Murder and Mayhem (26 page)

A half-mile down the road, a black crow sat atop an
ancient split rail fence that threatened to collapse from age and neglect, its
coal-black eyes fixed on something nearby.

Danny turned east at Keeseville onto Route 373 and
headed to Port Kent where he bought a ticket for the crossing then joined the
line of cars waiting to board the ferry that had just pulled into the dock.

After the ferry had disgorged cargo and passengers, a
young man dressed in a yellow all-weather jacket and matching cap guided the
vehicles onto the ship with a wide friendly smile and dramatic sweep of his
hand, where another directed them to the bowels of the ship.

Danny took hold of Nicola’s hand and they headed
upstairs to the open deck. They stood at the rail and watched the ferry reverse
out of the dock as a flock of Canadian geese headed south in the pale fall sky.
The water looked like hand-beaten tin as wind riffled across the surface. Even
though the sun was warm a cool breeze came off a distant mountain where snow
still lay in shadowy troughs.

Nicola shivered. She’d dressed in a hurry that
morning; light cotton top and billowy skirt, her only warm jacket lay at the
bottom of her bag.

Danny pulled her close. “Do you want to go inside?”

Nicola nodded. “It is a bit chilly out here.”

In the café they bought coffee and Danish and took
them to a booth by a window where they could barely make out the faint outline
of the coast of Vermont on the shadowy horizon.

A man stood by the railing on the bow of the ship
talking to an attractive brunette dressed in a low cut red top and faded blue
denims, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that twisted and twirled in the wind
sending fine wisps of hair dancing across her face. The woman’s hand rested
lightly on the man’s arm as she laughed at something he said.

The smile fixed on the man’s face did nothing to
betray the cold hard eyes hidden behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses.
The man removed his cap, raked his fingers through his unruly mop of blond hair
and placed it back on his head–his vision fixed on something just beyond her
right shoulder…

*****

I could feel my sister’s eyes burning holes in my
head. I didn’t need a telepathic mind or physic connection to know what was
coming. I gave her a profile as if I was posing for a currency engraver while I
scrolled down the page–and then Ross wandered into the room wearing one of my
sister’s floral aprons around his waist, and distracted her in what could only
be described as perfect timing.

My heart fluttered. Somehow the sight if my big, burly
husband wearing a floral apron always does something to me–but don’t ask me
what.

We had just finished dinner and
were in my sister’s bedroom. Rosie was propped up against the headboard with
pillows behind her while I was slumped over my laptop reading what I had
written last night in bed.

Ross dropped his XXL size body
onto the foot of the bed.
“Did you tell
Hon about the time we traveled across Lake Champlain?” he asked.

I peered at him over the top of my glasses and said,
“Have you finished cleaning up the kitchen already?”

“Just about done. Why don’t you tell Hon about the time
we caught the ferry across Lake Champlain while I finish up?” He grinned at my
sister with boyish good humor and said, “I bet she never told you about that
little adventure.”

Rosie laughed “No. I don’t think
so. I don’t recall hearing that story. What happened, Bubbie?”

“I think you’re going to like this one, Hon. Go on,
Bee, tell her.” Ross encouraged me.

Rosie jabbed me in the ribs, her
blue eyes bright with amusement. “Yeah, Bubbie, tell me the story about the
time you caught the ferry across the lake.”

I closed the laptop and put it to one side. “Would you
like a glass of water before I start, or go pee, it’s kind of a long story?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

I adjusted the pillow and wriggled my backside around,
making a nest in the bedclothes.

“Will you just get on with it?” Rosie said
impatiently.

“Don’t rush me… Let me see now… Some years ago Ross
and I traveled from Bar Harbor, Maine, across New Hampshire on Interstate-Two
to Burlington, a large college town on the Vermont shores of Lake Champlain.
When we arrived in Burlington it was late, and we were exhausted from spending
a long day on the road so we decided to stop for the night and catch the ferry
to New York in the morning. But, as luck would have it, it happened to be the
weekend when the students were returning to college after their summer break,
so there wasn’t a bed to be had within miles.”

“That’s right, Hon, we tried everywhere, didn’t we
Bee, but no luck,” Ross called from the kitchen.

“Are you telling this story or am I?” I yelled back.

“Oh, no, Bee, you go right ahead. You’re much better
at telling stories than me.”

I smiled at Rosie, and continued. “Several people
suggested we’d have more luck finding accommodation on the other side of the
lake, so we boarded the last ferry for the night and, in a little over an hour
the ferry pulled into the dock at Port Kent.

“Wasn’t that the place Danny and Nicola caught the
ferry?” Rosie asked.

“Yes, but they were going in the opposite direction.”

“Oh, that’s right. They were traveling from west to
east, while you were traveling east to west.”

I nodded. “When we drove off the
ferry there was only a parking lot and a narrow road, but there didn’t appear
to be anything else. People were walking off the ferry to their cars parked in
the lot, or driving off and disappearing into the night. So we followed in the
general direction we thought would take us to the nearest town, but all it did
was take us further north.”

Rosie leaned forward, rested her
head in her hand and looked over at me. “S
o
what did you do?”

“Well, there weren’t any street lights, and not a
house in sight. And the sky was overcast so we didn’t even have moonlight or a
galaxy of stars to light our way. I’ve never been anywhere so dark. We couldn’t
even make out shapes on the landscape. We didn’t have a clue where we were but
we knew we couldn’t be far from the border and if we kept going we’d end up in
Canada–and that was definitely not on the agenda.”

“So, what did you do?”

“We decided to turn around and go back the way we had
come. After driving for nearly an hour we passed a sign that indicated the
turn-off to 9N. Thinking that meant Nine North we ignored it. About thirty
minutes later we still hadn’t found any signs of life and were beginning to
think we must have been going in the wrong direction again. The only option we
hadn’t explored was 9N, so we back-tracked until we found the turn off and
realized we were now heading west.”

“Strange road system you have
here, Hon,” Ross called from the kitchen.

Rosie laughed. “It’s to fool the
out-of-towners. Locals know where to go, they don’t need signs!”

“Shall I continue, or do you want to take over?” I
called out to Ross.

He stuck his head around the door, and grinned. “Oh,
no, Bee, you always tell a story way better than me. After all, you’re the
writer in the family.”

I raised my eyebrows and scowled at him over the top
of my glasses. He got my drift and headed back to the kitchen. 

I gave the pillow at my back a thump, shuffled my
backside around for a bit more, and continued.
“By this time it was pretty late, and with the road unlit, Ross was
worried a deer might jump out in front of us and cause an accident. Or, if we
broke down we’d be stuck there until morning. And, neither of us wanted to
spend the night in the car, not knowing who or what could be lurking in the
woods.”

“There could have been a serial killer, or wild
mountain men,” Rosie said, trying to keep a straight face.”

I nodded. “It was that kind of country, Hon. We could
disappear off the face of the earth and no one would know what happened to us.
I’ve seen Deliverance and The Deer Hunter.”

Rosie tried not to laugh when she said, “And it wasn’t
all that far from the maximum security prison in Dannemora, so there could have
been a prison escapee hiding in the woods. Those places don’t always tell you
when someone escapes for fear of scaring the public.”

Ross stuck his head around the
door again, and said, “And, I might add, in all this time we hadn’t seen
another car since we’d left the ferry parking lot in Port Kent. There were no
houses, no gas stations–nothing!”

“It was really quite scary because aside from the sign
pointing to 9N we hadn’t seen a sign of any kind so we had no idea where were.
Luckily I had filled up the gas tank in Burlington so at least that was not an
immediate problem. I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.”

Ross was about to retreat to the
kitchen when I looked at Rosie and said, “Would you like some tea, Hon?”

Rosie nodded. “It looks like we’ll be here for the
duration, so tea would be just the ticket to get us through the long night.”

“Ross… honey…, would you make us some tea?”

“Oh, sure. Comin’ right up, ladies!”

“And, some cookies to dunk,” Rosie added.

“I baked a fresh batch this morning. Never can tell
when my favorite girls are going to get a fit of the munchies,” he said and
headed to the kitchen, whistling. 

I looked at Rosie, and grinned.
“If it wasn’t for those damn genes I have to fight every waking moment of my
life, he’d be pretty good–but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Did you say something, Bee?” Ross called from the
kitchen.

“Just hurry with the tea. A girl could die from thirst
in here.”

“So what happened?” Rosie asked. I gave her a strange
look, not sure what she meant. “You know, up there in the mountains.”

“Oh that! Well, finally around midnight we saw the
lights of a motel. A very second rate one I wouldn’t normally give the time of
day to, but these were not normal circumstances. There were harrowing times and
to us it was a welcome sight. As long as it had clean sheets and a hot shower I
was a happy camper. There were only a couple of cars in the lot so we figured
there wouldn’t be a problem getting a room even though it was late.”

“Lucky for you guys.”

“Yes, lucky for us is right. We were at the stage
where any port in a storm would have been a safe harbor. So we ousted the clerk
from his warm bed and after checking in and getting the room key–at an
outrageously inflated price I might add–I asked if there was somewhere we could
get something to eat because we hadn’t eaten since lunch and by now we were
starving, but all he could suggest was a gas station several miles further on
that might have something. So we got back in the car and went looking for the
gas station.”

“Sorry ladies. I was looking for the napkins,” Ross
said as he came into the room carrying a tray. When he placed the tray on the
table beside the bed, I saw it was covered with an embroidered cloth of pink
and yellow roses. Cups of fine china sat on matching saucers with an assortment
of cookies on a matching china plate. Linen napkins, with creases so sharp they
could cause a nasty paper cut if you weren’t careful, were arranged like a fan
beside the Royal Doulton teapot and jug.

“Shall I be mother?” Ross asked reaching for the pot.

“No. Leave it. I’ll do it,” I
said.

Rosie smiled. “Thank you, Ross,
this is lovely.”

My husband may have his faults but he does love my
sister and would do anything to make her life easier, so I have to give him
Brownie points for that.

“That’s all right, Hon. I’ll just go finish up in the
kitchen. Give me a yell if you girls need anything else.”

I beamed him a smile. “Thank you, Ross,” I said.

As the sound of his footsteps
retreated down the hall, Rosie looked over at me, and grinned. “You have to
admit he does make up a nice tray.”

I poured the tea, added milk, and tested the
temperature before handing Rosie a cup and balanced the plate of cookies on the
bed between us.

Rosie picked up a cookie, dunked it into her tea, and
slurped it into her mouth. “This is yummy. What kind of cookies are these,
Ross?” she called out.

“They’re a little different from my usual ones. I
added honey to this batch, and a sprinkling of raisins. What do you think?” he
answered.

“They’re delicious, Ross.”

I picked up a cookie, dunked it and popped it into my
mouth. Cookie crumbs clung wetly to my mouth. I picked up a napkin wiped them
away.

Ross stuck his head around the doorway. “How are you
girls doing? Can I get you anything else?”

Rosie licked the tops of her fingers and wiped them
across the plate picking up crumbs. “Are there any more cookies, Ross?”

“Oh, sure, Hon.” He headed back to the kitchen and
returned a short time later with another batch.