Storm Island: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 1)

by Linda Watkins

  Horace wouldn’t be arriving until after lunch, so I walked around the main floor, wondering where to begin. As I passed the stairway, I thought about the strange events of the day before … the stench in the tower room and the disappearing hand rail on the widow’s walk. After that experience, I’d stopped taking Aunt Hettie’s drugs and decided I wouldn’t take any more until I heard from Seth about possible side effects. Hopefully, there would be a message from him when I returned to the carriage house for lunch.

  I stood in the great room, staring out the windows that ran floor to ceiling, showcasing the ocean in all its splendor. I knew I shouldn’t have pushed it with Jeremy. What right did I have to be jealous? He’d had a life before I arrived here. Why did I expect him to drop everything just because of one night with me? After all, he was a good-looking man with a great personality. Of course, he’d have girlfriends.

  And, what about me? I’d had a love life, too. Well, sort of a love life. Residency doesn’t leave a person much time for romance.

  I sighed and turned from the window. Someone was knocking on the front door. It was probably the sweep. Time to get to work.

  The morning passed swiftly and, before I knew it, it was time for lunch. I thanked the chimney guy and walked down the path to my cottage. Once there, first thing, I checked the telephone answering machine. There was a message. It was from Seth.

  “Hey, Kate. Didn’t get your text till late. Was in the O.R. nonstop last night. I checked the drugs and the side effects are the usual. You know, don’t drive heavy machinery, possible trots, headache, drowsiness, etcetera. Nothing spectacular. But both drugs are new so maybe what you’re looking for hasn’t been reported yet.”

  He went on telling me the latest gossip at Memorial, and about how much everyone missed me, yadda, yadda, yadda.

  I pulled a soda from the fridge and sat at the table, thinking. If it wasn’t the drugs, then what was it? Was I becoming bi-polar like my mother? Was the disease that had plagued her hereditary? Would it be my destiny to end my life as she did, swinging from the ceiling fan in the tower room?

  Thoughts of my mother brought back the mystery of the missing journal. Who would take it and why? And what about that strange little building in the midst of the forest? With everything that had happened since the night I’d discovered it, I’d almost forgotten that it existed.

  Tonight, I told myself. Tonight, I’ll try to find it again, only this time I’ll take a step stool and more than one flashlight with me.

  Resolved, I made myself a sandwich, quickly ate, then headed back to Stormview to meet Horace when he returned from the mainland.

  The Little Stone Silo

  WE WORKED THE rest of the afternoon, clearing out mouse traps, removing drop cloths from furniture, and loading dishes into the dishwashers. Next would come the general cleaning and determining what needed repair.

  Back at the carriage house, I again washed and changed, tossing yet another set of clothing into the hamper. At this rate, I’d be walking around naked soon, so I made a note to schlep all my dirty laundry up to the big house in the morning where the washer and dryer were located. I towel-dried my hair and slipped into my last pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and set about to make dinner.

  After eating, I waited, reading again from one of Mom’s journals. Every five minutes or so, I would glance out the window, hoping to see that faint light flickering from the oil lamp in the strange little house.

  It was almost nine and I was near to giving up, when I saw it … a soft light shining ever so slightly in the dark of the woods. Quickly, I gathered up my folding step stool and backpack in which I’d put two extra flashlights, complete with fresh batteries, and, feeling confident, set out to solve the mystery of the little stone house.

  It was easier going this time, most likely due to the fact that it wasn’t raining and I had a better idea of what I was doing. Emulating Hansel and Gretel, I was determined to leave a path so that I could return during the daylight hours. To do this, I’d brought with me a dozen or more brightly colored ribbons, which I tied around tree trunks and limbs as I walked.

  It took about twenty minutes to find the clearing. The little stone house looked the same as before, the light from the oil lamp shining from the window high above.

  I shrugged off my backpack and pulled out a second flashlight and carefully made my way around the structure again, looking for some way to get inside.

  But there was no entrance, hidden or otherwise.

  Frustrated, I opened the step stool, climbed on, and peered in window. As before, the only furniture I could see were the ornate desk with matching red velvet chair. On that desk sat the oil lamp and an inkwell, complete with quill. Those items had been there, positioned in the same manner, the last time I was here.

  But, now, there was something new … a notebook or journal sat in the middle of the desk, opened to the first page where three words were written in script.

  I strained to read them, training my flashlight on the journal. I gasped when I realized what was written:

  Poem for Summer

  A new journal! But who was writing it? And, why was it here in this strange little building … a building with no entrance, no way inside?

  I struggled to see if there were some way to open the window, but it appeared to have no latch. I thought about breaking it, but decided not to. The window was old, made of leaded glass, and was, in itself, intrinsically beautiful. No, there had to be another way inside and I would come back when it was daylight to find it.

  Frustrated but resolved, I left the step stool propped against the building and followed my ribbons back to the carriage house.

  Sitting by the fire, I wondered, not for the first time, if the little stone silo was real. I’d already experienced a visual hallucination of the railing on the widow’s walk breaking, an olfactory hallucination of a hideous odor in the tower room, and another auditory one of a creature in my closet. Why would I think my mind would stop there? Imagining a little stone silo seemed pretty trivial compared to those other visions.

  I thought about having a glass of wine, but hesitated. If I had a drink, I couldn’t take my pills. I’d stopped them before, but now, in light of Seth’s phone call, maybe I should start taking them again. But did I really want to take them? They didn’t seem to be helping much.

  “Fuck it,” I said aloud to the walls. “I’m having the wine.”

  I poured myself a glass of port and sat back down on the leather sofa in front of the fire. I missed Jeremy and wondered what he was up to. I’d screwed things up badly and now wished I could take it back.

  I leaned against the pillows, sipping the wine, my thoughts wandering. After a while, I put the glass on the side table, curled up under my quilt, and closed my eyes.

  I woke abruptly. Someone or something was pounding on the front door. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked at my watch. It was two a.m.

  Who the hell would be here at this hour?

  A little angry, I stomped over to the entryway and flung the door open, ready to harangue whoever was out there.

  Jeremy.

  We stared at each other, then, without a word, I melted into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I was jealous … angry. I had no right.”

  “Hush,” he murmured. “You know I wasn’t expecting this. I had a life that was moving along pretty good. But now you’ve turned all that upside down and, well, there’s a girl I was seeing. Nothing serious. She’s more like a friend than a girlfriend. But she’s a local and it’s a small island. It wouldn’t take long for some well-meaning person to pass on to her that I was keeping time with you. We had tickets to the Sea Dogs’ game tonight and I thought that would be a good time to talk to her. You understand?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I do. Was she okay with things?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. But she made me promise that when word got around, it would be she who dumped me, not vice versa.”

 
I grinned. “A small price to pay, I think.”

  “You’re right,” he said, cupping my chin with his hand. “Now, no more jealousy. I’m here and I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

  Final Preparations At Stormview

  THE NEXT FEW days were full. A cleaning crew, hired by Horace, were hard at work at the manor house … polishing, waxing, vacuuming, and dusting. I was kept busy in the kitchen as box after box of groceries were delivered. I had to inventory it all and make sure that everything was put away where it belonged. Multiple coolers also were delivered and soon both the refrigerators and freezers were full to bursting.

  Painters arrived to touch up or repaint the wooden Adirondack and wicker outdoor furniture as well as the railing that ran around the farmer’s porch. Time was now of the essence. July 1st, the beginning of the season, was less than a week away and we expected Hettie and Raoul to arrive then or shortly thereafter.

  Jeremy was at the carriage house every night and I’d never felt happier. I’d stopped taking Hettie’s pills altogether and had almost forgotten about the strange little house in the woods. My new relationship with Jeremy had taken over my life and I no longer worried about my sanity or lack thereof.

  A few days before we expected Hettie and Raoul, I walked over to Stormview as usual to oversee operations. At lunch, I came home and made myself a sandwich. I was just finishing when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, sweetheart. How’s my girl doing?”

  It was Alistair.

  Taken aback, I didn’t respond immediately.

  “Are you there, Pomeroy?”

  I took a deep breath. Jeremy wasn’t the only one who had loose ends to tie up.

  “I’m here,” I replied. “How are things at Memorial?”

  “Damned boring without you, my dear,” he answered. “I’ve been missing that sweet mouth of yours terribly.”

  His illusion was not lost on me. I blushed thinking about it.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, laughing. “Lucky cat.”

  Again, I hesitated.

  “What do you want, Alistair?” I finally asked, unable to keep irritation out of my tone.

  “Whoa there,” he replied. “I thought you’d be glad to hear from me. I guess distance hasn’t made the heart grow fonder. Perhaps you’re having a little island romance?”

  Knowing that angering him could put my career in jeopardy, I took a deep breath and tried to be diplomatic and not bruise his ego.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. You and I were on borrowed time anyway. You know that. It was fun, but now it’s over. There was never any future for us and, once my residency ended, I’d be gone. Circumstance has just made things happen sooner. That’s all.”

  He was quiet for a moment, apparently surprised by my decision.

  “Well, I guess that’s that then,” he finally said. “But, perhaps, we can discuss things further when I see you next weekend.”

  “Next weekend? What do you mean? I’m not coming back to California yet.”

  He laughed. “Silly twit. Your father, young Dr. Rampling, and I are coming east for an Academy meeting in Boston. Hettie has invited us up for the holiday weekend. So, you see, my dear, you can’t escape me for long.”

  As surprised as I was that Alistair and my father would be on the island, the fact that Seth would be here, too, surprised me even more.

  “Seth? Why are you taking him along?”

  Again, Alistair laughed. “You silly goose, he’s presenting the paper we co-authored. Didn’t he tell you? And I thought you two were friends.”

  I pondered that for a moment. Why hadn’t Seth told me? Presenting at the Academy was a big deal. Then I realized why he hadn’t. He didn’t want to upset me, didn’t want to let on how far out of the loop I’d traveled.

  “It’ll be good to see Seth again,” I finally replied.

  “But not me?”

  “Alistair, I…”

  “No matter,” he said, cutting me off. “I look forward to gazing into your big brown eyes again. Ciao.”

  Without waiting for me to reply, he hung up.

  I sat holding the receiver, dumbfounded. I would have to deal with him and his ego in just a few days. And, how would he react when he learned about Jeremy? No doubt he would try to make trouble.

  Well, his arrival was still about a week away. I had time and would figure out how to deal with him by then.

  Work at Stormview continued and things were beginning to shape up. I was confident, now, that everything would be completed on time and to Aunt Hettie’s satisfaction. Surprisingly, I had developed a grudging respect for Horace. He was a strange little man, but he knew his business and went about it efficiently.

  On the 28th of June, I received a call from Aunt Hettie informing me that she and Raoul would be arriving on the 1st around four p.m. and asked me to send a car to pick them up from the water taxi.

  Suddenly it dawned on me, there was one thing I hadn’t thought about … the cars.

  Nervously, I approached Horace.

  “Hettie and Raoul are arriving the afternoon of the first. They want me to send a car for them. What car?”

  Horace chuckled slyly. “The ‘woody,’ Miss. Don’t you worry. I got it all taken care of. Had it serviced a couple days ago. Driver’s been hired and will be here tomorrow along with the other servants.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Horace. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re a lifesaver.”

  The little man blushed and looked down at the floor, apparently uncomfortable with the compliment, and this made me wonder how often kind words were sent his way.

  Finally, he looked up at me. “Thank you, Miss. I enjoyed working with a lovely lady like you, too.”

  “Thanks. So, what do we do now? Anything?”

  “You just have to greet the staff when they arrive, show them to their quarters. Most of them has been here before and know their duties. Oh, and you need to plan the dinner for the first night. Usually, it’s the lobsters and clams with fresh greens. Talk to Cook. He’ll know.”

  “Thanks again, Horace. I think that’s it for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  The little man frowned. “No, Miss. I’s done. Staff don’t like havin’ me round. But if you need me, you call.”

  I nodded and extended my hand to him. He stared at it for a moment then looked up at me with gratitude as he reached out and gently shook it.

  The Arrival

  IT WAS THE 1st of July and the house was ready for occupancy. Hettie and Raoul arrived by water taxi, laden with more than a dozen suitcases of various sizes. The driver picked them up at the wharf as planned and transported them the short distance to Stormview.

  I stood on the front porch waiting for their arrival. Everything sparkled in the late-afternoon sun and I was confident that the condition of the house would meet even Hettie’s strict standards.

  The car pulled into the drive and the chauffeur leapt out to help Hettie from the vehicle.

  “Thank you, Paul,” she said. “Bring the luggage in through the kitchen entrance. Raoul will let you know where everything goes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the driver responded, giving her a brief salute.

  Nodding, she turned to face me.

  “Kate! To borrow a phrase from Billy Crystal, ‘you look MAHVELOUS!’ Come give me a hug.”

  Smiling, I walked down the porch steps to greet her. She gave me a brief hug, followed by air kisses on both cheeks.

  “I think Storm has been good for you,” she said, examining me. “You’re positively glowing.”

  I blushed. “I’ve been enjoying it. Now, come on inside. I hope everything’s been done to your satisfaction. Horace was a great help.”

  Aunt Hettie nodded. “He’s a good man. Misunderstood and a little strange, but a good man. Now, sit down beside me and tell me how you’re doing.”

  I did as she asked, taking a seat on the large curved
sofa that sat in front of the fireplace in the great room.

  “I’m good,” I said. “Actually, I’m feeling great.”

  She studied me for a moment. “And, the pills? Are they helping?”

  I bit my bottom lip, knowing I couldn’t lie to her.

  “To be honest,” I finally said. “I stopped taking them a week ago. I was having nightmares and I think the drugs might have been contributing to them. So, I stopped them and I’ve been fine since.”

  Her face turned serious. “I don’t know if that was a good idea, Kate. And, you’ve had no hallucinations, no aberrations in your visual or mental fields since you’ve been here? Just nightmares?”

  I held my breath. I was feeling good and didn’t want to have to talk with her about the nonexistent broken railing or the spider-like creature that lurked in my closet. In any case, those illusions had ceased when I started up with Jeremy. So, I decided that on this subject, a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

  “No, nothing,” I said. “Just some nightmares and I haven’t had one of them in over a week.”

  “Well, that’s good. But I still think you should continue with the medications. At least, until we’re sure that you’re not going to relapse.”

  I sighed. “I threw them out. Sorry.”

  A flash of anger passed across her face, surprising me, but she quickly concealed it and I wondered if, in fact, I had really seen it.

  “Fine,” she said. “After all, you’re a doctor, too. However, you know it is unadvisable for a physician to treat herself, don’t you?”

  She didn’t wait for me to answer.

  “But you’re young and you’re going to do what you’re going to do. Just remember, should the hallucinations or visions return, my door is always open.”