irina said. “She’s my sister.”
We both ignored her, since she was the absolutely last choice of who should go.
“So what if this guy recognizes me?” I argued. “As long as he opens the door?”
“I’m not giving you my gun. And I’m not letting you go over there without one!”
“I don’t want your gun. And you let me go over there without one earlier.”
“That was before we knew for sure that he’s a trafficker and a criminal,” Gert said.
I opened my mouth, but then closed it and looked around instead. “Where’s Irina?”
“What?” Gert looked around, too. Not that we really had to ask; even as we were st
anding there craning our necks, we could hear the knocks on the general store door. Three, then two.
“Damn!” Gert breathed. He started forward. I followed, just as the door opened.
“What . . . ?” Hal began, before Irina launched herself forward into the store, plowing right over him, voice raised.
“Svetlana!”
“Hell.” Gert fumbled for the gun as he picked up speed. I ran after him.
Hal was only taken aback for a few seconds; as soon as we made it to the door, he had gotten his hands on a gun of his own and was aiming it at Irina, who was tearing into the store, between two aisles of dried goods. I guess maybe the owner was loath to risk shooting any of his merchandise, or maybe he was worried that she’d bleed on his stuff, because he didn’t pull the trigger. Or maybe he simply figured that since she’d stupidly walked into his lair, he’d just close and lock the door behind her and then deal with subduing her. I’m sure that’s what he intended to do when he turned toward the front door. Where he came face-to-face with us.
Or rather with Gert, who had managed to get his own gun out of his pocket and was pointing it straight at the bad guy.
“Put the gun down, please.”
“Mr. Heyerdahl.” Of course Hal didn’t. “She pushed her way in here, did you see that? Just knocked on the door and pushed me aside. I should call the police.”
“Yes, why don’t you do that?” I said, and appeared next to Gert. “In fact, I’ll do it. Just show me phone.”
Hal’s eyes flickered to me for a second, and then back to Gert’s gun. Couldn’t blame him for that. Meanwhile, somewhere inside the store, Irina seemed to have found her sister. We heard squeals and what was either sobbing or laughter. Maybe both.
Hal glanced over his shoulder. Glanced back at Gert’s gun, and then took off. Back into the store toward where the commotion was. He tried to slam the door shut in our faces, but of course it didn’t work. The door coming at us served to slow us down for a vital few seconds, though, as we both took an instinctive step back.
Mortar and Murder Page 24