Murder in Death's Door County (16 page)

After Donovan and I had finished up at Dublin’s
pub in Fish Creek, I was still determined to not move from the Lighthouse.
Kitty had been so kind to me and I really adored my independence. Since I had
promised to give my statement regarding my brakes and whatnot, Donovan drove me
to the police station in Sturgeon Bay right after our surreal lunch. I still
liked him down deep, but I was upset that he had lied about his identity. Plus,
I was consumed with confusion. Then he dropped me off at the Lighthouse. I
decided to take a nap and fell into a fitful sleep.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on
the door. Alarmed, I went to the front door of my room. Why on earth would
someone be knocking on my door? I hadn’t ordered room service. Oh, maybe it was
Lizzy!

“Yes? Who is it?” I asked, feeling a bit
fuzzy.

“Officer Clifford Johnson, miss. Donovan
sent me.”

“Um, all right. Hold on a sec.” Quickly,
I tried to locate my phone but I couldn’t find it. So I couldn’t verify that
Officer Johnson came from him. However, it seemed like a Donovan-type move, so
I let him in.

“Are you still there, Officer Johnson?”
I called out.

“Still here.”

I undid the lock and let him in. With
his pushed in face, brush cut, and double-barrel chest, Officer Johnson looked
like a bulldog. Wait! He was a bulldog! The man stood about six foot five
inches, and seemed to fill the room. But he had a bulldog face and head. In my
hazy state, I briefly pitied any criminals who crossed his path.

“So, how does this work? I’ve never had
a bodyguard situation before,” I said.

“I stand outside and make sure no one
gets in,” he said in a growly, barky voice. Did he just scratch the back of his
ear? Oh no, I hope he doesn’t have fleas.

“Would you like something to drink? I
have milk or Diet Coke?” As I rummaged through the room’s mini-refrigerator, I
realized I had neither. “Hmmm… or would you like some orange juice?”

“Do you have any Milkbones? I’ll just
stand right outside your door. I’ll be relieved in about 12 hours. And if you
go anywhere, one of us will have to go with you. Unless, of course, Agent
Archer is with you.” He barked as he said it so matter-of-factly.
Okay, I definitely heard that bark. I needed to remember to not make eye
contact with the dog or let him smell any fear. “Oh, and here’s my leash if we
need to go outside.”

I ordered pizza and had them bring soda
and beer too. I offered Johnson some pizza, which he ate without using his
hands. Then he asked for a glass of toilet water. Hmmm… that’s unusual. I got
him some tap water and he lapped it up eagerly. I changed into sweats and started
playing bridge with the Queen Elizabeth I of England; only we were playing with
real bridges.

The next time I opened the door, Officer
Jack Wroblewski was standing guard outside the door. Officer Wroblewski wasn’t
as tall as Johnson, but he was just as wide. He had a German shepherd face and
head, and was about as chatty as Johnson.

Okay, so they were varying the type of
dog they sent. Interesting. I greeted him and went back inside to make coffee.
I offered Wroblewski a cup, which he promptly lapped up. The Queen had turned
into a duck, so I discussed my situation with it. But I couldn’t get a straight
answer out of the duck.

To take my mind off things, I decided to
do a little more research on this weird book project. I knew that the book
project was never going to be restarted again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling
there was more to this situation. I called information for Tina Delvecchio’s
most current address and phone number, but a cat answered the phone and could
only meow when I asked it questions. In my confusion, I also researched Marcos’
lawyer, Jim Donaldson, only to find out he had gone to live on top of Mount
Everest as a yak. Why was everyone an animal? Where did all the people go? When
I looked in a mirror, I saw a deer’s face looking back at me. Wow! I hoped that
the police wouldn’t send over a wolf. I wasn’t sure what to do with the
information, so I put it in my purse. My gut told me I’d need this information
eventually.

Later, Johnson came back and needed to
use the bathroom for the umpteenth time (he could not hold his coffee). He
asked me to take him for a walk.

When we returned to my room, it was now
made of gumdrops. The graham cracker door was wide open. So much for the
bodyguard. All of my notes on the book were scattered around, my laptop was
missing, and I heard a really loud ticking. With my back to the door and in a
crouched position, I made my way to the kitchen. Johnson got down on all fours
and tried to follow the scent. I grabbed a knife made of red licorice and went
through the rest of the room. I didn’t see anyone else, but the ticking only
got louder.

“All right. Call off your dogs!” I still
couldn’t find my cell phone, so I yelled that out the window. In two seconds,
Donovan appeared at my door. Inviting him in, I let him know what had happened.
Wow! Had he always been so tall? I think he was seven feet tall now. I breathed
a sigh of relief that didn’t have a dog’s head. All Johnson could do was bark.

“Why did you take Johnson for a walk?”

“He begged me to. He said he need to,” I
bemoaned, head in hands.

“So, do you still want to stay here?”

“No,” I said as I slumped in my chair. I
felt like a petulant child. “No, I guess you’re right and I don’t want to
endanger Johnson or Wroblewski or anyone else.”

Suddenly, a trio of musicians appeared
in the corner. Their violinist broke into a crazy-good version of Led Zeppelin’s
“Kashmir.” Donovan didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t you hear that?” I asked. But Donovan
couldn’t hear me, he just kept talking.

“What else did they get besides the
laptop?” Donovan asked, but his voice sounded very far away.

Suddenly, I was in a strange home that I
didn’t recognize. A faceless man appeared and chased me out of his house into
the dark night. The faceless man turned into Harry, who then warned me, “Beware
of the
redhead
.”

Donovan ran to my side. He held me
close.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. We’ll solve
this.” I nestled in, he smelled good. He lifted my chin. He kissed me softly.
His lips touching mine felt really good. I put my arms around him. At some
point, my head turned back to normal.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang. Somewhere
in my hazy mind, I heard the phone ringing and wondered where it had been this
whole time. But the kiss felt so good. I was beginning to really appreciate
Donovan’s qualities.

He, on the other hand, had the instincts
of a cop and pushed me away. He ran to the living room to get my phone, which
had become a banana. When he turned around to bring the phone back to me, he
knocked into me and dropped my still-ringing banana. We both went to pick
it up and knocked heads ala the Three Stooges.

“Ouch,” I cried out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said as he
quickly recovered his wits and bent again to grab the banana.

“No, no it’s okay. I’m sorry.” He smiled
as he handed me the banana. It had already stopped ringing, and we just stood,
looking stupidly at each other with big dopey grins.

My banana rang again, this time in my
hands. The ringing startled me and I almost dropped it again. I checked the
display: 999-9999. Creepy.

Wordlessly, Donovan urged me to answer
it.

“Hello?”

“Are you Annie?” a synthesized voice
asked me. The voice sounded like a machine talking, very robotic.

“Y-yes, I-I am. What do you
want?”

“Here’s to your s-s-s-silence.” Ew, that
sounded like a hiss, like a snake. Gross and super-creepy. I heard a
clinking sound in the background, like a glass being toasted. “Do you like the
present we left for you?”

“Present? What present?” I looked up at
Donovan, who shrugged and motioned for the phone. Quietly, I held up the phone
for Donovan to listen, too.

“We so carefully hid it. We hope you
find it in time.”

I whispered to him, “Should we look for
this present? Do you think it’s a clue or another warning?”

Donovan shot me a look of alarm. He
flipped my banana shut and told me to leave now. He threw the banana into the
linen closet and shut the door. I looked at him, quizzically.

“Now?”

“Grab your jacket. Nothing else! We are
leaving now!” he ordered.

As we shut my apartment door and raced
down the stairs, I felt my breath leave me as we heard an explosion. I felt
heat at my back. I was too scared to turn around.

Even though the banana had exploded, I
could still hear a phone ringing. Ring. Ring. The sound cut through the haze of
my dream. Cautiously, I opened one eye and looked around my room at the
Lighthouse. Whew! Everything looked intact. Nothing looked blown up. I let out
a huge sigh of relief. I looked at my phone (which hadn’t become a banana) to
see who had just called. Grandpa. Still shaken by my vivid dream, I figured I’d
wait a bit to call him back.

Naturally, that dream really stunned me,
but it was just a dream, right? Heck, I had had wild dreams before. No biggie.

But the next day, someone broke into my
room and had their way with it. And that was a big deal.

T
HE FOLLOWING NIGHT, I
HUNG OUT
at the Lighthouse
bar while Lizzy worked. I needed to be around people, and was able to read my
book in between chatting with Lizzy and others. A couple of times, I thought I
saw Donovan enter the bar. And, as welcome as seeing him would have been on one
level, I was still a bit annoyed with his highhandedness. When Lizzy and I got
to my room to brainstorm about the case after her shift, it must have been
around ten-ish. We couldn’t help but notice that my door was slightly ajar. I
knew that I had shut and locked the door. Growing up in a bigger city than Egg
Harbor made locking doors second nature to me. Even the air felt different. I
would have sworn I smelled the hint of cigarette smoke in my room. This was odd
since I didn’t smoke, and I knew that the Lighthouse Inn had a strict “No
Smoking” policy.

I staggered back from the door, afraid
to even touch the knob.

“What’s wrong, Annie?” asked Lizzy. She
had been a few steps behind me. Almost immediately after she asked the
question, she saw my open door. “Annie, why is your door open? Didn’t you shut
it?”

“Of course!” I didn’t know what to do
with my hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking.

Lizzy entered the house slowly, pushing
past. “Hello? Hello?”

“Lizzy? Why are you greeting a burglar?”

“Maybe it isn’t a burglar. Maybe someone
got really cold and decided that your room looked warm and inviting.”

I looked at her in shock. I’ll admit,
her argument went far to take my mind off of what had happened.

“Well, in any case, Annie, someone did
break into your room. I think we should do a sweep of the room.” It went really
quickly, the room wasn’t that big. Lizzy checked the closet and bathroom, and
even looked under the bed. Still in shock, I slowly made my way around the
room.

“Focus, Annie. You need to stay calm.
Why would anyone do this?”

I looked at her rather stupidly, not
sure what to say. Then the fog lifted, and I noticed that all of the drawers
had been pulled out. My laptop had been moved from the desk to the coffee
table. But it was still there. Also, in addition to the couch cushions being
upturned, the bed was a mess and my luggage was open, with the lining ripped
out.

“I don’t want to alarm you…” Lizzy said,
walking over to the desk.

“Too late.”

“I’ve seen enough crime shows to know
that whoever did this was looking for something. Do you have any idea what that
might be?”

“No. I don’t have anything worth taking.”
I sank down onto the bed with head in my hands.

“Well, someone thinks you do.” With her
arm, Lizzy gestured towards the mess in my room.

“What do I do now?” I asked, “Call the
cops?” I stood up and began to pace around the room.

“Probably, yeah,” Lizzy began. “That
wou-… oops!”

One of the few things left untouched was
the mug from Harry. Which Lizzy had just knocked off the desk. And had just
broken apart into a million white pieces dotted with colored pieces of glass.
Wait, colored pieces of glass? That’s odd. The mug itself had been really
plain, just white stoneware with Harry’s logo in black on the side.

Lizzy looked at me, then back down at
the mug. “Oh my gosh! Look, Annie! Do you see that?”

What was she seeing? And why was she
making such a big deal about a broken mug? Had she forgotten that someone had broken
into my room?

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Lizzy,” I
said. “Seriously, the mug is no big deal. I mean, I would just like to know who
killed Harry and, now, who trashed my room. But it’s easy to clean up some
stoneware and colored pieces of glass.” I started to go into the hallway to get
the dustpan from the utility closet (Kitty had shown me where it was kept
earlier that day).