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

by Linda Watkins

“Thank you, Aunt Hettie.”

  “Now, on to more practical matters. This weekend, your father and Drs. Redbone and Rampling are visiting. You know Rampling, don’t you? I believe he’s in your class at Memorial.”

  “Yes, Seth and I are good friends.”

  “I see. Well, they’re all coming for the long holiday weekend. They’re in Boston at a meeting and will come here to unwind after it’s over. I will expect you to be in attendance at lunch and dinner to help entertain.”

  I hesitated before responding, thinking about Jeremy.

  “Aunt Hettie, I…”

  “Yes, what is it? Is there a problem?”

  Taking a deep breath, I plunged forward. “Yes, there is. I’ve become involved with someone here and it might offend him if I exclude him all weekend.”

  She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Someone here? Who? A local?”

  The way she said “local” took me by surprise. I never imagined she would be prejudiced against the hard-working folks who made this island run, but maybe she was.

  “Yes, a local. Jeremy Bradshaw. I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

  She pursed her lips, thinking. “Bradshaw … hmmm … he fishes for a living, doesn’t he? Hardly the type of person I would have expected you to take up with. But he is good-looking, isn’t he?”

  I blushed. “Yes, he is good-looking, but there’s much more to him than that. He’s very intelligent and we get along. I care about him, Aunt Hettie. This isn’t just a summer fling.”

  “In three weeks you know it’s not a summer fling? Well, bully for you. But I still want you here to help entertain. How about if we just make it lunch, while your beau is working, and Saturday night … for dinner. On Sunday, we can do without you. But you’ll have to be here for the fireworks Monday night. Everyone leaves on Tuesday morning and you can get back to your regular routine then. He can’t really object to that kind of schedule, can he?”

  “Why can’t I just bring him along?” I asked, knowing what her answer was going to be before I spoke.

  “I don’t think that would work, dear. Everyone here will be medical, except Raoul, of course, and you know he’s absorbed about as much jargon and knowledge as a second-year resident. No, your fisherman would not fit in. It would be awkward for him and, possibly, embarrassing.”

  I didn’t answer. She might be right and did I really want Jeremy and Alistair together in the same room for an entire evening? I thought not.

  “All right,” I finally said. “I’ll be here Friday for lunch and on Saturday for dinner. But I have to draw the line at the Fourth of July. I want to spend that holiday with Jeremy.”

  My aunt looked irritated and we sat silently staring at each other, neither one of us willing to compromise.

  “All right,” she finally said. “Have it your way. But do stop by on Tuesday morning to say goodbye to Ham. A helicopter is scheduled to take him and the others back to Boston at noon.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I will.”

  She rose. “I think that will be all for now, dear. I need to help Raoul with the unpacking. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow for lunch? We can catch up more then.”

  “That sounds good, Auntie. I hope everything here has been done to your satisfaction. If not, let me know. And, one more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “The Internet … when will that be turned on?”

  She frowned and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. The Levines usually take care of that and I don’t believe they’re here yet. It’s something I’ll have to have Raoul look into. Anything else?”

  “No,” I replied, a bit disappointed. “Hope you have a nice evening.”

  She nodded and, without any additional comments, left the room, leaving me with the distinct feeling that I had been dismissed.

  Shaking my head, I walked outside and skipped down the steps. It was getting late and Jeremy would be home soon. I had dinner to cook!

  He arrived a little after seven, tired and smelling of fish. He took a quick shower, then joined me in the living room.

  “So, tell me, how are Hephzibah and her consort, Raoul? They make it to the island okay?”

  I laughed. “They’re here … in all their glory. Complete with about a dozen bags. And, yes, they can be snobs.”

  “Snobs is putting it mildly. The four families … living on this island like it was their own private fiefdom. The Palmers’ noses are so high in the air, they could touch the moon. And, Hettie and Raoul are not far behind. Now, the Levines are a different matter. Hiram’s a good man who remembers his roots. The Morrisons I don’t know about. They keep to themselves.”

  I grinned. “Maybe they’ve got a secret or two to hide.”

  Jeremy got up and added another log to the fire. “Everyone’s got secrets, luv.”

  I looked at him, puzzled, wondering what he meant by that. Was he talking about himself? Or, was he inferring that I was the one who was hiding things?

  He didn’t say anything more about it and I didn’t pry.

  “Seriously, though,” I said. “Aunt Hettie’s not that bad. Raoul, maybe, but not Hettie.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I saw a lot of her last summer … you know, with the model. She always treated me like I was second-class, like I belonged in steerage.”

  I frowned, remembering how she had spoken about him earlier in the day.

  “Well, be glad you don’t have to hang with them then. Unfortunately, however, I do. My father and some other doctors are coming for the weekend and Hettie has commanded my appearance at dinner Saturday night.”

  I hesitated before saying more, not wanting to have to explain to him why she’d insisted I come alone. But his next words saved me.

  “That’s good. That’ll work out just fine. I’ve got to go to the mainland this weekend. There’s a meeting of the fishing consortium I’m a part of being held in Machias on Saturday afternoon. It’s about a four-hour drive, so I think I’ll go up Saturday morning, stay the night, then come back on Sunday. I’ll be sorry to miss the festivities at Stormview, but it will give you some time with your father, which might be a good thing.”

  Trying to hide the feeling of relief that washed over me, I pouted.

  “Do you really have to go?” I asked, whining a bit.

  He laughed. “Yes, I do. And, I’d ask you to go with, but you don’t want to miss seeing your dad, do you?”

  I sighed. “No, I don’t. And, you’ll just be gone twenty-four hours, right?”

  He pulled me into his lap. “Less than that. But, if you play your cards right,” he whispered as he nuzzled my neck, “I could be home even sooner.”

  Lunch On Friday

  ON FRIDAY, JEREMY was working when I made my way to the manor house for lunch. My father and the others had arrived that morning and, as I approached the entrance, I could see them all sitting out on the porch, relaxing.

  My father rose when he saw me coming up the steps.

  “Katherine!” he said, striding to greet me. “You look great! I have to admit I was skeptical when Hettie told me of her plan to send you here, but, looking at you now, I can tell she was right.”

  I embraced him, accepting his kiss on my cheek. “I am better, Dad. The island has been good for me.”

  As I spoke, I heard someone snickering in the background and knew it was Alistair. I turned and glared at him for a moment, then dropped my gaze, smiled, and greeted him.

  “Dr. Redbone. Welcome to Storm Island.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Pomeroy,” he replied. “You’re looking much better than when I saw you last. You remember, when you made a spectacle of yourself in my O.R?”

  My father scowled, but I just smiled.

  “Yes, I am better, thank you,” I answered, turning away from him and gazing at Seth, who was standing by the railing, grinning. He was apparently enjoying my exchange with Dr. Redbone.

  “Seth!” I exclaimed. “Congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me about your paper?”

&nbs
p; He looked at me, surprised. “How did you know?”

  I heard snickering again and realized that, stupidly, I had let the cat out of the bag. Now everyone would know that I had been in touch with someone prior to their arrival and I was sure they would know that that someone was Alistair.

  “I can’t remember,” I answered hastily. “Someone told me. Now, tell me about it. What was it like presenting to the Academy?”

  Having been given the chance to talk about himself deflected Seth’s curiosity about where I got my information. He talked nonstop for the next half-hour, describing in tortuous detail his presentation at the meeting.

  Finally, becoming bored, Raoul stood and interrupted him.

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “Now, I’m hungry and I think Cook’s come up with some wonderful concoctions for us. Let’s have lunch.”

  “Hear, hear,” chimed Alistair. “Enough with this dull talk about papers and research. I’m ready for some lobster and a chilled glass of chardonnay.”

  We all adjourned to the dining room. The table was beautifully set and the sideboard was laden with chafing dishes and platters of entrees and salads. There were plates of steamed lobster and clams, lobster rolls, and marinated calamari, as well as cold cuts and a standing prime rib, ready to be sliced. Bottles of white wine were chilling in buckets and others of red were already opened, allowing them to breathe.

  I frowned at the decadence of it all, longing to be back at the carriage house with a homely tuna salad and cup of tea, my feet propped on the coffee table as I read one of my mother’s journals.

  Sighing, I helped myself to some lobster salad and a roll and sat down.

  “A glass of wine?” asked Raoul, holding up a bottle of white.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “It’s a little early in the day for me. I’ll just have water.”

  Raoul shook his head. “No, that will not do. You must have just a little. After all we’re celebrating.”

  “Celebrating what?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Why, the beginning of summer,” he answered, laughing. “What else?”

  Over my objections, he poured me a glass and set it down on the table in front of me. Not wanting to make a scene, I thanked him and took a sip.

  The lunch dragged on. Finally, at close to three p.m., it seemed on the verge of breaking up. I’d had just the one glass of wine, but was feeling a little lightheaded and, when I stood, staggered a bit.

  “Are you okay, Katherine?” asked my father, reaching out a hand to steady me.

  “Yeah, just a little tired. I think I’ll go back to the cottage and lie down.”

  “I’ll walk with you. We really haven’t gotten a chance to talk and Hettie says you won’t be here for dinner.”

  “I’d like that,” I replied, taking his arm. “And, no, I won’t be here tonight. Let me tell you why…”

  On the way back to the carriage house, I told him all about Jeremy. He listened quietly as I went on and on about this man I believed I was falling in love with.

  “I know I’m babbling,” I said. “But, I’ve never been this happy before. He’s a good person. I know you’ll like him.”

  My father was quiet and I feared I’d upset him.

  “Well, say something, Dad. Be happy for me.”

  We’d arrived at the cottage and he took the key from my hand and opened the door. Once inside, he turned to face me.

  “Katherine, of course, I’m happy for you … as long as this ‘relationship’ you believe you have is, indeed, real.”

  I started to object, but he held up his hand to silence me.

  “Hear me out, please. I know you think that you’re in love and that this young man reciprocates that feeling. But look at it from my point of view. You’re just getting over some sort of breakdown … a mental disorder, not to be taken lightly. And, furthermore, you went against your doctor’s orders.”

  I tried to interrupt, to explain, but, again, he silenced me.

  “Yes, Hettie told me how you threw away the prescriptions she’d ordered for you. And, now, you think you’re in love. What if this is just another delusion? Are you sure this man doesn’t think of this as just a summer romance? Seriously, Katherine, if you could listen to yourself.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father was calling me delusional about my feelings for Jeremy. How could he say that? And what did he know about it anyway?

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I finally said. “I think I want to be alone now. I’m tired.”

  “Katherine … Kate. Listen, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to tell it like I see it.”

  “I understand. But, please, go. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked out of the room. I heard the door slam behind me, but I didn’t care. Let him be angry.

  I sat down on my bed, feeling exhausted. The confrontation with my father had come as a surprise. I got up to make a cup of tea but just the thought of it suddenly rolled my stomach. Bile rose in my throat and I barely made it to the bathroom on time.

  Crouched on the floor, my head in the toilet, I vomited up the undigested remains of my lobster salad. After my stomach was purged, I was wracked with dry heaves that seemed to last forever.

  Feeling completely drained, I finally stood and leaned over the sink, gazing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  My eyes looked sunken, encased in dark circles. My face was pale, with the exception of high spots of color on my cheeks, indicative of a possible fever. I felt my forehead … it was warm and clammy.

  Reaching into the cabinet under the sink, I pulled out the first aid kit and took my temperature with the digital thermometer … one-hundred-one degrees. Was I coming down with a virus? Or was this the result of food poisoning … tainted lobster?

  My doctor’s intuition told me it was most likely the latter and that the best remedy would be to make that cup of tea to rehydrate myself, then go to bed. It was only four o’clock and Jeremy wouldn’t be home until around six. I could still get in a couple hours sleep and, possibly, feel more like myself when he got here.

  Unsteadily, I made my way to the kitchen and nuked some water for tea. Then, cup in hand, went back to the bedroom and crawled under the covers.

  Dreams

  I THINK I must have fallen asleep as soon as the cup was empty. But my sleep was anything but peaceful. Strange dreams wafted across my consciousness, one after another, weaving their way in and out of my mind.

  I woke with a start, gasping for breath. I was covered in sweat and shivering. I pulled the comforter close around me and tried to get my bearings.

  Then I heard it.

  That faint scurrying sound … followed closely by a terrible chittering.

  I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest. Where was it coming from? The closet?

  I waited, holding my breath.

  It began again … the scurrying - something moving rapidly back and forth - then the chittering, louder this time and more insistent.

  I sat quietly, listening, my fear escalating. It was quiet for a while and I was about to put everything down to an overactive imagination when, suddenly, the damned thing let out a loud, menacing chirp and I realized where it was coming from.

  It was under my bed!

  Terrified, I hugged my knees closer, trying to make myself as small as possible. Whatever was under there was silent now, waiting. I thought about making a dash for the door, but fear held me frozen. The memory of that spider-like creature from my dream or hallucination loomed large in my mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of terror.

  Again, I thought of escaping and shifted my position slightly, getting ready to leap from the bed. But as soon as I moved, the scurrying began again, louder and more insistent, as if the creature would brook no resistance from me.

  It chirped once … twice, then was silent.

  My heart pounded, as I braced myself.

  A black, hairy leg slithered from beneath t
he bed, undulating slowly onto the mattress. Its vicious claw opened and, in one swift movement, clasped itself around my ankle…

  I screamed.

  “Katy, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  I opened my eyes and found myself in Jeremy’s arms. I was soaked with sweat, my hair plastered to my forehead, my body shivering with cold and fear.

  “Oh, God,” I cried. “It was terrible. That thing … it was coming for me. That awful chittering and chirping … oh, Jeremy.”

  “Hush, now, hush,” he said soothingly. “You’re safe. I’m here. It was just a dream. Let me get you some water.”

  He started to get up, but I wouldn’t let him go. “No, stay with me. Hold me.”

  He smiled, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “No problem. Just relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I rested in his arms for I don’t know how long. Finally, my heart settled and my shaking subsided.

  “Better now?” he asked as he pulled away slightly and gazed down at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks. I think I got some bad lobster salad at lunch up at Stormview. I got sick when I got home and was running a fever. I had some tea and went to bed. Guess the lobster caused some bad dreams.”

  He laughed. “No kidding. When I came in the front door, you were screaming bloody murder. Something about a spider under the bed.”

  When he mentioned the spider, I shuddered as a wave of fear washed over me. Catching a look of concern in his eyes, I took a deep breath, pulling myself together.

  “Can you get me the thermometer? I think I left it on the bathroom sink.”

  Jeremy got up and returned in a minute, handing it to me.

  I quickly took my temperature … it was normal now.

  “Good, whatever it was that spiked my fever is gone. Think it was food poisoning. Either the lobster had gone bad or the cook left the salad out of the fridge too long and the mayo turned. Whatever happened, it’s pretty sloppy food handling, if you ask me.”