Mayhem at the Orient Express

by Kylie Logan

  “What?” we all asked in unison.

  “Luella . . . Kate . . . You must remember, it happened about four years ago.”

  If that was the case, then whatever he was talking about, Chandra would remember it, too. Don’t think I didn’t notice that he’d purposely left her out of the conversation. Or that the very fact made her scrunch up her mouth as if she were about to spit nails.

  “There was a guy here in town who we looked at in connection with a couple burglaries,” Hank said. “Guy by the name of Chuck Anderson.”

  Luella’s expression was thoughtful. “Chuck was a local boy, and always a bad one. Trouble at home. Trouble in school. I did some business with him back when he ran the bait and tackle shop,” she said, strictly for my benefit.

  So was Kate’s next comment. “The bait and tackle shop.” She pointed down to the floor and beyond, to the restaurant. “It was right here in this building. Right downstairs.”

  “And Chuck”—Hank took over the telling of the story—“lived up here. He was what we call a person of interest in any number of local burglaries, but we were never able to pin anything on him. A couple years back, he left here for a day on the mainland and was nabbed on some burglary charge over there. If you ask me, it was no coincidence that the burglaries stopped here on the island as soon as Chuck was behind bars. And you know what? I’m thinking it might be just about the time he’d come up for parole.”

  A piece of the puzzle clunked into place inside my head. Maybe. I told myself my theory was only that—a maybe. I wouldn’t know more until I had more information. “What kinds of things were missing?” I asked Hank. “In those burglaries you were never able to pin on Chuck?”

  Hank thought about it, but only for a minute. Like cops everywhere, he had an encyclopedic knowledge of the cases he’d worked. Especially the ones he hadn’t been able to solve.

  “Chuck had a good eye. And he only targeted the summer residents. One of the items that was never recovered was a diamond tennis bracelet. White gold, with a couple carats’ worth of little diamonds on it, all told. I remember that burglary because the homeowners put up quite a stink. They were all for blaming the Department, said we didn’t provide adequate protection, even though they’d left for a day of boating and hadn’t locked their doors.”

  I looked at the hole in the wall. It was plenty big enough to stash a diamond tennis bracelet.

  “And the other missing things?” I asked Hank.

  “A couple rings. One emerald, one ruby, the way I remember it. And a set of gold cuff links. Had the owner’s initials on them, which to me meant they weren’t going to be easy to fence. But hey, gold prices have skyrocketed since then. I’m sure one of those dealers that pays you cash for your gold would gladly take them, no questions asked.”

  “And you never could link Chuck Anderson directly to any of these crimes?”

  I don’t think I was imagining it; when Hank swiveled his gaze from the hole to me, I had the distinct feeling he was about to ask why I thought any of this was my business.

  I was ready with an answer before he could ask the question. “I was just thinking, that’s all. If Chuck was back on the island—”

  Hank cut me off with a brisk wave of one hand. “No way. I’d know it. Chuck was a fixture around here. Everybody knew him, and anybody who saw him now would recognize him. If he came over on the ferry—”

  “It was mild last week.” Luella’s reminder was gentle, but pointed. “I had my boat out.”

  I jumped on the suggestion. “Which means Chuck could have come over from the mainland on a boat of his own. Or he could have had someone bring him on a private boat, right?”

  Hank wasn’t convinced. “But if he did—”

  “If he did, he could have been looking to collect something he didn’t have a chance to take with him when he left the island.” I gave the holes in the wall a pointed look. “What if, all those years ago, he hid the jewelry up here in his apartment?”

  “And you think Peter found it when he was remodeling?”

  I couldn’t say, so I didn’t bother to answer Kate’s question.

  Chandra didn’t give me a chance, anyway. “If Chuck came back,” she said, stepping up so that Hank couldn’t ignore her, “he might have been the one who made this mess.”

  “But if Chuck hid the jewelry in the first place, he’d know exactly where it was. He wouldn’t need all these holes.” Yes, the realization smashed my Chuck-as-bad-guy theory to smithereens, but I had no choice but to voice it. “But . . .” I stopped before I spoke, and realized that Chandra, Kate, Luella, and Hank all had their eyes on me, waiting to hear more.

  “What if someone else knew the jewelry was hidden somewhere in the building?” I suggested. “That would explain why no one spotted this Chuck character. Because Chuck wasn’t here. We don’t even know for sure that he’s out of prison, do we?”

  A muscle jumped at the base of Hank’s jaw. “You can bet I’m going to find out, ASAP.”

  I went right on.

  “Another unknown person would also explain why that person had to make so many holes in the walls. He knew the jewelry was here, he just didn’t know where exactly. And that makes me think . . .” I took as good a look as I was able to at the closest hole. “He may not have found what he was looking for the first time he was here. That’s why he had to come back. But the first time . . .” I was going out on a limb, and I waited to hear it crack beneath me. “The first time, my guess is that he ran into Peter when he was here. Maybe that’s why Peter was killed.”

  It all made so much sense, and I should have been happy about it.

  After all, I was beginning to piece together a reasonable explanation for the crime.

  But if that was true, why did my stomach feel as if it had been tied into a couple hundred Boy Scout knots?

  Well, heck, that was easy! We’d just talked about it when we ran into Amanda outside the front door. That’s when we figured out that Ted and Amanda both had reasons to kill Peter, and the opportunity to do it, too. Then we’d just determined that some unnamed friend or relative of Anastasia Golubski, the woman who died after eating at Peter’s restaurant, might be seeking revenge. After that, we tied the building and the destruction inside it to a known burglar who might be looking for the valuable jewels he’d been forced to leave behind when he went to jail.

  Heck, I should have been jumping for joy. But all I could think of was how much we were in over our heads.

  See, instead of having no suspects? We suddenly had too many.

  15

  When I opened my eyes the next morning, the sun was just creeping over the horizon, and for a moment, I allowed myself to wallow in the pristine perfection of dawn’s early light. No snow clouds. No wind. No pounding waves. For a couple days there, I’d started to question the wisdom of moving to the island, but now that the storm was over and life was back to normal—

  Hardly.

  Not with an unsolved murder tainting the atmosphere, the reputation, and, yes (don’t tell Chandra I said this), the aura of the island.

  The realization hit like the touch of an icy hand, and I pushed myself up on my elbows. That’s also when I realized that it wasn’t the sunlight that woke me up in the first place—it was the sound of footsteps in the hallway upstairs.

  Chandra and Hank.

  Marveling at the convoluted machinations of the human psyche, I smiled. Whatever the heck was going on with those two, I guess it was fair to say that they’d gotten over their differences in regard to what Hank called mumbo jumbo.

  Or at least they put those differences aside for as long as it took to get it on.

  I plumped my pillow and plopped back down, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get back to sleep. Not with thinking about everything we’d discovered in our last couple days of investigating and—on a more mundane note—everything that needed to get done in time for breakfast. After twenty minutes of trying to coax back the Sandman and failing completel
y, I gave up on the idea of dozing for a little while longer. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, poked my feet into my slippers, grabbed my robe, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

  “Oh.” Just inside the kitchen door, I stopped cold. But then, I hadn’t expected to find Levi sitting at the kitchen counter.

  Did I care that I looked (literally) like I’d just gotten out of bed? That my hair was a fright? That my robe was the red plaid flannel one I’d bought on a summer trip to Maine that I never expected to be quite as chilly? And that my feet were encased in pink bunny slippers?

  I shouldn’t have.

  I didn’t, I told myself.

  That didn’t keep me from cringing.

  Not that it mattered. My mortification dissolved in a flash when I saw what Levi was doing. He had a checkbook open on the counter in front of him and he was writing out a check. To me. His sleeping bag was rolled and tied. It was on the floor near the back door.

  “You’re leaving.”

  Not a question, but then, it was pretty obvious, so why pretend?

  He ripped the check out of his checkbook and set it on the counter. “I figured it was time to see what’s happening back at the bar.”

  “That makes sense.” It did, and had this been any other guy—and had I been thinking about anything other than murder—I would have left it at that. “It would make even more sense if you planned to check the building then come back here to sleep where it’s warm and where we have electricity. And if you weren’t doing it so early. You know, so you could slip out without anyone seeing you.”

  “Slip out? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  It was a no-brainer, but still, he’d asked the question. He deserved a straight answer.

  I strolled over so I could glance at the check, cursing the fuzzy pink bunnies who blazed the path with heads bobbing. “You paid me too much. I guess you wanted to be sure there was no question about what you owed me. That way, you could be certain you wouldn’t have to see me again.”

  “That’s not it at all.” His answer was a little too sharp, a little too quick. Levi knew it. He stood and reached for the navy peacoat he’d left hanging on one of the chairs at the table, and yes, I noticed him noticing the bunny slippers. He was smart enough not to comment. “I wanted you to know how grateful I am to you for taking me in. That’s why I gave you more than the amount we agreed on.”

  “I don’t need charity. Yours, or anyone else’s.”

  “I can see that.” Another glance at the bunny couple, and in addition to being smart, I learned Levi had a poker face. I stored away the information for a time I might need it. “And I’m not just saying that because the B and B is nice,” he said. “Or because of all that stuff Chandra said about how much money your late husband left you.” He put on his coat and stepped away from me and toward the door. “You have a good head for business. And you’re a gracious hostess, even in the face of what could have been an accommodation disaster. You handled it well.” Another glance down, and this time, I learned one more thing about him: he could only keep a straight face so long. A smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “I predict you’re going to be successful at this B and B thing. In spite of the pink bunnies.”

  I was not in the mood to join in the fun. “But you’re going to make sure you’re not around to see it.”

  Levi smile disappeared. “I honestly can’t see that you’d care.”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I do.”

  “Then why—?”

  “I’ve got a lot of unanswered questions, and it seems to me, you’re trying your darnedest to make sure they stay that way. Truth be told, that leaves me with another question—why?”

  “Why do you have questions? I can’t say. Unless it’s questions about you and me.”

  Oh, yeah. I could see how a woman could fall under his spell. It was the voice, as smooth and intoxicating as really good bourbon, and the face that would make the gods weep with appreciation. It was the whole, delicious package that was Levi Kozlov.

  And I wasn’t buying it.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Defensive? Yes. But it didn’t hurt to send the signal: You’re not battering down these walls, buster. I don’t care how cute you are.

  “There is no you and me,” I reminded him, though I shouldn’t have had to. “We hardly know each other.”

  “And you want to keep it that way.”

  “I’m not the one sneaking out before it’s barely light.”

  “You’re not the one with a building where there might be burst pipes.”

  “A building across the street from the scene of a murder.”

  Like a sniper with a target in his sights, he went perfectly still, poised to make the next move. One second. Two. If there was any vacillation going on behind that gorgeous face, it didn’t show. He wasn’t unsure about what he wanted to do next. I knew that instinctively. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. He just didn’t want to do it.

  “There’s nothing I know that you need to know,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “I wish I could.”

  He lifted his bedroll and tucked it under his arm. “You know what, Bea? I wish you could, too.”

  Levi already had his hand on the back door when it popped open.

  “My goodness!” Mariah stepped into the kitchen, her cheeks pink, but whether it was from the temperatures outside or the surprise at finding us there, I couldn’t say. Her smile was bright, and a little apologetic. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  After hearing Levi call me a gracious hostess, I figured I had a reputation to live up to, but still, Mariah didn’t strike me as the up-early-and-out-the-door type. “It must be awfully cold out there,” I said, glancing to where her hands were stuffed in her pockets. “Is anything wrong?”

  “You mean, why was I out of the house so early?” She laughed and moved another couple steps past Levi and into the kitchen. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. I woke up early and watched the sunrise, and I realized I’ve been cooped up for so many days, I felt as if I’d just burst if I didn’t get outside and get some air. I took the opportunity to put a few things I wasn’t using in the car. And I took a walk. A very short walk. It looks like it’s going to turn into a beautiful day, but right now . . .” She shivered. “It’s still plenty cold out there.”

  “Just what I was thinking!” It was the morning for early risers. A spring in his step (I knew exactly why), Hank came into the kitchen, already dressed in his uniform. “Cold,” he said, “and I was just on the phone with the station. The block where your place is . . .” He looked at Levi and at his bedroll. “There’s still no power. We’re asking people to stay away from those buildings. No use going into a dark place and getting hurt. Right now, all our resources are being diverted to snow removal. We’d rather not have to deal with residents having accidents.”

  Levi dropped his bedroll back on the floor. “Then it looks like I’m staying.”

  I wished he would have said it with a little more enthusiasm (why, I couldn’t say, or maybe I could and I didn’t want to think about it), but hey, at this point I’d take anything I could get. All I was hoping for out of Levi was some answers. With a few more hours to try and a little bit of luck, maybe I’d get them.

  He shrugged out of his coat. “I make a mean cheese omelet,” he said.

  I wanted to tell him I didn’t need the help, but let’s face it, I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially one who can cook. No sooner had Levi stuck his head in the fridge to search for ingredients and I’d moved over to the coffee maker, than I heard Hank talking to Mariah. Talk about moves!

  “Let me help you with your coat, honey,” Hank said. “A woman as pretty as you shouldn’t have to do things for herself.”

  I was tempted to turn around and give him a piece of my mind, along with the news flash that, yes, I’d heard him with Chandra not an hour earlier, but I held my tongue and measured out the coffee. It
was none of my business, and besides, Mariah didn’t seem to mind.

  In fact, she giggled, and in a low, seductive voice, told him she’d take care of her coat herself. “If you’d just be a darling,” she purred, “and get me the very first cup of coffee out of that pot, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  Apparently, Hank liked the idea of eternally grateful and all it might imply. Before I knew it, he was standing right behind me, an empty coffee mug in his hand.

  I poured the first cup for Mariah, another one for Hank, and grabbed one for myself while I was at it. When Mariah and Hank trailed into the dining room together, I poured another cup for Levi and took it over to where he was standing near the sink, cracking eggs into a bowl.

  He didn’t look my way. “Peace offering?” he asked.

  I set his down so I could wrap my hands around my own mug. “Do we need one?”

  He leaned over and turned on the disposal to get rid of the eggshells, and he didn’t bother saying a thing until it was done whirring. “We do if you think I had anything to do with Peter’s murder,” he said.

  “I never said you did.”

  He dug around in the nearest drawer for a whisk and gave the eggs a thorough beating. “You never had to.”

  “It’s not like I think you killed the man.”

  “Really?” Levi left the whisk in the bowl and turned to me. “Then why are you trying to grill me every chance you get?”

  “I’m just—”

  “Being nosey?”

  “Trying to solve a mystery.”

  “Why? Because you want to be some kind of hero again?”

  It didn’t take more than a second for his meaning to sink in, and I swear, in that one heartbeat, the coffee in my mug went from piping hot to icy cold. But then, my veins suddenly filled with ice water, and my hands were glacial.