Murder Most Maine (6 page)

“Exactly,” said Gwen.

I glanced out the window and shuddered, thinking of my last attempt to jog. I added a teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice to the oatmeal, suffusing the kitchen with the warm scents of allspice and nutmeg. After stirring it a few times, then stepped away from the stove. “The things we do for love,” I grumbled as I headed upstairs to find a decent pair of shoes.

When I walked into
the dining room in my sneakers a little while later, Bethany, who had donned a rather tight black sweat suit for this morning’s outing, was standing beside Vanessa, who had hardly touched her oatmeal.

“Where’s Dirk?” Bethany asked. “Isn’t he going to be leading the hike?”

“I’m sure he’ll be down at any moment,” said Vanessa, who didn’t seem to be showing any signs of sleep deprivation despite her late-night sortie. “We don’t leave until nine, so why don’t you go ahead and enjoy this delicious breakfast!”

Bethany reluctantly returned to her table, and after one more bite of the fragrant oatmeal, Vanessa headed for the stairs, leaving her charges to grumble over the small portions.

“This oatmeal is delicious,” said Cat, who had traded in her formless blue sweater for an equally formless purple sweatshirt and a pair of black cotton pants. “Just like pumpkin pie—only healthy!”

“I would have preferred an omelet,” complained Sarah as she cracked a soft-boiled egg onto a piece of dry toast. She was looking smart in white-trimmed pink workout pants and a matching jacket. “I don’t know how I’m going to run on this little food.”

“Just think how gorgeous you’ll be for the reunion,” Boots reminded her, reaching down to adjust her sleek black Spandex jogging pants. She’d paired them with a tank top and a trim aqua jacket that brought out the deep blue of her eyes. I tugged at my own bulky jacket enviously; Boots, I decided, should give classes to full-figured women on dressing to flatter your shape.

“I’m not sure it’s worth it,” Sarah said, adjusting her waistband. “Did Vanessa say there would be snacks along the way?”

“I hope so,” said Cat, “or she’s going to have to carry me back.”

“I don’t know. Ever since we got here, I’ve just had so much more
energy
,” said Bethany. “It must be all the clean eating.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and took a bite of egg and toast as I headed back to the kitchen.

“I’ll serve the rest of the guests. You’d better go get ready,” my niece said.

“Thanks, Gwen. Marge should be here by nine thirty. Why don’t you plan on heading over to Fernand’s as soon as she gets here?”

“We’ll see how it goes,” she replied, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind one ear. I couldn’t help smiling to myself as I headed upstairs to change. When Gwen first arrived, her housekeeping skills had been minimal at best. Now, she was concerned that the help I’d hired wasn’t up to her exacting standards.

At nine o’clock, everyone had left the dining room, Gwen was elbow-deep in soapy water again, and the rest of us were all assembled outside the inn, breathing in the cold morning air. The sun had come out from behind the clouds again, and the contrast of the robin’s-egg-blue sky against the green and gray of the island was breathtaking.

John showed up as we gathered in front of the inn, and after kissing me briefly on the top of the head, had been pulled into Vanessa’s orbit. As Vanessa smoothed down her sleek black windbreaker, I pulled my puffy jacket around me, wishing yet again that I had invested in something a bit more stylish. I looked around at the rest of the group, who were standing on the front porch with their hands burrowed into their pockets. Things with John might not be going swimmingly, but I was happy to see that despite the size of the breakfast, everybody looked pretty chipper. There was only one thing missing: Dirk.

“I keep looking for that gorgeous man who’s supposed to be leading us,” my friend said, her blue eyes scouring the area for signs of the trainer. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

Charlene wasn’t the only one who had noticed his absence. “Where’s our leader?” asked Bethany, looking up at what I knew to be Dirk’s window. “He didn’t even come down to give us our supplements this morning.”

“I don’t know,” said Vanessa, a small furrow appearing in her otherwise flawless brow. “He said he might go for an early run this morning. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, but “I’ll go knock on his door again. Maybe he’s in the shower. But if he’s not here by ten after, I promise we’ll go on our own. After all, we have an excellent guide with us.” Her sleek hair shone as she nodded toward John, who was standing on the front doorstep. His shoulders straightened slightly, and he smiled.

“I told you she was trouble,” Charlene murmured.

When Dirk didn’t show up by 9:10, Vanessa started up the hill at a light jog, with the rest of us puffing behind her like ducklings. Although she was interminably perky, her smile was a bit dimmer than usual, and I noticed her shooting frequent glances back toward the inn.

Despite the cool breeze off the water behind us—and despite the fact that Vanessa, once resigned to her trainer’s absence, stepped right back into motivational mode and kept exhorting us to “pick up the pace” and “really work those glutes,” it was a beautiful morning to be out attempting to jog. (By the time we got halfway up the hill, most of us were purple, so Vanessa bowed to the inevitable and slowed to a brisk walk.) The pine trees filled the air with their fresh scent, which I got ample lungfuls of, since I was gasping for breath. As we crested the hill, another robin swooped over the road in front of us.

“First robin I’ve seen since the fall,” Charlene said. “Spring really must be here to stay.”

“It’s about time,” I said. As exciting as winter had been for me, with the novelties of snow and icicles, I was glad to kiss it goodbye. We started down the other side of the hill a few minutes later, panting, and got our first view of the lighthouse in the distance. A shiver ran down my back as I remembered the light I’d seen the night before.

“Did they already get the new lamp installed?” I asked, pointing at the lighthouse.

“Not that I know of,” she said.

“We saw it last night,” I said, finally catching my breath. “At dinnertime: it flashed about a half a dozen times.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with the legend?” I asked.

“Oh, the omen thing? It hasn’t happened while I’ve been here, and lord knows we’ve seen more than our share of tragedies.” She fell silent for a moment, and I knew she was thinking of Richard McLaughlin, the rector she had dated briefly—and who had been murdered just last fall.

“By the way,” I said, hoping to get her mind off those not-so-distant memories, “any word on the skeleton?”

She sucked in her breath. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. You were too busy mooning about Dirk.”

“I wasn’t mooning,” she said, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I was admiring. Or bemoaning his absence.”

“Whatever,” I said. “What did they find out?”

“The results came back yesterday—or at least that’s what Matilda said.” Matilda Jenkins was the island’s historian, and had spearheaded the conservation effort. “Apparently the skeleton belonged to a man, and they think he’s been there for about a hundred and fifty years,” Charlene continued. “They said they could estimate the time period from the buckles on his shoes.”

“No wonder the population’s so small on this island,” I joked. “The murder rate appears to be well above average.”

“Actually, they
do
think he was murdered,” Charlene said.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure yet—Matilda didn’t tell me the details. I’m not sure
she
knows yet.”

A shiver passed through me when I thought of the bones that had lain hidden in secret for all those years. “Do they think it was the lighthouse keeper?”

She shrugged. “The timing’s right, so it’s a good guess, but there’s no way to know. It may just be another unsolved mystery. On the other hand, it should help the tourist trade; nothing like a good ghost story to draw visitors.” Vanessa’s throaty laugh reached us—she was shoulder-to-shoulder with my neighbor—and Charlene nudged me. “We’d better get up there,” she said.

Personally, I wasn’t sure my presence was going to make any difference; for starters, in my bulky, shapeless jacket, the whole comparison thing wasn’t exactly in my favor, and I didn’t think my turning up was going to do much to quell John’s evident attraction to Vanessa anyway. But Charlene urged me forward, and a minute later she and I were trotting along right behind the slender retreat leader and my flannel-clad boyfriend.

“Hi, Natalie,” John said when he saw me, flashing me a white-toothed grin that made my heart melt. “Great morning to be out, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed. Particularly now that we were headed downhill, and no longer jogging.

“How far is the lighthouse?” asked Cat, who was sandwiched between her sorority sisters behind me.

“Another twenty minutes,” John said.

“Will there be snacks when we get there?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” Vanessa patted her smart little backpack, which I knew was filled with energy bars that looked and tasted like sawdust mixed with miniscule chocolate chips.

We spent much of that remaining time listening to John and Vanessa catch up on old times, with Charlene interjecting what she knew of longtime island residents.

“So Murray Selfridge made it big, I hear,” Vanessa said.

“He’s been trying to do the same for the island,” John said, referring to Selfridge’s repeated attempts to push developments through the board of selectmen.

“It looks like he hasn’t been successful so far,” Vanessa said. “The island hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Not yet—and a lot of it’s due to Tom Lockhart.”

“Why is that?” Vanessa asked.

“He’s a pretty big deal around here,” Charlene said. “He stepped into his father’s shoes as head of the lobster co-op, and he’s also chair of the board of selectmen.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Vanessa said, smiling. “He was always charismatic. It was good to see him again …” There was an odd look in her almond-shaped eyes as she spoke. Had she seen him more than once yesterday? I wondered.

“What about you?” John asked her. “Last I heard you were engaged to some real estate mogul in New Jersey.”

“Didn’t work out,” she said quickly. “He was already married to his business. But tell me about everybody else. What happened to Eric Hoyle?”

As John and Charlene filled Vanessa in on the rest of the gossip—some of which was interesting, but much of which I already knew—I glanced behind me to see what everyone else was up to. Bethany was looking distraught, doubtless at the absence of her love object, and the three sorority sisters appeared to be taking their own little trip down memory lane. Megan was walking stolidly alongside Greg; Carissa trailed them, looking miserable. Once I glimpsed her slipping something into her mouth—it looked like a mini Snickers bar—and again I felt that stab of pity. The reporter was at the rear of the line, alone.

Elizabeth had put away her notebook, but was snapping pictures with a little digital camera. I couldn’t blame her; with the fresh green leaves springing up on the sides of the road, and the dark trees finally free of their blanket of snow, the scenery was breathtaking.

As we approached the lighthouse, I could see the construction equipment from the renovation clustered at the end of the trail. The area around the lighthouse was ringed by a construction fence, and the previously narrow, rarely traveled path had widened considerably with all the traffic. I thought again about Vanessa’s late-night outing; had she and either Tom or John come back last night to revisit their old haunts?

Stop being ridiculous
, I told myself. John didn’t even have a car.

“Watch out for rocks!” Vanessa said in a cheery voice as she started down the path. John followed her, and I fell in behind him, Charlene trailing me.

“All this effort, and Dirk didn’t even show up,” Charlene muttered. “I’m sweating for nothing.”

“What’s that?” It was Elizabeth, from somewhere behind me. She was pointing to something that looked like a speed bump on the trail. I craned to look over John’s shoulder; whatever it was was blue, with a flash of white.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s something the workers left behind.”

We had only taken a few more steps when Vanessa screamed.