Whale of a Crime (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries Book 7) Read online

  “Biscuit, sweetheart,” John said, bending down. “It’s only a kitten.” The kitten mewled, and Biscuit’s paw slashed out at her.

  “Biscuit!”

  She gave me a baleful look from her green eyes, then streaked out of the room and down the stairs.

  “Well, that solves one problem, I suppose,” I said.

  He sighed. “Murdered guests, overflowing bathtubs, angry pets... what a week.”

  “And my recipe binder is missing,” I remembered. “Have you seen it?”

  He shook his head. “Last time I saw it, it was on the shelf where you always keep it.”

  I sighed. “Maybe your mom borrowed it.”

  John gave me a look. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Good point,” I said. Since Catherine specialized in low-fat low-carb everything, our recipe overlap was minimal. “I’m sure it will turn up. And at least the day is over. Tomorrow’s got to be better, right?”

  “At least the day can’t get any worse,” he said.

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than the phone rang.

  ***

  “Are you sitting down?”

  It was Charlene. “What’s wrong?” I asked, looking over at Biscuit, who was eyeing me balefully from next to the radiator. As I talked, I walked to the laundry room and peeked in; no more of the ceiling had fallen yet, but it looked like a large section was ready to go at any moment. I tiptoed in to open a window to help it dry out; the last thing I needed was a moldy laundry room.

  “Emmeline just called to tell me that someone bought Cliffside today,” she said as I pushed the window up, letting in a gust of chilly air.

  I walked back into the kitchen and closed the door to the laundry room, hoping the ceiling would last the night. Compared to everything else that had happened, I didn’t see why I should be concerned about Cliffside. “After all these years, it’s about time,” I said. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Rumor has it they’re not planning to use it as a residence, Nat,” she said.

  “Hmm. What does the grapevine say buyer has in mind?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but word is someone from the mainland was looking at it the other day,” she said. “She’s a commercial architect.”

  “Did she say what her client was planning?”

  “No,” she said. “She said the project was ‘classified.’“

  “Well,” I said, “there’s not much I can do about it, is there?” Despite my cheerful words, I felt a pit in my stomach. The inn was just now really hitting its stride; how much would a competitor on the island cut into our business?

  “I guess there’s nothing you can do, but I just have a bad feeling about it.” Charlene sighed. “And then there’s that terrible thing happened to the captain. Have you heard anything else?”

  “I’m assuming it’s being treated as homicide, since they had investigators all over the place and talked to everyone on the tour, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

  “That must have been awful,” my friend said. “And I heard the kids were on the boat when they pulled him up.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Their mom has been trying to distract them all day.”

  Charlene pursed her lips. “You know... he looked so familiar to me. I can’t place it, but I’m almost sure I met him before.”

  “He did run another tour out of the inn,” I reminded her. “I know you spent the whole week looking at Alex, but surely you at least glanced at Bainbridge.”

  “That’s not it,” she said. “I know him from somewhere else. Maybe he summered here or something... I just can’t place him.”

  “I always wondered how he picked Cranberry Island as a tour base,” I said. “On the other hand, it’s going to be hard to ask him now.”

  She sighed. “Alex was so upset about it tonight,” she said.

  “I thought he and the captain didn’t get along.”

  “They had their differences,” she said. “But it’s upsetting when someone you’re close to dies—even if you don’t see eye to eye on everything.”

  “How are things going with him, by the way?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’s marvelous,” Charlene said. “He knows all the scientific names for everything, and he loves animals, and he’s just so... rugged. Plus,” she added, “he’s a great kisser.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that,” I said.

  “You’ve got a handsome guy of your own, Natalie,” she said. “You have to leave some for the rest of us.”

  “I’m quite happy, thank you very much. By the way,” I said, as Biscuit slitted her eyes at me, “do you know anyone who’s missing a gray kitten?”

  “No,” she said. “Did you find one?”

  “On the back porch,” I said. “I’ll bring a photo over; maybe you can post it on the board and ask around.”

  “Will do,” she said. “How are things going over there?”

  “Well, other than the sudden death of Captain Bainbridge, one of my guests flooded a room, and the ceiling is now caving in in my laundry room,” I said, “and my sister showed up on the doorstep and is accusing me of ruining her daughter’s life. And my recipe binder is missing. But other than that, things are going great.”

  “Sheesh,” she said. “Can it get any worse?”

  “I’m kind of afraid to ask that question.” After all, that’s what John had asked just before Charlene called.

  “Maybe I’m wrong about Cliffside,” she suggested. “I mean, it’s been on the market for so long.”

  “Even if you’re not,” I said, “there’s not much I can do about it. And maybe it’ll hit a different market.”

  “Besides,” she told me, “you’ve got such a great network; you’ve really built up your list of clients, and you’ve got a terrific reputation.”

  “You’re right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Assuming I don’t go broke fixing the water damage.”

  “That’s what insurance is for, right?”

  “Here’s hoping,” I said, and glanced at my watch. “I’ve got to get up at six... can we check in in the morning?”

  “Sure,” she said. “And I’ll see if I can find anything else out about Cliffside.”

  “Thanks, Charlene,” I said.

  “And if you have any cookies for the register, I wouldn’t say no.”

  “I should have made a double batch yesterday; I wasn’t thinking. If I bake more, I’ll make extra,” I told her. I usually kept her stocked with cookies to sell to island visitors, but the inn had been so busy it had fallen off my mental list.

  “Eli is going through sugar withdrawal,” she said.

  I laughed. Eli was a friend, and the local boatwright who had given me my skiff. His wife Claudette refused to let him have sugar; he kept himself supplied by buying my cookies on the sly. “Tell him to stop by the inn and I’ll get him hooked up,” I told her.

  “He’ll be thrilled,” she said, and we hung up a moment later. As I headed back upstairs to John, Biscuit gave me a baleful look from her spot by the radiator.

  “It’s only temporary,” I told her, but she didn’t seem convinced.

  ***

  The kitten spent the whole night curled up between John and me, and followed us to the stairs when we got up at dawn to start breakfast.

  “I still think we should call her Smudge,” he said.

  “It suits her,” I said, watching as the little creature looked up at him and meowed.

  “Think Biscuit will be better behaved?” John asked as she attempted to negotiate the top step.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” he said as he scooped her up and carried her down the stairs.

  Sure enough, the moment she spotted Smudge, Biscuit’s tail puffed out and she hissed.

  “Let’s put her in the laundry room,” I said. When I opened the door, I changed my mind; half the ceiling was on the floor. “Uh oh.”

  John came up behind me and winced. “Not good,” he said. “On the plus s
ide, at least it’s not in the kitchen.”

  “We need to call the insurance adjustor today,” I said. “I hope the floors survive.”

  “Who starts a tub and walks away from it, anyway?” John asked.

  I was about to answer when there was a knock at the back door. “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Detective Fleming and another officer,” John said.

  “Uh oh,” I said, as he went to get the door.

  “Good morning,” John said as he opened the door. “You’re here early. Can we get you some coffee?”

  “Thanks, but we won’t be here long,” the detective replied.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Is Alex Van Der Berg here?”

  “Unless he went down to the Summer Breeze early, I think he’s still in his room,” I said. “Why?”

  “We have a warrant for his arrest,” the detective said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I blinked at her. “Arrest? For what?”

  “For the murder of Carl Bainbridge,” she said. “Can you take me to his room?”

  I stared at her open-mouthed, as John said, “I’ll show you the way.” My husband shot me a grim look as he led the detective and her partner through the swinging doors to the rest of the inn, still holding the kitten against his chest.

  Poor Charlene, I thought, staring out at the police launch that was tied up to the dock. As I scooped coffee into the grinder, I wondered what it was that had implicated Alex. Had he really murdered the captain? And if so, why?

  The coffee was brewing when the police came back downstairs with a rumpled-looking Alex in tow.

  “Are you sure you don’t want coffee?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” the detective said.

  “Tell Charlene it wasn’t me,” Alex said, looking wild-eyed and a bit scared. “I promise.”

  “I’ll tell her,” I said. “Anything else?”

  He sighed. “Just tell her... tell her I love her,” he said.

  “I will,” I told him, feeling my heart wrench for my friend. “Do you need help finding an attorney?”

  “He can call from the station,” Detective Fleming said. “We’ve got to head out.”

  “But what are we going to do about the tour?” I asked—as if they would release a murder suspect to make things more convenient for me. I definitely needed that second cup of coffee.

  Detective Fleming shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” she said as she escorted Alex through the back door. John and I stood and watched as she and her partner led him to the police launch.

  “This is not my favorite week,” I said as they walked down to the dock, Alex sandwiched between them.

  “No, it hasn’t been one of our better ones,” John agreed. “When are you going to call Charlene?” he asked, still stroking the kitten.

  “After breakfast,” I said. “Unless she calls me first; you know how news travels.” I looked out at the schooner, which was bobbing in the water. “I wonder why they think he killed him?”

  “I’m going to see if I can find out,” John said grimly. “Right after I call the insurance adjustor.”

  “I’m kind of afraid to go upstairs and look at the floors,” I said. “Do you think we should wake up Martina?”

  “Let’s take one thing at a time,” my handsome husband suggested. “Let’s put this kitten back in our bedroom and get started on breakfast. Once we have that under control, we’ll go tell Martina.”

  “You’re right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I wish I could find my recipe binder. I guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

  Despite the sunshine pouring through the windows, the mood in the kitchen was dark as we worked that morning. As John assembled a strata, I whipped up a sour cream coffee cake and put it into the oven, then cut up a cantaloupe and hulled strawberries for a fruit salad.

  “What do you think Martina is going to do without Alex to help out?” I asked as John tucked the strata into the oven next to the coffee cake.

  “Maybe Adam can help out,” he suggested.

  I put plastic wrap over the fruit salad and washed my hands. “I’ll go knock on her door,” I said, and gave John a kiss before heading out the kitchen door.

  Martina was on the second floor of the inn, in the Lupine room. I could hear her moving around even before I knocked; she opened the door almost immediately. As usual, her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her polo shirt was tucked into khaki pants, a brown belt around her trim waist.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Alex was arrested this morning,” I said.

  She drew in her breath, and a series of emotions flickered over her face, so rapidly that I couldn’t parse them. “No! Because of what happened to Carl?”

  “I’m afraid so,” I said.

  “But that’s crazy!” Martina said. “He never would have hurt the captain.”

  “They took him to the mainland a little while ago. John and I have breakfast underway, but I know you can’t operate the boat solo. Do you want me to see if I can find someone on the island to help?”

  “Oh, my God. I hadn’t even thought of that.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you can?”

  “We’re surrounded by lobstermen,” I said. “And half the island has worked in the tourism industry at some point. I’m sure I can find someone.”

  “Thanks so much,” she said. “It won’t be the same, but at least we’ll be able to go out.” She sighed. “This tour has turned out to be a nightmare. First Carl, and now this...” She looked haggard. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I know,” I said, reaching out to touch her shoulder... but part of me was wondering how she really felt. How upset was she that the captain was gone? And was she upset--or relieved--that Alex was arrested? “I’ll go down and see what I can do,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  ***

  John was setting up the dining room and the smell of coffee cake had started to fill the kitchen when I picked up the phone a few minutes later to call Gwen’s fiancé. I knew he had traps to pick up, but I couldn’t think of who else to call.

  “I can’t take a second day... and I don’t know any other lobstermen who’d be willing, but what about Eli?” Adam asked when I called him a few minutes.

  “Adam, that’s a terrific idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “I just saw him down at the store,” he said. “If you call, I’ll bet he’s still there.”

  “Then I’d have to tell Charlene,” I said.

  “If you don’t tell her, she’ll find out from someone else, and she’ll never forgive you.”

  I sighed. “You’re probably right. How are things going with Gwen’s mom, by the way?”

  “As well as anticipated, unfortunately,” he said.

  “That’s what I figured,” I said.

  “On the plus side,” he said, “Alex told me yesterday that he’d been in touch with two of the whale conservation societies. They’ve sent tracking equipment to College of the Atlantic and to the co-op, and they’re sending a vessel up. The Coast Guard has promised to help, too—and the lobstermen have offered to do what they can.”

  “I just hope we can find her again,” I said.

  “Or that we find her in time,” Adam said. “I’ll have to call and let them know I’m the new point of contact. I’m going to call over to College of the Atlantic and see if there’s been another sighting,” he said. “Even just tracking the whale would be helpful.”

  “That’s a terrific idea,” I told him. “In the meantime, I’m going to call Charlene.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said before hanging up. I looked out the window at the schooner, its lines sleek and beautiful, its masts dark against the blue sky, then took a deep breath and dialed the store.

  Charlene answered, of course.

  “What’s up?” she asked
, sounding cheerful. She hadn’t heard the news.

  “First, is Eli there?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I told him he could come by the inn, but he’s still complaining that there aren’t any cookies behind the counter.”

  “I’ll whip up a batch this week. Tell him not to leave yet,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said, and passed the message on to Eli while I waited. “Why?” she asked when she got back on the phone.

  “Are you sitting down?” I asked.

  “Uh oh. What’s wrong?”

  “The police arrested Alex this morning,” I told her.

  “No,” she breathed, sounding like someone had sucker punched her. “They talked with me yesterday, and asked questions about what we did last night, but I thought it was just routine. Oh, God... They really think he had something to do with Bainbridge’s death?”

  I swallowed. “He didn’t come straight back from your house the other night,” I told her.

  She was quiet for a moment. “How do you know?”

  “I was downstairs at 2 a.m., and that’s when he came in.”

  “You mean...” she paused for a moment. “Natalie,” she said in a low voice, “You don’t think he killed the captain, do you?”

  “I don’t think anything,” I said, although in truth the thought had crossed my mind more than once. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “I know he didn’t do it, Nat,” she said, her voice passionate. “We have to prove it.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “You haven’t known him very long.”

  “I’m positive,” she said. “He’s not a murderer. He and Bainbridge may have had their differences, but he never would have done something like that.”

  I wished I felt as certain, but if Charlene felt that strongly about it, I had to support her. If nothing else, maybe we could find out what had really happened—whether Alex was guilty or not. “Okay,” I said. “First, will you ask Eli if he can come help out with the Summer Breeze today?”

  “Oh. I didn’t think about the tour. With Alex gone...”

  “Martina’s on her own,” I finished.

  “Hang on,” she said. I waited while she conferred with Eli and got back on the line. “He’ll do it for a batch of your chocolate chippers. Actually, he’ll do it for nothing, but he does love your cookies.”