The Seasons of the EmmaLee: One grand ship. Two love affairs, decades apart. An idyllic summer resort town torn apart by betrayal, murder and shattered dreams. (The Charlevoix Summer Series Book 1)

by Michael Lindley

  As she got closer, she felt a dread that frightened her. All she could think of was how could anyone stand to be locked away in a place like this.

  The deputy stopped at the side of the last cell. Emily moved past him and turned to her left, looking through the bars. The scene before her caused her to let out an involuntary low moan, “Oh, Jonathan…?”

  Jonathan McKendry was sitting on the edge of the lower bunk, alone in the cell. He was dressed in a dirty white sleeveless t-shirt and gray jailhouse pants with a black stripe down the outside of both legs. His feet were bare. As he looked up at Emily, she saw the strain all of this had put on his face. He was nearly pale white, making the deep circles under his eyes and his unshaven beard even more pronounced. His hair obviously hadn’t been washed in days and it stuck out in clumps in all directions.

  He just looked at her with a blank expression.

  “Jonathan,” Emily said. “I wanted to come down and see if you needed someone to talk to, or if you needed anything.”

  “You’ve done plenty,” he said in a low whisper. “Thank you for having your lawyer friend come up to help me, but you better go now. I don’t feel right about seeing you in this place.” He looked down at his feet again, slumped over with his elbows resting on his knees.

  She looked over to the guard who was facing the far wall, pretending not to be paying any attention.

  “Could we have a few moments please?” she asked.

  He shook his head no. “No one can be left alone with him.” He looked at his watch. “You have two more minutes.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Jonathan, have you been able to remember anything else?” Emily asked.

  “No, it’s like eight hours of my life never happened, lost in the bottom of a boat filled with empty beer bottles.” He stood up and walked over to the cell door, grabbing the bars on each side of Emily.

  She could smell his stale body odor and breath and she winced for a moment, and then tried to willherself to be strong.

  He leaned close to her face through the bars and whispered, “I think I may have done this, Emily.” He stopped trying to keep from crying.

  “I think I could have killed her. What else could have happened?”

  “Jonathan, please no!”

  “I think you need to go away. Thank you for what you’re trying to do, but it’s not good for you be around me anymore.”

  Emily stood straighter and looked him in the eye. “I didn’t walk away from you when you needed help before, and I’m not going to walk away now.”

  “You know I can’t pay this lawyer,” he said.

  “You don’t have to worry about the money. I have my own money.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Jonathan, I’m not going to walk away from you.”

  He reached through the bars and grabbed her arms. “Aren’t you afraid of me? Why don’t you think I’m the monster they’re calling me!”

  The deputy moved over quickly to pull his arms away.

  Emily jumped back. She had asked herself those questions over and over in the past few days, and yet, in her heart she could feel it wasn’t so. Her parents were furious with her for getting involved, but she knew she was right in not walking away.

  As the deputy reached out to lead her out of the cell area, she looked back at Jonathan and said, “We’re going to make this right. I’ll be back tomorrow with David again.” She only wished that her friend David Krupp, who had agreed to help with the case, was as confident as she was.

  Jonathan’s mother sat in the small lobby of the jail. The four wooden seats across the front wall were not shaped for comfort. She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. She jumped when the bell hanging on the door started to clang. She turned to see a young woman walking in with a tall man in a dark gray suit.

  They both saw her and came over.

  “Mrs. McKendry?” said the woman.

  She just nodded.

  “My name is Emily Compton. I’m a friend of Jonathan’s.”

  “Yes, I know who you are.”

  The man moved closer and held out his hand.

  She took it and held on weakly as he shook it.

  “My name is David Krupp. I’m an attorney. Emily has asked me to work with Jonathan.”

  “Thank you…thank you both for being here.” She looked down again at her hands. “Jonathan is so confused and afraid about all of this. He still can’t remember and he’s starting to believe he really did commit this awful thing.” She took a handkerchief from her purse to dab the moisture welling in her eyes.

  They both sat down on either side of her.

  Krupp began, “Mrs. McKendry, first of all, I want to say I was sorry to hear about the passing of your husband.”

  She nodded without looking up.

  “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” Emily offered.

  She looked up into Emily’s eyes, “Dear, this is a nightmare beyond anything…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  Emily thought it strange she would be here all alone at a time like this, then she realized the McKendry family was not going to get a lot of sympathy from the rest of the town.

  The bell on the door rang again and George Hansen came in with another man who looked to be an older gray-haired Indian with a black felt hat on and dingy work clothes.

  Mrs. McKendry looked up, surprised to see her son’s friend.

  George didn’t make any introductions. “Are you the lawyer for Jonathan?”

  The lawyer stood and introduced himself. “David Krupp.”

  George didn’t bother with formalities. “This man is Albert Truegood.”

  The old man came forward and faced the lawyer.

  “He has some information I think you need to hear,” George said.

  Krupp hesitated. “Jonathan is waiting to see me.”

  “I think you need to hear this now, then we’re going to see the sheriff.”

  The lawyer pulled two chairs around and offered the man a seat. “So, what do you have to say, Mr. Truegood?”

  The old man took the offer and sat down slowly, sighing as he did so. His face was lined with deep creases and weathered a deep brown color.

  George Hansen broke in, “Albert lives out north of town near McSauba. He was in town the night Catherine died.”

  The lawyer seemed impatient. “Yes, please go on,” he asked hurriedly. “Mr. Truegood?”

  The man looked slowly at the faces surrounding him, then he spoke slowly and very softly. Everyone had to lean in to hear. “I was down on Bridge Street that night. I saw her.”

  “You saw Catherine Hansen?” Krupp asked.

  Truegood nodded.

  “We know she was in town,” the lawyer said.

  “Tell her who you saw her with,” George interrupted.

  “I saw her with young Johnny.”

  Krupp looked away in disgust.

  “No, after that Albert!” said George.

  “I saw Johnny and George’s sister walking down the street from The Helm.” His voice cracked and he stopped for a moment to calm himself. “Johnny was pretty drunk, I think. He couldn’t walk too straight. The girl wasn’t in much better shape. They stopped and talked a minute. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”

  Krupp jumped in. “What were you doing down there at two in the morning?”

  “I’d been havin’ a few beers around the corner at Lee’s. I was on my way home. I was walking. I don’t have a car and I don’t like to ride my bike home late at night.”

  “Okay,” said Krupp.

  “What happened then, Mr. Truegood?” asked Emily, sitting forward in her seat, listening to every word.

  “Well, she was talking to him, then she pushed him away and started walking down the sidewalk toward me.”

  “Did he go after her?” Emily asked.

  The old man looked at Emily with eyes that shined bright and moist, “No, he went the other way. He went down into the park li
ke he was going home.”

  “Oh my God!” whispered Mrs. McKendry.

  “You saw him walk away and he didn’t come back to get her?” asked the lawyer.

  “No, Johnny didn’t come back.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Emily said, and then started to cry.

  “Let him finish everyone, please,” George said.

  Albert Truegood swallowed deliberately, then continued. “She walked past me like I wasn’t even there on the sidewalk. She was staggering and had this blank look in her eyes.”

  “Why didn’t you come to the sheriff with this earlier?” Krupp asked angrily.

  “He was afraid they would accuse him,” George said. “Now listen to the rest.”

  “When I heard the next day the girl was dead, I got real scared. I thought they’d come lookin’ for me, but nobody came.”

  George grabbed his arm. “Tell them the rest.”

  Albert Truegood continued. “A car pulled up to the curb and followed her as she walked. Someone rolled down the window and when the car stopped she went over to talk to the person. I saw her lean into the car and she was talking to this person. It was a man.”

  “You don’t know who it was?” asked Jonathan’s mother.

  “No, I couldn’t see his face in the light. It was a big car. She got in and they drove away.”

  Krupp stood up. “Somebody go get the sheriff!”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The EmmaLee cruised slowly into the waters off Leland harbor, a small man-made inlet protected by rock jetties that pushed abruptly out into Lake Michigan. The ship was too large to dock inside the inlet. The captain and crew were readying anchors to bring her to rest just offshore. The winds were light from the east and the lake was a blue silky calm. Curious boaters maneuvered carefully at a safe distance to get a closer look at the big ship. Most had cameras out to capture the unusual sight.

  Daylight was slipping away as a bright orange sun fell relentlessly to the far horizon off towards Wisconsin. A layer of clouds were scattered across the sun’s path and painted soft grays and reds. Leland, Michigan was a small resort town tucked in the wooded hills above the lake. Its early roots were tied to the fishing and lumber trades. In recent times, restaurants, bed & breakfast homes and an eclectic array of shops provided for the local economy.

  A launch from the EmmaLee had been lowered over the side and Sally sat in the center seat with Alex as one of the crew steered them through the narrow inlet into the harbor. Megan had been on her computer instant messaging with her friends at home and decided to stay on the boat for the evening. They came alongside one of the docks. Alex jumped out to hold the line as Sally followed.

  “Give us two hours, Robby. We’re going to do a little shopping and get some dinner,” Alex said to the crewman. He looked at his watch. “We’ll be back around ten.” The crewman just nodded and jumped back down into the launch, pushing away and powering up to head back to the ship.

  A crowd of people had gathered on the docks and up on the lawn of the small park above the harbor, looking out at the EmmaLee. Alex and Sally stopped and talked with some of the other boat owners who were tied up in Leland. All were curious about the owner of the great ship resting offshore. Alex was cordial and answered all of their questions about the boat and her return to the Great Lakes.

  Sally led him away from the group of boaters to show him the old historic Fisherman’s Village that had been restored along the river that flowed down from the hills. They wandered through the shops together, holding hands. In the small fish market they bought smoked salmon and whitefish, caught fresh from the lake by Native American fisherman, to take back to the EmmaLee.

  With bags in hand they walked up the hill into the village of Leland. It was a typical summer evening in the small town with visitors far outnumbering the local merchants and residents. They found a restaurant with a deck that looked down on the waterfall from the river flowing down into the lake. They were taken to a table next to the rail. The sun was just beginning to fall behind the horizon line. A cool chill eased over the hills with the shadows.

  Alex talked to the server about a bottle of wine from one of the local vineyards he had heard about. They agreed on a bottle of chardonnay. As the server walked away, Alex took Sally’s hands in his. They hadn’t spoken about the impromptu memorial service out on the lake since they had boarded the launch to come ashore. Alex started to speak and then hesitated. He looked out over the vast lake and then turned to look back at Sally.

  Before he could say anything, Sally squeezed his hands, “Alex Clark, what you did today…”

  “Sally, if I overstepped…”

  “No, what you did was so special for me… and for my family.” She could still see the flowers floating off away from the boat. She could also hear the laughter of her daughter’s voice echoing in the back of her mind, but it was no longer a haunting sound. She had been feeling a growing sense of peace seep through her these past hours. She had also felt an even closer bond growing with the man sitting across from her. “This day has been so special,” she repeated. “Thank you, Alex.”

  The server arrived with the wine and placed two glasses down in front of them. Alex looked at the label and nodded. They watched as the young girl opened the wine and poured a small amount for Alex to taste. Without pretense, he swirled the wine and watched it wash up against the sides of the glass, leaving a shimmering residue that reflected the colors of the late evening sky. He held the glass to his nose and sniffed deeply, then took a small taste, savoring the flavor. He smiled at Sally who had been watching the ceremony intently, knowing Alex Clark had a fine taste for good wines. He nodded approvingly to the server who proceeded to fill their glasses. After hearing the special for the evening was planked whitefish, they both nodded and handed unopened menus back to the girl.

  Sally picked up her wine glass. “Thank you again, Alex.” She reached over and touched his glass lightly with hers. They both took long sips from the wine and let the cool flavor work its way over their tongues. They looked out across the harbor and the boat masts to see the last of the sun disappear behind the far horizon. They could also see the EmmaLee resting comfortably on the calm bay. Others on the deck and down on the docks cheered at the spectacle of the sun as it made its last sliver of an appearance for the day.

  “Sally, we’re going to start heading back to Charlevoix tomorrow,” Alex said.

  She nodded, coming back to the moment.

  “One of my old business partners is flying in. He says he just has to see me about investing in some new business he’s come across. I hope you don’t mind having to head back a bit early?”

  “No, not at all,” Sally said. “I’m feeling guilty about leaving the shop for as long as I have.”

  Alex fussed with his napkin, seeming preoccupied with some thought.

  “What is it?” Sally asked.

  He placed the napkin in his lap and looked up. “We need to start back soon. I mean back home to Newport.”

  “Yes, I knew you didn’t have much more time,” she answered with an empty feeling growing inside her.

  “Sally, I know we’ve spent such a short time together, but…” he hesitated. “I feel like you and I are just getting started and we can’t just leave it at this and say goodbye in a couple of days.”

  Sally’s mind was racing with thoughts of her home and business in Charlevoix and how deeply set she was in her life there. She smiled at him and said, “Why don’t you just leave the EmmaLee permanently at dock in Charlevoix, then you’ll have an excuse to come back and visit every summer. You’ll certainly make George Hansen happy. He’ll keep an eye on her for you.” As she said it, she knew how silly it sounded.

  Alex laughed. “It might be a bit cold for the old lady up here in January,” he said, looking out at the EmmaLee. Her running lights were on now. The ship looked like a small floating island in the growing darkness. “She has her mind set on a nice warm winter harborage down in St. John in
the Virgin Islands this winter.”

  “Don’t we all,” Sally replied. “The winters get awfully tough up here, even for us locals.”

  The server brought their salads and placed them down on the table. She refilled their wine glasses and placed the bottle back down in an ice bucket at Alex’s side.

  Sally looked at the face of Alex Clark. She could see the conflict of his emotions written clearly on his face. She was feeling the same things. They were coming to know each other so well and the connection seemed to be growing stronger each day. And yet, they both had such different lives.

  Alex broke the long silence. “Have you spoken with Gwen since she left town?”

  The question caught her by surprise. “No, we haven’t spoken. I thought about trying to reach her in New York. She usually stays with a friend of ours when she goes back to the city to visit. I just felt we both needed some time.”

  He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose, seeming to contemplate what to say next. “Sally, I’m going to be selfish here. I want you to have as much time as you need to work through all this with Gwen, but I also don’t want to walk away from what we have here.”

  She knew the question was unfair before she even started, but she couldn’t think of any other response. “And what do you think we have, Alex?”

  He smiled widely, almost in embarrassment. She could see the color rising in his cheeks. His white teeth shone brightly in the candlelight from the table.

  “I hope you agree we have something starting here,” he said.

  “Something?”

  “Sally, I’ll try to be very honest with you. I have such strong feelings for you. I get such joy being with you.” He reached for her hand again. “But, there is this divide lurking out there between us. It’s both our pasts and it’s your roots here in Michigan. How will we know if we can ever get beyond all that? How do I know you even want to consider it?”

  Sally felt her breath grow short. She had no idea how to respond. She had been struggling with the same feelings. When she was truly honest with herself she knew she had never felt more drawn to anyone in her life than Alex Clark, and yet the reality of her current life, with Gwen and with her gallery and the ties she had to Charlevoix, it all seemed to throw up such immovable obstacles. She sensed a growing anger, not at Alex, but at the inevitable decisions that faced her. She looked up and saw Alex had been watching her face intently.