“How about you?” she asked.
“Let’s see, make breakfast, make sure no one else is coming, and make sure everyone is on their way. I have to leave tomorrow morning.”
“So, last day running a B&B, huh?”
“Yep. Finally retiring.”
“Where’s George?”
“Still asleep.”
“You sure?”
Mark chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking because I thought the same thing.” He pointed at the front door. “The door was locked this morning. Unless he took a key with him . . ."
“This is the best French toast I’ve ever had,” Bear Foot said. “—Though don’t tell that to Betty.”
Mark didn’t know who that was, and he wasn’t curious enough to ask. “Thanks.”
“I’ll have to try it,” Emily said, “but after I go for a walk. I need to clear my head.”
“Sure.”
Yvonne came down the stairs, and when Bear Foot saw her, he stood up, nearly tipping the chair over in his haste. His posture was comically erect. They all exchanged good mornings. Bear Foot glanced down at his half-finished plate. “Sorry, I should have waited,” he said. He licked the bit of syrup at the corner of his mouth.
“No, it’s fine. Sit down. Finish. I’ll catch up.”
“Coffee?” Mark said.
Yvonne nodded.
Emily followed Mark into the kitchen. He got a mug out of the cupboard. She was staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You’re worried about George, aren’t you?”
Emily shrugged and nodded. “A little.”
“You want me to go up and check?”
She shook her head immediately. “No.” Then she closed her eyes momentarily and sighed lightly.
“All right, all right. Let me give Yvonne her coffee and get the bacon out, and we can go check.”
She smiled, resting her hand on his upper arm.
Bear Foot was sharing his French toast with Yvonne when Mark set the bacon on the table. Bear Foot immediately reached for a piece. When he saw Emily’s earnest stare, Mark said, “I’ll make more French toast in a few minutes.”
When they reached the top of the stairs, Emily asked if he had seen Peter yet.
Mark shook his head. “Do you want me to knock on his door, too?”
“No. I’d be worried about disrupting his sleep.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder.
Stopping in front of the Indian Lake room, Mark reluctantly pressed an ear to the door. He didn’t hear anything, so after looking over at Emily, who looked back with expectant arched eyebrows, he knocked lightly. No answer. He knocked again, a little harder. Still, no answer.
Shaking his head, Mark put his hand on the knob and turned it slightly. It was unlocked. Holding a breath, Mark twisted it the rest of the way and cracked open the door. “George?” he said in a hard whisper.
No answer. Concerned that George had somehow slipped out, he opened the door further. Relieved to see George in bed, Mark immediately retreated, backing up into Emily. She pushed him out of the way.
“What are you doing?” Mark whispered.
Emily rushed up next to George and placed the back of her hand against his face.
“What are you doing?” he repeated. “You’re going to scare him to death!”
Emily shook her head. Her eyes drooped. “He’s cold,” she said.
“Then put another blanket on him.”
“No, Mark . . . he’s dead.”
Mark felt his body sink through the floor before landing back in place, feeling wobbly. “He can’t be.” He trudged toward the bed, his legs heavy. He yelled out, “George!”
“He’s dead, Mark.”
“Come on, George,” he pleaded. He stood in front of him but didn’t touch him. He stared at George’s peaceful face for any sign of breathing. None. He looked at Emily. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He’s been dead for hours. My guess is heart attack. They’ll have to do an autopsy.” She pulled the sheet over his head.
“No, Emily,” he murmured. He backed into the wall and then slid down.
“Did you hear me? You have to call the police.”
Mark thought for a second. “Right.”
“Right, what? Do you want me to call?”
“No. Can’t it wait?”
“Calling the police?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you want to wait?”
“I don’t want to alarm the other guests.”
“Guests? You mean Yvonne and Peter, who you didn’t want here in the first place?”
Mark leaped up. “I have an idea. I’ll be right back.”
“I’m not waiting in here.”
Mark rushed downstairs and forced a smile as he landed in front of Bear Foot and Yvonne. “Bear Foot, why don’t you take Yvonne for a morning stroll to the boardwalk while I make more French toast?”
Bear Foot looked at Yvonne. She said, “That sounds nice.”
Emily came down the stairs as Bear Foot and Yvonne headed toward the front door.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked Mark.
“Calling the police,” he mouthed.
“Huh?”
Bear Foot opened the front door.
“Did you tell them?” she asked, gesturing toward the two walking out.
Mark shook his head. “They’re going for a walk,” he said, pulling out his cell phone.
While they waited for the police to arrive, Emily sat in the kitchen while Mark made more French toast. It seemed ridiculous to continue with a dead body upstairs, but it gave him something to do.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Who, me? Yeah, sure. I’m fine. Why?”
“Did you wash your hands?”
“Yes. But I didn’t touch him.”
She nodded. Then as Mark drowned the bread in the batter, she let out a little snort.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry. It’s not funny.”
“What?” he demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just . . ."
“Just what?”
“You were going to leave him there.”
“Leave who where?”
“You were going to leave George in bed because you thought he was still sleeping.”
“How was I supposed to know he was dead? If a guest isn’t singing ‘Oh What a Beautiful Mornin’,’ I don’t immediately think they’re dead. This isn’t the Burma railway!”
“The Burma railway? What on earth are you talking about?”
He laughed, a release. “Never mind. It‘s way too soon for joking around—though George would have certainly gotten that.”
She shook her head at him. “Did he mention to you if he had any kids?”
“No. I’m not sure who to contact.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Can you get that?” Mark asked. “I’ll be right out.”
“Yes,” Emily said and headed for the door as he finished browning the piece of toast. There was a hushed discussion in the entryway that he could not make out. He placed the toast on a stack of three, turned off the stove and walked out.
It was Officer Bryst again. “What? Don’t they give you any time off?” Mark said.
He shook his head. “Usually it’s pretty quiet on Saturday morning, but with this place . . ."
“Sorry,” Mark said.
“So this is not the guy with the electric car who has trouble sleeping?” the officer said to Emily.
“No,” she said.
“Really his problem is staying awake,” Mark said. The officer’s stoic face slightly unnerved him. Mark cleared his throat. “It’s George who died, the person your brother picked up yesterday.”
“Oh, your brother is a state trooper. No wondered you look so familiar. He helped me the other day.”
Officer Bryst nodded and turned to Mark. “So who found th
e deceased?”
Mark and Emily glanced at each other before they answered. Mark said, “We did.” Emily said, “I did.”
“It was both of you?”
“I opened the door and Emily went and found him. She’s a doctor.”
“Why did you go in? What made you think something was wrong?”
“He didn’t answer when we knocked,” Mark said.
“But why did you come up to his room in the first place?”
“He normally gets up early, so we were worried,” Emily said.
“Normally? I thought he was only here for a couple nights.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Mark said. “But because of his issues, we thought he might have wandered off again.”
“What issues?”
“Alzheimer’s,” Emily said.
“Okay,” Officer Bryst said, nodding his head. “Why don’t you take me to him?”
The officer followed Mark, and Emily followed the officer.
When they got to the room, Mark reached for the knob, but the trooper said, “Wait.”
Mark abruptly turned. “Yes.”
“Was it locked or unlocked before you decided to go in?”
“It was unlocked,” Mark answered.
Officer Bryst gave a single nod and Mark opened the door and stepped aside.
Emily stayed outside the room with Mark, and the two watched as the officer pulled the sheet down. He checked only briefly before replacing the sheet.
“All right. I’ll call the coroner, but it’s Saturday.”
“Yes.”
“—Which means he probably won’t be here for a couple hours.”
Mark nodded. “Okay.” He glanced at Emily before following the officer down the stairs.
Standing in the entry, Bryst said, “I’ll need some information from you before I go.”
“Sure.”
“What’s his full name?”
Mark shot a look at Emily, then grimaced and said, “Actually, we don’t know.”
“Didn’t he fill anything out when he checked in?”
“No,” Mark replied.
“Do you know where he lived?”
“Somewhere in the Milwaukee area.”
“Maybe you can get some information from his wallet,” Emily suggested.
“Should I go look for his wallet?” Mark asked.
“I’d prefer you not touch anything up there until the coroner comes. I’ll come back after that.”
“Will you take his things, then?”
“Only if you can’t keep them until his next of kin arrives.”
“I’m heading back to Chicago tomorrow.”
“How about you? When are you leaving?” he asked Emily. “The coroner might want to talk to you.”
“Today, after they install a new windshield on my car”
“Good luck with that,” he said.
“Why do you say that?” Emily asked irritably.
He shook his head. “Nothing. What smells so good?”
“Oh, that would be either the bacon or the French toast,” Mark replied.
“Mmm. Both sound good.”
Mark simply nodded, feeling a bit guilty about not offering any, but he needed the officer gone before Bear Foot and Yvonne returned.
“How about that other fella? Is he still here?”
Mark nodded. “He’s leaving once he gets up and has breakfast.”
“And the woman?”
“Bear Foot’s driving her back to Green Bay.”
Bryst nodded, slowly starting for the door. “All right. I’ll be back later.”
Mark stared out the window as the officer got in his car and left.
“Why are you acting so funny?” Emily asked.
“I don’t want Bear Foot and Yvonne to see him and ask questions.”
“You’re really not going to tell them?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Haven’t you learned your lesson?”
“What lesson?”
“Being up front is better than hiding the truth.”
“Oh really?” Mark replied bitingly.
Emily sighed. “Why are you so worried about them knowing, anyway? They’re not children.”
“Come on. Bear Foot will want to build a fire or read poetry or who knows what. As for Yvonne, she’s a little wacko, so . . ."
“How are you going to explain the coroner?”
“He won’t be here for a while. I just need to get them all out of here before then.”
“If you say so. I’m going to call the dealership. The officer made me a little nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because when I told him that they were fixing my car, he said, ‘Good luck with that’ a little sarcastically.”
“He was probably just kidding, knowing the pace of things around here.”
She sighed, “Hopefully.”
“I’m going to finish making breakfast.”
Emily left. When she returned several minutes later, she fell into the dining room chair with an abject look on her face.
“Uh-oh. W`hat’s wrong?”
She grabbed a piece of bacon. “They can’t find him.”
“Can’t find who?”
“The installer.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I don’t get it either. Apparently he doesn’t live in town.”
“He has to turn up, don’t you think?”
“With my luck lately . . ."
Peter came down as Mark finished laying out breakfast. French toast, bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages, orange juice, fruit.
“Good morning, sir,” Mark said to Peter as he approached.
“Good morning,” he replied in an enervated tone. He avoided eye contact.
“How are you feeling?” Emily asked.
He cleared his throat, said “Fine, fine,” and proceeded to deliver a mumbled apology that ended with, “Anyway, I’m sorry for whatever disturbance I caused.”
Emily answered, “No reason to apologize. I’m just glad you’re feeling better. It was a little scary there for a second because nobody knew about your condition until we found your medication.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Yes. I was with you last night after you had an episode.”
“Thank you for helping me. It hasn’t happened in a very long time. At least three months. I was sort of starting to think it might not ever happen again.”
Mark asked him if he wanted something else besides what was on the table.
Peter looked, then asked, “Do you have any cereal?”
“Cereal?”
“Yeah, almost any kind will do. I’m not picky.”
“Cereal. Okay, let me see. I’ll be right back.” Annoyed, Mark trudged back into the kitchen.
He heard Emily say, “I suggest you wait until you’re on a good sleep cycle again before you get back behind the wheel.”
Mark brought out a box of cereal, Ben’s O’s. It seemed to be a generic, store brand. “Will this do?”
“Sure. Perfect,” he said and proceeded to pour the cereal into a bowl and add some milk from a pitcher on the table.
Mark asked Emily for help in the kitchen.
“What is it?” she asked when they were inside, the kitchen door closed.
“He can’t stay here, and Yvonne’s not driving him,” he whispered.
“Fine. Why are you telling me?”
“He has to go to the Cozy Inn. He can hang with your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Whatever. Bear Foot and Yvonne are bound to show up soon,” he said softly. “One of us has to run interference.”
“Interference?”
“Yeah. For an hour, forty-five minutes at least.”
She shook her head. “Who knows when the coroner is coming.”
“You heard. A couple hours. That should give us enough time to get rid of Peter and Yvonne and Bear Foot.”
“Us?”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, you and me. You’re part of this plan.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “We’re a team here.”
Emily shook her head. “No, this is your thing. I’m fine with them knowing.”
He released her. “So you’re not going to help me?”
She hesitated a second. Sighed. “Fine, but how am I supposed to distract them?”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. Be creative—oh, tell Bear Foot to take you and Yvonne to Indian Lake to see the Indian cemetery.”
“How far is it?”
“It’s like two, three miles.”
“Wait, Indian Lake?”
“Yeah.”
She thought for a second. “I think my friends live there.” She pulled out her phone.
“What friends?”
She shook her head. “The people who helped me after my accident. They drove me to the dealership.” She tapped her phone a couple times. “Here it is. I think they said it was on Indian Lake.”
“Perfect. Go visit them.”
“But I don’t have anything to give them.”
He remembered the white wine in the fridge. “I got it,” he said and took out the bottle.
“Isn’t a bit early to be giving someone wine?”
“If it’s past nine, it’s fine. Now that’s poetry.”
“You’re an idiot.” She reached for the bottle.
“Please go. I only need a short time to get rid of Peter.”
Shaking her head, she tucked the bottle into the crook of her elbow. “All right, I’ll play along.” She turned and grumbled over her shoulder, “But I don’t think this little plan of yours is going to work.”
“We shall see,” Mark muttered, and followed Emily out of the kitchen. She continued out the front door.
Mark clasped his hands together. “Anything else I can get you for breakfast?” he asked Peter.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. This is perfect.”
Mark smiled, then said, “So we have a ten o’clock check out, normally. But if you need a little more time . . ."
“I didn’t know, sorry.” He hectically glanced at his watch. “But sure, sure, we should be ready to go by then. I need to check with Yvonne. Have you seen her this morning?”
“She’s not here, but you don’t need to worry about her. She found a ride back to Green Bay.”
“What do you mean? With who?”
Mark stumbled for a second before getting out, “A local.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, after last night . . ."
“She’s upset about what happened to me, isn’t she?” He glanced away. “I should have told her about my condition. But it’s been under control for so long,” he explained.
Stuck in Manistique Page 22