by Donna Doyle
I studied the young man for a moment. In spite of his crisp uniform and the intimidating cap that was perched on his head, he did not carry a hard, authoritarian spirit. Rather his eyes were gentle and he seemed like a friendly fellow. He had blond, curly hair and a boyish grin was pasted on his face. The thought occurred that if I would have had children, this man could easily have been my grandson. He was probably fresh from the academy. "I have a reservation in the Golden Canopy," I said. "I've just arrived in Calmhaven after a grueling trip on the Greyhound bus, all the way from Pittsburg. Can't you let me through?"
He licked his lips and seemed in doubt as what to do. "Pittsburg, huh… That's a long ride."
"I know," I said, trying to look as tired as I could.
Then he nodded. "All right. Climb out and I will see what I can do."
I opened the door and made my attempt to climb out when taxi driver Harry stopped me by holding out his hand. "No tip?" he asked in a demanding manner. He narrowed his eyes and stared at me, apparently trying to make me feel guilty.
Still a tip? After he already made me pay $15?
"Sorry Harry," I said, "I am about running on empty."
The police man offered his help while I climbed out, but I could still hear Harry mutter, "My dear mother was right, bless her soul. Never trust strangers."
Not everyone in Calmhaven was going to be my friend.
"Where in the Golden Canopy do you need to go?" the young police officer asked once I was out of the taxi.
I opened my bag, pulled out my reservation, and scanned the slip. "Cabin 23. It's supposed to be right at the waterfront."
He gave me a short nod. "That's unfortunate. Somebody died in Cabin 24. That's right next to yours."
I gasped. "Somebody died? A heart attack?"
The officer's boyish face turned grim. "I’m afraid I can't tell you that, Ma'am. We are still investigating." He held up the barricade tape and motioned for me to go under it. "The reception desk is right around the corner here," he said. "If someone stops you, and asks you what you are doing there, tell them Deputy Digby gave you permission to enter."
"That's your name?" I looked up at the man with questioning eyes.
"Yes Ma'am, that's me. Pleased to meet you." He made a little bow and motioned for me to hurry up.
"Thank you Digby," I said as I wormed my way under the barricade tape, and continued my journey, now on foot. I was glad that I did not carry any luggage, as that would have made my journey virtually impossible.
As soon as I turned at the bend in the road, the Golden Canopy came in sight. The place had changed quite a bit and looked nothing like the place I had visited over twenty years ago. A small wooden cabin at the side of the road served as the reception desk and a metal park barrier prevented people from freely entering without permission. The only thing that was still the way I remembered were the stately fir trees on either side of the road. Another police car, this one with flashing blue lights, was parked right in front of the reception desk, and two police men were leaning against it while chatting with each other. When they saw me coming they stopped. One of them, a husky man and quite a bit older than Digby, frowned and made a stop sign. "Where do you think you are going?" he asked in a gruff voice.
"Digby told me I could enter," I said, hoping the name would do the trick. "I rented a cabin here and I want to check in."
The man tilted his head, and seemed suspicious. "I am the one with the authority here, not Digby. What's more, aren't you a bit too old for a holiday cabin?"
Too old? I never liked it when people judged others by their age, and felt a flush of irritation. I pushed it away. Being smart and fresh with a police officer on my first day in Calmhaven was possibly not the best approach, so I swallowed hard and meekly replied, "Not really, officer. I am still young at heart. I am only 70." He stared at me for a moment, and I could feel his scrutinizing look. Clearly, he was not as easy-going as Digby. I could see he wanted to know more, but right then an ambulance approached from within the bungalow park. The barrier swung open and the driver rolled up slowly to the policeman. They exchanged a few words. The husky police officer pressed his lips together and nodded, after which the ambulance took off.
"All right," the policeman said when the ambulance had gone out of sight, "So Digby let you through? I will have to talk to him about that."
"I am really tired, sir. I'd like to check in and rest."
"So… you are renting a cabin here?"
"That's right." I did not like the tone of the man's voice, but I figured he was just doing his job.
"Why are you renting?"
Why? What kind of a question was that?
I suddenly felt how very tired I was. I noticed a wooden bench, right outside the reception office. "Do you mind if I sit down for a moment?"
He nodded, and I placed my weary body on the bench. Even though I had been sitting down for hours and hours on my trip here, it felt strangely good to sit on this bench, surrounded by swaying fir trees, the chattering of birds and the clean, fresh air of Calmhaven.
"So why are you renting?" the police man fired his question again.
"Because I’m looking for a house in Calmhaven, sir. I am from Pittsburg, and just arrived with the Greyhound. I am awfully tired."
Another nod. "Do you know Samuel Given?"
I scratched my head. "Who?"
"Mr. Given. Samuel Given. He’s the man who just died.”"
I leaned back on the bench resting my head against the wall of the reception cabin. "I am sorry sir. Never heard of the man."
The police man smacked his lips, and let out a sigh. "I didn't think you would, Ma'am. Just wanted to make sure." It seemed there was a hint of a smile on his face as he continued. "I am sorry you had to arrive in Calmhaven at the time of such an unfortunate accident. But I can assure you, the Calmhaven police are always watching, so there's no need to worry. Enjoy your stay in Calmhaven, Ma'am." He tipped his police cap, motioned for the other policeman to get in the car, and climbed in himself. Seconds later, with screeching tires, they disappeared.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Even though I was surrounded by beauty this was not quite the welcome I had expected.
"Are you all right, Miss?"
A gentle voice shook me up out of my reverie. I turned and looked into the face of a bright, young woman of medium height, with chestnut brown hair that was tied in a ponytail. She was wearing the biggest, funniest pink glasses I had ever seen, but her blue eyes behind them sparkled with life. I liked her instantly.
There was a name tag pinned to the lapel of her simple but stylish jacket. It read: Brightside-Reception.
"I-I am fine," I replied. "Just a little tired."
"So am I," the young woman said, and she plopped herself down next to me on the bench. "We've had quite a day."
I couldn't agree more.
"What can I do for you," she bubbled, "Are you here visiting one of the guests?"
"No," I chuckled, "I am one of the guests." I opened my handbag and pulled out my reservation number. "I am renting cabin 23."
The face of the young woman lit up. "Then you must be Miss Molly Gertrude Grey. I was expecting you. Only…" her smile did not quite leave, but somehow a bit of a shadow got mixed in, "… we thought you'd be young."
I sighed. Why does everyone in Calmhaven think I am old?
"I am only 70, dear," I responded. "A person is as old as he or she feels. Some folks die at 20 but they are only buried when they are 80. I never wanted to be one of them."
"Of course, I understand." The young woman blushed. "It's just that the manager told me an experienced and well-respected young wedding-planner would be coming in from Pittsburg." Her eyes lit up again. "I can see you are well-respected. Your white hair is a clear witness as to your experience, and seeing you have crossed half the country in coming here tells me you are as fit as a fiddle. Welcome to Calmhaven."
I couldn't help but laugh. What a refreshing, young lady this was
.
"At least you’re right about my name," I said, and handed the young woman my hand. "I am Molly Gertrude, pleased to meet you."
She took my hand. "My name is Dora Brightside. I work in reception at the Golden Canopy."
"Listen, Dora…" I stopped, not wanting to be too familiar with this young lady in case she wouldn't like it, "…may I call you Dora?"
"You sure may," she said with a grin, "if I may call you Miss Molly Gertrude. You remind me of my dear aunt Maybelline." She tilted her head a bit to the side. "She was my favorite aunt, you know. But she passed away last summer."
"Sorry to hear it, dear," I said. "But, tell me Dora… what just happened here?"
Dora shook her head and her eyes became sad. "Samuel Given was found dead this morning. He was a nice man. It's such a shame, as he was here to arrange the wedding reception for his daughter." Dora shook her head. "It will be such a blow to her when she finds out."
"Did he live in Calmhaven?"
Dora shook her head once more. "He has, or rather he had, a house in Boulder Valley. That's the nearest big town, but he often rented a cabin here, just to get away from his work. He was found by Greta Grüntchen. She's the cleaning lady. She called me, and I called the police."
"What happened? Was it a heart attack?"
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "It looks like he came out of the shower into the living area. He was only dressed in a towel, and it appears he slipped and banged his head on the edge of the coffee table." She shivered as she relived seeing him on the floor. "It was not a pretty sight."
"So no heart attack, but an accident?"
Dora shrugged her shoulders again. "Nothing seems amiss in the cabin, except there was an open briefcase in the doorway of the small room with papers spilled all over the floor."
"And no sign of a break-in?"
"Nothing." Dora let out a soft whistle. "The windows were all closed and the lock on his door was not forced. JJ Barnes told me it was probably an accident."
"Who is JJ Barnes?"
Dora looked up with a slight smile. "You just met him. He is the police officer you just talked to outside. He just got promoted to Sheriff of Calmhaven. He's a bit of a bully, but behind that gruff veneer is a good heart. The only thing I fear is that he's not very experienced, and thus he may be tempted to take the easy way out, and simply close the case before it has properly been opened." Dora squeezed her cheeks with her fingers.
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"It's strange," Dora replied. "Samuel Given is a strong, athletic man. He doesn't just fall over like that. He went to the gym almost every day. Why would he slip on a wooden floor that's not even slippery?"
I didn't know the answer, but I felt a flutter in my stomach. If there's one temptation I cannot resist, it is being faced with an intriguing mystery.
"Tell me more about Samuel Given. What kind of a man was he?"
Dora pressed her lips together. "As I said, he was kind and generous. He's a very shrewd business man, but in a good sense. He donates to missions all over the world. All the money he works with is set up in a Trust. Basically, he has been doing a lot of good work and has helped many needy people."
And now this man was dead.
Of course, Samuel Given's untimely death could have been an accident, but in my heart I had already agreed with Dora Brightside, that something was wrong. I smelled a rat, and whenever I get these hunches, feelings, or premonitions (whatever name you want to give them) I am usually right.
"You know, Dora…" I said, "I am not only a wedding-planner."
She raised her brows. "You are not? What else do you do?"
"I am a bit of an amateur sleuth. Mysteries have a strange attraction to me, and whenever I hear of a case that has the police stumped, I usually like to do a little snooping around."
Dora's eyes widened. "You… an amateur sleuth?"
I grinned. "I agree with you, Dora. It may very well be that something is really wrong here, and yes, I am an amateur sleuth." I cleared my throat and stared at Dora. "You want to be one too? I can use an assistant. I am new to Calmhaven and know nothing of this place, but you do… Two are better than one."
I could tell I had hit the right nerve. Her face flushed and the excitement was palpable. "I-I would love to," she whispered. "When do we start?"
How refreshing it was to talk to someone like Dora. It was almost as if her youthful enthusiasm gave me new energy. "Let's begin by showing me my cabin. I believe its cabin 23, like the number of the famous Psalm."
"You believe in God?" Dora asked.
"Of course," I replied. "Who else would I believe in?"
"Then, you'll be glad to meet Papa Julian," Dora answered with shiny eyes. "He's the pastor of Calmhaven Trinity Church, and he knew Samuel Given quite well too."
"All right, Dora. Tell me all about it."
I got up from the bench. Dora walked back into the office, placed a 'be back in five, or ring the bell' sign in the window, and locked the door. Then she motioned for me to follow her. "Come Miss Molly Gertrude, I will walk you to your cabin."
It felt good to have made a new friend. Now, I had really arrived in Calmhaven.
3
A theft, and unexpected clues
When I had been here before (it must have been at least 20 years earlier) these cabins had been nothing more than rather small, stony constructions, that were badly insulated and carried the absolute minimum of comfort. At the time I had enjoyed it immensely, as it gave me the feeling of being one of the old pioneers but now, as an older woman, I required different surroundings, and I wasn't entirely sure what I would encounter. The travel agency in Pittsburg that I had used to make my reservations had assured me the place had been recently renovated, and to my great joy I found this to be true. After a pleasant walk through the quiet forest we arrived at Cabin 23. There were no more stone shacks. Dora told me they had all been demolished, and in their place they had erected the most uplifting, rustic looking log cabins I had ever seen. They were still rather small, and from where we entered it looked like you were stepping back into history. But that impression left as soon as you came through the doorway. The inside was crispy clean, and intimate and most pleasant was the heavy scent of pine wood that welcomed you upon arrival.
Although the furniture seemed authentic, the place was clearly well supplied with all the comforts of modern life. I immediately liked the wooden rocking chair that stood near the fire place, and I almost wished I could always stay in this place.
"Well," Dora said as she opened the red curtains that hung in front of the windows and unlocked the wide sliding doors that led onto the porch, "welcome to Cabin 23. What do you think?"
"It's lovely," I said. "I think I can get used to a place like this."
"Would you like some tea?"
I smiled. "You mean this place comes equipped with tea?"
"Not really," Dora grinned, "but I brought some supplies of my own. There's a canteen here on the premises where you can buy your immediate necessities, but I figured you could use of cup of tea." As she spoke she pulled out a package of raspberry tea. "Or would you rather have coffee?"
I shook my head. "Tea, Dora. Never coffee." If there was one thing I treasured, it was a good cup of steaming hot tea, although I'd never had raspberry tea.
At first I was concerned Dora shouldn't be staying away from her desk for too long, but she told me not to worry. "As soon as someone rings the doorbell, I get a beep on my pager, so we'll be fine."
And so we talked; in the beginning mostly about the unfortunate death of Samuel Given.
I found out he grew up in Calmhaven, and had studied for the ministry. He married, and his wife had given birth to a wonderful daughter, named Gloria. When Samuel had finished his studies, the family moved to Boulder Valley, where he accepted a job as the pastor of a small church. But then disaster had struck. On a dark night, a drunk driver crashed into his car and killed his wife. Although it had not embittered him, an
d he never gave up his faith in God, he no longer felt able to lead the church. He handed the leadership of the church over to a talented, young fellow, and he himself became a philanthropist. Apparently good with business, he felt God was calling him to support as many missions and churches as he could. One of those missions had been the mission his daughter Gloria was involved in. She herself had become a missionary and was about to get married to a missionary she had met while on the field.
This part filled Dora with deep sadness. Samuel Given's daughter and her husband-to-be would be arriving in Calmhaven next week, expecting a glorious homecoming and a wonderful celebration. Instead, they would have to tell her that her father had died.
"I wonder who is going to break the news to his daughter," Dora finished her account. "I do not envy that person."
"How well did you know Samuel Given?" I asked Dora.
Dora pressed her lips together. "How well do you know someone? As I said, he was a member of our congregation, and I talked to him on several occasions. He was tidy, generous and as I said, he was not a person to fall over like that."
"You mentioned there was an open briefcase, and its contents were spilled all over the floor?"
Dora rearranged the glasses on her nose and sighed. "That's what I mean. He was tidy. He hated mess."
"Could he have slipped while holding his briefcase?"
"Anything is possible," Dora replied while finishing her tea, "but why would anyone walk around with their briefcase when they just came out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a towel?"
I thought about that and I had to agree with her. But a new idea formed in my mind. "What if he received a phone call, just when he got out of the shower and opened his briefcase to check something? Was there a phone?"
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know. When I saw the body I just gulped and ran out to call the police."
I understood. Seeing a dead body is not the most pleasant of things to observe. "And the lady who originally found her? Gretel Gretchen or something like that. Can we talk to her?"