 When they arrived back from their grocery shopping expedition, someone was already waiting for them at the foot of the plateau. Hadrian exhaled a final cloud of smoke and stubbed out the cigarette with the heel of his boot. “I thought both of you were in the kitchen cooking breakfast.” “We ran out of food,” Mary replied turning to the back of the truck to take out the numerous bags of groceries. She unceremoniously piled them into Hadrian’s arms. “Oof. Geez, what did you buy, a couple dozen rocks?” “Nope. Just food. Enough to last a couple of weeks. I sure Ira wouldn’t want any of her guests to starve.” Reine took the cat food and two other bags of groceries. “I think I’m dreading the hike up that hill. Why on earth didn’t Ira just buy a penthouse back in New York? She was out there quite often anyway.” “Ira liked the serenity of the woods. No one would bother her writing marathons.” Mary took the last of the groceries and motioned towards the hill with her head. “We better get going. The hill is great excersise. Builds up appetite.” She grinned. “I think the only thing it’ll build up is fatigue,” replied Reine. The three of them proceeded to trudge up the plateau with Tuesday tagging along their heels. The morning had brightened considerably, the sun a pale yellow disk in a clear sky. But the air was just as cold as it was earlier when they had discovered the astrologer huddled and hypothermic on the island dock. There was no wind to sway the trees but the air bit into the lungs as they climbed the plateau and inhaled and exhaled heavily. Hadrian complained about not getting enough exercise. Reine tersely replied that he should have quit smoking. Mary jumped into the fray saying that he should listen to his friend. Hadrian frowned. “I was under the impression that you liked it,” he said. “No I don’t,” said Mary, not looking at him. “What’s that word I’m looking for? Perhaps you’re in love with your own image too much to quit smoking.” “Narcissism?” Reine supplied. “Yes, that’s it,” she said. “Don’t you care about your own health?” “Yes,” wheezed Hadrian. Mary sighed. “Don’t I sound like a mother hen?” Reine grinned. “My mother smokes too,” he said defensively. “Parental conditioning,” said Mary disapprovingly. “It looks like she’s out to reform you,” Reine laughed. “Perhaps you should run while you still can.” “You think so?” said Hadrian seriously. “Well, she is trying to help you.” “More like torture me,” he replied dramatically. But he snuck Mary a look and the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “So Reine, what’s up with you and Marcus?” “What do you mean?” “You know, those little looks you give me when you two aren’t expecting me. Oh, and Marcus told me to tell you to meet him at the boathouse as soon as you got back. It isn’t one of those nudge, nudge, wink, wink things is it? Because if it is, I don’t like acting like the courier pigeon.” “You need the exercise,” said Mary. “Humph.” “Right, Hadrian,” Reine rolled her eyes but did not seem unduly annoyed. “I’m not one of those gaudy nudge, nudge, wink, wink kind of girl. Do I look like one to you?” “No. But you do look like you’re capable of punching a guy’s lights out if he said the wrong thing,” said Hadrian. Mary coughed, remembering the incident at the grocery store. “Of course I am,” Reine replied. “That’s why you and Marcus keep me around. To protect you two from bad guys.” “I’d say,” said Mary. After Reine helped Mary and Hadrian put back the groceries in the kitchen, she strolled back outside and hiked down the path to the boathouse. Tuesday had decided finally not to follow. The cat had meandered to the den to sleep the day away in front of the sunny window. Reine had briefly peeked in to see if the cat was all right and had amusedly thought to herself that she was beginning to act motherly to the cat when she noticed the chessboard. The game was well underway. A few pieces were set to the side since they had been checkmated. The more powerful pieces as well as a handful of pawns still littered the board. There was no sign of either player. The wind started up again as she entered the boathouse. The motorboat and another boat were docked inside. The lake water sloshed against the pier making all the wood, and thus the entire boathouse creak with each incoming wave. Her footsteps sounded muffled against the floorboards. The water reflected some of the light so it threw the interior of the boathouse into a semblance of a disco dance hall—silvery blobs of light flickered across the walls decorated with fishnets and other boating paraphernalia. Aside from the pronged deck of the lower boathouse, there was a small door facing toward the lake that led out into a thinner, extended pier. A thin staircase at the back of the boathouse led upwards to the second floor of the boathouse where she assumed was more boating equipment. A loud thump sounded overhead. “Marcus?” she called out. “Did you find something up there?” The thump sounded again. “Are you all right?” She moved towards the stairs. “Good morning, Reine. How was your trip to the grocery store? Did you get the cat food for Tuesday?” She whirled around to find Marcus’s familiar figure looming right outside the door to the boathouse. “Marcus! I thought you were up on the second floor.” He stepped inside. “Second floor?” he said puzzled. “Of the boathouse,” she clarified. “I thought you were already here waiting for me. Or at least that was the impression that Hadrian gave me.” “Yes, I was to meet you here, but I took a walk near the shore to think and clear my head first,” he told her. “What made you think I was up on the second floor?” “I thought I heard you walking up there.” “It must have been the building settling, especially since it’s bordered by the lake on one side. Or maybe you’re imagination.” “I refuse to think that I’m going crazy. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I mistook it for the waves making the floorboards creak or something. Anyways, I did get Tuesday’s cat food as well as helping Mary get the groceries,” she said deciding not to say anything about the encounter with the hardware store owner Bubba. She had the feeling that Marcus would start acting too protective. “And I found out about this.” She pulled out the bright orange fabric that he had given her earlier. “So you found out who wears it?” She shook her head. “It’s not as easy as that. It’s the same fabric on the life vests that they sell over at the fishing store. Perhaps Xanthia had briefly put on a life jacket and had accidentally torn it.” “No. That’s impossible. All of the life jackets on that motor boat were yellow.” A thump was heard overhead, again. Reine raised an eyebrow. “See? I wasn’t imagining things.” Marcus narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. That doesn’t sound like the boathouse creaking to the lake tides.” Something crashed above their heads. “You don’t suppose that someone is attempting to eavesdrop on us?” said Reine, alarmed. “Probably,” said Marcus as he sprinted to the steps and took them two at a time. Reine followed quickly. At the top of the narrow staircase was another door. Marcus rattled the knob but the door did not budge. He kicked at the door though and it flew open with a bang. He peered into the gloom. Reine tried to look over his shoulder. “Anyone in here?” he called out. No one answered. “Whoever is eavesdropping is probably also hiding,” concluded Reine. “No kidding.” He strolled into the room. There was a little light as the opposite end of the room held a dusty window. There were a few trunks shoved up against the wall, fishing gear piled up in a corner, and more boating equipment strewn around. Marcus looked behind the equipment, finding nothing. “Nothing here. Maybe the equipment was piled in a precarious position and just now decided to fall over.” “Maybe. But look, life vests.” Reine had discovered a pile of waterproof garments underneath the pile of fishing gear. She took them out, shaking them. They were bright orange. She held one up and noticed a tear on the corner. “You don’t suppose,” his voice trailed off as Reine held up the torn piece of fabric and compared it with the hole in the vest. It matched perfectly. “What on earth does this mean?” Her voice wavered as she stared at the evidence. “I think someone else was on that island with us last night,” he replied grimly, “and Xanthia probably knows who.” “But why? There’s nothing on the island.” He shrugged. “But whoever it was, he or she wasn’t very nice. They left Xanthia out there to freeze.” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |