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Monica awoke with a start and looked at her watch. The glowing dial read 3:15 am. She fell back against her pillow, closed her eyes and willed her brain to go back a few seconds to her fading dream. Where had the dream taken place? A garden? Yes, a large garden with vegetables and fruit growing in abundance. Next to the carrots and potatoes was a bed for sleeping in, the same kind the resort had. The sheets were crisp and white with not a wrinkle in sight. The pillows, all three of them, were plump and fresh. It was a most inviting bed and Monica felt so tired. So very tired. Suddenly a woman appeared near the bed. She had no face but was carrying a broom and a bucket. She dropped them, and the bucket clattered on some stones and disappeared along with the water inside. Then she picked up a shovel on the ground, began to dig and finally grabbed something in the ground and...... Monica woke again.
She sighed in frustration. Just as she was about to see the woman’s face, and what she was getting out of the ground, the dream evaporated. But all was not lost. Even though the woman’s face in the dream was blank she felt sure that the woman was Jennifer Patterson thanks to the bucket and broom she had carried. She thought for a few more seconds. What grew inside the ground that needed digging? She smiled. Potatoes of course.
Monica told Erin her dream over breakfast that morning and watched as her friend’s eyes rolled.
“You are a gas,” laughed Erin using an expression from her native Ireland that meant funny. She speared a sausage on her plate. “So, you think that you and I should sneak over to Jennifer’s house at night in the dark and see if she is harvesting poisonous green potatoes, so she can kill little old ladies?”
“Well, we have no search warrant and no way of getting one, so, yes, I’d say some undercover work might be in order.”
“Ok, tonight we’ll go if the rain holds off. But today we have to talk to the resort guests. That’s the old schoolteacher, the man from out west and the couple with the twin girls.”
An hour later, Ida Matheson was ushered into Pamela’s office. It was clear that she saw the meeting as an affront to her high social and moral standards. “Why on earth do you need to question me? I have been coming to this resort for years. What can I possibly tell you?” she demanded, her double chins wobbling.
Monica smiled at the woman; she knew just how to deal with these types. “Miss Matheson, I don’t for a moment think that you had anything to do with the death of Bertha Lundstrom the chef, but a woman with your experience in life might just have seen something of vital importance. After all, you were in the dining room waiting for your steak if I am not mistaken. Is this true?”
“Yes, at precisely 7:30 pm I explained to the young serving girl exactly how I wanted my steak, potatoes and vegetables. I was very precise; these students never listen to older people. They think we are all senile. As a former schoolteacher, I could tell those young folks a thing or two. I can recall the days....”
“Miss Matheson, perhaps we can talk about the good old days at another time. Now please continue with your recollections from that night because I can see that you are the type of witness whose eyes and ears are crucial to an investigation like this,” suggested Monica kindly.
Ida Matheson was mollified. “Well, just before 8:00 pm, I was getting very agitated as my meal hadn’t appeared and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I noticed a young man sitting at a single table near me very close to a pillar. I made a comment to him about the poor service.”
Erin spoke for the first time. “And who was this man?”
“That other guest, the young fellow, I think his name is Adrian. He is so well spoken, and I felt he would understand about the lowering of social standards these days.”
Erin smiled and asked, “Did he answer you?”
“He was slightly out of breath.”
“Did he say why he was out of breath?”
“He said that he had forgotten his wallet in his room and had run upstairs to get it.”
“Did you notice anything else, Miss Matheson? You certainly have an observant eye,” added Monica with a smile.
Ida Matheson glowed with delight and was silent for a moment, but then shook her head. “No nothing comes to mind. Anyway, then I saw the manager, Pamela, and called to her at 8:20 but she ignored me if you can believe it. She marched into the kitchen and I didn’t get my meal until much later.”
Suddenly the window shook with a gust of wind and thunder rumbled close by. Rain began to fall, slowly and then quickly, and soon it was coming down in sheets. Nothing could be seen outside the windows.
“Oh, the rain has just reminded me of something. Did I mention the puddle?”
“Puddle? No, what puddle?” asked Monica leaning forward.
“Well, when that young man turned to chat with me, I noticed some water on the floor by his feet.”
“Water. Now that is interesting. Anything else Miss Matheson?”
“Well I must admit, I was rather surprised at the state of his clothes. He is usually so well turned out.”
“His clothes?” said Monica and Erin in unison.
“Yes, his pants and sweater were very wet. And his hair was soaked. Just as if he’d been standing in the rain. But his shoes were the worst; they left two large muddy messes on the dining room floor.”
Interesting thought Erin feeling a tingle of excitement. Ida Matheson might have been old school and old fashioned, but her eyes and powers of observation were acute.
***
Adrian Albertville could have been a model for a Ralph Lauren mens’ clothing ad. All that was missing was a horse, a polo field, and a pencil thin model hanging on his arm. He was tanned, impeccably dressed and his high cheekbones would make all women envious. Spoiling it all was his air of entitlement that Erin and Monica noticed right away.
“Sorry about all this Mr. Albertville,” said Monica sitting down behind Pamela’s desk, “but we’ve had a few issues here at the resort and we have to talk to all the staff and guests.”
“Right, I understand. Let’s get it over with then.”
“Ok, I will be brief and blunt: When did you get here, where are you from, and what do you do for a living?”
“Arrived Wednesday last from Vancouver in British Columbia, and I am a real estate lawyer overseeing and handling major investment accounts and business transactions. I deal with people who could buy and sell this resort ten times over.”
“You are young to be in a position like that.”
“Excellent education, high profile friends in high places. It works.”
Erin gritted her teeth and wished she had the nerve to say, ‘Bully for you!’
“What were you doing on Thursday night between 7:00 and 8:30 pm?” Monica asked who also found the young man arrogant and insulting.
“Not much to do with the storm was there? I went down for dinner, finally got a poorly cooked steak and some limp vegetables, read a two-day old newspaper and went to bed.”
“Did you speak to anybody that evening?” asked Monica making a note on her pad of paper.
“Well one does have to speak to people from time to time, don’t they? I spoke to the waitress when I ordered my meal, spoke to that manager Pamela when I asked if she had a newspaper on hand. That sort of thing.”
“What about in the dining room?” quizzed Erin.
Adrian raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as if thinking. “Oh, yes. There was a large woman sitting close to me and she started to chat about the standards of the resort. She was miffed because her meal was late. She acted like she was the Queen the way she was going on.”
Erin gazed at the young man determined to get the answer she wanted. “Did you leave the dining room at all during the evening?”
“Don’t think so. Why would I? Now if there are no more questions may I leave?”
“No,” answer the two girls in unison.
Erin continued. “Adrian, did you forget something the other night and did you leave the dining room to go fetch it?”
“Oh, the wallet,” he replied quickly snapping his fingers. “Yes, left it in my room. I had forgotten about that. I suppose the fat old school marm told you that.”
Monica chimed in. “Apparently your shoes and clothes were wet according to the ‘fat old school marm’. How did you get wet shoes when your room is located here in the main building?”
The man was silent, and Erin could see his mental wheels turning quickly. It was wonderful to see him finally flummoxed and uncomfortable.
“Don’t know. I might have gone out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air. Yes, that’s what I must have done, and I suppose the driving rain had poured onto the porch.”
“When are you leaving Adrian?” asked Erin standing up.
“Whenever I can get off this sand box of an island.”
“And do you have friends here on this sand box,” asked Monica with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Friends? Here? Surely you jest. No way. Not my sort of people.”
“So, then what exactly was the purpose of your stay here anyway?”
Adrian smirked, leaned forward, and delivered his final blow. “Wanted to see how the other half lived.”
When Adrian had left Monica and Erin looked at each other in disbelief.
“Have you ever in your life met a more arrogant young man?” sputtered Erin.
“Never at all. He really is a piece of, well I won’t use the word I was thinking of.”
“What do you think?”
Monica referred to her notes. “It makes no sense. Why would a wealthy, well-educated and well employed man like that fly thousands of miles to spend a few days on an island at an old-fashioned resort like this? He is like a fish out of water. His type of vacation would be on a Caribbean island, jet setting around London or Paris or maybe skiing in St. Moritz. There is nothing here for a person like him unless he has clients wanting to buy property here. Oh, and he is a liar too.”
“He is? What tipped you off?”
“The night that we got here and were unpacking I heard voices outside of our room in the hallway. Now I realize that it was Sean the gardener and Adrian chatting, but he just said that he had no friends here.”
“According to Ida Matheson his shoes were not only wet but also very muddy the night she spoke to him in the dining room. Maybe we should have mentioned that fact and asked for an explanation,” suggested Erin.
“No, best to keep a few cards close to your chest. We might need that little tidbit of information down the road.”
***
Adrian Albertville was worried. The police could find out so many things these days thanks to the internet; it didn’t bear thinking about. He had made a bad mistake. He was going to have to be very careful. Get his story straight and stick to it. For the first time in weeks he began to doubt his own capabilities. Just because you had a law degree and a PhD in economics didn’t mean you were smart. Book smart maybe but not street smart.
***
The Trimble family, father Angus, Mother Candace and identical fifteen-year old twins Polly and Patsy were ushered into the library as Pamela’s office was too small to accommodate them all. They were clearly nervous, and the twin girls found it hard to look Monica and Erin in the eye.
“We just want to ask you all a few questions,” said Monica with a smile.
“Why?” demanded Angus, the father who was plump, red faced, and agitated, “because we know nothing, nothing at all. Candace and I just came here with the girls for some rest and relaxation and....”
“Angus,” said his wife sharply, “please sit down and stop getting so worked up. We are not going to jail!”
“No, no jail,” soothed Erin winking at the girls who grimaced and slouched in their chairs.
“Can you tell us where you all where on Thursday night from 7:00 pm to 8:30 pm?”
Erin noticed the girls exchange a quick glance. They are just at that age when fooling Mum and Dad is part of life she thought.
“I knew you’d ask that,” said Angus standing up. “My wife and I had cocktails at 6:00 pm in the bar that’s decorated like an English Pub. I had two martinis...”
“Dad you had three,” said Polly the taller of the two twins with a smirk.
“Ok, so maybe three. It’s my holiday. My wife had a glass of white wine. And the girls had a Shirley Temple each.”
“Shirley Temples are so yesterday,” complained Patsy accentuating the word so, “they were a big deal when you were a kid, Dad. Why can’t we have wine spritzers like at home?”
Both Angus and Candace shot nervous glances at Monica and Erin who both shrugged.
“Now, you went to have dinner at what time?”
“Sevenish, give or take a few minutes either way,” replied Candace calmly.
“Where did you sit?”
“Where we always go, near the French doors. Candace says that sitting by the doors when they are open reminds her of being in Paris on our honeymoon.”
“Paris. Shmaris,” groaned the twins in unison. “That’s the only place you two have ever been outside of North America. That’s all you talk about.”
Monica smiled, wondered if she really wanted children, and pressed on.
“Well, with the storm there was no way we would have opened the doors,” continued Angus, “The rain was coming sideways it was so strong.”
“Now did you notice anything out of the ordinary that night?”
“Nothing at all. We had the same serving girl, the twins ordered hamburgers and fries and and....”
“Dad had another martini,” laughed Polly.
“Enough girls,” chided Angus with a sigh. “There was a movie playing for the younger guests at 8:00 pm and the girls wanted to go see it. They finished their meal and left the dining room around 7:45 pm. My wife and I stayed on to relax and chat.”
“Where was the movie being shown?” asked Erin.
“Here in the library,” said Patsy without looking at Erin.
On an impulse Erin asked, “And what was the movie?”
Again, the twins exchanged a glance between them.
“Twilight Saga!” blurted Polly.
“Mean Girls!” said Patsy.
There was silence in the room.
“You girls must have been in different time zones and rooms because apparently you didn’t see the same film,” said Angus gravely.
“What were you really doing and where exactly where you that night girls?” asked Monica.
“We were bored. We looked into the movie room and there were only two other young kids there, so we decided to do something fun.”
“What did you do for fun?” asked the mother.
“We decided we wanted to go run in the rain. So, we went out the side door, kicked off our flip flops and ran around the lawn in the storm.”
“You girls are lucky to be alive,” scolded Angus. “There was thunder and lightning that night. A tree could have been hit by lightning and you might have been killed.”
“Girls, your Dad is right. But to get back to the questions, did you see anything while you were out in the rain. Did you see anybody at all?” asked Erin.
“Polly was getting tired, so we sat on the Liar’s Bench.”
“What’s the Liar’s Bench,” asked Candace.
“It’s this long red bench where people go to tell fibs about the size of their fish that they have caught.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s on the lawn under the maple trees.”
“Ok, so you sat there and did anything happen?”
There was silence in the room.
“Well?”
“We saw a light go on in one of the basement rooms.”
“Which room?”
“The one at the very end.”
“Did you see anybody inside?”
“Sort of a shadow.”
“What was the shadow doing?”
“Hard to see. Just moving around.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing. We watched for a minute or so and then there was nothing more happening.”
“What did you do then?”
“Left. We were cold, and we wanted to get back to our room before Mum and Dad came back up from dinner, and their bridge game.”
“Well you have been very helpful. Any chance you know what time you saw this mystery person?”
“Just before 8:00 pm I guess. We heard the hall clock chiming when we came back in. Can we go now?”
“Sure,” said Monica with a smile. The Trimble family trooped out and Erin began to giggle as the door closed. “I think those two gals are going to get a stern lecture in a few minutes from Mum and Dad.”
“Maybe so, but they did see something important. I would give my eye teeth to know who was in that basement that night!”
***
Wiley patted his cat, opened the door of his small abode and walked with determination along the sandy path towards town. He had planned out his day to the minute. He took out his small notepad and looked at it for the fifth time that morning. First, coffee at the Port Side Coffee Shop from 9-9:30 am, then the first part of the daily walkabout picking up trash. At 11:45 am he would stop by at the resort to speak to those two women who had thanked him the other day when he had helped them. He knew they were helping with the death of Bertha the chef. He had recalled something after looking at the photo of the resort. It had all come back to him. He was excited. He had something to tell somebody.
At exactly 11:46 am Wiley walked up the steps to the main door of the Opawongo Resort and pulled open the large red door.
“Can I help you?” sneered Sally at the desk, recoiling slightly at the sight of the long-haired unkempt man.
“The two ladies,” he mumbled.
“The two ladies? Oh yes, Monica and Erin,” came the reply, “I think they are in the dining room, but you should wait here.”
Wiley ignored the woman, looked around, saw the dining room and walked in; heads turned as the man in the long raincoat, oversized hat, and long hair scanned the tables. Monica saw him first and knew instinctively that he was there to see them. She waved him over.
“Wiley, come and sit down. Would you like a coffee or some lunch?”
Wiley didn’t say a word so, Monica called over a waitress and asked for soup and sandwiches.
“Now Wiley, have you got something to tell us?” Erin asked with a smile to make him feel comfortable.
“Photo reminded me. Knew there was something wrong. Finally remembered.”
“What did you recall Wiley?”
“The door in the basement wall. Never been opened for years.”
“You saw it was opened? What else did you see?”
Wiley put his hand into the large pocket of his waxed coat and pulled out his small notepad. He flipped through a dozen pages and then stopped. He ran his finger down the list of items he had written.
“Two,” he said
“Two what?” asked Monica and Erin together.
“Two people. Two people came out from the door.”
The girls sat up.
“Ok Wiley, this is great information,” said Monica. “Did you recognize either one of them? What time was this?”
Wiley looking at his small notepad. “Not sure who they were. One person came out at 7.57 exactly, and the other person came out at 8.04. I know ‘cause I mark everything down and I check my watch every few minutes.”
“Wiley, where did they go?” Erin was getting excited with this news.
“First person went off down the lawn towards the visitors’ docks and I lost sight of them.”
“And the other?” urged Monica.
“I think that the second person came out the door, around the corner, and then I lost sight of them. Very hard to see with the driving rain.”
***
Sean Porter sat facing both Monica and Erin in Pamela’s office and was visibly nervous. He twisted his baseball cap, tapped his foot and shifted in his chair.
“Something wrong Sean?” asked Monica.
“No, nothing at all. Just not sure why I am here.”
Monica opened her note pad. “Just a few routine questions Sean. We are trying to find out who might have wanted to harm Bertha.”
“Nothing to do with me.”
Monica wrote Sean’s name at the top of her page. “Fine, then you have nothing to worry about. Now, what was your relationship with Bertha?”
“Relationship? What do you mean by that? There was no relationship.”
“I don’t mean in a romantic sense Sean. I meant how did the two of you get on as resort employees?”
“Ok, I guess. I never had much to do with her. Only the kitchen staff were allowed in the kitchen, so we never saw much of each other.”
Erin stepped in with a question. “What happened when something needed fixing around the resort? Was that one of your jobs?”
“Ya, I guess so.”
“So, if the stove stopped working, or a kitchen cupboard needed repair then you’d be called in to help out,” suggested Erin.
“Yes.”
“So, you did actually get to go in the kitchen from time to time.”
“Yes, but not often and when I did that battle axe, I mean the chef Bertha, watched me every second. Just about drove me mad at times.”
“Sean, we found this photo in the back of Bertha’s cookbook. Can you tell us who is in the photo?” said Monica showing Sean the picture.
Sean looked at the photo and his face went white.
“No idea.”
“That’s you isn’t it Sean, and that looks like Sally from the front desk. But Pamela told us you have a fiancé named Alison,” said Monica tapping her pen.
Sean was so agitated he stood up and walked over to the office window. Monica glanced nervously at Erin. Finally, he mumbled, “Ok, ok. It was a mistake. A slip up.”
“Who is the woman Sean?” asked Erin watching his face.
“It’s Sally, the receptionist. We were engaged once, years ago, but we split up. She stayed on the mainland and I moved here to Indian Island. A month or so ago she showed up here. She had applied for a job here as office assistant, got the job and said she wanted me back. Alison, my fiancée, and I hadn’t been getting on well together. I was tempted.”
“So, Bertha happened to see the two of you together and took the photo. Erin and I think she was blackmailing you.”
“Yes, the old witch sure was. If I didn’t go along with things, then a good-looking future would go down the drain.”
“So why,” asked Erin, “did Bertha care what went on between you and Alison?”
“Alison was very special to Bertha. Alison was hired a few years back to help out in the kitchen. She was really interested in cooking and Bertha took a shine to her and they spent hours together. Bertha taught her how to make all kinds of special European desserts. I think Alison was the closest thing Bertha had to a daughter. They continued their friendship and Bertha was very protective towards her. Bertha showed me the photo and said if I ever stepped out of line again, she’d tell Alison about Sally.”
“Sean, what does Alison do?”
“She works at Harris Gardening and Landscaping. It’s the only place like it on the island and they are always busy. It’s worth a fortune.”
“So possibly with your experience in gardening and landscaping you might be able to get a job there too, one day?” suggested Monica.
“Get a job? More than that. Alison’s father owns the place and he has made it clear that down the road he will be handing the company reins over to me. There is no way I wanted Bertha to ruin that.”
“Pretty good motive for murder though Sean. Doesn’t look good does it?” Monica wrote ‘motive’ on her piece of paper.
“Do you really think I’d put all that on the line?”
“Maybe.”
Erin poured herself a glass of water from a jug and asked, “Now what we need to know is what you were doing between 7:00 and 8:30 pm on Thursday night. Were you at home with Alison or on a date with her? We can always ask her.”
Sean put his face in his hands and shook his head.
“Sean,” urged Monica.
“You got tempted again, didn’t you Sean?” suggested Erin. “Was it Sally this time?”
“Yes. After I helped dock the boat you two came in on, I was going to go home. She said I would be crazy to ride my four-wheeler back home in the storm. She invited me over to her cabin and we ended up in bed again. I was at her place from 5:30 pm that night until the next morning. I wish I could turn back time.”
“We’ll have to ask Sally to corroborate your story Sean. You know that, don’t you?” counselled Erin.
“Yes, but I am begging you, please don’t involve Alison. She is a good person and she doesn’t need to know.”
“We’ll do our best, but no promises. Now, one last thing.” Monica took her time getting up and staring him down, letting her full height punctuate her question. “Do you know any of the guests staying here on a personal level or as a friend?”
Sean shook his head but couldn’t look Monica in the eye. “Can’t say that I do. I have never met any of them before in my life.”
When the door closed behind Sean, Monica faced Erin. “Another liar,” she said, making a note on her pad of paper. “Sean and Adrian, what is it with you two guys?”
