Murder On the Rocks (9 page)

As I padded slowly toward the door at the end of the hall, the floor groaned beneath me. I froze. After a very long moment, another clunk sounded; it was definitely coming from the room at the end of the hall. Whoever was in Katz’s room was still going about his or her business.

My heart thundered so loudly that it seemed impossible that whoever else-or whatever else-was up here couldn’t hear it. I wiped my clammy hands on my robe and tiptoed to the end of the hall. I stood for a long moment outside of Bernard Katz’s door, lis tening to the creak of footsteps. Adrenaline coursed through me as I grasped the cold brass doorknob and turned it.

The door was locked.

Of course. Grimes must have locked it that morning. Which meant that whoever was in the room had entered through the window. Unless …

I crept back down the hall as quickly as possible and ran down the stairs on tiptoe. I raced to the reception desk and opened the key cabinet. A small brass door key dangled on its own hook at the end of the second row: the skeleton key. Gwen and I used it when we were cleaning the rooms. As my hand closed around it, I realized that I’d forgotten to tell Grimes about it.

I clutched the cold key in my hand and started back up the stairs. Halfway up, I paused. Did I really want to walk in on an intruder unarmed? I hurried back down to the parlor and slid the poker out of the rack of fireplace tools, giving it an experimental swing with a shaky arm before tackling the stairs again.

As I reached the top landing, I realized I hadn’t heard anything for a few minutes. Maybe the intruder was gone. A wave of relief and frustration swept over me at the thought that I might arrive too late. When I took a step toward Katz’s room, another bump sounded from behind the wood door. Sheer terror prevailed once again.

I reached the end of the hall and checked my grip on the poker. I would have been happier with something a little more longrange, like a shotgun, but it would have to do. My hand trembled as I struggled to fit the key into the lock without tipping off the intruder. I was afraid I was going to have to put down the poker and try it with both hands when the key finally slid home. I rotated the key in the lock. Then I wiped a sweaty hand, said a little prayer, and turned the knob.

I had a brief glimpse of a profile reflected in the light of a flashlight. Then the flashlight hurtled toward me. I swung the poker wildly, but before it could connect, a bright red pain exploded on the side of my head and everything went black.

I WAS TRAPPED UNDER black water, gasping for breath. Something was clawing at my head, pushing me down …

I opened my eyes to darkness. As I raised my head from the floor, a stabbing pain shot through my left temple, and my stomach turned over as my eyes searched the inky blackness. Panic had begun to constrict my throat when I caught a glimpse of the crescent moon through the window.

I relaxed slightly-I could still see-and then a chill passed through me when I remembered where I was.

I remained still, my head throbbing, listening for the sound of my attacker, but Katz’s room was empty. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, they registered the shadowy curtains fluttering in the breeze. My attacker had come-and presumably gone-through the window.

I climbed to my feet, gripping the footboard of the bed for support. As my body straightened, a sharp pain swelled behind my temple, and my knees buckled. I groped my way to where I knew the night table was and fumbled for the switch of the reading light. I winced as bright light flooded the room. The place had been ransacked.

The clunks I had heard must have been the hasty removal of drawers from the antique dresser; they lay overturned on the pine floor, their contents strewn across the room. The white counterpane and sheets had been torn from the king-sized bed, and the mattress lay askew on the box spring. I didn’t know what my attacker had been looking for, but whoever it was had been very thorough.

I stepped over piles of clothes to reach the long walnut desk next to the window. Piles of paper were heaped randomly on the desktop. A breeze from the open window sent a few receipts fluttering to the floor, and I bent over reflexively to pick them up. My head began to pulse again as I gathered them up: a restaurant receipt from New York, an airport parking ticket receipt, and a handwritten receipt from Seaglass Jewelers, a store down on the Cranberry Island wharf. I glanced at it-it was for $600-and tucked it into the pocket of my robe.

The papers on the desk were primarily bank statements. I riffled through them. The accounts the statements represented were not empty, but they certainly weren’t as substantial as I would have expected for a corporation like Premier Resorts International. One of them was almost as low as my own checking account.

I replaced the papers and looked around the room. The desk drawers had been emptied, too-they lay tumbled beneath the window in an untidy heap. The twin night tables, however, appeared to have been left untouched. Whatever my attacker had been looking for, he-or she-hadn’t found it. I’d interrupted the search.

The bump on my head yowled for attention, but I ignored it. If whatever the intruder had wanted was still here, this might be my only opportunity to find it. If Katz had been murdered-and I was starting to believe he had-the clue to his killer’s identity might be hidden here.

I skirted the upturned drawers and walked to the nearest night table. I slid open the drawer, but it was empty. I felt around underneath it, and bent carefully to peer behind it, but found nothing. An identical search of the table’s twin yielded only a pair of reading glasses. I replaced them in the drawer and slid it shut.

I stepped over piles of clothes and walked into the large tiled bathroom. The intruder hadn’t made it this far-the white towels were still neatly folded, and the only thing out of place was a scum of whiskers and shaving cream in the bowl of the marble sink and a glob of toothpaste on the vanity top. I was thinking I’d have to tell Gwen to double-check the sinks when she cleaned when something caught my eye. A piece of paper stuck out from where it had been wedged behind the bathroom mirror.

I pulled it out gently and examined it. The envelope was made of thick, creamy paper and labeled, simply, “Oh.” I opened the heavy flap and withdrew a single sheet of the same heavy paper.

Oh,

How about Thursday … same time, same place?

XO

Ess

The handwriting was cramped, and the crabbed letters slanted backward. As I read it a second time, I wondered if this was what the searcher was looking for. There was always the chance that the note had been left by a previous guest, but my gut instinct told me that Katz had put it here for a reason. Did “Ess” stand for Estelle? Maybe “Oh” was her pet name for Bernard … or maybe he’d discovered she’d had a rendezvous with someone else, and was using the letter for leverage. If so, I imagined the discovery was recent. Bernard and Estelle had seemed pretty friendly two days ago.

I slipped the letter into my pocket and continued sifting through the room. Forty-five minutes of searching turned up nothing else of interest, other than the fact that Katz wore a 42 waist and favored brightly colored silk boxers.

My head was throbbing by the time I decided to call it a night. My watch read half past one when I shut and locked the window, turned out the light, and used the skeleton key to relock the door behind me. I’d let John know what happened in the morning; the police could sort through the mess when they got here.

It seemed that I’d only been asleep for ten minutes when the alarm buzzed like a hornet’s nest. I slammed my hand down on it and groaned. Why did breakfast have to come so early?

My temple pulsed angrily as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Biscuit had come to join me at some point; she stretched and glanced at me before burrowing back into the covers as I shuffled over to the mirror.

What had been a pink bump last night had swelled to an angry purplish-blue knot above my left eye. More than anything, I wanted to take a handful of aspirin and go back to bed, but I limited myself to two, wrapped myself in my flannel robe, and trudged downstairs.

As I dumped frozen blueberries into a pot, I wondered again who had broken into Bernard Katz’s room the night before. Could it have been one of the guests? Just because the intruder had come in through the window didn’t mean he or she wasn’t staying at the inn.

My head continued to throb as I opened the door to the pantry. I was glad the menu wasn’t complicated this morning; I could whip up corn muffins in ten minutes, and the sausage and egg casserole would be done in another twenty. When my hand reached for the cornmeal bag, my plan evaporated; it was almost empty. So much for corn muffins. I leaned my head against the doorframe, my mind scrambling for an alternative.

Finally, inspiration hit. I pulled down the flour and sugar canisters and flipped through a cookbook until my fingers found my favorite pancake recipe. It was a bit more time-intensive-I’d have to stand over the griddle-but it wasn’t too difficult, and pancakes would go well with the blueberry compote. Maybe I’d forget about the casserole and just cook up a few sausages instead. If anyone wanted eggs, I’d make them to order.

As I was measuring out the flour, a knock sounded at the kitchen door. It was John, looking rumpled. A comforting whiff of fresh-cut wood blew in on the cool morning breeze as I opened the door to let my neighbor in. John hadn’t shaved yet, and his hair was disheveled, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Meeting him like this felt strangely intimate. When my hands moved to brush stray flour off my clothes, I realized why. I was still wearing my bathrobe.

John hadn’t noticed the bathrobe; his eyes zeroed in on the knot on my head. “My God, Nat! What happened to you?”

My hand flew to my temple. “Somebody bashed me over the head last night.”

“Where? When?”

“First come in and have a cup of coffee” Just thinking about last night made my head ache. I needed caffeine. John sat down at the table as I scooped beans into the coffee grinder and filled the pot with fresh water, recounting the night’s events as I worked.

When I turned around, his expression was grim. “Why didn’t you come and find me?”

“By the time I came to, whoever it was was long gone,” I said. “Came to?” His green eyes were filled with disbelief. “You mean they knocked you out and you didn’t come and find me?”

I shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake you”

“Not good,” he said. “Not good.” He sighed and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands as his elbows slid across the table. “I’ve got some more bad news,” he said. “Grimes just called.”

“A little early for a business call, isn’t it?”

“The coroner’s filed the report. Katz was murdered.” I slumped against the counter. The lines around John’s eyes and mouth looked deeper than usual as he continued. “I hope you didn’t touch anything while you were up there. They’re sending forensics over to go through Katz’s room today.”

My stomach fluttered. “Katz’s room is part of my inn. My prints are going to be all over the place.”

“Yeah, but not on his personal belongings.” His green eyes studied me. “Right?”

“Right,” I said feebly. I sat down at the table across from him and took a big swig of coffee, wondering how many more aspirin I could take without doing myself irreparable damage. “Just what I need for the business. Rooms festooned in yellow crime-scene tape.”

“I’ll ask them to be discreet.”

Being discreet on an island of five hundred curious inhabitants was like asking an elephant to walk on tiptoe, but I thanked him anyway.

“You know, I didn’t believe you yesterday,” John said, “but I think you may be right. Grimes seems to think you’re involved in this.” I already knew that, but hearing it from John turned the blood in my veins to ice.

“Well, he hasn’t had much time to ask around yet, has he?” I said with false brightness. “I think he’ll find I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on spectacular terms with Bernard Katz. Besides,” I continued, “the intruder should be a good lead to follow.”

John looked at me. “How did this person get in, anyway? Was the door unlocked?”

“Through the window,” I said. “I haven’t been out to look, but I’m guessing whoever it was climbed the rose trellis. The window was open when I got there”

“Well, maybe they left footprints. If you were planning on doing any gardening, I’d recommend you wait till the police have taken a look out there”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got enough to occupy me without worrying about the perennial beds. I’ll probably just do errands this afternoon.

“Errands?” He cocked one eyebrow at me. “Just try to keep out of trouble, okay?” He reached across the table and brushed the hair away from my temple. His voice was gentle. “You might want to get that looked at.” “

I can’t, remember? I’m not allowed to leave the island.”

He dropped his hand and sighed. “I’ll talk to Grimes, see if you can go into town to see a doctor.” Then he smiled. “Maybe I’ll promise to come with you and try to keep you out of trouble.” His eyes twinkled, and for the first time, he grinned. “Although that might be a tough job. Trouble seems to come looking for you”

I smiled back at him, confused. I was attracted to John, and it seemed as if he might be attracted to me, but Charlene had it on good authority that he was dating a woman in Portland. I was also a suspect in a murder case that he was involved in investigating. Besides, things were complicated enough already. Adding a romantic relationship with my neighbor was not what I needed right now.

John finished his coffee and headed for the door. “I’m guessing the next few days are going to be pretty busy. I’m going to head down to the workshop and churn out a few more boats while I can. Tourist season is short.” Don’t I know it, I thought. I thanked him for letting me know about the coroner’s report and gave him the last scone to take with him.

When the door closed behind him, I sank into one of the kitchen chairs, dazed. Bernard Katz really had been murdered. I sat warming my hands on the coffee cup until a popping sound from the stove reminded me that there was cooking to be done. My head twinged as I stirred the blueberries, which had started to bubble around the edges, and added some cornstarch. I took another sip of coffee before retrieving the baking powder and salt from the pantry and plugging in the griddle for pancakes.