Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods (15 page)

Desperate to break free, I wiggled and jiggled. I exhaled to make myself smaller. When I was unable to hold my breath a second longer I inhaled in a torrent so huge, I erupted backwards almost opening the door.

Free at last. My head hurt. I probably had red marks on either side of my forehead.

I came up with only one screw. I tried to screw it in, careful not to drop it, but it was stripped and it hit the floor again. No way was I going after it.

I could handle this. I’d simply keep one hand on the throw latch to keep the door closed, and take care of personal things with my free hand. Piece of cake.

I started to set my bag on the floor, decided against it, having seen that section of this lavatory up close, and looped the bag around my neck. This may have been a mistake.

Getting my jeans down with my free hand was tricky. What a relief when the entire process was complete, and I’d done some of what I’d come to do. Now, to get my pants up and call Nick.

Suddenly, I almost lost my balance.

Omigod.

The bus hit a series of bumps and I scrambled to keep from falling back onto the dirty seat, which I hadn’t allowed my bare body to come in contact with.

We were off the paved road and traveling the dirt track in the woods. I tilted this way and that. My shoulders connected with the walls and for one horrible moment I pictured the lavatory breaking apart, or tipping over. What a show that would make.

With new determination, I went back to work on my jeans. I never realized how difficult this was to accomplish with one hand. I should buy stretchy pants. First chance I got, I’d buy a pair.

Bent forward, I tackled one side of my jeans, then the other, one-handed, a half an inch at a time.

I pictured the lead story on the six o’clock news.

Woman found trapped in bus lavatory, overcome by smell, holding unlatched door with one hand, attempting to pull jeans up with the other.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Nora. Are you all right?”

Mary Fran. Thank God.

“I’m just fine,” I lied.

“You’ve been in there a long time. People are beginning to talk.”

“Oh? About something other than me tripping up the steps?”

“I was just checking,” she said.

“
I have to make a phone call,” I said.

“Okay. See you when you’re finished.”

“Wait. Don’t go.” Please, don’t go. “Hold the door closed for me.”

“What’s the matter with the door?”

I rolled my eyes and took a shallow breath. “Just hold it, please,” I whispered.

“Okay. I’ve got it.”

I yanked my jeans up, found my cell, and called Nick.

“What’s up, Nora?”

I considered saying my jeans, but in the interest of time and appropriateness, I skipped that. “Stan has a book under the driver’s seat,
The Gardener’s Guide to Poisonous Plants
. Can you meet the bus when it arrives?”

“I can’t picture him leaving a book like that out for everyone to see. It would incriminate him.”

“I’m the only one who saw it.”

“You? How did you see it under the seat? You’d have to be on the floor to see under that seat. It’s got solid metal supports on three sides.”

“Nick.” My voice was a desperate whisper. “Can you meet the bus?”

The man picked up on my panic. “I’ll meet you where the bus parks. Text me when you’re close.”

“Good.”

“See you shortly.”

“I am looking forward to it, believe me.”

“You were on the floor of the bus, weren’t you?”

NINETEEN

“All pumpkin paddlers must have life jackets.” The directive, and the static that accompanied it, floated through the open bus door.

I stood and did a three-sixty scan of the area around the bus. No Nick. Not a cop-looking person in sight. Maybe he was behind the bus? Out of my line of vision? Anything’s possible. Too many folks in the aisle at the moment for me to check.

I took a few deep breaths and exhaled in a slow steady stream through pursed lips. This is a calming technique. I’ve used it before. It has never worked, but I don’t give up easily. Maybe some day I’ll be pleasantly surprised. To that end, I inhaled deeply again.

I took my time preparing to leave, prattling on about the decorative lining in Hannah’s lunch suitcase, about Agnes’s puffy black vest with the newly discovered hole; about Ida’s stylish black-framed sunglasses that I’d talked her into purchasing from the Home Shopping Network, a scary undertaking that marked her leap into the modern world of television shopping.

Ida’s eyes narrowed and she stared at me in a way meant to catch my attention. “Stalling? she whispered.

I nodded. “Yes. Help me out.”

“I can’t find my tissue case. I just bought it. Has anyone seen it? Blue corduroy,” Ida said, enjoying the ruse.

Suddenly Hannah’s brows shot up in question. “Ida?”

“I know I had it,” Ida persisted, pretending to look on the floor by her seat.

“What?” Hannah mouthed.

“Stalling,” I whispered.

Understanding spread over Hannah’s face like a bright fall sky as she looked from Ida to me to Stan and back.

I checked the windows. Nick was still not in sight.

I couldn’t see Stan either, but I could smell the smoke from his cigarette eddying up the bus steps as he stood at his post wishing the exiting passengers a great day.

The bus was almost empty.

Before Stan became suspicious, we’d have to leave, and the biggest clue this side of the Bay Bridge would become a memory. He’d get rid of it, trash it for sure. Maybe he suspected I’d seen it. He could have noticed me looking at it. Maybe he’d try to poison me.

Stan poked his head in as he popped a red candy, at least it looked like candy, and gave us a what’s-going-on-look. “Anything I can help you ladies with?”

“No, thank you,” I said, sweet as sweet can be.

He looked directly at me, reached into his pocket, pulled out a small yellow box with colored circles on it, and tilted it in my direction. “Care for a Wonka Gobstopper?”

Oh, sure. Pass me the poison. “No thank you.” I’d never heard of Gobstoppers.

Where was Nick? What could be more important than solving a murder? Nothing, that’s what.

Time had run out. Unable to delay a second longer, we finally left, and Stan closed the bus and
drove off to wherever, a big clue to the murder of his uncle stashed under his seat.

The cleared area rimming the lake was a panorama of organized chaos—people launching pumpkins into the water, others arranging chairs, children running around, pennants flapping here and there. I loved it. I’d love it even more if Nick had met the bus.

But he hadn’t. I decided to accept that.

I bit my bottom lip and made a decision. I would enjoy
this day, enjoy where I was and the people I was with. This time would never come again, and I’d be a foolish woman if I let niggling thoughts get in the way.

I deliberately set aside my preoccupation with the no-show sheriff and the murderer driving the bus, and took all this in—the people, the place, the events. I would not go so far as to say I’d experienced an epiphany, but I allow
ed myself to be aware of the harmony between the people and these Maine woods. They loved it in a way I could never love my city. It was as if they absorbed the essence of lakes and streams, forests and mountains and made it part of themselves.

I smiled inside as I shelved the crappy beginning to this day. It was time to enjoy the time I had here.

A bevy of Lassiters had planted several pennants and pinwheels near their chairs. A few of them had pumpkins in the race. Good. I’d have someone to cheer for.

After we all greeted and kissed, several of the cousins set up our chairs, and we settled in.

It was chilly, a brisk fall day with a few clouds gathering to the north. I knew this because the weatherman said the afternoon rain would come in from the north. Right now if someone said, Hey, look what’s happening at the south end of the lake, I’d turn my head left immediately, like any knowledgeable Mainer.

I sat in a lawn chair next to Hannah and watch
ed the pumpkin paddlers, most wearing wet suits to protect them from the chilly water. One guy scooped water from his sinking pumpkin, a huge sucker of a thing that was destined to be fish fodder. He should cut his losses. Next to him a woman toppled headfirst into the lake as she attempted to board her pumpkin. It was a big plop that sent waves surging into the scooper’s pumpkin. At least she wouldn’t freeze in the cold water. I empathized with her. That clinched it for me. If anyone ever suggested I paddle a pumpkin in this race, the answer would be a resounding no. Not that anyone would ask.

The sheriff approached, from the north I noted with a
certain amount of pride, his face wreathed in a mile-wide smile as he greeted folks along the way. Dear God, he was something to see, not male-model handsome, but tall, fit, and honestly rugged, nothing posed or artificial in his demeanor. And he did look good in his uniform, dark slacks with a khaki stripe on side, khaki shirt, campaign hat. He should have a jacket on. It was not that warm.

He stopped by one group, bent and kissed someone. She angled her head enough for me to see. I’d recognize that gray braid anywhere. It was Mother Nature, aka Arianna Renzo, the woman who wanted to see me return to New York before her son and I became an item. We’d never be an item, but if it annoyed her to think it was possible, so be it.

I wondered if she used a plastic, non-green chair, and if I spoke to her, whether I should ask. Sometimes I’m petty, not a good quality, I know.

Nick didn’t spend much time with his mother and her friends. That should not matter to me, but it did. Little things bring joy. He headed directly for me. I worked to contain the smile that hung around just below the surface despite the fact that he hadn’t met me at the bus.

My phone chirped, signaling a message. I took a quick peek. The Desperate Apartment Hunter was texting again. Maybe later I’d text him back. What to say … what to say? That was the question. I could lead him on or be out-and-out nasty, ignore him or simply say no. Such a buffet of choices, each with a certain appeal. It was like standing at a Baskin-Robbins counter trying to decide between rocky road and praline crunch, between hot fudge sauce and butterscotch syrup. All splendid choices.

“Look who’s coming your way,” Ida said, breaking into my hot fudge fantasy.

I turned my attention to my real-life fantasy.

“I see him.”

“Oooh, he’s wicked handsome, that one,” Hannah said.

“Aunt Hannah, we’re just friends. Really. And right now, we’re sort of working together.”

“Sh-ur,” she said with a Maine lilt in her voice.

To cut Nick off at the pass, I hopped up and met him before he was within earshot of family.

“Where were you?“ I tried not to sound irritated, which wasn’t too difficult due to mixed feelings.

Nick responded by tilting his head slightly, the same gesture I’d seen his mother make moments ago. Damn. I wished I hadn’t noticed that.

“Doing my job, Detective Nora, honey.” He handed me a brown paper bag. “Leave it in the bag. Just read the title.”

I felt the outline of a book. “How did you get this? Did you board the bus and seize it? Have you arrested Stan? Did he confess?” The rapid fire questions came out in one breath.

“No to all of the above. He gave it to me before I had a chance to ask.”

That stopped me cold for about three and a half seconds. “He beat you to the punch,” I said, handing back the bag. “This is it.
The Gardener’s Guide to Poisonous Plants
. Incriminating evidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“I agree. It could incriminate someone.”

I ignored the ‘someone’ part. “You know why he did this, don’t you?”

“Why he gave it to me?”

“Um-hmm.”

“I’m not positive, but I can make an educated guess. However”—he paused and smiled the Nick smile—“I’m sure you are positive and will tell me.”

“Doesn’t take a genius,” I said. “He knew I’d spotted it and would mention it to you.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Did that jerk tell you Vivian stuffed the book under his seat? Or something equally stupid?”

Instead of telling me, he ran his finger along my jaw and lifted my chin. “How did you manage to see it? And how did you get these bruises?” His glance went from my forehead to my chin.

“Maybe I tripped a little.”

I had no intention of going into more explanation than that, especially since he’d sidestepped my Stan question. He certainly didn’t have to know about the toilet debacle.

I expected Nick to ask what caused me to trip, but he continued to scrutinize my face, looking for what? I could only guess. I was glad the pimple on the side of my nose was history. No need for him to be privy to every one of my facial events.

I wondered what he was thinking. That maybe it was time for me to return to the big city? He’d be right, of course, but I hated to think he wanted me gone. He’d implied he didn’t.

I wondered how much influence Mother Nature Arianna wielded. I could see her from here, tossing that braid over her shoulder. Then I stopped watching her and looked at her son, and I knew, almost as if it were written in the Book of Truths, that he was not thinking it was time for me to return to the big city. Just the opposite. Although I was not privy to his thoughts, there are some things you just know.

Joy flooded my heart.

I felt like we were frozen in time with the world swirling around us, unaware and indifferent to us and our feelings for each other.

I could break this silence, but I decided not to. Let him do it.

I looked away, pretending interest in the Lassiter clan sitting by the water’s edge sharing laughter and food and family stories.

“You have to be more careful,” he said softly, finally, his voice
… tender.

Unable to pretend interest in the family a second longer, I looked up at him, a question in my heart. I wanted him to say more. I did not want to ask.

“I hate to see you bruised like this,” he said softly, his voice a caress. “Please take better care of yourself. I want you,” he said, pausing for several seconds before finishing, “in one piece.”

I prided myself on being
tough, jaded even. After my challenging morning, my defenses were on high alert. Yet, he’d pierced my armor and disarmed me with a look and a few soft words. Strong, implacable me?

I want you.

Had he just said that? No. I was reading into it, picking and choosing words. “Say that again.”

Nora, Nora, Nora. What are you up to?

He chuckled
and stepped back. “You heard me. What’s more, if you chop off my last three words, you’ll have the truth of it, plain and simple. But you know the truth of it, don’t you?”

I would not answer that rhetorical question. I took a deep breath, to calm myself. As usual, it didn’t work, but it gave me a few seconds to think and gather my scattered thoughts while I fought the compulsion to, among other foolish things, show him my skinned shin.

“I didn’t like the bus ride. I figured it wouldn’t be fun and I was right.”

“What happened?”

“I tripped getting on. That’s when I saw the book under the driver’s seat. Later, when I went to the bathroom to call you I got stuck for a while.”

His brow wrinkled and he put on his puzzled expression. “Stuck? In the bus bathroom?”

I countered with my haughty expression. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s unusual. Uncommon. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that happening before. Maybe I should look into it.”

“Don’t. And if you laugh, I may get violent.”

Smiling, he looked toward the lake and said in a lighter voice, “I want to kiss you so much r
ight now. Kiss the little band-aid on your chin, the faint marks on your forehead that you covered with makeup.” He put his hand on his hip and glanced toward the parking area as if he had no interest in me. “Kiss your sweet mouth.”

“And what if I said, go ahead?”

Was I out of my mind?

“I would find someplace private.”

We watched a family get out of a van and unload their gear.

Behind us, I heard the engines on the motorized pumpkins revving up and I could swear my heart raced faster than those engines.