Elizabeth had already envisioned the lobby of Drescher’s newly renovated luxury hotel with magnificent panels of rich fabric draped from the ceiling and from random points high up on the walls. She quickly decided the panels should be loosely woven to allow air flow and be constructed of a heavy duty faux silk that could be removed periodically to be cleaned. Always the practical one, Elizabeth was. The fabric would look luxurious, but would also help to absorb sound which was important in a public space like this three-story lobby. She sketched what she was picturing in her mind’s eye onto the pad of paper on her lap. Before long, she slid down in her chair, pulling her knees toward her body, bracing her heels on the edge of the chair, converting her legs into a makeshift easel on which to rest her paper. After several quick sketches of the fabric panels from different perspectives, she turned her attention toward the front desk, the concierge station, the bell hop’s stand, skillfully drawing each one with rich Italian marble counters, dark mahogany wood walls with antiqued brass fixtures and soft lighting. Next she focused on the furniture. She was picturing upholstered chairs and loveseats with clean, contemporary lines arranged in conversation clusters throughout the lobby. No particular color palette had crossed her mind yet, but she would just put that question in the back of her mind to work on while she kept going with this. Nice thing about the subconscious. If she was ever on overload or really didn’t have time to work out a problem at the moment, she tucked it back in and checked back later to see what she had come up with. It was amazing how well it worked. Obviously her subconscious had been putting time in on this lobby because she was surprised at how easily the plan was coming to her.
Now, to turn her attention to individual guest rooms. In a hotel of this stature, they would all be suites and each floor would have a different design style, perhaps with an international flair. She was on a roll and didn’t want to stop sketching before she had put down on paper, everything that was spilling out of her imagination. Her late lunch would have to wait a little longer. Her stomach growled a noisy protest, but she pressed on. As her grandmother always said, “strike while the iron is hot.” As a youngster it took her a while to figure out what she meant by that, but as an adult, Elizabeth not only understood the cliché, she lived by it.
After about an hour of fluid arm movements, Elizabeth had produced a couple dozen detailed drawings. A few discarded pages lay at the base of her chair, scrunched up into balls. She took a deep breath and exhaled a long, loud sigh. It was time for a break. Her body was starting to send a more desperate signal for food, the beginnings of a headache. Good thing she had eaten a late breakfast or else she never would have lasted this long before eating. She began with the sparkling water to quench the thirst in her parched throat, and then she eagerly opened the sandwich and fruit salad. What a treat. While her taste buds delighted in the succulent lobster and the sweet crunch of the fruit salad, she breathed in the fragrances of nature by the sea, closing her eyes and enjoying the sounds of the seagulls, playfully floating on the air currents above her. After a few minutes of nature’s serenade, she slowly opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the railing in front of her. Beyond the railing, she noticed a figure standing on the breakwater, near the lighthouse on the right side. It looked like Chief Austin. His hands were on his hips and he seemed to be gazing out to sea. Perhaps in a reflective mood. He had a lot to ponder. A lot to sort out. She watched him start to pace back and forth as if waiting for something. Elizabeth slowly stood from her lawn chair, a squeak reminding her of its age. Reaching her left hand forward to grasp the railing, she furrowed her brow. What was he up to? She watched for a while longer, with a feeling she shouldn’t take her eyes off the scene. Suddenly, the chief started to make his way down toward the water. Elizabeth shifted her gaze slightly and noticed a figure emerging from the water. Someone in a wet suit, complete with an oxygen tank, mask and flippers. In the frigid waters of coastal Maine, such an outfit was necessary in order to spend any time underwater.
Elizabeth was holding her breath, waiting to see if the diver had found anything. The black rubber skinned individual was speaking to the chief, gesturing with his or her hands. From the distance, she was observing from on the bluff, it was hard to tell if the diver was a man or a woman. Suddenly, she took in a quick breath and started breathing again.
It was time for a closer look. She couldn’t tell what was going on from way up there. But she couldn’t very well lug all of her paraphernalia with her so she shoved the drawing pad and pencils in the portfolio and folded up the gaudy yellow and white striped lawn chair. Grabbing one in each hand, she glanced down and noticed the remnants of her lunch; the parchment paper from her sandwich, the clear plastic take-out box from the fruit salad, the green water bottle and the white cardboard picnic box in which they all had traveled. Absentmindedly, she shook her head. There was no way she was going to leave that mess behind. That would violate what was, in her mind, the eleventh commandment; thou shalt not litter in the pristine state of Maine. She put down her load and quickly gathered her litter, placing all the loose items inside the box. Tucking the box under her left arm, she picked up the chair and portfolio again and looked around, assessing the area near her to see where she could stash her stuff for the time being. A large tree on the far side of the clearing, just a few feet into the woods, would suffice. She quickly stepped behind the towering conifer and leaned her things up against it, freeing her to move quickly and quietly, down the trail to the lighthouse.
Elizabeth headed back onto the path. She wished she could break into a light jog to get there more quickly. Unfortunately the trail did not lend itself to that. You had to be careful where you stepped. After the bluff, the path became narrower and was riddled with tree roots that could easily catch a toe and send you airborne, landing you on your face. There were also branches that protruded into the path to grab onto when navigating down the steep slope that descended to the breakwater.
Elizabeth paused for a moment to peer through the pines toward the lighthouse. The diver was no longer talking to the chief. He was not even in sight. For that matter, the chief wasn’t there either. Suddenly, she heard voices below her on the path. They were heading up the hill! Elizabeth quickly slipped off the path to the left into the trees growing on the side of the hill. She grabbed onto the trunks of small pine trees as she went. Each step put her further away from the path. She could hear the voices getting closer. They were both male. Maybe she could glean something from their conversation as they passed. She squatted to try to stay out of sight and took hold of the trunk nearest her to steady herself. She looked down to find herself on a steep incline huddled up to a small pine tree. There were footsteps on the dirt path. They were close. She held her breath and listened, hoping she was successfully concealed. It would be embarrassing if she wasn’t. Then it got quiet; no footsteps and no voices. Even the gulls overhead were quiet. What was going on? The idea to hide in the trees was starting to seem foolish. Then the conversation began again. The feet weren’t moving, though. The Chief must have needed a breather. Only the extremely fit can make it up the hill from the light without getting winded.
“Look, Chief. This is getting us nowhere. Precious time is slipping away from us. We need to close down the entrance to the inn. No one gets out until we figure this out.” Elizabeth stifled a gasp.
“We have no concrete evidence that this is anything other than a teenager who has run away from her parents for a while. Amelia will never go for closing down the—”
“It’s not her choice!” The other man insisted. His voice was loud and demanding. “We have a very serious situation and could be losing vital evidence or allowing key witnesses or even the perpetrators the opportunity to walk away, Scot free.”
Elizabeth was starting to feel uncomfortable eavesdropping on their conversation. If they could see her, she would look rather guilty. She was starting to shift her focus from keeping her balan
ce, crouched behind the tree, to what they were saying. Her left foot, which was further down the hill than the other, started to slide. Her body weight must have been balanced predominantly on that foot because her whole body started to slide down the steep hill toward the water. The trunk slipped from her grasp and she felt her whole body heading downward. She could hear the surf crashing against the rocks below. Panic set in. The edge of this part of the cliff wasn’t very far away, but she didn’t know exactly how far. Desperately she snatched at low branches as she tried to stop herself from sliding further. The first branch pulled right off the tree. The second slipped from her hand, but slowed her down a bit. The third branch was the charm. She felt her whole body jolt to a stop. She quickly grabbed the trunk of the tree and held her breath. She wondered how much noise had she made slipping down the side of the hill. Had they noticed? She listened. The air was silent. She couldn’t see their faces to tell if they were just pausing in their conversation or listening for her. She prayed it wasn’t the latter. She would have a hard time explaining herself if they found her. She slowly exhaled and glanced down the hill, beyond her left foot. Her eyes grew wide. She was mere inches away from an abrupt drop off. She was on the edge of the cliff. She stifled another gasp. Her head suddenly felt dizzy. This was where the trail took a right turn and zigzagged the rest of the way down the cliff. They would have been investigating another situation at the inn if she had kept going over the edge. Elizabeth decided to put that out of her head and concentrate on holding on and keeping quiet. She listened for what seemed to be a very long time, longing to hear their voices again. Hopefully, they thought she was just a squirrel. She listened. Finally the voices came back to life again.
“Lieutenant Perkins, look. We don’t know that it’s a serious situation. It could just be –”
“Not a serious situation! Check with the girl’s parents and see what they think! It most certainly is. The evidence we’ve collected so far certainly indicates it is and speaking of checking, I’d like to check with Mitchell and see what he’s been up to.”
The voices started to trail off so the chief must have caught his breath while he was getting yelled at and they started heading back up to the top of the hill again. The squelch from a two-way radio confirmed they were further up the path.
Poor Nana. She will absolutely flip. This will be terrible for business. And Kurt. What did the Lieutenant mean by that? Do they suspect him? If he really is a suspect, what would his motive be? And are others in danger? And what evidence…what have they collected?
Elizabeth waited several minutes to make sure the men were really gone. She wondered what her next move was going to be. She didn’t know where to start. Were they investigating a murder or a disappearance? Or two disappearances; the girl and Girard. Are they connected? As she was struggling with these questions she started to slowly make her way out of the woods, carefully placing each step on the hill so she wouldn’t slip again. Finally, she emerged from the pines, relieved that the body sliding was over. She looked up the hill to see someone coming down the path through the trees. The chief? The state trooper? It was too late to dive back into the woods so she stayed put and tried to think of something intelligent to say. Whoever was coming was going to wonder what she was doing there and why they hadn’t seen her on their way up the path? In a rash decision, she decided, instead, to continue down the cliff. Chances are she could get down to the bottom faster than whoever was behind her and buy herself more time before she came face to face with him or them. Being out in the open at the bottom of the trail was a safer place to be than cornered in the woods on a trail that was treacherous to descend.
Elizabeth quickly negotiated her way down the steep decline, grabbing protruding pine boughs as she went, skillfully stepping around exposed roots. Footsteps thudded behind her. She felt her pace quickening which made her descent that much more challenging. If she remembered correctly, there were two more hairpin turns in the trail before she was safely at the bottom. She was curious who was behind her but was afraid to sneak a look. Finally she couldn’t resist. She took her eyes off her feet, and where she was placing them, long enough to turn her head and look. Just as she did, she felt her right foot catch on a root or a rock so her head spun back around in time to see herself diving head first toward the trunk of an evergreen. She instinctively put her hands out to break her fall. She landed with a thud on her chest and stomach, knocking the wind out of her, her forehead making contact with the base of the tree trunk. The impact stunned her for a moment. Then she realized the person behind her was approaching. Gasping for air, she tried to scramble to her feet, but was a bit dazed. A firm hand grabbed her from behind.
“Lizzi, are you alright?” Elizabeth’s relief in hearing a familiar voice was palpable. “What happened? You look terrible. Are you all right? I’m so glad I found you! I should have looked at the lighthouse first. That’s where your grandmother suggested but it’s such a long walk down—”
“Shelle, I’ve got my cell phone. Try that next time.” Elizabeth was still trying to catch her breath. She was sure she looked quite awful. She had just cleaned off a five foot section of the path with the front of her clothes. Rashelle helped her sit up. Her cell phone. Had she remembered to put it on silent? Could that have given her away in the woods if it had rung? She decided that she really needed to get better at being in stealth mode or she wasn’t going to find out anything. Worse yet, she could put herself in danger.
“What were you doing?”
“Oh, just poking around.” She brushed off her clothes and Rashelle started to pull pine needles out of Elizabeth’s hair. “Listen; let’s head back up the hill.” She was struggling to get to her feet. “I overheard part of a conversation. I need to let Nana know Chief Austin is going to start making things miserable for everyone—”
“Starting! He has already put the inn in lockdown. No one in or out. He is determined to get to the bottom of this mess.”
“Wow, he moves quickly. He must have radioed ahead on his way up the hill.” Great. Vera is never going to believe this!
“Yeah. Basically everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise.”
“What? A suspect? For what crime?” She wondered what the diver could have found.
“Poor Amelia. She’s not taking this well.”
Elizabeth grabbed Rashelle firmly at the shoulders with both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “You and I are going to find out what is going on!”
Rashelle looked bewildered. “W-we are?” she stammered.
Elizabeth released her grip. “We have to!” She turned away from her and started heading to the top. Rashelle quickly fell in behind her. “My grandmother is on the verge of giving up the inn which has been in our family for…for Lord knows how many years. But several generations anyway. And just because some aggressive attorney is harassing her. Do we know anything about this guy?” She turned to look at Rashelle behind her to make sure she was getting her point. She could feel her voice getting louder. Rashelle opened her mouth to answer, but Elizabeth pressed on. “A female guest is missing and everyone fears the worst at this point. This inn is in lockdown—not good for business! On top of it all, the chief is way out of his league here. He’s never had any experience with missing persons, extortion, or worse. He wasn’t around when that student disappeared years ago, but that was never really resolved and a shadow has hung over the place ever since. We don’t need another scandal.” The pace of her words was quickening with each sentence. She stopped on a turn to catch her breath.
Silence hung in the air as they both pondered the situation. Elizabeth wondered how loudly she had been speaking and if the woods around them had ears. She nervously glanced around them in a three hundred sixty degree swath. One thing she knew for sure, they needed to rally behind Amelia.
They continued up the hill in silence until they reached the bluff. Elizabeth
nearly walked right past the bluff in her determination to get to the top as quickly as possible. Suddenly, she realized she had to make a little detour. “Oh! I almost forgot. I left my drawing supplies and chair behind a tree.”
Rashelle gave her a look of confusion.
“Oh, don’t give it another thought. I just needed to travel lightly. It will just take a second.” She stepped into the trees heading for her belongings. “I put them right here behind this…” Her voice trailed off as she walked a few feet into the woods as she had done earlier. She looked from tree to tree and she didn’t find her things. “They were right here,” a tone of panic rising in her voice. Where could they be? She retraced her steps from the bluff back to the trees. She was sure of the area. She had played there as a child. She kept looking, certain she was not mistaken. Even if they had fallen over, she should still be able to see them. The underbrush was not thick here. She walked in a circle around the area where she thought she had left them. Rashelle searched the fringes of what Elizabeth was covering. Elizabeth started crisscrossing the small area above the bluff. She was becoming very anxious. Her drawings… They were gone She had nothing to fax to her boss. Vera was definitely not going to be happy about this. She turned to Rashelle with a look of shock and disbelief. “They’re gone.” Her words were barely audible. She was absolutely devastated.
The Precipice Page 8