Brush with Death by Karen MacInerney

Author:Karen MacInerney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, murder, cozy, regional fiction, art gallery, amateur sleuth, Fiction, mystery novels, murder mystery, Gray Whale Inn, Maine
Publisher: Midnight Ink, an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
Published: 2013-03-21T05:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

I BLINKED AT HER. “What?”

“Fernand’s sister seems to think he was considering writing a new will,” she said.

I glanced at the swinging door to the dining room and thought of Frederick, subjected to both Irene and Catherine. “On second thought, maybe it would be better if you stayed here with us,” I said.

“Oh, Natalie. I know when to keep quiet,” she said. Before I could respond, she was through the swinging door and striding across the dining room.

John’s eyes met mine. “We may have another murder soon,” I said, half-joking.

“Murder? Or self-defense?” John asked.

“Just check on them from time to time, please. Better yet, maybe you could keep your mother company in there.” I gave him a pleading look.

“But you need help in here,” he said. “Your hand …”

“Is fine,” I said. I had covered the butterfly bandages with a large latex bandage, and it was holding up well. “You can do the dishes when they’ve gone upstairs.”

He groaned. “Is it too early for a shot of rum in my coffee?”

“Yes,” I said, grinning. “Maybe you can ask her what happened to her grandmother’s ring.”

“That’ll make for some terrific conversation.”

“Better than talking about lovers and wills,” I pointed out. “Now, go.”

With another deep sigh, he followed his mother into the dining room, and I busied myself in the kitchen.

_____

Thankfully, everyone survived breakfast, and John took care of clean-up while I fed Biscuit—wet cat food, to her delight—and excused myself to take a shower. When I came downstairs at 10:30, the truck was back in the driveway, but I didn’t see Gwen; I wondered how her meeting had gone. I wanted to go check the Crow’s Nest, but Frederick was waiting for me in the parlor.

“I can’t wait to get this over with,” he said as I walked in. I glanced at the staircase and decided I’d check on Gwen later.

“Do you have a key?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Let’s go, then,” I said, and headed for the front door with Frederick in my wake.

As I headed to the van, I found myself glancing around, looking for other things out of place—another voodoo doll, maybe, or another splatter of blood. My eyes lingered on the steps to the kitchen door; I could still see tinges of pink on the crusted snow. Whose blood was it? I found myself wondering again, then pushed the thought away.

“How long were you and Fernand together?” I asked as we settled ourselves into the front seats of the van.

“About a year,” he said.

“I didn’t realize you had come to visit.”

“I was only here a few times. We tried to keep things quiet,” he said. “Smaller towns can be very conservative.”

I thought of the petition Maggie Brumbacher was circulating about the elementary school teacher. Yes, they could. “You’re from Bangor, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “But I was planning on moving here with Fernand. In the spring.”

“It was pretty serious, then.”

“Yes,” he said, and it came out as a sob.

“I’m so sorry, Frederick,” I said, and reached out to touch his shoulder.

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