Reservations For Murder Part 8

"Evans, we're not sure what's happened yet. Would you like to join the search party?" Alex asked as he retrieved two flashlights from the front desk. He kept them stashed there for guests when thunderstorms knocked out the inn's power, something that happened more frequently than he cared to admit.

"I'd better stay here in case there's a call from the kidnappers," he said a little too brightly for Alex's taste.

"You do that," Alex said brusquely as he moved for the door.

He could tell Evans was unhappy about the tone Alex had used with him. One of Alex's most important rules as an innkeeper was to hold his tongue and his att.i.tude when it came to his guests, but he was truly beginning to be concerned about Marilynn Baxter's well-being.

Before Alex could leave, Evans said contritely, "You know I don't want anything to happen to that poor girl. It's just that normally I don't get much excitement in my life."

Alex nodded and tried to force a smile. "Then stick around; something's always going on at Hatteras West."

He offered one of the flashlights to Craig and Shantara. "Sorry, I just have one spare, and n.o.body knows Bear Rocks like I do."

Shantara said, "You take it, Craig. I'm going to drive into town and see if anyone's spotted her. Where does she like to go?"

"You could try the studio and the house. The library's closed, or I'd say to go there. The only other place I can think of would be your store."

Shantara nodded. "I'll call Marcie on the way in on my cell phone and find out if she's seen her." Marcie was Shantara's a.s.sistant manager, a fancy t.i.tle since there were just two of them working the general store. It was a lot for two people to handle, since they covered everything from the small post office in one corner to the heavy feeds out back to the pots, pans and a.s.sortment of ten thousand other items Shantara had for sale there. Alex thought Marcie would probably be even happier than he would be when the fair was over; she'd been running the store single-handedly for the last week while Shantara prepared for the fair.

"Keep us posted," Alex called out. "Evans is manning the telephone, so he'll let us know if you find her."

"You do the same for me, Alex." She turned to Craig. "Don't worry, she'll turn up soon, I just know it."

Craig grabbed the flashlight from Alex's hand. "I hope you're right."

Some people described Bear Rocks as eerie in the daylight, with the twisting formation of rocks weathered by ages of nature's forces. There were slides, holes and pathways within the stones that formed a magical world Alex had lived in as a child. He still knew every twist and turn of the rocks, every secret pa.s.sage that led to an unexpected place in the stone forest.

"We'll never find her in there," Craig said.

"Take your flashlight and walk around the edges of the rocks. You can see a lot from where you'll be, so don't give up. I'm going into the heart of the rocks to look there."

"I'm coming with you," Craig said bluntly.

"Listen, if Marilynn's in there, I have a much better chance of finding her alone. I need you to look around the perimeter. I don't have time to argue; just do it."

It was obvious Craig wasn't used to the tone Alex used with him, but Alex had needed to get his attention. Alex turned on his flashlight and slipped through the first path, a slide that led to a side shoot within the formation. Though he was quite a bit older than he'd been when he'd first learned the rocks, his body took over, twisting and crawling in places as he glided over, under and between the stones.

It was more of a workout than he'd ever remembered, and he knew he'd be stiff and sore in the morning, but Alex made record time going over every inch of the interior rocks.

There was nothing there, not a single hint that Marilynn had ever been on Bear Rocks.

One look at Craig's face told him that he hadn't found anything else, either.

Alex had to wonder if Marilynn Baxter truly had been kidnapped after all. If she'd disappeared on her own, where had she gone? And more importantly, why?

Chapter 11.

"So what do we do now?" Craig asked Alex as they hurried back to the inn.

"I'm not sure," Alex answered.

Craig snapped, "I'm not waiting another second. I'm calling Sheriff Armstrong. He's going to come out here whether he likes it or not."

Craig brushed past Alex and nearly slammed the door in his face. Alex walked in and sat down beside Evans Graile in one of the chairs that faced the windows. "I don't suppose you've heard anything, have you?"

"There was only one call. Elise phoned two minutes ago. She said she'd talk to you tomorrow."

Blast it all! Alex wanted to talk to her more than just about anything, and he'd missed her while he was out on a wild-goose chase. "Did she leave a number at the hospital?"

"No, I'm sorry, Alex, she didn't. You could probably track her down, but to be honest with you, she sounded exhausted from her ordeal."

Evans was right; it wouldn't be that hard to find the hospital's number, but Elise hadn't left it, so she most likely was too tired to talk to him. He had to respect her wishes. Since she'd been gone, Alex had found himself unusually moody. He had to keep reminding himself that was sheer nonsense. He'd managed fine before she'd come along, and he'd be all right long after she was gone.

Then why did he feel so empty inside?

Ten minutes later, the sheriff drove up Point Road. Alex knew the man's general disposition before he even got out of the car. If Armstrong believed there was the slightest chance Marilynn Baxter had truly been kidnapped, he would have ripped up the road with lights flas.h.i.+ng and siren blaring. As it was, the steady pace of the darkened and silent patrol car told him that Armstrong was there just to appease a const.i.tuent.

Alex met him at the patrol car before the sheriff could open his door. Armstrong finished saying something on his radio, then got out and stood beside Alex, leaning against the driver's door.

"I'm surprised Monroe wasn't out here to greet me in person, he was so fired up on the phone," Armstrong said. "Alex, just between you and me, do you honestly think that man believes his wife was kidnapped?"

"He seemed pretty earnest," Alex admitted, "and she is gone, there's no doubt about that. We searched all around the property without any luck."

"From what I've heard around town, this isn't the first time she's wandered off. Far be it for me to spread idle gossip, but-"

Before the sheriff could share the rumor, Craig Monroe burst out through the front door. "It's about time you got here! Where's Irene? Doesn't she usually investigate these things with you?"

"Take it easy, Craig. There's no crime scene, so I didn't see any reason to drag her out here this late. She's not feeling so chipper right now; her arthritis is acting up. We must be in for one whale of a storm in the next few days. Irene's better than the Weather Channel when it comes to predicting storms."

"So who's going to help you investigate?" Craig demanded.

"Hold your horses. We don't even know for sure if a crime's been committed. Did you get a note or a phone call demanding a ransom?"

Craig admitted that he hadn't.

Armstrong went on. "Did anybody see her taken from the property against her will?"

"No, but-"

Armstrong bulled ahead. "So you're going around screaming about a kidnapping without the slightest shred of evidence."

Craig Monroe held up his wife's insulin. "How about this? Why would she leave without her insulin?"

"Is that the only bottle in the world?" the sheriff asked gently.

"Of course it isn't! But I'm telling you, she'd be here if she could!"

The sheriff said calmly, 'Tell you what. Why don't we jump in the patrol car and head over to your place. We can check to see if there's any sign of her there. What do you say to that?"

"You're not even going to look around out here first?" Craig snapped.

Armstrong said calmly, "Alex told me you've already searched Hatteras West. Don't you think our time might be better spent looking someplace new?"

Craig reluctantly agreed. "Let me grab my keys. I'll be right back."

As the potter went to retrieve his house keys, the sheriff said, "Now, as I was saying, word around town is that the husband-and-wife team's been having some tough going lately. There's another man, from what I heard at Buck's the other day. First thing I'm going to do is ask around and see if anybody knows who this mystery man is, then I'm going to knock on his door and likely as not, I'll find Ms. Baxter holed up there."

"If that's your plan, do you really want her husband with you?"

Armstrong shrugged. "He raised the alarm, and I doubt I could stop him from coming if I wanted to."

Craig came back out with his keys clutched in his hand. "Let's go."

Alex stepped in. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here? The sheriff will call you the second he finds anything out."

"It's not the same as being there, Alex. I've got to go."

There was no way he was going to change Craig Monroe's mind, so he stepped out of the way and let the man pa.s.s.

In a minute, Craig and the sheriff were driving back toward town. Alex saw another car meet them as both vehicles pa.s.sed going too fast for the narrow lane.

It was Mor and Emma. Good. He could use a couple of friendly faces after all he'd been through that day.

"Did you two come all the way out here to baby-sit me?" Alex asked Mor and Emma with a smile after they got out of the car.

"Somebody had to do it," Mor said, returning his grin. "We figured it might as well be us."

"Don't believe a word he says, Alex. We just thought you could use some company," Emma said.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'm a big boy; I'll be fine by myself."

Mor said, "I told you we didn't have to come out here, Emma. If we hurry, we can still make it to Mamma Ravolini's for dinner."

"Mor Pendleton, is that all you ever think about, your stomach?"

Mor hugged her in his bearlike arms. "I can think of a few other things that occupy my thoughts from time to time."

Alex couldn't believe it, but Emma actually blushed. Mor certainly had an effect on her since the two of them hooked up. Alex suddenly felt like the odd man out being in their presence.

Emma said, "Alex, Elise called me this evening and came up with a splendid idea. She suggested I fill in for her here while she's gone. I'd be glad to help out until she gets back."

"Have you given up finding any more emeralds on the land?" Alex asked her.

"No," Emma admitted, "but I could use a break. The geologicals are giving me fits. Working with you at the inn sounds like fun."

Fun? Alex thought of the cleaning, the laundry, the whims of his guests and the thousand other tasks that came with running an inn, but he wasn't about to bring any of them up. Honestly, Alex could use her help. She'd find out soon enough what she'd gotten herself into. Then he realized he had to be fair with her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "It's a great deal of work."

"It couldn't be much worse than taking care of Mr. Sturbridge, and I did that for more years than I care to remember."

Alex offered his hand. "It's a deal, then. When do you want to start?"

"I'll be here first thing in the morning. How does five a.m. sound?"

"I don't know. I haven't been up that early since I was a kid. I usually don't get started until six-thirty, Emma."

"Tell you what, let's split the difference. I'll be here at six, with bells on." She turned to Mor and said, "We'd better head back into town. I've got a full day ahead of me tomorrow."

Mor winked at Alex, then complained loudly, "I knew I'd end up being the one who suffered from this arrangement."

Emma started scolding him. "Mor Pendleton, you can certainly spare a few hours of my company-"

She caught the smile the two men were sharing, then turned her back on them both. "Mor, I'll wait for you in the car. Alex, I'll see you in the morning."

After she was safely ensconced in the car, Alex said, "You two seem to be getting along well."

"Yeah, well, Emma kind of grows on you after a while. She's really something."

"Spare me the details. I'm just glad you're doing all right."

Mor punched Alex gently on the shoulder. In a rare moment of seriousness, he said, "Don't worry about Elise, Alex. I know she's coming back."

"Yeah, I think so, too," Alex said. As he watched Mor drive away, he couldn't help wondering though. It sounded like Elise was settling in for a long stay up north.

Alex hoped Elise planned on coming back, but he had to accept the possibility that she was gone for good. After all, it appeared that she had already lined up a replacement, just in case she decided to stay in West Virginia.

The evening was certainly cool enough, so Alex gladly used it as an excuse to build a fire in the main lobby. He hadn't had enough money to restore the fireplaces in all of the rooms yet, but the ma.s.sive communal hearth in the lobby had never failed the Winstons in all the generations they'd owned The Hatteras West Inn.

As he reviewed his current situation, he acknowledged that it was a distressing predicament for an innkeeper to be in. One of his guests had been murdered, and another had disappeared without warning. To top it off, the rest of the crafters were leaving tomorrow night after the lighting ceremony, and Alex would be left with a nearly empty inn again. He knew that the first Golden Days Fair would also be the last, certainly as far as Hatteras West was concerned. It was just too much for him, added to his usual hectic life running the inn. When he lit the beacon tomorrow night, it would be a welcome end to something that had started out with so much promise.

As the logs caught fire, Alex decided to use one of the special pieces of firewood one of his guests brought him every year she visited the inn. He loved watching the minerals in the crusted wood ignite in flames of red, gold, green and blue. Alethia Garson brought a stack of driftwood she collected from her home in Buxton on the Outer Banks every time she visited Hatteras West. Alethia was a lighthouse nut; there was no polite way to say it. She'd proudly showed Alex pictures of her own home, filled with every imaginable product ever made in the shape of a lighthouse, from salt and pepper shakers to birdhouses to dinner bells. Without question, though, her proudest possession was a small-scale version of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse sitting in her own front yard.

Every time he burned a piece of wood from her special stack, Alex thought warmly of her and everyone else who had crossed his threshold to stay at The Hatteras West Inn. Alethia and other guests like her were the real reason Alex continued with the inn when all intelligence told him it was a foolhardy proposition. Not only was Hatteras West the only home he knew, but the people who came back to stay with him year after year were more of a family to him than his own brother had ever been.

As Alex watched the flames, he found himself wondering for the thousandth time who really had murdered Jefferson Lee. Could it actually have been Bill Yadkin, the most obvious suspect, despite Alex's gut feeling? Jalissa Moore, a girl he'd gone to high school with and who now worked as a reporter for Elkton Falls' only newspaper, once told him that one of the first things she'd been taught in journalism school was that if you hear hoofbeats, think horses not zebras.

Bill Yadkin was the obvious choice.

But Alex knew that even his good friend Shantara had reasons of her own to want the blacksmith dead.

Did Marilynn Baxter have something to hide concerning the murder? Could she have seen something she shouldn't have? Had she run, or had she been kidnapped, as her husband believed? For that matter, did Craig Monroe know more about her disappearance than he let on?