Lilacs and Larceny

by Philadelphia Bingham

Mackinac Island is a jewel, set in the straits where Lakes Huron and Michigan meet. Long known for the Grand Hotel, famous for its long porch and the movies that have been filmed there, it is now a summer retreat for the folks with Victorian summer homes and very deep pockets.

In the old days, it was headquarters for the Astor fur trade, and the fort that soared above the harbor was active up to Civil War times. Today the fort sits on a limestone bluff and is billeted with make believe soldiers and their ladies for the entertainment of the "fudgies," tourists who come for the specialty of the island, fudge and a horse driven carriage ride.

On the other side of the island, far removed from the painted ladies, the golf course and the hotels was the town of Harrisville. The town is made up of a church, a tavern and a few shops. The houses here are of far different kind. Here are the houses of the 400 or so permanent residents. These folks, along with a small number of families that lived on the north side near the British Landing site, are the ‘working class’ that kept the upscale part of the island what it is. Shovelers of manure, carriage drivers, general handyman types. During the ‘season’ they are aided by hordes of college students who work in the restaurants, and hotels and serve as travel guides through the park facilities.

Typical of the permanent residents was Joe King, who did not consider "fudgie" a term of endearment. Joe was somewhere between the age of 25-40; it was hard to tell. He ‘lived’ outdoors, and worked whenever he felt the need. He didn’t spend a lot of time worrying, and except when drinking with his buddy, Al Welsh, in the Harrisville tavern he was fairly easy to get along with. He hated the tourists that crowded his island, and it was really hard because he was dependent on their tourist dollars for his livelihood.

In the Harrisville bar, Joe and Al sat in the back, not drinking much, but looking over an old piece of paper. That in itself was unusual, they were not known to be readers. However, the townsfolk were not inquisitive and left the two alone.

"As I figure it looks like the place to dig is west of the old building that is up for sale," Joe said.

"How can we get away, with digging?" Al asked, "that dammed archeology bunch will be all over us like fleas on a hound."

"We’ll figure out something," Joe said. "Who would have thought that Granddad was right about the treasure."

"How did you know that Frenchie had the map Joe?" Al asked.

"That’s none of your damned business," Joe growled.

The wind swept down from the northwest and it felt like needles of ice on his face. Gil Mason shivered and went inside the cabin. "Brrr, thank goodness we have a closed cabin," he said to Annie, his wife. The trip to the island on the Shepler line ferry was only a twenty-minute ride through the straits of Mackinaw, but even in was May it was still cold. Spring seldom was warm, especially on the lake.

"Once we reach the island we’ll probably be able to take off our coats. The lilacs should be blooming about now," Annie said. "Did you know some of the lilac bushes are over 200 years old?’

Gil, now retired from his restaurant on lower Lake Michigan, worked occasionally as a consultant to the restaurants springing up in the North Country. He knew his wife wasn’t expecting an answer. He was offering his ideas and experience to help a newcomer to the business, his distant cousin, Frank Fontana. Frank wanted to retire from FYI and try his hand at running an Italian Bistro on the island. Gil and Annie would be spending the weekend in a B&B where Frank had made reservations for them and while Gil was out restaurant consulting, Annie planned on biking the island, taking in the sights.

"Wonder where Frank is staying"? Annie mused.

"Not at the Grand Hotel, he wouldn’t spend that kind of money " said Gil, "Although we do have a golf date Sunday at the Grand’s course with the investor from Montreal."

Over breakfast Saturday Gil and Annie listened while Frank told him what he had in mind for his retirement career. He had an option on a place just off the main drag. The building dated back to Fur Trading days so they had the historical committee to deal with, and if any building would be required, it would be necessary for the local archaeological society to check out the area. Gil hoped they could manage without any additional building. They had their calculators were out to be sure the seating would be enough to pay the way.

Frank was excited, as he rambled on with his plans. "...Not pizza or calzones, but good solid Italian food. Pastas, salads...and I want a class wine selection. Money is no problem," he told Gil. "Jim Dial put me in touch with a French guy from Montreal, who seems to be very interested in this area. You’ll meet him this afternoon; our tee time is at one. I put him up at the Grand," Frank continued, "Jim said he’d be impressed and it would help loosen his purse strings. Do you know how much it costs to stay at the Grand? he asked, "You think New York hotels are expensive!"

Annie excused herself, "I’m going to rent a bike and tour the island this morning and have lunch at the tea room at the fort. Join me?"

The invitation was for whomever, but both men begged off. Gil wanted to walk the building site and Frank said he was meeting the investors and they were going to check out the fort and the Astor house.

"Maybe we’ll run into you, Annie," Frank said, "I want to see all the sights especially the house where the guy had a hole in his stomach. I hear medical history was made on this little outpost on the edge of nowhere, when some sawbones observed the digestive system through a wound that didn’t heal in the stomach of a poor fellow."

"You mean Dr. Beaumont’s office," Gil said.

After one more cup of coffee they all said their "see ya laters" and went out into the bright spring day.

Sometime later, Annie, tired from her ride around the island headed for the park below the fort. Oh man, she thought, looking up to the fort, that is a long way up there. She walked over to the huge lilac bushes and sat under them, enjoying the fragrance and the rest.

"It smells heavenly doesn’t it?"

Annie looked over to the next bench. "I know you " she exclaimed, "You’re Jessica Fletcher!"

"The one and only," she replied.

"I’m Annie Mason," she said. "What brings you to the Island Mrs. Fletcher? Are you researching a novel?

"No, my friend Seth and I have been trout fishing in the UP. I’ve always wanted to try the Two-Hearted River. Did you know Hemingway fished it." Jessica came over and joined Annie on the bench. "I love to trout fish, but I also love to pamper myself, so we decided to spend a couple of days at the Grand Hotel. You know it really is a grand old place. I saw Frank Fontana, the reporter, there yesterday. Seth really likes him, so of course he had to meet him."

"Frank is my husband’s cousin," Annie smiled.

"I’ve always said it's a small world."

"I don’t know about you, Mrs. Fletcher, but I’m hungry from the long ride up here. Would you like to join me for lunch at the fort?"

"That sounds wonderful," said Jessica. "But if we do, you have to call me Jessica."

Annie smiled. "Of course, Jessica it is."

"We’ll be able to eat anything we want, after we climb that long hill," Jessica said, Maybe they‘ll have trout, I would like a good trout and since I didn’t get a one, maybe I should call the Two-Hearted, the cold-hearted."

The limestone walls of the fort rose about 300 feet above the concrete path that ran sideways and extremely steeply up to the fort. As they made their way toward the path, screams, loud wailing screams, broke the quietness. Looking up toward the sound, they saw a body careening down, hitting the limestone wall, grabbing wildly, then landing with a sickening thud on the concrete path.

The only vehicles allowed on the island are the emergency ones, and they came within minutes, although it seemed like hours. There was nothing to do; the man was dead. Annie and Jessica were questioned about what they had seen, the area was cordoned off and they retreated to the lilac bushes wondering what caused this terrible accident.

Up in the fort tearoom the sheriff was questioning Frank Fontana and a couple of locals, who were white washing the walls in preparation for Memorial Day.

The curator of the museum was hovering around, trying to be of assistance to a very shaken Frank. "Would you like some tea?" he asked. "There is nothing stronger here."

"Oh man, Oh man" said Frank, "I only left for a minute to use the men’s room, and when I was coming across the yard I heard this scream. The last I saw of Etienne he was gazing over the harbor at the wall."

Once the scene had been secured, Sheriff Manglos asked the two workmen what they had seen. "I was on the far side of the fort," said Al Welsh. "Didn’t see anything, just heard the scream."

Joe King said even less, "I was inside the stables, didn’t hear a thing."

The museum curator was next. "I had my earphones on and was researching some oral histories. The first I knew of any trouble was Frank calling for help."

Sheriff Richard Manglos took the statements, then said, "Don’t any of you leave the island until my investigation is wrapped up. It could have been an accident, but I doubt it," he said, giving Frank a long suspicious look.

Frank, Seth Hazlitt, Gil, Annie and Jessica were all scrunched into a booth in a diner near the harbor. The view was awesome, but no one was looking over the blue water of the straits. "He was so interested in the history of this place," Frank said. "We spent most of the morning with the curator. Etienne wanted to look over the fort logs and journals. He was really interested in archeology of the area."

"Did you reach an agreement on whether he would finance our project?" Gil asked. He felt bad about the mans death, but he wasn’t about to spend time on a project that wouldn’t get off the ground.

"Funny thing," Frank said, "He wanted to lend us the money, only if we expanded to the west of the building, he said we had to do that, or no deal. I told him we would have to talk to you, and we were planning meet you and walk the building and then this happened."

"Strange," Annie said. "Usually they want you to upscale your plans."

Jessica and Seth were quiet, just sipping coffee and wondering how it was that wherever they went tragic death went too.

The next day dawned clear and crisp. Annie and Gil were strolling out the door of the B&B after breakfast when they saw Frank and Sheriff Manglos waiting on the boat docks.

Annie pointed, ""Look, Frank has handcuffs on!"

"What are you doing Sheriff?" Gil asked running over to where they were.

" I’m taking him to St Ignace to the lock-up, that what." Charge is murder."

"This is ridiculous and you know it, " Frank said, "Call my attorney in D.C., call Murphy, call anyone... please!"

Jessica and Seth, riding by on their bikes, joined them. "What makes you think, if this is murder, that Frank did it?" Jessica asked. "Surely you can’t think a man with Mr. Fontana’s reputation... "

"Listen lady," the sheriff turned to Jessica, "I don’t give a hoot about his reputation. The way I see it he got pissed because the Frenchie wouldn’t give him the money he wanted, and gave him a push."

"Can you prove that Sheriff?" Jessica asked.

Richard Manglos turned on his heel glaring at all four of them, "You fudgies, come here and try to tell us how to run our business. Don’t you worry; I’ve got a witness. That’s all the proof I need. This is none of your business, so butt out!"

Gil and Seth set out to contact Frank’s lawyer and arrange for him to fly to the island, and also to contact Etienne Roy’s next of kin to make arrangements to send the body back to Montreal as soon as the sheriff released it.

Jessica turned to Annie. "I don’t like the sheriff’s attitude, Annie. I doubt he’s going to look very hard for any more evidence whether it clears Frank or not. I think we should take advantage of the Sheriff’s absence to do some sleuthing."

It was quiet and peaceful as they walked up the hill to the hotel. The long porch was mostly vacant this morning, as it was still quite cool and it would be a couple of weeks before the lilac festival would signal the beginning of the ‘season’.

On a pretext of going to Jessica’s room, they headed for Etienne Roy’s room. The police had finished their search of the area, and Jessica convinced the maid that they needed to prepare and pack Etienne’s belongings. "The poor man doesn’t have any family here on the island and since Mrs. Mason and her husband were involved in business with him, we just felt we had to help get his things ready. So much better than a stranger do it, don’t you think so dear?" She smiled her most charming smile at the maid. Once inside Etienne’s room, it didn’t take long to find what proved to be very interesting. The man had been incredibly neat and organized. His briefcase yielded, along with business papers, checkbook (with an astounding balance), a packet of papers containing, of all things, a lengthy genealogy of the Roy family, and an envelope containing some photocopies that appeared to be maps of some sort.

Giving the case to Annie, Jessica thanked the maid, "Thank you so much Catherine, it’s people like you who make this hotel grand." Jessica laughed at her joke. "Here just a minute, let me give you a tip."

"No ma’am, it's too much."

"Nonsense, you’ve been such a help." Jessica motioned to Annie to leave the room. Once in the hallway, Annie scurried toward Jessica’s room with the brief case.

That evening, at supper, Jessica and Annie told Seth and Gil what they had discovered.

"It’s incredible Gil! The family line stretches back to the 1500’s! And you can’t even find great uncle Alfred" Annie’s smiled softened her words. "Look at this, and tell me if you see what I see."

The family tree appeared to be very complete and along with names and dates, the line that had attracted Jessica and Annie’s attention was Etienne’s great great grandfather who had been stationed at Fort Mackinac about 175 years ago.

While Gil Mason studied the family tree, Jessica filled everyone in on a Roy family legend, buried treasure. "It appears that some money disappeared from the Astor house. Large sums of money were made in the fur trade and the suspicion fell on one Joseph Roy. No charges were every filed, but they never found the money. Joseph died and was buried in the island cemetery. If he took the money and hid it, it’s still in it’s hiding place."

Gil noticed something Jessica had missed. "Etienne Roy and Joe King both descended from Joseph Roy." He smiled at the puzzled look on Seth’s face. "Some of the early settlers anglicized their names, to fit in better," he said. "See here, Pierre Roy changed his name to Peter King, not at all unusual, and his brother Louis chose to remain in Montreal and retained the name Roy, he was Etienne’s great grandfather. His finger moved through the generations. Joe King is Peter’s great grandson.

"Joe King was one of the men at the scene of the crime, wasn’t he? asked Seth.

"That is very interesting," said Jessica. She looked through the briefcase, "Now what do you make of this photocopy?" she asked handing it to Gil.

"It’s a map, but that’s all I can tell." he passed it off to Seth.

Seth put on his glasses and peered at the map. "It’s a archeological map, these marks divide the dig into sections, these are the layer markings."

After they finished their meal, they decided to sit on the long porch, as the evening was mild. The view of the bridge, "the mighty Mac" was spectacular, sparkling with many lights.

"It appears to be the area near to where Frank intends to build." Gil said, "Interesting that Etienne carried that with him, perhaps he wanted to do more family research"

"Or search for the buried treasure" cried Annie!

"You can’t dig anywhere on this island without permission" Seth pointed out, "and that permission is not given to just anybody."

Jessica said nothing but thoughtfully stared out over the waters of Lake Michigan toward St Ignace wondering what Frank was feeling now.

Gil set off the next morning to meet with the historian; he wanted to be sure that it would be possible to build to the west if Frank could solve his legal dilemma. Jessica was waiting near the B&B, "Good morning Gil, mind if I join you?" She was curious about the map, could it be the treasure map? she wondered.

The elderly historian wiped his glasses and said, "Well, I don’t think there is a treasure, but this is near the area Mr. Fontana wants to build on." He leaned over the map again, "Something strange about it though, this mark here, that is where the lilacs are today. If the treasure is under those lilac bushes, no way you can dig there, the bushes are considered historical landmarks."

Jessica called Seth "I want to go to Harrisville, will you arrange for a carriage?"

"What on earth do you want there?" he asked, "We’ll be obvious fudgies." That’s exactly what I want, I’ll call ahead and talk to the minister, I’ll tell him I’m researching a book set on the island" she said.

"Woman, have you no shame, lying to a man of the cloth" Seth replied. Jessica smiled as she hung up the phone.

The Reverend John Illman was delighted to meet the famous Jessica Fletcher. "This where many of the permanent residents of the island live," he explained and filled her in on the history of the familles that made lovely Mackinac Island their home. "Most of them have lived here for many generations, some have ties back to the original trappers and the Native American’s. Others are new-comers, from when the fort was built." He pointed to a young woman sweeping her front porch. "That’s Cassie King, her family has been here since the beginning. "

"I met Joe King and Al Welsh at the fort the other day, they were there when the tragedy occurred." Jessica mentioned

"Horrible thing that," the Reverend replied. "We never know when we shall be called home. Do you really think that reporter killed him?"

"No I don’t " said Jessica, " Do you know where I might find Joe and Al?"

"Why?" asked the Reverend " I don’t mean to pry, but do you think they had anything to do with the murder?"

"I just want to talk with them, for my book, local color and all that." she said, ignoring Seth who was rolling his eyes heavenward.

"I saw them at the hardware earlier today", Reverend Illman said, "they were buying shovels, pickaxes, they said they had a job in town".

The sky was dark, only the stars shone. Seth checked his watch; it was two am. How in heaven’s name had he allowed Jess to talk him into this one? He shook his head. At least, he thought, she had relented and told the sheriff what she’d found out.

"Okay lets go" Sheriff Manglos said, his voice clearly disapproving. Gil, Annie, Jessica, Seth, Sheriff Manglos, and his deputy set off. "Deputy Brower you take the north route, Mr. Mason and I will go in from the west. The ladies and Mr. Hazlitt can cover the east. No heroics, okay?"

The harbor lay to the south, so there was no escape that way. Quietly they approached the site of Frank’s soon to be Italian Bistro. "Shh listen," said Annie grabbing Jessica’s arm.

The clink of pickaxes could be heard.

"Now" shouted Sheriff Manglos and bright lights shone directly on Joe King and Al Welsh, unable to escape having dug themselves into a deep hole.

"Damn it Joe, I told you there was no treasure here, and now look what you got me into." whined Welsh.

"You both are under arrest for the murder of Etienne Roy" announced the sheriff.

"It was Joe, I didn’t do it, it was Joe that pushed him,"

The sheriff and his deputy placed the handcuffs on the suspects and began to read them their rights. "He stole the map, he pushed him, I’m innocent " cried Al.

Frank Fontana was all smiles and full of self-importance on this twelfth day of June. Today was the grand opening of the Frank Fontana’s Lilac Treasure Inn, serving the best of Italian cuisine. Frank stood on the street and watched as the sign was hung over the door. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Murphy and Jim. "What do you think?" he asked as he greeted his old friends.

"She’s a beauty Frank" Jim slapped him on the back, "I envy you."

"Yeah, whatever," grumped Murphy, "but it’s the end of the world Frank, do you really want to live here?"

Frank’s answer was drowned out by Corky’s exuberant greeting. "Frank!" she squealed, "Look who I found on the ferry! J.B. Fletcher and she told me all about your adventure!"

Seth and Jessica had returned to celebrate the grand opening. Afterwards, they along with Gil and Annie were going to take a boat trip down the Lake Michigan shoreline.

"Was there really a treasure Frank?" asked Corky.

"Not on my property" he answered, grinning at Gil and Annie, "we checked."

I’m convinced there is a treasure," said Jessica, "under one of the lilac trees and it will remain there as long as the lilacs bloom, and they’ve been doing that for over two hundred years."

The End.