Foal Play: A Mystery (13 page)

The second man turned around for the first time and noticed Colleen. She forced a smile. If only women could overhear more conversations like this, she thought. They’d certainly get a better idea about how men prioritized their lives.

“Anyways,” the bearded fisherman said to his friend while handing the cashier money for the bill, “it’s been two weeks and no word. Like he vanished into thin air.”

Colleen suddenly perked up. Or maybe vanished into the ocean, she thought.

“If I did that to my Diane, she’d have my hide,” the second man said, and whistled low imagining his wife’s punishment.

“Excuse me,” she said, tapping the man closest to her as the cashier handed the fishermen their receipt and began ringing up Colleen’s groceries.

The men turned.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your story. The man that’s missing … do you happen to know his name?” she asked.

“No, I don’t, ma’am, but I’m sure you could ask down at Joe’s.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that,” Colleen said, and gave them a reassuring smile. “Have a safe day on the water.”

“Thank you,” the men said in unison and walked away.

Colleen watched the men leave the store. She saw one shrug, obviously in response to the other’s question:
What was that all about?
As they crossed the parking lot, however, their demeanor quickly changed and the bounce in their step returned in anticipation of catching blue marlin, Spanish mackerel, or bluefish.

Colleen’s mind was awhirl. She absently paid for her groceries and left Food Lion. She had gotten more than groceries at the store. She had gotten information. Was it possible that the body that had washed up on the beach a week ago was that of the missing fisherman? Thus far, the coroner had been unable to make an identification. If the man came down alone, it would be understandable why he didn’t go missing right away. Colleen would visit Joe’s and see what the guys there could tell her, then call Bill and let him know that she had a lead on the John Doe from the beach.

She switched the grocery bags to one arm and reached into her pocket for her keys. She felt the contents shift and a bag slip from her grasp. Cans of dog food rolled across the pavement. She scooped up the bag and hurried to retrieve the runaway cans.

“Need help?”

“Yes,” she said, grabbing another can before turning toward the voice.

Colleen froze and her knees went a little weak. Standing before her with Sparky’s dog food in his hand was the handsome young man she had seen at the fireworks and the chapel.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement, and handed her the can.

“Thanks” was all she could manage.

“Looks like a nice day,” he said, checking out the sky.

“Yes, it should be,” she said, recovering from her initial shock. “Are you staying in Corolla?”

“Visiting,” he said after a brief pause.

“Friends?”

“No, family.”

A horn blared behind her. Colleen jumped and swung around. A delivery driver motioned out the window of his truck for her to move. She hadn’t realized she had been standing in the middle of the street. She waved an apology, stepped aside, and spotted the handsome stranger on the other side of the street on his way into the store.

“Hey!” Colleen called out.

The man turned back briefly, waved, and entered the store. She hesitated a moment. The impulsive part of her wanted to follow the man and question him further. The restrained part knew that that would seem like stalking. Her reserved side won.

She trekked toward her SUV. Why hadn’t she found out who the man was staying with, or how long he was staying, or what his name was? Some detective you are, she thought. One thing she did learn was that he was visiting family, and that meant he could be in town for a while. She might discover his identity yet. She smiled at the thought. Then came questions that wiped the smile away.
Why are you really interested in that man? Do you actually think he is involved in what is going on in Corolla? Or does it have more to do with the fact that you aren’t on the best terms with Bill? Perhaps you like the young man’s attention.
He was certainly easy on the eyes. And was that a slight accent she detected in his rich, deep voice? Stop, she thought, unwilling to entertain what the questions implied. She reached her SUV and shook thoughts of the man from her head.

As Colleen loaded the provisions into the passenger seat, she had the feeling she was being watched. She scanned the parking lot. People were walking in and out of the store and loading groceries into trunks. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the hair on her arms stood on end, her legs felt weak, and she had a queasy feeling in her stomach. She had had this feeling only twice before and both times her life had been in serious danger.

The first time Colleen had felt this way was in college. She had been out with her friends from the track team and was crossing a street when a car came screeching straight at them down the wrong side of the road. Instead of running, her teammates had frozen like deer in headlights. Thankfully, at the last minute the driver had swerved and missed them. Later, the police had told Colleen and her teammates that it was probably good they hadn’t moved, but Colleen had hated that she’d been paralyzed by her fear.

The second time had come years later, when Colleen was jogging through a park in Washington, D.C., after attending a national conference of emergency service personnel. A man, obviously suffering from mental illness, had charged at her while brandishing a baseball bat. That time she had been able to run away, but when she got back to the hotel she had immediately collapsed on a sofa in the lobby.

Oddly enough, she never had this feeling while fighting a fire. She reacted this way only when her life was threatened by another person. She hated how her body was feeling right now but clearly it was indicating she was in some type of danger, and she’d be foolish to ignore it. Colleen took another look around the lot, hopped into her SUV, and locked the door. She didn’t know the origin of the threat but decided from here on out she would be especially careful. After all, in the span of two weeks, two people on their island were dead. She didn’t want to be next.

Colleen wound down her window and felt her muscles relax as she headed home. By the time she pulled into her driveway, she wondered if the feeling she had had in the Food Lion lot was telling her that she needed to take a vacation day. She parked in front of her house and was surprised not to find Sparky waiting for her on the front porch. Normally by now he would have worn himself out searching for the rabbit and be ready for food and a nap.

“Sparky!” she called as she grabbed the grocery bags and shuffled up the porch steps.

A distant bark was the response. Colleen’s eyebrows furrowed. She cast an eye over the brush and dune grass for any sign of movement. The grass blew gently in the breeze but there were no telltale signs of canine activity or digging. She called his name again. Again she heard his bark … from inside the house. How had Sparky gotten in? For a second Colleen thought that someone had broken in, then recalled that Myrtle was home and had probably heard Sparky scratching at the door. Colleen inserted her key and swung the door open. Sparky greeted her, tail wagging.

“There you are,” she said as she carried the groceries in and closed the door with her foot.

As she crossed to the kitchen she glanced into the living room. The sofa bed was folded and the sheets, blankets, and pillows were carefully piled on the nearby chair. Colleen had offered Myrtle the more private guest room upstairs so Myrtle wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch, but Myrtle had replied that she preferred the living room because stairs gave her knees trouble. Colleen suspected that the real reason Myrtle wanted to remain on the first floor was that she had grown attached to Smokey. The two had formed a bond in the short time Myrtle had been a guest. Since Smokey wasn’t allowed in the guest room because of Colleen’s parents’ allergies, Myrtle chose to sleep in the living room.

“I’m back,” Colleen said, moving into the kitchen.

She unpacked the groceries and threw the plastic bags into a recycling bin. Sparky trailed behind. Colleen became aware of how quiet the house was. She crossed into the foyer, checked the hall bathroom, and then the back porch. No Myrtle.

“Myrtle, you better not be e-mailing on my computer,” she said, advancing up the stairs.

Sparky followed, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. She walked to her office and opened the door expecting to find Myrtle hastily logging off the computer. But the room was empty. Her heart skipped a beat. She hurried to her bedroom, as unlikely as it seemed to find Myrtle there. Again empty. The only room left was the guest room. Colleen jogged toward the room but knew with a sinking feeling that it, too, would be empty. She stood on the landing in a panic. Her pulse raced and she felt her face flush. What if the feeling she’d had in the Food Lion parking lot had been an omen? What if Myrtle had been kidnapped or worse? How would she tell Bill that the person he thought was dead was really alive and now missing?

Colleen flew down the steps two at a time. Like it or not, she had to call Bill. Time was critical in missing persons cases. She snatched the phone from the living room and dialed his number.

“Hello?” came Bill’s voice on the other end.

Colleen ran her fingers through her hair. It was only then that she saw the note taped to the front of the television.

“Hello? Colleen, is that you?”

“Hey,” she said, crossing to the television and removing Myrtle’s note from the screen. She skimmed the message. Despite Colleen’s orders against it, Myrtle had gone out.

“Is everything okay?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, struggling to come up with a reason for her call.

“You sure? You sound strange.”

She’d have to give Bill a good reason for her call or else he’d become suspicious. “I overheard some fellas at the Food Lion talking about a missing fisherman from Pennsylvania. He may be our John Doe from the beach,” she said, figuring sooner or later she was going to inform Bill.

“Did you get a name?”

“No, but apparently his wife has been calling around. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. The guys said the folks at Joe’s were talking about it.”

“I’ll check it out. Could be the lead we’ve been waiting for.”

Colleen unfolded Myrtle’s note. “Well, I gotta go. I’ve got a lot to do before heading in.”

“Thanks for calling,” he said and hung up.

Colleen read Myrtle’s note again, now without the distraction of being on the phone with Bill. The note said that Nellie had called and invited “Mitch” out for pancakes. Despite her warning, Myrtle had answered the phone, accepted the invitation, and had Nellie pick her up. Colleen wondered how Myrtle had donned her disguise, cleaned the living room, and left the house so quickly. She hadn’t been gone that long.

Of course, Myrtle had made no mention of exactly where she and Nellie had gone. She knew I’d drag her back home, Colleen thought. No. Myrtle didn’t want to be found. She sat on the sofa and rested her head in her hands trying to think of all the restaurants Myrtle and Nellie might go to for pancakes. Would they eat at the usual establishments? Or would Myrtle avoid those places because they would be the first places that Colleen would look? Would Nellie want to treat Mitch to something special since he was a visitor? Sparky wandered over and put his paw on her lap.

“You’ve got a new job,” she said, rubbing the dog’s ear. “Herding Myrtle.”

Sparky wagged his tail. Colleen smiled. Border collies loved to work. She stood and stretched. She needed to find Myrtle and return her safely to the house before she was due at the firehouse. Her morning jog would have to wait.

Where does a
sixty-five-year-old woman disguised as a man with a dog fur mustache, wearing a straw fedora and Hawaiian shirt, go to eat breakfast with her unsuspecting best friend? This was the question Colleen asked herself as she sat at the end of Lakeside Drive trying to decide where she should search for Myrtle first.

After changing into work clothes and leaving a note on the refrigerator for “Uncle Mitch,” Colleen had loaded Sparky into her SUV and headed out. There were several possibilities when it came to breakfast in Corolla: Big Mama’s, Lighthouse Bagels and Smoothies, and First Light Breakfast and Burgers. She decided to start with Big Mama’s, a favorite with the locals, and go from there.

The smells of bacon, sausage, and freshly baked muffins filled the warm morning air as Colleen pulled off Ocean Trail and entered the lot in front of Big Mama’s. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast. If it turned out Myrtle and Nellie were inside, she’d join them and grab a quick bite to eat before taking Myrtle back home.

Colleen tied Sparky up near a water dish that the restaurant had put out for dogs and went inside. Big Mama’s was no-frills, with linoleum tables, a counter with stools, and a jukebox in the corner. Colleen took comfort in the fact that while the island had changed over the years, Big Mama’s hadn’t. The smell of coffee made her mouth water. She surveyed the small but crowded restaurant. Myrtle and Nellie weren’t there.

“Morning, Chief,” Al said from behind the counter.

Al “Papa” Baker had been working at Big Mama’s since it opened years ago and was as much a fixture as the vinyl stools. Based on Al’s size, Colleen thought he might have eaten a few too many of the restaurant’s delicious baked goods over the years. The restaurant could easily have been called Big Papa’s.

“Morning,” she said, approaching Al. Since she was here, she might as well get a cup of coffee. The caffeine would help her think.

“Get you some java?” Al asked, reading her mind and reaching for a mug.

“Can I get it to go?”

“Coming right up,” he said. He grabbed a travel cup, filled it with steaming coffee, and placed the cup on the counter. “What brings you in? We don’t usually see you this early.”

“I’m looking for Nellie and my uncle Mitch. They haven’t been in, have they?”