The Body in the Boat

by Ami Diane

  “With all the other cavemen,” Ella added helpfully as Edwin handed her a basket of homemade sweet rolls.

  Conversation flowed through dinner like wine, sweet and heady, filling Ella with a warm heart. Firelight from the candles danced over the tapestries, moving in a rhythm that synced with Bing Crosby’s buttery voice floating from the record player.

  “Oh, here it comes,” Wink said, and the room fell silent.

  Ella was about to ask what was happening when the record skipped, and Rose sighed.

  “Why don’t you give that a proper burial, huh?” Flo said. “Want me to take it out back and shoot it for you?”

  Rose dabbed a napkin at her crimson lipstick. “I can’t help it. There’s only so many in my collection.”

  “That’s right,” Ella said. “You guys missed the birth of rock and roll, didn’t you?”

  Jimmy brushed a hand over his thinning hair, leaving a streak of butter behind. “I heard that term bandied about on the radio just before the first jump. Means rhythm and blues or something, doesn’t it?”

  Ella’s jaw dropped slightly. “My friend, that was just the beginning.”

  A sudden thought occurred to her. She jumped from the table and excused herself, running upstairs to her room. Fluffy jumped and hissed when she burst into the room. After taking a moment to placate him with a few well-placed scratches, she fished her suitcase out from under her bed.

  She had unpacked her clothes when she realized she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon but had left a couple books and electronics stored away. She pulled out her Bluetooth speaker, hoping the batteries were still good, then raced back downstairs.

  Will perked up when he spotted the oblong speaker system. “What do you have there?” His eyes shone with the same interest and hunger she’d seen when he played with her cell phone.

  “Speakers.”

  Jimmy half-stood to get a better view as she set it beside the record player. Even the technophobe, anti-progress innkeeper wasn’t immune to marveling at technological advancements.

  Ella turned on the device then settled back at the table, pulling out her phone and connecting to the stereo via Bluetooth. Will watched over her shoulder. More than once, he reached out to touch the screen, forcing Ella to have to bat his hand away each time.

  “Keep in mind,” Ella prefaced as her thumb scrolled through an Elvis album, “that not everyone was a fan of the later rock and roll, but this—and others I’ll play—changed music forever.”

  She tapped on one of the King’s more milder tunes, hoping to ease them into the next era of music for them. They ate dessert—apple strudel—while listening to Ella’s playlist.

  Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table, Rose closed her eyes while Edward fell asleep. Across the table, Wink attempted to get Chester to dance, and Flo was in the process of making her cloth napkin into a boat. Beside her, Will eyed her phone.

  Rose cleared her throat. “I don’t know if it’s the music, but it sure is swell to hear a new song.”

  Will squirmed, and Ella danced the phone out of reach again. She knew he was itching to play with it, but she was in the middle of creating a new playlist.

  The moment she set the device down onto the tablecloth, he scooped it up, asking her how the phone sent the songs to the speaker without a cord.

  What followed was a halting, stumbling explanation on her part, ending with her telling him it was sorcery.

  “Sending information wirelessly isn’t unheard of in the scientific community,” Will said, bypassing her usual attempt at explaining away technology. “But how is the music on the phone?”

  “There’s a small record album inside. If you shake the phone, maybe you’ll hear it skip.”

  He stared down his nose at her. “Really?”

  “No.”

  Her eyebrows pinched together. Judging by his expression, he wasn’t going to let this go. She tried to decide the best way to explain digital files and computers and bluetooth. In the end, she settled on just tackling the complex topic of computers.

  They discussed the topic in depth, pausing when Chester knocked over a candle and started a small fire. Flo tossed her water on the flame, missing, and hitting Wink in the face. Jimmy smothered the fire with his napkin.

  After much arguing, a wet Wink and Chester left, and Flo and Edwin went upstairs. While Ella and Will helped the innkeepers clear the table, they picked up the thread of conversation again.

  Soon, they were alone in the dining room. The last song on the playlist died, and Ella became aware of the nasally sound she made while breathing.

  The remaining candles had burned down to nubs before she blew them out.

  “It’s getting late,” Will said, though he didn’t look at all tired.

  “Actually, before you go, I was wondering if I could pick your brain about something?” He indicated for her to continue. “Someone told me the town’s power need is 1,500 megawatts a month. Is that true?”

  “Someone, huh?” His dark brows hooded his eyes in thought. “That’s way off.”

  Ella pinched her lips together. Why would the lineman lie to her? “How much does each turbine produce?”

  “Well, it’s been a while since I did any work on them, so the details are fuzzy. But I believe around 17,000 megawatts a year. That’s at one hundred percent capacity, mind you.”

  “And how much does the whole town actually need?”

  “I don’t really know. I was only part of the original planning of the first farm. We factored in about two hundred eighty megawatts annually. But honestly, that was so long ago, I could be misremembering or our consumption needs could’ve changed since then.”

  Ella felt the line between her eyebrows deepen, the math becoming too hard to do in her head. She picked up her phone from the table and opened the calculator app.

  Will’s eyes bugged out. “Is there anything that device can’t do?”

  “Not really. So, if the town needs two hundred eighty thousand megawatts a year, and each turbine produces seventeen thousand…” She tapped the numbers in. Her jaw dropped. “That’s only sixteen turbines necessary to meet the town’s electrical needs.”

  “That’s max efficiency, though. Remember what Stan said: they’re currently running around thirty percent—at best. And that, I can attest to myself. We haven’t had much wind recently. Also, keep in mind that we want a buffer because that’s only calculating public use of the grid. Not our infrastructures or greenhouses.”

  “Right. So, seventeen thousand megawatts times thirty percent…” Her fingers tapped the screen. “Then divide two hundred eighty thousand by that number… Fifty-four point nine. Almost fifty-five turbines. How many are on Jonas’s property?”

  “We installed thirty-two, but how many of those are still operational, I’m not sure.”

  Her face fell. “And Stan proposed only sixteen more which would put the total hooked up to the grid at forty-eight.”

  “Right. Which tells me,” Will said, “that he was confident that the new location would yield a higher efficiency.”

  Ella tried to hide her disappointment. She’d been so sure Stan had been lying about the turbines, that the current number of mill was more than sufficient. But he had been right. The town did need more electricity. He’d even been conservative in his calculations. So, why had someone wanted him dead?

  She thanked Will and walked him to the door. He slipped his hat over his patent leather hair.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Ella said, remembering the clipboard with the professor’s meter reading. “Do you have any idea why the professor would consume almost fifteen hundred kilowatts a month?”

  Will shook his head. “No—wait, how do you know that? Did you also get that information from this someone?” His tone was light and teasing, but a trace of jealousy clouded his face.

  “It was just a lineman I bugged. But that’s a lot, right?”

  “‘Course it’s a lot.”

  “Three times wha
t most use?”

  He nodded, his mouth turning down. “Why’re you asking, Ella?”

  “Just curious.”

  Hesitating, she broke when he’d stared her down for what felt like a full minute. She recounted the trio’s visit to the substation and her conversation with the journeyman lineman—leaving out the more colorful details.

  She finished, adding, “According to the lineman, guess who else had a high reading, with nearly a megawatt and second only to the professor?” She waited impatiently, watching Will’s expression shift to surprise.

  “Not Stan?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, indeed.”

  Will shook his head. “I could maybe understand the professor’s consumption due to all of his equipment. But Stan?”

  “Exactly. What was he doing over there on Lake Drive that requires more than the average household?”

  Will shoved his hands into his trench coat, his eyes lost in thought. “Whatever it was for must have been important. To go through all the trouble of petitions and proposals, it’d have to be.”

  “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

  The lines around his mouth deepened. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Well, do you have any better ideas?” If she could just poke around the property, not even go inside Stan’s house, she might figure what all the power was for.

  “Poking around another person’s property is just asking for trouble. You should know that by now,” he said pointedly, his tone was fraught with concern. “Remember what happened with the mayor? Ella, promise me you won’t go over there alone.”

  She fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. He repeated his plea.

  “Yeah, fine,” she said finally. “I promise.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “HAPPY Hump Day,” Ella sang, bursting through the back door of the diner.

  Horatio looked up from the griddle, a golden pancake perched on his spatula. “Pardon?”

  “Hump Day. You know, the middle of the week.”

  The cook made an “O” shape with his mouth. “That clarifies nothing for me.”

  She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  Wink strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune.

  “Happy Hump Day,” Ella tried with her.

  “Honey, that hasn’t happened for a while.”

  Ella slapped her hands over her ears. “Oh, God. Forget I said anything, geez. Now I need to wash my ears out.”

  Horatio poured more batter onto the griddle. “Why’s everyone so chippy this morning?”

  Ella pulled her hands away. “I think you mean chipper. And that’s because it’s Hump Day.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Say Hump Day one more time and see what happens.”

  When he rolled around to the griddle, shaking his head, she mouthed the words Hump Day at his back. Wink grinned.

  Suddenly, the cook whirled around and for a moment, Ella feared he had eyes in the back of his head.

  “Wait a second,” he said. “I know why you’re happy.” He pointed the metal cookware at Wink. “You were with that Stewart fellow last night.”

  “Was not.”

  “Yes, you were. I saw you two at—”

  “She couldn’t have been,” Ella cut in, rescuing her friend. “She was over for dinner last night.”

  “What time?”

  Ella scrunched her face up, recalling the time between Chester’s pyrotechnics and her conversation with Will. “From seven until nine.”

  “Ah ha!” He made a swirling motion with the spatula like it was a wand.

  “Easy there, Merlin. What’s ‘ah ha’?”

  “I saw them together walking down the street at ten. Hand in hand, through the snow, like two lovebirds.” He smiled wickedly.

  Ella opened her mouth but realized Wink wasn’t saying anything. She whipped her head around. “Wink?”

  The diner owner’s cheeks flushed, clashing with her hair. She picked up a washrag and began scrubbing the island counter.

  “Shame, shame, I know your name.” Ella made smooching noises.

  “Okay, fine.” Wink tossed the rag into the sink. “It’s no big deal. Honestly, you’d think we were in primary school. Yes, I was out with Stew—Mr. Benson.”

  Ella clapped. “Stew! That’s so adorable. Oh—Swink. No. Winkstew. No, that’s not good, either.”

  “What are you doing?” Wink asked.

  “Mashing your names together. It’s what they do in my time. Two names become one. Well, mostly for celebrities.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  Ella nodded, half listening. “Stink!”

  Horatio, who’d been dancing since Ella began combining their names, swung his hips with more flexibility than she would’ve given him credit for, as he sang, “Somebody’s got a smash—”

  “Crush,” Ella said.

  “Somebody’s got a cruuuush.”

  Wink rolled her eyes. “Don’t you two have work?”

  Horatio’s eyes bulged, and his hands flew back to the griddle. “My pancakes!”

  The scent of overcooked batter filled the kitchen.

  Wink smiled. “Comeuppance is so sweet.”

  Ella followed her pink-haired friend into the diner. “Where’s Chester?”

  “At home. He hates this weather, and I didn’t have any clean sweaters to put on him.”

  Ella bit the inside of her cheek, restraining herself from asking how many sweaters the critter had.

  Within a half an hour, she had little time to dwell on the squirrel’s wardrobe or Wink’s love life. The falling snow seemed to drive the townspeople from their cozy homes and businesses to the diner for hot coffee and warm apple pie and donuts. By then, the lunch counter was crammed, every stool taken, and the booths overflowing with patrons.

  Ella brewed her third carafe of mud, gazing out the window at the winter wonderland. The snow reminded her of Christmas, which in turn reminded her that she still didn’t know how to get presents for anyone. It wasn’t like she could bake gingerbread cookies or knit scarves. Past experience of both had ended in charred bits of gingerbread heads and a knot of yarn the size of Flo’s beehive.

  Her mind drifted to her conversation with Will. If it weren’t for her promise to him, she would’ve planned a late night run over to the Lake Drive house in the shroud of darkness and poked around the property to see if she could figure out why Stan was using so much power. If it had been a household from her time; with appliances, electronics, and heaters; she wouldn’t have blinked. But in a town a pre-technological revolution, it was a red flag.

  With the pot percolating, she turned to the cash register. “Did you have a good breakfast, Mr. Finley?”

  “Excellent, miss.”

  “That’s good. Will you be adding this to your tab?”

  “What am I at now?”

  “Uh, let’s see.” She dug underneath the counter and found the leather-bound ledger Wink kept. Scanning down the list, she said, “looks like thirty-one dollars and forty-three cents, including today’s meal.”

  “Hm. I can’t pay on hand.”

  “I can just add it to your tab. But I know Wink typically prefers to settle when it goes over thirty dollars.”

  “That’s fine. I can pay up. What’s your trout stock like?”

  “I’ll check with Horatio, but I think we’re okay.”

  “Hm. Lightbulb then?”

  Ella considered it. Gabby had said they were valuable in Keystone, but she didn’t know how much they went for. “How old is it?” She was unsure what else she was supposed to ask, having never dealt with it as currency.

  Mr. Finley scratched his head. “Not sure. Traded for it a few months back. Still got a working filament, though. Better than them gas lamps we’ll all have to start using soon.”

  Ella wondered if he was referring to the electrical shortage or the fact that all the bulbs were burning out. After telling him, they
’d accept the bulb as payment, she watched him leave.

  If the town’s energy situation didn’t change soon, they would be rolling back a few decades. She wondered if Will could re-create energy efficient bulbs. But even if she could remember what sort of gasses were used in them enough to help get him started, they’d still have the issue of manufacturing them.

  The bell of the door chimed merrily, and she looked up to see Sheriff Chapman stroll in. After kicking the snow off his boots, he seated himself on the stool Mr. Finley had vacated. He folded his legs sideways to accommodate his tall frame, reminding her of a very stern Gumby.

  “Morning, Sheriff. Mud?”

  “Miss Barton,” he greeted, pulling his hat off. His thick, gray hair swept back over his head. “Yes, please. Draw one in the dark, as they say.”

  “Cup of black coffee, right? I’m still getting used to the lingo.”

  “Been a few years here, and I still ain’t used to it.”

  She poured a cup from the fresh pot, her mind doing cartwheels as to his reason for being there. The two times she’d seen him in the diner were when Kayline had died and when he came in to question Wink.

  “You haven’t found any more dead bodies in the last day or so, have you?” The casual way in which the question was asked, told her he was teasing.

  “No. Well, not unless you count that dead chicken Mr. Burt brought in.”

  After making a round of the diner refilling waters and coffees, she hunched herself across from the sheriff, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Everything okay?”

  He stared at her as if he didn’t know how to respond. “Fine. Everything okay with you?”

  “What? No, I mean, is something wrong? I know you didn’t just come in for my famous coffee.”

  He swirled the dark contents of his cup, his mustache turning down slightly. “Tastes burnt.”

  “That’s how it’s supposed to taste. Are you here to talk to Wink?”

  The portly gentleman sitting on the stool next to Chapman—Frank something—turned his head. The sheriff did the same and stared him down until the man twisted his stool around to face the other way.

  “Just came in for a coffee,” Chapman finally drawled. “And to chat.”