The Maine Mutiny by Jessica Fletcher; Donald Bain

Author:Jessica Fletcher; Donald Bain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Women Detectives, Murder, Mystery & Detective, Radio and Television Novels, General, Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, Jessica (Fictitious Character), Fiction, Women Novelists, Maine, Media Tie-In, Fletcher
ISBN: 9780451214683
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1996-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I think it was the smell that woke me.

I’d been dreaming about a lobster boat on the water. I shut my eyes again and tried to recapture the vision. It had to do with the lobster festival. And Spencer Durkee was there. Why? We were on a boat, weren’t we? I struggled to remember, but the details kept fading away. Even so, I could still hear the quiet lapping of the sea on the hull, feel the gentle rocking of the boat, and smell the sour tang so reminiscent of a fishing boat.

What a vivid dream, I thought.

A breeze was fluttering fabric against my legs. I felt it move across my body. I tried to turn over to escape the blinding light of the sun, but my bed was all lumpy and hard.

This isn’t my bed!

The shock of recognition made me bolt up quickly. I cringed at the pain and reached out to steady myself, my hand pressing against a hard surface. My heart was sounding a tattoo in my chest. I tried, but couldn’t take a deep breath, settling instead for shallow panting. Dizzy. Why was I so dizzy?

I looked up. Above me dangled the pulley of the hydraulic pot hauler used to pull lobster traps up to the surface of the water. It was attached to the purple roof of the wheelhouse, a Spencer Durkee trademark.

I’m on Spencer’s boat, the Done For. How did I get here?

While my brain struggled with the past, I took inventory of the present. I was alone on the ocean. No land in sight, only a straight line of water stretching away to where it met the sky. I was without food, without drinking water, without any way to communicate, without even knowing in which direction to go. All around me the seascape was the same. Water. No land. And a bank of dark clouds heading my way.

Gingerly I probed the left side of my head, discovering a good-sized egg that was tender to the touch. I knew that a bump on the head could cause amnesia. Was I one of its victims? I knew who I was. But I had no recollection of how I’d gotten here.

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