AMBER BOFFIN

LETHALLY RIPE

Maggie Flanagan Cozy Mystery

Number Two

AVENOAK

Text © 2018 Amber Boffin

Cover Illustration by Steve Thomas

www.stevethomasart.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN (print):  978-1-7751028-3-0

(digital): 978-1-7751028-2-3

Avenoak

505 Hwy. 118 West

Suite 420

Bracebridge, ON P1L2G7

Canada

First Edition

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

About the Author

Chapter One

Maggie lay down in her canoe to get as close as she could to the water level and looked through her long lens. The little drops of water on the plumage of the loon family appeared like gemstones in the soft morning light. The father presented a large fish to one of its puzzled young.

Maggie propped herself up onto her elbows to steady the camera, ignoring the approaching engine sound. Canoes had priority over motor-powered vessels, and no one would prevent her from getting the perfect shot.

She whispered as she was about to press the trigger, “It’s too big…”

Her boat rocked under the force, crushing it with an eerie sound. She was thrust out of it like a rag doll.

“No!” Maggie cried as she fell into the water with a loud splash. Miraculously, she had managed to keep her arm up, barely holding her camera out of it. The water was warm enough to allow her to catch her breath with ease.

She grabbed the rim of her canoe, slowly pulled herself up with one arm, and peered over the side. An aluminum fishing boat was lodged into the bow of her canoe, the engine still running. No one was on board. A fishing rod jiggled in its stand, its tip arched under the tension of the line. Removing her wet curls from her face, she heard a loud voice with a British accent.

“Damn it. If I catch the bugger!”

The sound came from an egg-shaped object that bobbed up and down like a buoy catching the sunlight. Unable to see what it was, she lifted herself above the side of the fishing boat with one kick of her legs.

A wrinkled man’s face, his eyes magnified by his glasses, confronted Maggie. His skin turned red. A flap of hair meant to hide his bald patch was glued to his cheek, its tip in his mouth.

Worried by the sight of this angry man seemingly on the verge of a heart attack, Maggie whispered, “Are you okay?”

She dropped her camera into the fisherman’s boat and then swam to his side as fast as she could.

“No, I’m not okay, can’t you be careful! And this—”

The man tugged hard at the rod with both hands, rocking the boat dangerously in the process. Maggie barely managed to counterbalance his movements. She attempted to steady the boat while reaching out to him. He nearly poked her eye with the rod before he shoved it into her outstretched hand.

In contrast to his earlier tone, he said, “Be a dear, hold it tight. Don’t let go of it, whatever happens.”

Maggie looked at him in bewilderment as he floated around to the back of his boat, his lifejacket pushing his cheeks upward. The image of a turtle with its head tucked in flashed through her mind. He flopped into the fishing boat.

She glanced at her canoe. The only visible part was its metal prow as it disappeared, leaving a large bubble on the surface. Her heart sank at the loss of her boat.

She had automatically grabbed the rod. She let go a little and felt a heavy pull that dragged her down into the water. Her fear turned to anger as she resurfaced. “You could’ve got us killed! For what? Pfff…”

A strange smell emanated from the direction of whatever was weighing down the line. Water dripped over her from above. She looked up just in time to see the old man reaching out for the rod. He yanked it out of her hand with surprising strength. “Got it, easy does it…”

“Be careful. You fish like a—luna—” Not sure of the type of person she was dealing with, she finished with, “—loon.”

She slapped the water surface with her hand in anger.

The man looked down at her as if he only now realized what had happened. After having secured his precious rod into its holder, the line still taut, he smiled. “My dear, let me help you. So sorry. Give me your hand.”

A stick-like arm stretched out to her. She wasn’t sure its muscles would be enough to pull her out of the water, yet his hand appeared strong, ready to grip her. It had been used often, judging by the calluses and coarse skin. In doubt and after one last glance at where her canoe had sunk, she replied, “I’m fine, I can swim to the ladder.”

As soon as she climbed into the boat, the wind wrapped itself around her. A shiver ran down her back. Had she been in the water that long? The summer sun no longer shone on them, the boat having drifted into the shade. She faced the man in front of her and said, “Take off your clothes—”

Before she could explain, the man beamed with a naughty twinkle in his eyes. “What? I’m not a spring chicken, but if you say so, right away.”

Maggie ran her hands along her T-shirt, pulling it away from her body. Instinctively, she looked around for something to cover herself with. Her eyes fell on a woolen blanket that lay on the chair. Seizing it, she glanced at the old man, hunched forward as if he had shrunk with the cold.

She rushed to his side. “Hypothermia. You’re all wet. You need to put something dry on quickly.”

She unfastened his life jacket as fast as she could. His grin was still there, as if frozen in time. He appeared taller than a minute ago. She put the blanket around his shoulders and gently pushed him into his chair. He was like a chameleon. One minute he appeared strong, the next about to crumple. How old was he?

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she didn’t want him to get any funny ideas either. She looked away from his intense gaze. “You…” Not finding any other way to say it, she blurted out, “Get on with it. Take your shirt off; the blanket is dry.”

She swiveled his chair around so that he no longer faced her. The image of his bushy eyebrows arched up and his mischievous smile stuck to her mind. His suave voice reached her ears.

“What about you? Take the blanket, I’m a gentleman.” His voice lowered, now barely audible to her. “That is, until I’m alone with a lady.” He chuckled and cleared his throat as he stood up, looking to where Maggie’s boat should have been. “Oh no. Your canoe. It must have sunk into the mud by now. It’s deep here. I’ll replace it. Please…”

With a distraught face, he put the blanket around Maggie’s shoulders. Aware of the puddles of water around her feet, she swung the blanket back around his shoulders. Worried that they might sink, she inspected the hull for any holes.

“Your boat seems okay, only minor damage.”

The urge to break loose from the uncomfortable situation made her pull the rope to ignite the engine. A black cloud briefly blinded her.

The man stumbled across, rocking the tin can, to the engine. “Let me…she can be stubborn.”

After talking to it, he pulled the string with one hand. The engine came to life with a loud rattle.

“My house is just over there.” He pointed to the island in the middle of the lake.

She hesitated to insist on him dropping her off at her place. One look at the island was enough to change her mind. She had heard all kinds of rumors about an eccentric couple living there, and this would be the opportunity to check the gossip and prove the villagers wrong.

Tall pine trees hid most of the wooden cottage. The entrance was visible at the end of a gravel path. A screened gazebo stood alongside the shore, leading to a large dock decorated with geraniums. A pair of red Bear chairs faced the lake.

Maggie often canoed around the island. She had spotted a man on his dock with a paper in his hands as soon as the weather was nice and had wondered who he was. What was his life story? She suspected him of being one of the local gossips—if not a talking one, then an observing one. Nothing would escape him.

One time, she had caught sight of an old silver Morgan sports car gleaming under the sunrays through an open shed door. She had never seen it again or seen the shed door open. She must have imagined it. Who would want a car on a tiny island?

What a strange little man, thought Maggie. In some way he’s a gentleman. His accent sounds British, but I hear other intonations…not Canadian, though.

As he twisted the throttle of the handgrip, the boat jerked forward, and the fishing rod flew up into the air like a whip. Maggie caught it just before it would have landed on his head.

He stopped the engine. “Forgot about that.”

“Just cut the line.” As she said those words, she thought of the poor fish that must be on its hook. “I’ll release it. Although by now it can’t have survived.”

He shook his head. “Not a fish.”

“What?”

“I’ve no idea what it is.”

Maggie’s curiosity was piqued. She moved to the back to look for herself. The stench once again filled her nostrils. Eager to distance herself from whatever was in the water, she turned her head to take a deep breath, her eyes falling on his face. “Your lips are blue. Now you’re really getting hypothermia. I’ll cut this line myself!”

“No. No.” A chilly hand landed gently on her wrist. “I can handle the cold; it wakes me up.” Maggie raised her eyebrows. He continued, “I’m used to it. Besides, our accident has to be worth it. Hold on tight.”

The engine roared. Maggie barely steadied herself, holding the rod with one hand and the side of the boat with the other. A thin flap of hair floated in the wind before it disappeared under his wet hat. With a straight back and a smile, he no longer looked like the frail old man, if he ever had been one… Who was he? In the commotion, she hadn’t even asked his name.

Chapter Two

Within a few minutes, they were docked alongside the geraniums. An elderly woman ran out, waving her hands franticly. Her demeanor looked angrier than worried as she marched toward them. It had to be hard to live with a husband’s obsession with fish, let alone the smell.

“Arthur, Arthur! You’re late. I gave your bacon to the dog.” Her eyes softened as he apologized profusely. She sighed. “You know you worry me when you do that. But—”

Arthur’s head dropped. With a pout, he stared at his shoes, water dripping from his hat down the tip of his nose to the ground. Stepping into the puddle created by him, she tenderly touched his shoulder.

“You’re soaking wet!” Her nose seemed to twitch as she turned to Maggie. “Oh, you too, my love. Come in before you catch pneumonia.”

Arthur signaled to Maggie with his head to follow his wife. With a limp, she guided Maggie along a narrow path lined with towering pines and orange ditch lilies to a little green cottage. She wiped her hands on her apron, creating a small cloud of flour. Her white hair was cut in a neat bob. She stopped short and swiveled in her sheep slippers.

Maggie grabbed her shoulders with both hands. “Sorry.”

She looked over Maggie’s shoulder toward the boat. Arthur was back in it, pulling the line of the fishing rod. She shook her head. Maggie put her hands to her ears as she called out, “Aaaaarthur.”

Maggie would have never guessed that such a voice that echoed across the lake could have belonged to this little woman. It was effective. Arthur climbed out of the boat and dragged his feet toward them. He kept looking over his shoulder as if he expected something to happen.

The woman gestured to Maggie to follow her inside. “Quick, quick. In you go. I’ll get you a warm dressing gown while you take off your clothes.” She pushed open the door of a tiny bathroom. “In here.”

An old-fashioned bathtub, its metal soap holder sitting across its center, stood in front of a window. It was spotless. On the corner of the windowsill, a fresh bouquet of wildflowers gave off a sweet aroma. A neatly folded towel lay next to the sink, with the letters A and R embroidered in blue.

Warmed up, Maggie stared at the mirror. A doll with pink cheeks, curly red hair, and in a frilly pink dressing gown stared back at her with round green eyes. She burst out laughing and thought, Definitely not my style.

She heard voices from what must be the living room. She nearly tripped on a little dachshund that darted across the corridor with a sausage in its mouth. She walked toward the voices. Arthur and his wife were arguing next to a table decked with a mouth-watering breakfast.

“No sausage for you either. This poor girl. What have you done to her? Not again.”

“Nothing. We just had an accident. Not my fault. It’s this thing—” Arthur stopped short when Maggie entered the room.

For a split second, Maggie scanned the couple for any signs of malevolence. Unable to sense anything other than warmth and confusion, she smiled. “It was an accident. Neither of us was looking at where we were going. No harm done—” she chuckled “—aside from my canoe.”

The old lady turned to Arthur. “What happened? Out with it.” Without waiting for an answer, she stepped toward Maggie, her hand outstretched. “I’m sorry, so impolite of me. I’m Bettie. You’ve already met my husband, Arthur. Notorious for getting into trouble.”

“Maggie.” She pointed a finger at the doorway. “I live on that side of the lake. I used to canoe around your island when I was little and still do. I never saw you back then.”

Bettie laughed, and having told Maggie her clothes were drying, she invited them to sit around the table. She poured some tea from a pumpkin-shaped teapot and handed over a dish of homemade scones and jam. “That means you’re not a water-skier.”

Discerning hostility in her voice, Maggie wondered what they possibly could have against a bunch of teenagers having fun on the lake. Bettie rose to her feet and picked up a red loudspeaker horn. She shook it. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard him?”

Arthur seemed oblivious to their conversation. He was busy devouring scrambled eggs with toast.

Maggie laughed. “Yes. I heard someone shout the other day but didn’t see anybody in danger on the water. Just Bruno, the young local ski champion, being pulled around. I think I heard another shout yesterday, but my dogs were barking, so I’m not sure.”

“Yes, this…young man water-skis around the island and makes a wave that destroys my geraniums. He does it on purpose. It drives Arthur mad.”

Having finished his plate, Arthur pushed it aside and slipped a small piece of bread to the dog, now sitting up on its hind legs next to him. He tapped his lips with the napkin and slid his plate farther forward. “You make me think…this Bruno will be out now. The lake is calm.” He pushed back the antique chair with a squeak. “I’d better get the thing, whatever it is, out of the water quick. Sorry, ladies…”

Maggie wanted to rush out after him, until she felt the lace of Bettie’s dressing gown.

Bettie sighed. She patted the dog’s head and then tapped her thigh with one hand. The dog leapt onto her lap and settled down for a scratch.

Maggie felt she was back in England in a country cottage. And yet little touches and objects signaled a mix of cultures. Colorful quilts depicting foreign landscapes and buildings hung on the walls. At the back of the room, books and little Olga dolls filled the shelves. A tray full of liquor sat atop a glass cabinet.

Once Bettie had disappeared to the kitchen, Maggie turned around to take a better look at what was inside the cabinet. A collection of little cars, all old toys from the fifties or sixties—or maybe even older—were neatly lined up.

Bettie returned with a fresh pot of tea. “You’ve spotted Arthur’s collection. Can you believe it, he wanted to turn the island into a museum of real old-timers.”

Maggie imagined for a moment the community of Foxton and summer cottagers visiting the island with their canoes. It would certainly attract a crowd. The image of Arthur standing next to his cars brought her back to the boat and what was at the end of the line. She had to find out what it was before he hid it away.

The sound of a door slamming shut was soon followed by footsteps. Arthur poked his head into the dining room. “I need your help, Maggie. Leave Tinker here. I don’t want him to get at it first.” He gently pushed the dog away.

“Is it really urgent? If it’s one of your fish again... Maggie’s clothes aren’t dry yet,” Bettie said, clearing up the table.

“Yes, it is. And I don’t think it’s a fish, but it stinks. I can tell you that. It’s also very heavy,” Arthur said, already making his way out.

“Shouldn’t you call the police then?” Maggie asked, thinking of the body she had found in her beaver dam.

“No. I don’t like anyone sniffing into my affairs, especially not them.”

All three walked down to the dock just in time for Bruno to drive his boat at full speed around the island. A wave rocked Arthur’s boat against the dock and crashed onto the shore. Arthur pursed his lips. “If it’s gone, I’ll get you!”

Bruno, his golden hair brushed back by the wind, made a second pass at a slower pace. He waved. “Hey, old geezer, how’s it going?”

It was the first time Maggie had caught a close look at Bruno. He worked at the local marina in the summer. He was often out in a speedboat, usually with a girl at the end of the water-skiing rope. Other times he would show off his barefoot water-skiing skills or do donuts with a Sea-Doo in the middle of the lake. He seemed to be popular, given the crowd he always had with him.

Arthur ignored him. Having checked the fishing line, he walked to a run-down boathouse and pulled out an old harpoon. Its size puzzled Maggie. Why would he need such a big one for the type of fish found in the lake? Better suited for a whale or for a body… She shivered at the thought.

She waved at Bruno in response to his salute. Instead of a wave back or a smile, he replied, “Nice pink robe, eh, cool, my grandma wears one like that.”

Maggie tucked her hands into the bathrobe’s pockets. Bruno was a speck on the lake before she could think of an appropriate response. Her eyes fell onto a dark mass bobbing up and down with the waves.

Maggie and Arthur tugged with all their strength until a black object lay dripping on the dock.

Maggie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God…what’s that?”

Bettie, who had been looking over their shoulders all the while, pinched her nose with her fingers and ran away.

Arthur looked rejuvenated, his eyes twinkling as he gingerly unwrapped the large object. Maggie tried to breathe through her mouth. The more he peeled off the black plastic around it, the stronger the smell became. Maggie put a hand on his arm. “Stop. What if it’s a dead animal or a body?”

To her surprise, Arthur burst out laughing. She was perplexed. Fear gripped her. She could use the boat to escape or just shout for help; Bruno might return. She settled for a swim—she would just jump in the water. She had swum the distance before, from the island to her home.

Arthur waved a hand at Bettie. “Bettie! Over here! Your dream comes true.”

Bettie reappeared, clasping a handful of mint leaves under her nose. “What did you say?”

Arthur unwrapped the object. “Look! Good old Stilton. No need to smuggle it through customs.” Back on his feet, he pointed to the creamy white mass in front of them with both palms facing upward. “Now here it is.”

Bettie tucked the mint into her pocket. “English and French cheeses are so expensive here for just a mouthful. We never buy them…”

Arthur waved his hands above the cheese as if he were trying to direct its aroma to his nose. He breathed in deeply. “Yes, definitely the real thing.”

Bettie lifted her eyes to the sky. “Arthur, you don’t mean to…do you?”

Chapter Three

Maggie stared at the heap in front of her. Was this some kind of joke? Was it really cheese, as Arthur seemed to think it was? If that was the case, what was it doing there? It had been wrapped carefully to withstand submersion, as far as she could see. Why?

There must be something else hidden in it. It made no sense to go to such trouble for cheese. She knelt down to inspect it, braving the smell.

Arthur looked down on her, his hands on his hips. “Yup, good old cheese. A little ripe, but I reckon I can still find a nice piece in there.”

Maggie looked up at his cheerful face. “No! It could be poisoned. I think you should mention it to the police, at least to Raj if you don’t like the sergeant, which I can understand. He can be—difficult—if you see what I mean.”

“For once I find a treasure.” Arthur raised his chin in sulking protest. “And cheeses are like men, the more they ripen, the better—”

“Treasure? Jeez, it’s only cheese, and there’s a point when it’s too ripe for consumption…” Maggie tentatively poked her finger into the gooey mass. “That is, if it is cheese.” She lifted her finger to her nose. “Pouuuuuah! Who would want to eat this stuff anyway?”

Arthur shook his head. “It isn’t about the smell. The taste, my dear, the taste. With a nice bottle of wine…there you have it.” As if woken up from a dream, he perked up. “Let’s bring it in—it could be worth a lot!”

“Come on. Stop pulling my leg.” Maggie got up, eager to head back to the house to change her outfit.

“That is an insult. I know my Stilton cheese; its aroma can’t fool me.” Arthur stared into the void and smiled. “It brings me back to my childhood on the farm in Dorset.”

He wrapped the cheese back in its black plastic and secured it with the rope then uncurled his body and put his hands on the small of his back. He tugged at the rope in an attempt to drag the parcel, without any success.

Maggie shook her head. Now I see what the villagers might have meant by eccentric. She grabbed hold of the rope.

Between the two of them, they hauled the cheese up the path toward the house. In the side window of the entrance door, a pair of brown ears lifted up into the air then disappeared behind the wooden frame.

The door opened wide, revealing Bettie. Tinker darted out and circled the parcel. He barked furiously at it, as if it were alive.

Bettie shook a thin finger. “I knew it. No. It is not coming in.” Arthur pouted. “Even if you believe it’s Stilton. And that is that.”

Before Maggie could intervene, Arthur had a little chunk of the so-called cheese on the tip of a knife.

He walked triumphantly to his wife and waved it under her nose. “You remember?”

Bettie squinted as she carefully took the knife from him. She fumbled with her spectacles hanging on a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose. After looking at it from all angles, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

This is insane. For a moment, Maggie hovered in her mind over the scene, as if in a drone. She saw herself in her pink dressing gown, as crazy as the old geezers. If Adam could see them, he would have a fit of laughter. Thankfully, no one else was around.

She stared at Bettie then at Arthur in dismay. Maggie gasped. Had he really put the piece in his mouth? A wave of uncontrollable giggles forced her to sit down.

Between her tears, Maggie tried to say, “Stop—it could be poisonous—hee hee.”

Bettie had now joined in the giggling, followed by Arthur. A very excited Tinker, eager to take part in the fun, wove between their legs and jumped on Maggie’s lap.

Regaining her composure, Maggie studied Arthur. He seemed to have swallowed the cheese without choking and was laughing like a young boy. Bettie held on to his arm with one hand and to her cheeks with another. “Stop, my cheeks hurt.”

“I’ve not had such a laugh in a long time. Oh, that was nice.” Arthur took off his glasses. He leaned on his thighs and coughed as he bent forward.

Maggie sprang up and put a hand on his back. “Oh no…are you okay?” She tapped on his back. “Call 9-1-1.”

Bettie’s face fell like a stone. Deep furrows around the mouth replaced the smile of youth.

Arthur straightened up and with a burp said, “No, no need. It’s a bit too ripe. Like me. What a pity.” He looked down at the cheese and then with a twinkle in his eye at Maggie said, “Do you want to try some?”

“Enough. This is nuts. Jokes aside, there must be some explanation.” Maggie thought for a moment, her hands on her hips as she faced the pair. “You knew all the time what it was. How come you know so much about Stilton?”

Bettie and Arthur stared back at her, shaking their heads.

“Honestly, I didn’t know. Yes, I know cheese. I used to help my grandfather make Stilton, as it happens.”

“Then why did you ask Bettie if she remembered?” Maggie asked.

“Oh yes, I do remember, Arthur, she’s right…” Bettie looked at Arthur with love in her eyes, and then turned to Maggie. “It was the first picnic we had together. And for some reason, one of the bags with the food had fallen off his motorbike before we reached our spot under the tree.”

Arthur added, “I didn’t notice it. Thankfully, the other bag with the blanket and the cheese were still there. Imagine, for a first date. I was lucky she liked cheese!” He wrapped his arm around Bettie’s shoulder and squeezed her gently. “Or at least that’s what she said.”

“I do, old fool, I still do.” Bettie planted a kiss on his cheek.

Maggie had to believe them. It all seemed so unrealistic that it must be true. Dressed again in her own clothing, she sat in the boat with Arthur on her way home. She had made sure the cheese was securely locked in the shed and had taken a small piece just in case something happened to Arthur. She observed him all the way for signs of poisoning.

Adam, her good friend and the local game warden, would be able to shed some light on the smelly business. Was it contraband? Was the innocent-looking old couple just a cover? Who were they?

Chapter Four

It was a gorgeous summer day. The wind was picking up. Maggie waved to her neighbor when Arthur dropped her off at her private dock. A few houses away, a cottager in his checkered pajamas, having escaped the city for a weekend at his second home, kept his hands in his pockets. He was motionless, like the heron Maggie saw every morning on her shore.

Maggie knew the cottage country code. A little wave was fine to acknowledge, but knowing when to engage in a neighborly chat and when not to was part of living at a lake. Morning was sacred. It was the time to share fishing with the kids while waiting for the toast to set off the fire alarm to signal that breakfast was ready.

The sight of a Labrador jumping into the water reminded her of her two naughty abandoned dogs she had sworn not to adopt. Carrot, the Irish setter, and Beans, the little terrier, had simply won her heart. She rushed back to the house to let them out.

Excited to see her, they barked, rolled, and jumped up her legs. Beans kept jumping toward a pocket in her shorts. Maggie smiled down at her and tucked her hand in it, thinking she was after one of the treats she always kept on her.

Instead, she felt a bag with something soft in it. No sooner had she pulled it out than the unmistakable aroma surrounded her again. She rushed to the fridge to put it into a box and lock the smell away from her offended nostrils.

Before she could share her morning’s adventure, she had a more pressing matter to deal with. Without a canoe, she had to find another boat for the regatta tomorrow. Where am I going to get a canoe now? They must all be rented out or sold out because of the event, she thought. Maybe I can retrieve it from the lake, but I’ll need help to get it out of the water.

The lake association had commissioned her to take pictures of the event. Her photography business was slowly picking up. Summer was the most important season, with the seasonal cottagers swelling the number of Foxton residents. She had to make the most of it.

The regatta would be ideal to make new contacts and perhaps get some photography work. The prizes would be handed out at the Horizon Cafe. It was always packed in the summer, with people arriving by boat, on foot, or by car all day and late into the night.

Maggie pondered whether she had enough prints of the local wildlife and lake scenes. Heidi, the owner of the cafe, would be selling some during the regatta evening. Interrupted by the barks of her dogs, she looked up through the bow window to the lake.

She picked up her binoculars to see what the dogs were barking at. It was Arthur, in his fishing boat, pulling a canoe behind it.

Maggie raced out to greet him. Beans had already jumped on board and was, with intense assiduity, sniffing Arthur’s trousers. Maggie tried calling her, to no avail.

Arthur bent down to stroke Beans’s head. “It must be Tinker she smells. Don’t worry, I like dogs.”

She smiled at the thought of the little sausage dog. Arthur pulled in the old wooden canoe by its cord and handed her the rope solemnly as if it were a lead with a dog at its end. “She’s yours. To replace the one I destroyed…”

It seemed hand-carved, a rarity nowadays. Maggie felt uneasy. It must be worth a lot more than the one she had. Although she needed a canoe and liked the look of it, the idea of lifting it on her own, together with its maintenance, made her stare at it, speechless.

“I don’t use it anymore. That way we’re settled,” Arthur insisted with a smile.

Maggie bit her lip. How could she refuse? She couldn’t blame him entirely for the accident; after all, she hadn’t seen his boat. The looming regatta gave her the nudge she needed. This would solve her canoe problem, which would allow her to have her scheduled flying lesson today. She had already postponed two lessons because of thunderstorms. The summer was short to pack in all the lessons she needed for her goal of her first solo flight in autumn.

To Maggie’s surprise, Arthur started his engine. Afraid he would just go away, she said, “Yes, thank you! You saved my day because I need to be at the regatta tomorrow taking pictures…but it’s only on loan until I pull mine out of the lake.”

“Good. Oh, and to keep it afloat, you just need to make sure it doesn’t dry out. One sunken canoe is enough for now. I doubt you’ll get the other one out of the lake. If you don’t, I mean it when I say you can keep it. Good luck with the regatta!”

Maggie wanted to ask him what he meant by drying out, but he was already far away in the middle of the lake. She tried pulling the canoe up on the dock once he had left to inspect it closely, but it was too heavy.

She didn’t want to drag it over the rocks onto the shore. She would have to devise another way. She tied it to the side of the dock and walked back to the house, counting on a solution to pop up later. Adam would be the type to have used wooden canoes and know how to treat them. Perhaps it would be an excuse to have him over to help her make a canoe lift…or better yet, to help her retrieve her own boat.

Beans and Carrot were playing with each other in the yard until Beans spotted a red squirrel. For some reason, Beans always had the urge to chase them up trees. She would then sit under the tree, waiting for it to move. The longest she had stood guard so far had been an hour.

This was one of those days. Maggie couldn’t move her away from the large maple. The squirrel looked down at them, as if mocking Beans. A little squeak broke the silence. It happened so fast. Beans had a tuft of hair in her mouth; only the stub of the squirrel’s tail remained.

Maggie grasped Beans by the back of her neck, making her drop the tail as she wondered what the rest of the day would have in store for her. “Enough. Bad, bad girl!”

She dragged the little dog by its collar to the house. All the while, Beans looked over her shoulder at the tree, spitting the hairs out of her mouth. Having pushed Beans in, Maggie looked for Carrot. The sound of a propeller approaching caught her attention.

A white floatplane with a red stripe along its side and red wings flew low above the trees and then above the lake before turning around Arthur’s island. Sightseers, thought Maggie.

A bit dazed, she stared at the lake. She had forgotten about Carrot but soon spotted him next to the canoe, sniffing it. Having retrieved the second dog, Maggie only now noticed that there was no paddle in the boat. She had lost hers during the accident, and it would take some time to find it; it could have drifted anywhere on the lake.

She drove by the marina to pick up a paddle on her way to the airfield. Bruno stood behind the counter, sporting long shorts with flowers and a tank top. No doubt he wanted to highlight his muscles.

Bruno pointed to a rack of state-of-the-art paddles. “Here. Great paddles. Very light. They sell like crazy.”

“I was thinking of a wooden one.”

“Gotcha.” Bruno held up one of the light paddles then let it rest on the counter as if her message had only just reached him. “Like, an old heavy one?”

“Eh, yes. Well, a new wooden one would do.”

“Gotcha. Dunno if we still have those. I’ll check at the back. You were on the island this morning?” Maggie nodded. “You look different…” He ran his eyes along her in a critical fashion.

Feeling a little irritated, she asked, “Why did you splash Arthur’s dock with your boat?”

“Me?” Bruno looked behind himself then pointed a finger to his chest. “No way.” He shook his head vigorously and put the light paddle away. “A wooden paddle then…”

Without waiting for a response from Maggie, he walked through the beaded door to the back of the shop. Maggie could hear the shuffle of his dragging feet. She heard paddles fall and large objects being moved, followed by Bruno’s loud voice.

“Holy crap!” It was followed by fast flip-flop running sounds that disappeared in the distance and a faint “no way.”

Then it all went quiet.

Chapter Five

Maggie waited patiently behind the till for Bruno to return. The time ticked slowly away on a large digital clock above the door. She was torn between waiting for her paddle and leaving to be on time for her flying lesson. Her curiosity prevailed.

A shuffling sound followed by the voice of Gi, the Korean owner of the marina, reached her ears. “Bruno. Call the police. Now. I’ll deal with the customer.”

Gi walked with a bent head through the beads dangling in the doorframe. He looked pale and had lost his usual cheerful demeanor. She looked at him inquisitively, waiting for him to speak. He shook his head, standing with his hands spread on the counter.

He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Maggie, we’ve got to close shop. Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Is everything okay? Can I help?” Maggie asked, worried.

Gi looked over his shoulder with fear in his eyes, and then, regaining his composure replied, “Yes, all fine. You go. All fine.”

She retreated reluctantly. Gi followed close behind, their steps in lock. He closed the glass door behind her and turned the “open” sign to the closed side. She walked to her blue truck and stopped to take another look at the marina.

The docks were empty, aside from a few seagulls sunning themselves. The cutout silhouette of Bruno against the sun caught her eye. With both hands in his hair, he appeared to stare at a winter-wrapped pontoon boat just outside the workshop of the marina.

Maggie walked back a few steps to get a better look, but to no avail. The marina building was blocking her view of the boat.

The sound of police sirens grew louder. It must be serious then. Both Sergeant Humphries and Raj Gupta, his constable, arrived in separate cars. Maggie waited, leaning her back against her car just in case she could help in any way.

Sergeant Humphries stormed out of his seat. He pulled up his trousers and covered his bald head with his cap. He marched toward the marina building. It was as if his belly were taking him for a walk, not the other way round. He grumbled as he passed in front of Maggie, “You here? Again. It’s a police matter. The marina is closed, so it’s best you leave.”

Maggie tried to understand why he had used the word again, and the only thing she could think of was the time she had found a dead body herself. She put her hand to her mouth.

Raj, the young constable and also her friend, waved as he ran behind the sergeant. He stopped short in front of her.

Catching his breath, he said, “You’d better go. It’s not safe for you.”

“But…”

“Someone died, that’s all I can say. I don’t want you involved in this. Remember what happened last time? With the real estate agent?”

Maggie saw in Raj’s chocolate eyes that he meant every word. She nodded and climbed into her truck, adjusting her cushion to see above the steering wheel, the seat being too low for her five feet.

She had been on the suspect list for the murder of Fiona, the real estate agent. Her presence at the scene of the death had been a reason for it, together with suspicions raised by Tina Partridge, the Daily Stumble journalist.

As Maggie drove off and headed for the airfield, she couldn’t help peering into the rear-view mirror. She shuddered. Maybe someone just drowned. It sounds horrible, but at least it isn’t a murder. I hope. But why do I have the feeling it is? There was no body at the docks. Maybe they had already carried the person to the marina, next to the boat, to do CPR.

Maggie pulled over onto the vast parking lot of the airfield behind the tall chain-link fence. The training Cessna plane was already out on the tarmac, ready for the lesson. Reverend John Smithers, her flying instructor, his head distinctive with his electric blue cap, was at the window of the control tower, no doubt waiting for her.

Inside the hangar, the yellow two-seater plane she had inherited from her father had its engine hood open. She dreamed of flying it one day. Barrie, the local mechanic and genius with engines, was nowhere to be seen. He had promised he would spend his Saturdays repairing it for her. Perhaps he was inside having a coffee break.

Maggie felt a gush of relief at the sight of John’s friendly figure beside a large table covered in maps. He emanated peace and calm. Some people just seemed to have a tranquility about them that was contagious. She unloaded her bag with her study books on the cloth chair and sighed.

“Hey, Maggie. How’s it going? You look a little roughed up. Anything the matter?” John asked with a smile that metamorphosed into a concerned look.

“Sorry I’m late. It’s just I can’t stop thinking of what happened.” Feeling John’s heavy hand on her shoulder, she added, “Nothing wrong with me. Although I did have an accident this morning, but I only got a little wet. No harm. It’s what happened at the marina I’m worried about.”

John pulled out another chair and poured a glass of water. He sat in front of her. “Take it easy. I’ve got time, the lesson can wait. Besides, in your state it isn’t wise for you to fly. What’s it all about?”

Maggie sipped her water and recounted her morning, working her way back from the marina to the accident with Arthur. John was a very good listener.

He leaned forward in his chair toward Maggie, rubbing his chin. “I don’t see how you could’ve helped at the marina. I’m sure we’ll hear about it. People exaggerate.”

“Yes, but if someone did die…”

“Yes, I hear you. That’s why you couldn’t have helped—it was too late. Aside from praying, of course.”

“You’re right. Tomorrow the regatta starts at the marina. I wonder if this will affect it. Maybe I’ll have a look there later today.”

“Maybe you should keep out of it—just this time. Right?”

John’s eyes pierced her like her father’s would when he was worried for her. Maggie nodded reluctantly and pulled out her logbook, fearing she had gone too far in unloading her concerns on him, although he must be used to it.

“Right, I’m ready. I’m fine. I assure you I’m relaxed to fly now. Speaking helped me rationalize everything.”

John looked at her sideways.

“I can do the ground check of the plane. I’ve also studied some of the radio communication.”

Maggie waited for him with her bag on her shoulder.

Having scrutinized her for a moment, John picked up a little clipboard with his lesson schedule. “Sounds good. Let’s check it right away then.”

They walked out the wood-framed doors, down the steps of the watchtower toward the plane. A loud engine sound forced them to stop talking. A red-winged floatplane, having landed on the water, was taxiing toward the airfield dock next to the fuel station.

The airfield had been built north of Foxton at a lake that wasn’t linked to the chain of lakes to avoid interfering with the water activities of the villagers. The pilots, vacationing at the chain of lakes, preferred mooring their plane at their dock, a privilege they cherished.

“I saw that plane this morning over the lake with its red line across the side. Funny. Do you know the pilot?”

John shook his head. “No, I’ve seen it around, but it’s not always the same person flying it. They keep themselves to themselves, if you know what I mean.”

“I guess not everyone likes plane gossip. I can understand that.” Maggie attempted to see who was sitting in it, only to see the vague form of someone with a cap and large sunglasses. “What plane is it? It looks like an old model.”

“A Turbo Beaver from de Havilland Aircraft Company of Canada. It’s the plane I learned to fly in. Very reliable. It’s known as the ‘workhorse of the north.’”

“I like the design. Reminds me of planes drawn in comics from the fifties. Do they still make them?”

“No, a real shame, they stopped producing them in 1967, but they’re still used today.”

They walked around the training plane to the pilot’s door. John tucked his clipboard against his chest with both arms crossed. “Go ahead, I’ll just watch what you do. Make sure you say aloud all what you’re thinking and doing. If I don’t say anything, it means I’m fine with it.”

Maggie did her plane inspection as if she were a Japanese bullet train driver, announcing every move and pointing to the object of focus before she touched anything. The only missing element was a pair of white gloves. She thought she might use the Japanese method for her first solo flight to reassure herself and prevent errors. She climbed into the plane and kept her focus in spite of two people stepping out of the floatplane who proceeded to unload boxes onto dollies.

John fastened his seatbelt and pinched his trousers on his thighs as he settled in the chair. “Well done, we’re ready to go. I had initially planned some stalling practice, but given your state of mind today, visual navigation is better.”

Maggie turned to him. “Can—”

John laughed. “No, we’re not flying over the marina. I’m starting to know you a little.”

Maggie felt flustered to be found out. “I wasn’t going to suggest that. I was hoping to fly over Algonquin Park.”

“Yes, yes…sure. Well, no. This time it will be building landmarks and roads, so we’re heading south.”

Maggie focused on the task and cleared her mind of any irrelevant thought. They were back on the tarmac before she knew it. It had all gone by so fast. She always had that feeling when she was flying.

She glanced toward the hangar. Her yellow plane still seemed untouched. “Have you seen Barrie? He was supposed to work on my plane.”

“This morning briefly, and then Raj’s wife, Indira, came over and they left together. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Oh,” Maggie replied as she thought about how strange that was. Mm, I’ll just ask him. She quickly added, “Thanks for the lesson. See you next week then.”

*

Maggie planned the rest of the day on her way home. She would borrow a paddle from the Millers at Moose Lodge. They always had many lying around for their guests, and the lodge was close by. She would resist any temptation to check on the marina and would instead prepare her photo shoot of the regatta.

She had the layout of the race, but she needed to think of the sun’s orientation to get the best pictures and figure out her position. She wanted to shoot the race from a participant’s perspective while not getting in their way.

To capture the atmosphere of the race, she hoped to take photos of the competitors gearing up for it. For that she would go to the marina early. She would have to paddle all the way from her home on Otter Lake past the small Deep Lake and via King Fisher Narrows to the head of Perch Lake, where Foxton harbor lay.

A number of boats were to be launched from the harbor, while others would join from the chain of lakes. The marina was located in the harbor just next to the Horizon Cafe.

Before heading to bed, she checked her emails and saw a message from the chairman of the lake association. Change of plan. The start of race will be from the Horizon Cafe and its boat launch. The boats moored in the harbor will be allowed to participate, no other boat stationed at the marina will. And that was it, no other information. It was too late to inquire.

That night, Maggie tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get comfortable.

Chapter Six

The regatta was not due to start until ten o’clock, but Maggie arrived at the Horizon Cafe at seven to ensure she had enough time to plan her photo shoot before the participants arrived. Heidi would already be in her kitchen, and Maggie would be assured of a delicious cinnamon bun along with her excellent coffee. She parked her car in the lot, empty but for Heidi’s blue van.

The front door was closed. Maggie walked around the terrace to the side entrance of the kitchen. A little splashing sound and a ring on the water’s surface caught her attention. A silver fish jumped out again, shimmering in the morning sun. The lake was like a mirror and so peaceful. The dragonflies were already out patrolling the shore for their breakfast.

A hummingbird flew straight to her and briefly hovered in front of her before darting away. Maggie was wearing a red T-shirt with a picture of a camera and the words Smile, it could be you printed on the front. On the back was a close-up of a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts, and below, in white letters, Maggie’s Photo Booth.

Maggie smiled at the tiny bird. “You’re the first one to notice my new T-shirt. I take it as a good omen.”

The marina incident was still fresh in her mind, so she checked the area for any clue as to what might have happened. Yellow tape surrounded the entire marina parking lot and building, with the exception of the harbor docks and the boat fueling station.

It was police tape. What looked like a forensic tent covered the area next to the marina where Maggie had seen Bruno standing in front of the shrink-wrapped pontoon boat.

Either the boat had been moved, or it was inside the tent. If it was the latter, it must have been the location of the body. In a shrink-wrapped boat? No, someone could have been lying next to it. Or maybe the boat was moved. It was impossible to tell; all the boats looked alike to her when wrapped. She tried to get a better view by shifting onto her toes from the higher point of the terrace. That didn’t help, so she climbed onto a chair.

Behind the tent, a line of paddles was leaning against the building. It had to be where Bruno shouted. He must have seen the dead person, or Gi trying to save someone… Maybe someone had a heart attack next to the boat? But then why did Gi not ask Bruno to call an ambulance instead of the police?

Maggie climbed back down. She couldn’t get rid of the idea that the presence of police tape and tent meant it was suspicious. There was a chance that Sergeant Humphries had been overzealous this time, afraid to mess things up like he had with the politician found in Maggie’s beaver dam.

Although this was the first time Maggie saw a crime scene tent, she couldn’t have mistaken it for a party tent. Her best friend Amy, the forensics expert, had shown her pictures of them in the past. The distressed face of Gi came to her mind. He couldn’t harm anyone. He was such a gentle person.

Before entering the cafe through the kitchen door, she knocked. She could hear the noises of pots and pans banging and someone swearing. She knocked again, louder this time. She slowly opened the door, poking her head inside. “Anyone here? Heidi, it’s Maggie, can I come in?”

Heidi was on her knees, carefully taking scoops off the top of a heap of brown powder and placing it in a large bag next to her. She was covered in it. The smell was sweet and spicy.

The tip of Maggie’s nose tickled as she walked toward her. “Let me help. You know what they say in restaurants—the one who breaks shouldn’t be the one cleaning up. It isn’t good for morale.”

She smiled at Heidi, who looked up at her. Even her cheeks were covered with the powder.

Maggie laughed. “You look like a football player,” she quickly added, “With those marks on your cheeks,” realizing the possible misinterpretation given that Heidi had unusually broad shoulders for a woman.

Heidi burst out laughing. “It’s not my day, but I’m up for a game.”

She always seemed to face adversity with cheerfulness. Maggie wished she could have that attitude. Heidi lifted her arms in the air as if she were throwing a ball. A brown cloud enveloped them.

Maggie coughed. “What’s this spice? It’s strong. I know it…”

Having put her camera bag next to the door, Maggie went on all fours to help Heidi scoop up the powder.

“Nutmeg. I thought the bag was closed, but when I went to pick it up, it all fell out in one go.”

Maggie picked up the large plastic bag. “Look there’s a slit in it here.” She lifted it in front of Heidi’s eyes. “That explains it. Surprising it didn’t happen before, maybe a weakness in the plastic.”

Heidi, back on her feet, cleaned her hands on her flowery apron. “Be a love, can you finish this up? I’m in a real rush because of this regatta crowd arriving for breakfast.”

She rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand, removing the nutmeg that was glued to her moist skin. Before Maggie could respond, Heidi said, “And help yourself to coffee, it’s on the house today. I have some cinnamon buns on the trays over there.” She pointed to a stainless steel trolley decked in layers upon layers of buns in the corner of the kitchen.

She is expecting crowds, thought Maggie. As Heidi headed in the direction of the cold room where she would soon no longer be within hearing distance, Maggie asked hastily, “What’s up with the marina? I got a message the regatta will be from your boat launch.”

Heidi stopped short, turned around and sighed, her head tilted down. Maggie imagined the worst—Gi had killed his wife because Bruno had seduced her, or she had heard Bruno’s last words… Or Bruno had killed Gi, that was why he had his hands in his hair. And she didn’t do anything about it. Oh no!

Heidi’s distraught face was hard to look at without wanting to hug her. This time, her usual cheerfulness didn’t seem to be a match. Heidi spoke slowly. “They found a body in one of the pontoon boats.”

Maggie sighed with relief, thinking it couldn’t have been Gi’s wife or Bruno in the boat.

“You look relieved, but it’s terrible. Think about it, the poor guy, dead in a boat. Not to mention how this can affect everyone here.”

“But—sorry. It’s awful. I was worried Gi’s wife or Bruno might have died. I was there when the body was found, but no one told me who it was.”

“You were there? So why are you asking me about it?” Heidi looked at her straight in the eyes like a mother attempting to tease out the truth from a naughty kid.

Maggie explained what had happened, omitting the reason she had come to the marina, not wanting to talk about her canoe accident. Back on her feet, she approached Heidi. “Do they know who it is? What happened?”

“No. At least that’s what I heard from Gi. He and his wife spent the night at my place. He was so upset, the poor man. He says he doesn’t even know the man.”

“So do they think it was murder? With the forensic tent…” Maggie rubbed her arms as she felt a chill run down her spine.

“I don’t know. He was found under the cover of a boat.” Heidi sighed. “Bruno saw a hand sticking out from a large rip in the plastic. Can you believe it?”

“How horrible. But then should the regatta really go ahead? I mean, it seems insensitive.”

“The head of the lake association and the mayor told me it should. They don’t want to trigger fear or spoil the business season, which is already so short here.”

The mayor, Ms. Stilton, who wore strong, exotic perfume, conjured the image of the Stilton cheese from that morning. “What about the police?”

“Same. The marina is off-limits. The boats moored in the harbor will be allowed to participate, no other boat stationed at the marina will.”

“But won’t people ask questions when they see the tape?”

“I heard they’ve released a press statement and asked Tina to speak about it at the regatta.”

Maggie opened her eyes wide. She imagined Tina Partridge, the editor of the Daily Stumble, in charge of broadcasting the story. She wasn’t subtle. How could Tina not blow things up? “Tina? But surely it should be the police dealing with that kind of thing, no?”

Heidi sighed, “Look, I don’t know. We’ll see. What I do know is that I’ve got to be ready for everyone. In my experience, sadly, this type of story makes people want to gossip over a cup of coffee and pastries.”

The sunray coming in through the window highlighted the dark rings around Heidi’s eyes. She had enough to deal with. Maggie had many questions relating not only to the death but also the regatta. She would just have to wait for the head of the lake association or the mayor to show up.

Having cleaned up the nutmeg, prepared her coffee and picked a cinnamon bun, Maggie made her way to the boat launch. She sat down on a rock. Images of the mayor, cheese, Sergeant Humphries, and Gi’s sad face streamed by. A bite of the bun comforted her a little.

She had difficulty imagining how the day ahead would pan out. Would people ignore the death and happily go about the race? How would they react? She herself was, after all, sitting here waiting to do her job in spite of it.

A car engine rumble made her turn around. It was constable Raj Gupta, alone this time.

Chapter Seven

The constable parked in the marina parking lot and took a few steps in the direction of the tent before stopping when Maggie waved. He walked down the slope toward the lake. Maggie stood up, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Hey, Raj, how’s it going?” she asked anxiously.

Raj’s black brows were knitted together. He bobbed his head in his usual way when he was uncertain about a situation. “Bad business, all this. What are you doing here so early?”

“The regatta. I’m the photographer.” Maggie pointed to her camera bag next to her.

“Regatta? But I thought it had been cancelled. At least that’s what the sergeant told me he was going to do last evening.” Raj bit his lip.

“Strange. I got a green light from the chairman of the lake association.”

Raj bobbed his head. He turned his back to Maggie and made large strides to his car. His mumble was still audible to Maggie. “It’s starting—the mess. I’ll call the office. I don’t want the cottagers on my back with questions I can’t answer. Not to mention the mayor.”

“But I heard she…” Raj was already out of hearing distance before Maggie could finish her sentence.

He came back, lifting his hands in the air and letting them drop heavily against his side. “It beats me. This chairman has the sergeant in his pocket. It’s the only explanation.”

“So it is going ahead then?”

“Yeah. It shouldn’t. But hey, I’m not the boss…yet.” Raj shook his left forearm, causing his name bracelet to slide down away from his hand.

“What happened? I’m not going to be the only one asking today… Can you tell me?”

“You’ll hear it tomorrow. There will be an announcement to explain the situation. Not much to say for now.” Raj took off his cap and scratched the back of his neck. “Or you might read something in the paper tomorrow if Humphries authorizes it. In any case, Tina will have a column on it. You know how she stirs things up. Before you know it, she broadcasts it’s a murder.”

“What? A murder?”

“Arrgh…we’re not sure yet, but we’re keeping all options open.”

Raj appeared distracted. His chocolate eyes shifted toward the lake as if he had seen something. He usually took his police work very seriously. He was eager to move up the ladder quickly to become an investigative detective. His wife, Indira, and his family were putting pressure on him.

“Something else is bothering you.” Maggie tapped her friend’s hand.

“No. No. Just this whole thing.” Raj waved a hand in the air.

She didn’t want to pry, unless he wanted to unload his burden. To lighten the situation she said, “Will you have time off to come to the regatta party? Adam and Barrie said they’d be there. They never miss a BBQ.”

Raj’s bottom lip sagged sulkily. “Don’t know. If I’m off duty.”

“What about Indira?”

“No idea what she’s doing.”

“Come on, what do you mean?”

“I don’t know what she does when I’m working. Anyway, she can do whatever she wants.”

There must have been a quarrel. This was unlike Raj. He was keen for Indira to like it in Foxton. He had confided in Maggie that he feared she would get bored in a village after coming from the city. He had hated the city and always encouraged her to try new activities or join any party, even when he wouldn’t be able to be there himself.

“Sure she can, but I thought she didn’t work Saturday evening, or will she be working at the hospital?”

“Yes, she still helps out at the hospital pharmacy during the busy summer period. But no, she didn’t tell me she would be. She wouldn’t have gone to the hospital when working at her pharmacy, no…” Raj sighed.

Maggie interrupted him. “Look, I don’t get it. What are you talking about?”

“She wasn’t at the pharmacy yesterday afternoon, and her staff didn’t know where she was.”

“Didn’t you ask her? There must be a reasonable explanation for this. Come on.” Raj’s black eyelashes fluttered. “You don’t dare ask her?”

Raj looked at Maggie with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to appear like the jealous husband. She would think I’m spying on her, but I just happened to walk past the pharmacy on my beat, and she wasn’t there.”

“She would understand that. I would ask her if I were you.”

Raj bobbed his head. “Nooooo. She told me she hates it when her parents stop by in the pharmacy, as if they’re checking upon her. I don’t want her to think that of me.”

“But you are her husband, not her parents. Or just don’t think anything of it then, and that way if you don’t want to ask her, you won’t be bothered by it.”

She was irritated with him. Maybe he was jealous and wanted more attention. That could be okay, a sign of love, unless it went overboard. At the same time, Maggie was puzzled about Indira, who was indeed always at the pharmacy on Saturday, being the only qualified pharmacist around.

A cloud of dust created by a burgundy car, followed by Sergeant Humphries’s car, interrupted their conversation. Maggie frowned. She wanted to find out more from Raj regarding the body, but it was too late.

Sergeant Humphries looked relaxed as he was smiling. Maggie had expected him to be in bad mood at having to deal with the case, like she had experienced in the past. His speedy pace toward the cafe explained it. He must be on his way to his morning coffee and pastry fix.

A man with a thick mane of white hair that merged with a closely trimmed beard stepped out of his car. His pale, snow-like feet stood out between the black straps of his sandals. If it were not for his white T-shirt with a fish logo of the lake association tucked into his khaki trousers, so tight that the T-shirt clung to his body, Rick could have been any cottager.

Maggie had only met Rick a few times; the first time was when he had welcomed her as a new member of the lake association, the others during the lake association meetings. Having attempted a few conversations with him, she had found that he always ended up talking about himself, preferably about what he had done to save an old building, anything that he saw as heritage.

As Rick walked toward her, his hand already out, she said between tight lips so that just Raj could hear, “Please don’t ask him how his autobiography is going.”

Maggie was happy Raj could still produce his contagious chuckle.

Maggie took a step toward the lake association chairman and shook his hand vigorously. “Hi, Rick. I got your message last night.”

“Good, good. I want the event captured from all angles. And I want you to take pictures of me during my speech later. It’ll be good for the book.”

Rick glanced at the beeping phone clipped to his belt, no doubt marking the half hour, as Maggie had noted on previous occasions.

Knowing how self-centered he was, she didn’t think twice about his request. “Yes, sure. But what about the issue with the marina?”

Rick arched his eyebrow as if she had said something outrageous. He slid his tongue over his lips, like he always did before one of his monologues. For a moment, Maggie was fascinated by the pink lips moving like two fat worms surrounded by cut white grass.

Realizing her impolite glare, she looked him in the eyes. She felt a warmth creep up her cheeks. She hadn’t listen to his response. Since she couldn’t ask him to repeat it, she changed the topic. “So, no other changes then? The race will still be around the island on Otter Lake via the narrows and Deep Lake and back here?”

“Yes. Yes,” he replied, appearing distracted as he looked over her head to the terrace of the Horizon Cafe.

Maggie turned around. The participants were arriving earlier than anticipated. She recognized the group of elderly women who walked their dogs together every morning. They had gathered around Sergeant Humphries, who seemed to relish the attention as he smiled at them.

One of the women asked, “Is the regatta cancelled then—if the marina is closed?”

The sergeant swallowed the last piece of bun and put his plate aside. He raised his hand. “Ladies, ladies. No need to panic. I’m in control. The regatta is still on.”

“But why’s there police tape?” the one with the poodle asked.

“It’s because there was a murder,” the tall, skinny woman of the group said to her friend. “You know, like on TV.”

The six other women spoke over each other, not letting the sergeant respond. He appeared lost in a group of high-pitched chickens. The voices were getting louder. With large strides, Rick reached the group. He put his hands across the backs of two of the women, as if he were about to hug them. He nodded at the sergeant.

“What a beautiful day.” He looked at each pair of eyes one at a time. In a soothing voice he said, “Shouldn’t you be preparing your boats for the regatta, my dears? It’s a special day today. The breakfast is at ten o’clock. You’re too early.”

To Maggie’s dismay, the group calmed down as if they were under his spell. What did he have? She certainly couldn’t see it.

After Rick said, “Run along now, let us do our business to get ready for you.” The group dispersed.

A young man, out of breath, holding his waist with one hand, the other on the back of a chair, appeared as if out of nowhere. He flipped his head to remove the hair from his eyes and spoke to the sergeant. It was Bruno, just back from his morning jog.

He didn’t appear distressed. Maggie moved closer to the terrace, curious to overhear what they were talking about. She only caught Bruno’s last words before he walked down to the fuel station where the boat used for water-skiing lessons was moored. “I’ve seen the guy before, so what? Big deal. Not my buddy. Doesn’t mean I killed him.”

Could he have been someone she knew? At least now it was clear he was a man. A cottager? Maggie tentatively approached the sergeant, smiling.

He was staring into the void, combing his moustache down with his thumb and index finger.

Maggie cleared her throat. “Sergeant, good morning. A bit of a déjà vu, all this…” She gestured toward the marina and its tape.

“What?” the sergeant grumbled.

“I hope it isn’t another murder.” Maggie waited for a little moment then added, “Or is it?”

“We are looking at all possibilities.” The sergeant sighed. “No business of yours this time.”

“But I was there when—”

The sergeant interrupted her. “What do you mean?” He faced her, towering over her with his prominent belly inching its way toward her face.

“I–I wanted a paddle. I was in the marina shop when I heard Bruno shout when he found the body. At least I assume that’s what happened.”

“So you didn’t see the body?”

“No. Do you know who it is? A cottager?”

Raj walked over to them, a cup of coffee in his hand. He handed it to the sergeant. “Sir, I just heard that it’s official now. We can say who it is. And you’re right about your suspicion.”

Ignoring Maggie, the sergeant said with concern, “So it’s murder then. I knew it.” He stamped his foot. “Right, where’s this journalist?”

“But sir, shouldn’t you be announcing it as an official statement before it gets out?”

Beads of sweat trickled one by one along the constable’s sideburns. The sun was blazing and the humidity had gone up. The day ahead promised to be one of those sweltering summer days best spent in the water.

The sergeant replied with a shrug, “It’s already out. This morning the old trout were all over me with their murder story. It’s best to say what we know before wild speculations circulate.”

The sergeant took off his cap to reveal a pink scalp. A little too much sun, thought Maggie.

The first groups of cottagers were arriving. Instead of unraveling the mystery as she had hoped, the sergeant ushered the constable to the marina to discuss the matter, leaving her alone.

Maggie sighed. Now she knew too much not to want to know more. Not sure if I can wait until the official version comes out. She looked at the cars arriving with their boat trailers. Too late. I’d better get my canoe out before these guys get to the ramp. She walked back to her truck, dragging her feet at the prospect of unloading the heavy boat. She had barely managed to load it in the night before.

Chapter Eight

Maggie heard a honk. It was Tina, with her husband Denis, the dentist. He also happened to have been Maggie’s first love. From the moment Maggie had dated Denis when she was a teenager, Tina had developed a grudge against her. She hadn’t stolen Denis from her; at the time he was single and Maggie hadn’t been aware of Tina’s love for him. Meanwhile, Tina had since caught up and married Denis, but sadly, this didn’t seem to stop the animosity for Maggie.

Maggie had placed her car just next to the ramp so that she wouldn’t need to carry the canoe to the water. Denis proceeded to back up a trailer with a catamaran alongside Maggie.

Tina popped her arm out of her window and pretended to pinch her biceps just as Maggie was attempting to lift the canoe. The boat was stuck, and Maggie felt her cheeks burn with the effort. Not that Tina would step out to give her a hand. She couldn’t if she wanted to, thought Maggie.

She recognized Denis’s typical back-of-the-throat voice. “Pric—” He swallowed the last syllable.

Tina stared at him. “No time to help, I’ve got to see the sergeant. Get on with it. And what’s this about Prickles! You’re a grown man, for God’s sake.”

Oops, thought Maggie, he shouldn’t have used my nickname. That isn’t tactful of him.

“My little cupcake, you know I was going to say pretty boat. Not Prickles.” Denis pointed to Maggie’s canoe. “Let me help her with it. It’s very heavy. Why don’t you run along to your appointment? I can deal with our boat alone.”

Maggie saw from the corner of her eye Denis depositing a peck on Tina’s cheek before she stormed out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Denis stepped out and walked around his trailer toward Maggie.

“Denis. Good to see you. It’s been a while. How you’re doing?”

“Good, good. Busy.”

“You aren’t on vacation then?”

“Yes, if you can call it that. The kids are excited about this banana thing I’ve got to pull behind my boat for hours. It drives me mad. Not my idea of a vacation.” Denis laughed as he lifted one end of the canoe. “This is a beauty. Where did you get it?”

“That’s a long story. By the way, do you have a spare paddle I can borrow?”

She had left it too late to borrow a paddle from Moose Lodge and had counted on a participant or Heidi having a spare one.

“Sure. Hey, I like your T-shirt. I asked Tina about you taking portraits of our kids.” Denis shook his head. “Sorry, but you know how she is.”

“Don’t worry about it. I think today will be good for business. Although with this marina story, I wonder what will happen.”

Denis looked over to the marina as he lowered his end of the canoe into the water. “Hmm, yes, Tina told me.”

“Bruno found the body when I was trying to buy a paddle yesterday.” Maggie lowered her voice as she hoped Denis would open up to her with some details.

“A guy from Montreal. What the hell is someone from there doing in a boat here? It beats me.”

“I thought he was a cottager.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just heard that he was a ship captain from Montreal. Tina could’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Was he killed with a blow?” Maggie knew Denis would always correct her if she were wrong. He had that habit when they were teenagers.

“No, no, Tina said he’d been poisoned, at least that’s what she made out of it when Bruno told her there wasn’t any blood.”

Maggie’s voice rose. “Poisoned!”

“Shh.” Denis gestured with one hand, palm face-down.

Maggie put her hands to her mouth at the sight of a group of people carrying kayaks and canoes down to the water.

*

Raj watched Tina step over the police tape with difficulty and walk straight toward him and the sergeant. The sergeant took any opportunity to establish that he was of higher rank. It had taken over a decade for him to earn his stripes, and he had made it clear to Raj that he wasn’t prepared for anyone else in Foxton to outdo his performance.

Raj had a very different view. He knew their department had to shine in order to get a promotion the sergeant couldn’t prevent. Raj had overcome his initial ingrained respect for authority to gently coax the sergeant in a better direction, if he thought he might be making a mistake.

Raj had found out the hard way that the sergeant was a good man at heart but had difficulty with people he had decided he couldn’t understand. That is, people the sergeant believed were different from him, like Raj, who was originally from India, in spite of the fact that he was as Canadian as the sergeant.

Raj had gained some trust with his IT skills. The sergeant’s reliance on him for anything beyond a typed statement allowed him to access more information than his rank would permit and allowed him to learn the ropes faster.

He understood he had better not overshadow the sergeant in any way if he didn’t want to remain a constable all his life. That was one of those delicate situations.

As soon as Tina caught wind of the incident at the marina, she had called the sergeant. Raj had answered the call and managed to push her away without giving any detail with a promise of news later that evening.

Tina was so pushy that he hadn’t managed to fend her off. He had hoped the sergeant would miss her later call. Tina’s arrival shattered any hopes he had for his plan.

“So glad you could speak with me last night, Sergeant.” Tina threw a dark eye at Raj. She ignored him henceforth and kept her eyes locked on the sergeant. “I need more details to make the announcement. He was poisoned, wasn’t he? Do you have a lead?”

Raj lifted his hand in the air. “Sorry, sir, but I forgot to tell you. The inspector said you have to make an official announcement before anything gets published. I just spoke with him.”

It was a lie; the inspector had only said that they could release the dead man’s name and the news that it was a murder. He hoped the sergeant would listen to him this time before he got into trouble.

“What? You tell me now. Forgot? Thank God I don’t give you too much responsibility, if you already forget half of it.”

Raj gobbled his pride and gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.” Then he added with a bob of his head, “So Ms. Partridge here can get the details she needs from your announcement to the community later?”

“But Sergeant, you promised something for my morning paper!” Tina shrilled.

“Sorry, Tina, can’t help.”

“But then what about the picture of you in front of the marina for my front page?” Tina said with a pout.

Raj knew this was a lost cause. The sergeant relished seeing himself in the papers. On numerous occasions, he had witnessed the sergeant promoting his country band the Haystack Needles whenever there was the slightest opportunity to do so, and especially if it could be mentioned in the local paper.

“Okay.” The sergeant appeared to think as he scratched his moustache with his pinkie. “But on two conditions: you publish your story after I’ve spoken to the crowd here at 10:00 a.m., as I’m expecting all Foxton to be here. And—” The sergeant looked around as if he wanted to see whether anyone was listening, “—you slip in a picture of the band, you know the one with the caption Local Country Music Stars Haystack Needles—”

“—every Thursday at the Horizon Cafe,” Tina interrupted. “Yes, I know the one. It’s about time you have something else, by the way. It looks dated.”

Raj thought Tina was on slippery ground and on track to upset the sergeant. This could mean no story for her until the case was closed, which would be perfect.

Instead, to his surprise, Sergeant Humphries replied, “I’ve got a new one, and it also mentions our new album! I’ll get it.” The sergeant walked to his car and rummaged in his briefcase for the picture.

Raj shrugged. What some people will do for fame, he thought. He was glad Tina hadn’t asked any more questions about the murder. Voices filled the air, most likely coming from the growing number of cottagers and locals gathering for their breakfast and the start of the regatta. Raj took the opportunity to cut any further discussion with Tina by pointing out to the sergeant that he had better get ready for his ten o’clock announcement.

As they approached the crowd, bits of conversation reached Raj’s ears. “So, Scotty is taking part in the junior race.”

“Why don’t we start at the marina?”

“What? Gi killed his wife?”

“That’s why I couldn’t find him this morning.”

“A body? Really? In a pontoon boat? Noooo. It must be the one I nearly bought last week! Spooky.”

Raj’s ears were buzzing as he heard more and more stories about the marina rather than the regatta. Drops of sweat trickled down his back. He took off his cap to wipe his brow with his tartan handkerchief. It’s going to be a bloody hot day, he thought, wishing he could be in the water. I hate this humidity.

He looked up to the sky and to his surprise spotted a large cumulus cloud he had not seen earlier. That explains it. As usual, the weather forecast is wrong. He walked behind the sergeant and tapped on his shoulder. “Sir, it may be a good idea to start earlier. I can gather the crowd now.”

Raj pointed to the cloud. Sergeant Humphries responded with a flap of his hand in dismissal as they reached the terrace of the cafe.

Chapter Nine

The cafe was packed. Kids and adults alike were enjoying Heidi’s pastries, their cheeks covered in a dusting of either white or brown powder. A mix of sailing boats, canoes, kayaks, paddle boards, and powerboats were moored at every possible location, with more queuing up at the landing. Everyone was in shorts and T-shirts, with kids already in the water splashing around.

Maggie took pictures of the scene from her canoe just a few meters away from the shoreline. She had discovered that her new vessel was very precise because of its small keel. She just needed to give one little stroke to place it in the right position.

She checked her watch, not wanting to be late for the opening ceremony of the regatta and for Sergeant Humphries’s announcement. She paddled back to the shore and pulled her canoe onto the sand. She brushed her curls away from her eyes and put on her hemp hat.

Having changed her lens for a wide-angle one to capture as large a group of people as she could, she made her way to the terrace. The plan was that the speakers would be on the terrace, and the crowd would gather down on the beach under it.

She bumped into Raj, who was fiddling with a microphone. “I just saw Indira over there speaking with Barrie. She seems happy. So are you all sorted out then?”

“What? With Barrie?” Raj eyed the crowd.

Maggie pointed to the beach at a woman in a flowery pink dress laughing and a young man in long striped swimming trunks, his short sleeves revealing arms covered in ink.

“Only Barrie has those swirly tattoos.” Maggie laughed.

“Yes, I see,” Raj said between his teeth.

Maggie felt a tinge of jealousy in his tone. Could it be that Raj imagined there was something between them? But that was utter nonsense.

“Come on Raj, it’s just Barrie, no need to worry.” Maggie tapped his shoulder. “By the way, have you seen Adam?” She scanned the crowd for his distinctive Australian hat or his long ponytail. He should be easy to spot; he’d stick out like a pine tree among the maples.

Raj seemed to brighten up. “He’s coming then. Good. I wasn’t sure he could make it.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“He was worried about his llamas this morning when I spoke to him. They were acting as if they were drunk.”

“That is weird. It must be a funny sight, though, llamas walking with wobbly legs and half-closed eyes. They must have eaten over-ripe fruit. I’ve heard even elephants have a liking for fermented fruit.” Maggie scanned the crowd again, eager to find her favorite game warden. She had grown to love his two llamas, Mary and Harry. She had even offered to take care of them, together with his chickens, when he was away.

Sergeant Humphries approached the constable from behind. Raj jumped at the sound of his voice. “Right, Constable. I’m ready. Get on with it.”

The sergeant looked sweaty and uncomfortable, in spite of having had another pastry; a crumb was still hooked to the tip of his moustache. Maggie smiled at him and touched the corner of her mouth. The sergeant lifted his hand to his moustache and pressed it down with his thumb and index finger in his typical gesture. The crumb fell off.

Raj tapped the microphone. This drew some attention, in particular from Rick, who sprang out of nowhere and stood by their side. He adjusted his yellow cap with a fish logo on it, a little tuft of hair sticking out at the back above the adjustable strap like a duck’s tail.

“I can go ahead then?” he asked Sergeant Humphries.

“No. No. I’m speaking first,” the sergeant replied quickly, to Maggie’s relief, already dreading Rick’s long monologue.

Maggie felt her T-shirt cling to her skin. The cotton wasn’t as good quality as she’d thought it would be. No wonder, it had been a very good deal to get two hundred T-shirts. She had planned to sell the shirt with her photos printed on the back but also provide a printing service on fabric, paper, or canvas.

Her first batch of shirts was for the lake association, some of which would be given out as prizes at the regatta. There were not many opportunities out in Foxton to sell T-shirts. This would be the biggest one.

Pulling on the front of her T-shirt, she thought, Maybe it’s just this heat. She all of a sudden felt the cool of shade across her face. The sky was now filled with cumulus clouds, with a large, anvil-shaped one blocking the sun. That isn’t good. I need sun for my pictures.

Suddenly, Sergeant Humphries’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker. Maggie jumped and rushed to place herself on the steps of the terrace, where she would have a good vantage point of the crowd but also of the speakers. The cottagers and villagers gathered on the beach and spilled over onto the docks of the marina.

They stood to attention in anticipation, their eyes moving from the marina to the sergeant. Rumors were rife. Maggie caught a glimpse of poor Gi as he arrived on the terrace and walked past her down the steps. The little group of old ladies from the morning pushed their way to get to him. They asked Gi, “Where’s your wife? What have you done to her?”

Bruno appeared at the front of the crowd, having pushed his way through, followed by Gi’s wife and son. He looked tired. The group of women broke their barrier and let them in without a word, their mouths open.

Silence fell as soon as Sergeant Humphries said, “Quiet, please. Are we all here?”

Everyone nodded, not daring to speak. Only a camera click could be heard. The air was thick.

The familiar hum of Adam’s Toyota Land Cruiser pierced the air. All faces turned to the direction of a sound of a door slamming shut, followed by fast footsteps.

A tall man arrived, weathered by an outdoor life, in khaki shorts and low-cut leather boots. Adam took off his worn leather hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his tanned hand. At first he looked startled, then the creases on his forehead changed from horizontal deep furrows to vertical ones through her tele-lens.

He was about to break the silence when Sergeant Humphries’s voice bellowed through the microphone instead. “Finally, can I start? I don’t have all day.”

Adam replied, his Australian accent coming through, “Thanks, mate, for waiting for me, but you really you didn’t have to.”

A roar of laughter spread from one side of the group to the other. People’s voices rose again until Sergeant Humphries said in a very deep voice, “It is serious. A man has been killed.”

It was effective: the sergeant had caught everyone’s attention. He waited for a moment, as if he were settling into his new position on stage. Maggie couldn’t help but smile at the image that appeared before her eyes of the sergeant in cowboy boots and suede waistcoat with those long fringes.

The fleeting image of one of the sergeant’s stage performances was immediately replaced by the image of a body in a boat. The weight of her camera dragged her arms down. She listened to Sergeant Humphries, forgetting to take pictures.

“Mr. Jean-Paul Jacquier’s body was found in the marina in one of the pontoon boats. That is why we have cordoned off the marina. A reminder, it is an offence to trespass on a crime scene. I ask you to respect the tape and never cross it. Watch your kids. My constable here will be keeping an eye on you.”

Raj, who was standing next to Maggie on the stairs, whispered to her, “There goes my day. I was hoping for a dip to cool off. You see, I always get the crappy job.”

A black look from the sergeant darted toward them. “As I was saying, it is serious. But no need to worry. Yes, we suspect foul play. He was poisoned. If you have any information whatsoever, know Mr. Jacquier, or have spoken to him in the last week, please come forward. A photo of the deceased will be posted around the village and at the police station.”

A high-pitched voice emanated from the crowd. “Do you have a lead or suspect?” It was Tina, holding up her phone and filming the event.

“No suspect. But we are working on it, and it is only a matter of time. That is all for now.”

“Is it true that Mr. Jacquier is from Montreal?” Tina shouted.

“Yes. That is all I can say. The matter is safely in police hands now.”

Tina attempted another question, but her voice was drowned by the growing murmur that kept increasing even when Sergeant Humphries said, “It’s time for the regatta to begin. Don’t forget, anything you know—”

Rick grabbed the microphone from the sergeant, leaving his “please get in touch” only audible to the first row.

Rick licked his lips and opened his mouth to announce the start of the regatta. “My friends…”

A large drop of water fell onto his nose. A lightning strike was followed shortly after by a loud bang that caused the terrace to tremble. A woman screamed.

Chapter Ten

People were running all over for cover. Some huddled under trees, while others, in the chaos, had run through the police tape, and hidden under the cover of the marina’s roof. The constable, now soaking wet under the downpour, shouted, “Inside, get inside the cafe where it’s safe. All of you, inside the cafe.”

Raj ran after a group of kids who seemed oblivious to the danger and giggled in the rain. He picked up a little boy, tucking him onto his hip, and lifted another by the arm to speed up his race to safety.

Maggie joined in the effort. She pulled people by their T-shirts to usher them to the cafe away from the trees. The lightning strikes were so close that she stopped counting the time between the light and the thunder.

Maggie felt a tug at her own T-shirt. It was Adam. It was the first time she had seen him with his long hair loose. He had a wild air to him, as if he had just walked out of the bush ready to pounce on a beast. She was that animal.

Another loud clap made her jump. Adam pulled her by the hand toward the door of the cafe. She glanced over her shoulder. The beach was empty; no one left under the trees.

Raj held the glass door open for them and they squeezed in. The cold air from the air-conditioning made Maggie shiver. She was soaked.

The Horizon Cafe was packed. A cloud of steam filled the air. It was as if the rain was falling inside the cafe, with everyone shaking off the water like dogs. Laughter and furniture squeaks replaced the earlier eerie silence before Sergeant Humphries’s announcement.

Heidi shouted, “Come to the bar, leave room for the others.”

Maggie searched for her Billingham photo bag, into which she had hastily dropped her camera before running out again to help Raj. It was still there next to the wall, a little wet from drops of water falling from Barrie’s shorts. He was talking to Raj.

The atmosphere was cheerful. Gi’s son watched the storm with his nose glued to the window. He was surrounded by a group of kids counting the seconds between the lightning strikes and thunderclaps.

Fortunately, those summer storms didn’t typically last long. The cafe was bursting at its seams. A growing crowd circled Rick, who was checking the weather forecast on a laptop. Rick was very slow, unbearably slow, using two fingers to type and getting it wrong.

Having pushed his way through to the bar to get a coffee, Adam came to the rescue. He held out a radar image of the area on his phone for everyone to see. “Just a half hour max, and here comes the sun.”

Cheers and arms thrown up in the air greeted the news. Rick slammed the laptop shut and noisily pushed his chair back as he rose to his feet. He announced the regatta was on and took the opportunity to make his opening speech. He added at the end, “We’ll start with the water-skiing show first. That way if there’s any weather issue, a speedboat is easier to handle.”

Maggie looked around for Bruno, whom she had last seen with Gi’s wife and son. She spotted a group of teenage girls at the bar, a typical place for him to hang out. His water-skiing acrobatics attracted many admirers. Not everyone is like Arthur; Bruno has his fan club, thought Maggie as Bruno waved to the girl next to her.

Arthur had told her he was watching the show from the safety of his island. Bruno’s words about the dead man came back to her. He knew this Jean-Paul. Was there a link? Something yellow with a large gray object moving on top attracted her attention.

It had to be her pile of T-shirts for Heidi to sell. But she couldn’t have sold all but one yellow one? Heidi has been at it again, she thought. She narrowed her eyes. The gray object turned out to be a huge cat, back arched, using the T-shirt to sharpen its claws. It looked back at Maggie with its golden eyes as if it was defying her.

Heidi’s cat, a Maine Coon named Spock, looked like a gray lion with a thick mane. He was named after the character Spock from Star Trek because of his ears. Heidi had even confessed to being a Trekker, to Maggie’s surprise. Spock gave her an idea.

Heidi loved that beast. That would be the perfect present to thank her, a large picture of him. She could hang it behind the bar. Maggie watched Heidi snatch the cat by its back from behind the bar, its outstretched paws still hooked to the T-shirt. It was a sight in itself, given the size of the animal, the largest cat Maggie had ever seen.

Bruno put his hands on his hips, his tank top nicely revealing his biceps and pectoral muscles. His hair covered part of his face every time he flicked his head in a lame attempt to remove it from his eye. “Can’t wait to see the pro, can ya?”

Rick tapped his back. “Just a change of plan, kid.”

“Like, I’m cool.” Bruno cracked his knuckles then put his arms around two of the girls. “You wanna ride and see me up close?” He led the two girls out with a triumphant smile, one on each arm, staring at him in adoration.

Rick shouted in Bruno’s direction across the room, “You can’t let the girls pilot the boat, it has to be Gi. Where is he?”

In response, a hand stuck out of the crowd with a little wave of the fingers. Rick gestured to everyone to go outside. “Come on, let’s go for it, folks!”

*

The rain had stopped, and the sun was back in full force. Kids raced down to the water, followed by parents, keen to keep an eye on them. Kayaks were launched by the dozen. It was pandemonium. Chairs were capsized, tables pushed aside. Maggie shook her head at the sight as she took pictures of the migration. At least the murder seemed to have left people’s minds for the moment.

Kids started cheering Bruno, who climbed into a speedboat that was moored at the marina dock just outside the police tape.

Gi walked slowly past Maggie. He didn’t even smile at her when she greeted him. He looked pale and stared at his feet, as if he were carrying the world on his back. Maggie thought of his wife and son. It must be very traumatic for them too.

Maggie jumped under the gentle grip of a large hand on her shoulder.

“You scared me! With all this commotion and the murder story, I’m jumpy.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve put your nose in it again?” Adam asked, his eyes like two slits.

“No, no.” Maggie shook her head vigorously. “Well, in a way.”

“What? No way. You are trouble, you know.” Adam pursed his lips.

A new tattoo was hidden halfway under his Indigenous leather necklace. It was so small that she couldn’t make out what it was from her low vantage point, just over five feet. She hadn’t quite gotten used to his tremendous six-foot-five height.

Adam slapped his neck with a large hand. “What? Again a blasted deer fly?”

Maggie felt her cheeks redden. “No. I don’t think so.” Hoping she could get a closer look at the tattoo, she added, “I can check if you got bitten.”

He waved his hand. “It’s fine. I should be used to all those flies by now, between the Australian bush and the Canadian one. But I never am.”

Disappointed, Maggie wondered what the tattoo was. Was it linked to someone? Adam stopped her thoughts short.

“Eh. Come again about this story of being involved in the murder.”

Maggie knew Adam wouldn’t let go until he had an answer. He was a bit like her for that. She told the paddle story, omitting the incident with Arthur. It would have taken too long to explain now, although she really wanted to tell him about it.

She grasped his forearm. “Can you check on Gi’s wife?”

“What do you mean, to find out things? I know you,” Adam said with a sideways look.

“No, not like that. Yes, I want to know what happened. But I’m worried about her. Gi looked so distressed.”

“I should speak to Gi then.”

Maggie pointed to the water. “Too late, he’s on the boat. Oh no, I’ve got to get into my canoe for…” She didn’t finish her sentence but ran down to the shoreline, leaving Adam alone.

*

Adam put his hands in his pockets and scanned the horizon.

Barrie walked up to him. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“Did you see Gi’s wife out there?” Adam asked.

“No. What do you want with her?”

“Maggie thinks she needs attention.”

“Oh-ho, watch out. Like, what?” Barrie asked with a knowing grin.

“Ah, nothing like that. Give me a break. It’s about this murder story in Gi’s marina. Did you know the guy, this Jean-Paul, whatever his name?”

“Sorry. Yes, I’ve seen that guy before. He came to my garage the other day and asked if I could repair a plane. I don’t get it.”

“Why? You repair planes, no?”

“Yeah, Maggie’s. But no one knows that.”

Barrie looked down at his hairy feet in his flip-flops.

“Everyone at the airfield does, it’s pretty damn obvious, and you know how it goes, this means the entire village knows.”

In a low voice Barrie said, “I guess so. Anyways, I don’t see the point of telling the cops. I didn’t like the guy. Too excited. I told him to get lost.”

“Good enough reason to tell Raj at least. What was wrong with the guy?”

Barrie rubbed his right arm, pushing his T-shirt up to reveal his old barbed-wire tattoo around the biceps. His forearms were now both covered in Japanese-style colorful body art. “Gee, you’ve added a bunch.”

“It’s addictive. You get one, then you feel kind of naked. You need more. Nice, eh?” Barrie pulled up both sleeves so that Adam could take a closer look.

Adam glanced at the art briefly before looking at Barrie in the eyes. “Yeah, but what about this guy?”

“Just a nervous type, like I said. You know what I mean? Gut feeling, that’s all.” Barrie shrugged and pointed at the lake. “He’s off. Whatever you say about Bruno, he’s good on a board. And that gets him the girls.” He sighed.

Bruno had just done a somersault, holding the rope with one hand. A pair of paddle boarders fell into the water, pushed over by the wave of his boat.

“Perhaps, but he’s still a teenager really. Nineteen?”

“Yeah…a mommy’s boy.” Barrie sighed again, deeper this time.

“Those girls are too young for you, come on.” Adam knocked his friend with his elbow as they both stood with their legs apart, arms crossed. “Let’s grab a coffee now that it’s quiet inside. We won’t see anything now, he’s off to the island.” Barrie turned around and in the process lost a flip-flop. After he slipped it on again, they entered the Horizon Cafe.

*

Maggie managed to paddle all the way to Arthur’s island, followed by a group of kayakers. The remaining cottagers who hadn’t gone to the start of the regatta were standing on their docks, binoculars in hand. Excitement filled the air. Maggie took many pictures of Bruno with her tele-lens from a safe distance. She didn’t want to capsize her canoe again.

Arthur and Bettie, with Tinker the sausage dog at their feet, waved at Maggie from their dock. They must have recognized their canoe. She wondered if they had heard about the murder. They would, once the Daily Stumble was out. She approached the island.

Arthur was waving to her as if he were shooing her away. At the sight of the speedboat approaching, she stabilized herself by sitting in the middle of her canoe. She aimed her camera, ready to catch Bruno in full action.

Bruno laughed. The boat came close enough to the island for Bruno to ski toward their dock. With one move, he created a huge wave that fell onto the couple. Tinker barked between shakes of his head. Water sprinkled around him, the droplets shining in the sun.

Maggie had captured the scene on camera, in spite of her canoe rocking dangerously with the wake. She heard the water crash onto the shore of the island. That was why he had told her to stay away. What was wrong with Bruno?

Maggie paddled to the couple. “Are you all right?”

“This idiot, I’ll get him one day. He needs a dad to set him straight.” Arthur brandished a clenched fist into the air. “His time has come, I can already tell you that.”

Maggie was taken aback by his strong words. It could of course just be anger, which was understandable, but with the murder and a possible murderer on the loose… She chose to tell them about Humphries’s statement to see their reaction.

Bettie put her hand to her mouth. She looked old, very old, with water dripping from her hair along her bony cheeks. She held on to Arthur, who had taken off his thick glasses to dry them. They were silent. Only Tinker kept on barking. Maggie felt sorry for Bettie. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

Maggie had the urged to hug Bettie, to reassure her. She stopped in her tracks when she looked at Arthur. He had a cold, straight face. Was it just the British stiff upper lip? Had she pushed it too far, and maybe he thought she was accusing him?

Why couldn’t she just let them find out about the murder like everyone else? Was she like those village gossips? It certainly wasn’t what she aspired to become. No, but she had sensed something was there. Something she needed to dig out. Her instinct told her that. Just like her little terrier Beans, once she caught the whiff of an animal, she had to pursue it.

Chapter Eleven

A group of kayakers caught up with Maggie and hoisted their boats onto the little island. They all seemed to know Arthur and Bettie. After hugs and outcries about Bruno, Bettie pulled out chairs for them to sit on the dock. Maggie felt out of place among them, in spite of Bettie insisting she stay.

Arthur, knee-deep in the water, held on to Maggie’s boat. He was smiling at her as he tapped the canoe. “You like her? Doesn’t she listen well?”

Maggie waited for a propeller plane flying low above the lake to disappear into the horizon to respond. Both of them followed it while shielding their eyes from the blazing sun. She had seen the same plane on the airfield the day before.

“The canoe? Yes, surprisingly well. I thought it would be difficult because of its weight, but it’s the most maneuverable one I’ve ever been in.”

“Nothing like the old craftsmanship.” Arthur beamed.

“I know now.” She pointed to the sky. “The plane we just saw, have you seen it before?”

“The Turbo Beaver? I sure have. She always flies low but never lands. Come to think of it, I saw her early evening two days ago.”

“Does it belong to someone on this lake then?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve only seen her this year. The funny thing is, she always flies high, except for two days ago, when she appeared to prepare to land twice but then aborted it.”

Does the plane have anything to do with the cheese? It could explain how it ended up in the lake, dropped from the air. A strange thing to do. Her imagination was running wild again. Her gaze fell on a piece of the cheese wrapping stuck between the rocks. “Do you still have the cheese?”

“Do you want some? It’s still good, you know. Was thinking of selling some,” Arthur said with a cheeky grin.

Brushing aside the idea that he might be teasing her, Maggie replied, “No, you shouldn’t. It’s one thing to eat it. You do what you want with your life, but don’t sell it. We don’t know what it is.”

“Stilton. It still is. You probably have never tasted it or smelled it before, that’s why—”

Maggie interrupted him. “I have, as a matter of fact. Not here. In the UK, where I lived for a while. But I don’t like blue cheese.”

Maggie was about to excuse herself to return to her photo job when one of his friends called out, “Hey, Art, you’re at it again? Come over here.” He laughed. “What’s this about Stilton? Leave the mayor alone for once.” The man, in his sixties, smiled at Maggie. “He always goes on about Ms. Stilton because he can’t get her to change the law for wake boats to slow down around his island.”

“I see you didn’t witness what just happened with Bruno. I’ll take the matter into my own hands, if she doesn’t reply to my letter. I’ve had enough,” Arthur said angrily.

Not wanting to get involved in any argument, Maggie swiftly glided away and waved to the group. Interesting, he mustn’t have told them about the cheese, she thought as she shouted from her canoe, “Thanks again, Arthur, for the canoe! I’ll drop by soon, or if you see me out on my dock, stop by.”

Maggie crossed the area where her canoe had sunk and peered over the rim of her boat. Nothing. There was no better solution than to ask Adam for help. He had told her he still had his diving gear. She smiled at the thought of an outing with him on the lake, in spite of the fact that she might have to write off her canoe.

She paddled vigorously to a buoy halfway between the island and the Horizon Cafe’s beach. This was the perfect mooring spot to capture the sailing boat race. The rest of the day turned out to be pleasant and all according to plan.

*

Maggie slipped back home to change for the evening regatta dinner and let the dogs out. She went through her pictures as fast as she could to select the best ones and print them for the evening. The rest would be made available on the lake association’s website.

Her shoulder ached from all the paddling and her heavy camera. She rubbed some after-sun cream on her red forearms and lifted her T-shirt sleeve, revealing a white shoulder. After examining the rest of her body for sunburns, she picked a loose-fitting linen shirt.

She threw herself on her bed, arms spread out. Beans and Carrot jumped on her, thinking she was playing. She giggled as the dogs tickled her with their licks. She rolled off the bed and fell to the floor with a thump.

“No, stop it, no licking, I said.” She covered her face with her arms. “I’m tired. Please!” She stood up and caught a glimpse of her disheveled red hair in the mirror of the oak cupboard.

She scratched the back of Carrot’s ears. “Can you go for me this evening?” Her eyes fell on a wolf sculpture in the corner of the room. It was a birthday present from Adam, who had carved it with his chainsaw. It looked so alive. He would be there tonight, never one to miss a barbie, as he called them.

Right, it’ll be fun, old girl—just ten minutes of meditation and fresh again. Maggie shooed the dogs away and sat at the tip of her bed with her eyes closed. Beans opened the door before Maggie could finish her session and barked at her.

“I can’t take you tonight. You don’t like Spock anyway.” Beans sat in front of her, listening attentively. “You know, the gray cat. Stop looking at me like that.” Maggie couldn’t resist Beans’s pleading eyes. “Okay, you can play outside until I’m ready.”

Maggie slid open the screen door of her bedroom, letting the pair of dogs out. A golden hue blanketed the garden. A breeze reached her cheeks as she took in the sweet smells of summer. The crickets were out in full force. A pair of loons with their three black fluffballs in tow glided across the calm water.

Seeing her dogs wading into the water, sniffing carefully in the direction of the loons, Maggie jumped up. She slipped on her bathing suit and ran out to the lake. She plunged into it, the dogs following her with their noses just out of the water.

The water felt like silk sliding over her body. It had a thickness to it as it engulfed her. She swam underwater, enjoying the present moment. Her senses were alert. She didn’t feel any more pain.

She opened her eyes, and just next to her, maybe a meter away, she saw an eye look at her—a beady eye. She popped her head out of the water for air, and so did the little otter before it dove back in and disappeared. It was quiet; everyone was at the barbeque at the Horizon Cafe.

Maggie loved those peaceful moments at the lake. She always got up early to start the day with a swim. She especially liked it when the water was like a mirror, still warm from the day before. On weekends, a woman on her paddleboard glided across the water to the other side of Otter Lake. The kids were still asleep, no Sea-Doos or parents towing their sweethearts behind their boats.

Maggie had once been one of those kids. She recalled fond memories of those times. Her father had a small fishing boat, one of those tin cans. It wasn’t powerful. She had insisted on water-skiing behind it. With difficulty, she could surface above the water, but often she remained half submerged.

Maggie stood on the shore, her hands on her hips. She would try water-skiing again. This time it had to be with a speedboat like Gi’s. She would make a party of it, maybe as a surprise for Barrie’s birthday. They could all have a go at it. He always talked about Bruno’s water-skiing skills with envy. Happy with the idea, Maggie made her way back inside.

*

The party was in full swing. Sergeant Humphries was decked out in his country singer stage outfit. The frills of his leather waistcoat danced around his belly as he moved, marking the rhythm with his cowboy boot. He blended in with his band members.

Maggie smiled at the sight. The music was cheerful. From the corner of the terrace, the band played well-known songs to please the public, now and then adding one of Sergeant Humphries’s own creations. It was still light, but the little paper lanterns were already lit. Tables were lined up to make a long buffet.

People were walking around, plates stacked with corn on the cob, salads, and brochettes. A constant queue of villagers and vacationers stood behind the large barbecue grill. The smoke that blew their way didn’t seem to bother them. Maggie understood why later in the evening when the mosquitoes made their appearance.

A stocky man in a white cook’s shirt and checkered trousers tended to the meat and fish on the grill. Maggie had never seen him before. He had to be one of Heidi’s summer recruits.

She walked up to the grill and peered over it to see what was on offer. As usual, Heidi had made sure there was something for everyone’s ones taste, and it all looked delicious. Maggie had vowed to become vegetarian but could never resist a barbecue.

She nodded to the man. “Very appetizing. I’d better queue up before you run out of it.”

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and gave her half a smile back. Not a man of many words. Or perhaps overheated and grumpy. The sliding glass doors to the cafe were now all open, and only screens separated the terrace from the main room of the cafe.

Large fans swirled, providing a much-needed breeze to the crowd below. It was as busy inside as it was outside. In the corner of the room hung Maggie’s large framed photo of a loon that was to be the third prize for the regatta. Rick stood next to it. The sausage on his plate was giving him a hard time as it jumped around when he attempted to cut it with his fork.

Maggie wiggled her way through the happy crowd toward him to find out about the timing for the prize announcement. When she reached Rick, his cheeks were full like a chipmunk’s.

He swallowed his sausage with a large gulping sound. “Good, you’re here. I want to see the pictures you took of me today. I’m sure they won’t be any good with the storm, so—”

“I did get some when you were inside talking. I’ve got one or two you might like.”

Maggie put her bag on the table, ready to pull out the printout she had made. It had been tough to catch him without his mouth open. Portraits of people talking were never good.

Rick pushed down her arm. “No, no. I need one for the jacket of my book, not for the regatta. You can take it now.”

“Oh, but I thought you’re only halfway through writing your biography? Or is it for another one?”

“No, it’s for my bio, of course. What about my profile.”

Maggie hesitated for a moment as she admired his long nose. “It’s too busy here for a good portrait. You can come to my studio and—”

“But that will cost me…”

So that was it. He wanted his photo to be paid by the lake association. Naughty, naughty.

“Yes, it will. I might give you a special price for it. Besides, it’s your bio, and you want the best for it, don’t you?”

Rick seemed to have grown a few inches.

Maggie added, “I can do different versions, a profile, or a two thirds, where you are turned to the lake as if you were looking at your life…”

Rick nodded. “Or in front of my barn…the one I built on my own. Did I tell you that story yet?”

Maggie looked around the room for a possible rescue. On the one hand, she wished his book were published to put an end to his endless self-praise. On the other hand, she feared it might have the opposite effect.

“I’m not interrupting, I hope.” Adam winked at Maggie.

“I was just telling Maggie—”

“No, not at all Adam,” Maggie replied.

Adam wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Good, I’m stealing her from you then.”

As they walked away, Maggie sighed. “Phew, just in time. He can be long-winded.”

“Not to mention that he tends to repeat himself,” Adam said.

For a moment, she was lost in his blue eyes as he smiled at her. She hadn’t experienced this emotion since she broke up with her long-term partner two years ago. He could always mesmerize her with one look.

Adam broke the silence. “Are you all right? You are staring through me.”

“Sorry. I was daydreaming.” Eager to change topic, she asked, “But tell me about your llamas. Did they really get drunk?”

“I see you’ve already heard about it. Let me guess, Arthur told you?”

“Arthur?”

“He’s the only one I spoke to aside from the vet, Matt. Maybe Raj.” Adam shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Yes, they’re getting over it slowly.”

“Could they have eaten fermented fruit?”

“You know, that’s the weird thing. I don’t have any fruit trees, and I just can’t see what they could’ve eaten to cause this. No acorns or things like that.”

“What about the fruit and veg scraps I gave them? I’d kept them a few days in a bucket.”

“Naw, so little? Don’t worry. I had to laugh when Harry leaned on me for support and we both fell down.” Adam shook his head. “Anyway, I’ve asked Matt to check them out just in case.”

Maggie imagined Adam zigzagging, supporting Harry with his arm, Harry’s long neck wavering like an erect snake. Maybe she shouldn’t be laughing about this. What if they had been poisoned? There was already one death by poisoning…the death could be linked to a smuggling business…

“Do you deal with smuggling cases as a game warden?” Maggie asked.

Adam arched his eyebrows. “Yes…” His phone beeped. He reached into his pocket and put a finger up. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this, it’s Matt.”

Maggie nodded, hoping the vet would have a reassuring answer.

Chapter Twelve

Adam came back with a smile. “Mary is still a bit slow, but Harry is already back to his good old self. He spat into Matt’s face when he was looking at his pupils. I think he wanted to show who was boss.” He laughed. “I warned Matt that when Harry puts his ears back, back off.”

“That’s a relief. Poor Matt, he tries to treat them, and that’s what he gets in return. Did he figure it out?” Maggie asked.

“He was surprised that they had enlarged pupils and is doing some tests. Not that it’s needed, but he likes to figure things out, a bit like you.” Adam smiled.

“But could be a sign of poisoning. He’s right to do more tests. If it wasn’t something they picked from your land, then…someone…”

“You have too much imagination. They just ate something they shouldn’t have.”

Maggie nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. Let’s grab a bite to eat. I have a break now from my photo session, and I’d like to know what you make of my surprising find.”

She grabbed Adam under the arm and marched him to the buffet table on the terrace.

Now that she had Adam’s full attention, Maggie was curious to hear what he would make of her cheese adventure. “Have you ever found Stilton in a lake?”

Barrie was having his second helping and stood only a few feet away from them. “She goes for a swim sometimes, why?” He grinned.

“No, I mean the smelly—”

“Exactly, the perfume—that…I can even smell her now!”

Barrie swiveled around, his mouth open. The mayor, Ms. Stilton, in a long, flowing dress, was indeed just next to him, thankfully with her back turned. Barrie pointed in the direction of the mayor. Maggie burst out laughing.

The mayor turned around inquisitively and looked at them. “Did I hear my name?”

Through her tears, Maggie came to the rescue. “Not your name, we were speaking about the cheese, English cheese.”

One of Ms. Stilton’s groomed brows lifted high up on her forehead as she appeared to wait for a further explanation.

Maggie opted to explain her cheese find, hoping she might shed some light. “I was just about to tell them about a mysterious find. I was engrossed in taking pictures on Otter Lake when I collided with a fishing boat.”

Ms. Stilton nodded, and Adam crossed his arms narrowing his eyes.

Maggie cleared her throat. “It was Arthur, from the island. His fishing hook had caught on something heavy. After we fell into the water, we managed to recover the parcel. It contained Stilton cheese.”

Maggie waited to see the effect of her words. She imagined foreign cheese might be a candidate for smugglers, like maple syrup was in the past, given the quotas for cheese in Canada and the very high price a tiny piece of European cheese could fetch in Canada. Her idea might be far-fetched, but why would a cheese end up in the lake otherwise? She had nothing to lose testing the idea on others.

After a moment of silence, Ms. Stilton said, “Interesting…we’ve been suspecting a smuggling operation for a while, but in Otter Lake, you say?”

Barrie and Adam stepped forward, flanking Maggie, making a small circle with the mayor.

Ms. Stilton had a stern face.

“Yes, it was well wrapped and in the middle of the lake, which is really strange. So, it is true then that cheese is smuggled into Canada?”

Ms. Stilton looked at Adam as if they were in the know about a specific operation. She nodded to him.

Adam cleared his throat. “Yes, it does happen because of duties, import quotas, and other regulations. It can be a lucrative business, even between provinces. For instance, between Quebec and Ontario, Quebec produces goat cheeses that aren’t allowed in Ontario because they don’t fall into the strict guidelines of Ontarian cheeses.”

“But Stilton isn’t produced in Quebec, from what I know; at least the real one that can be called that way. So why drop it in a lake up here?” Maggie was amazed that her deduction might be correct.

“That is a good question.” Ms. Stilton looked at Adam as if he would have all the answers.

“I don’t know,” Adam said. “What I can say is that one route they have used has been cut off. The cheese arrived into the port of Montreal, and then it was loaded on trucks. Customs officers have seized a large amount of cheese this way and arrested a few people. It was in the news recently.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Maggie said. “But Ms. Stilton mentioned a possible smuggling operation over here.” Ms. Stilton nodded. “Could it be the same one? And maybe even linked to the death, I wonder…”

Adam kept quiet as he looked at Ms. Stilton, who replied, “Now, I would not jump to conclusions. Did you report your find to the police?”

Maggie shook her head, thinking about why Arthur had seemed so reluctant to talk to the police about it.

Ms. Stilton appeared to be searching for someone in the crowd. “I can’t see Sergeant Humphries.” She gestured to Raj, who happened to walk by with Indira in tow. “I’m sure the constable will be helpful. Constable Gupta?”

Raj jumped and froze. He stared at Ms. Stilton with alarm in his eyes.

Ms. Stilton hadn’t lost her headmistress power over him. Funny how some people could still have their childhood imprinting affect their adult behavior.

Indira collided with Raj’s back, pushing him toward the mayor. He nearly fell over and would have landed in Ms. Stilton’s arms had it not been for Barrie, who stepped in front of her with his arms open. He caught his fall into a bear hug.

“Hey Raj, buddy.”

Barrie whispered something into Raj’s ear. Raj appeared flustered.

“Constable Gupta, perfect timing.” Ms. Stilton stretched out her hand to shake his. “Maggie needs to speak to you about a cheese story that might interest Sergeant Humphries.”

A sudden gong vibrated through the air. All heads turned to the bar where Heidi waved an arm in the direction of the prize stand. Rick held the microphone with two hands and tapped it with his finger. “Testing, one, two.”

Raj said into Maggie’s ear, “I’ve got no idea what this is all about. But tell me later.”

Adam whispered in her other ear. “I want the low-down on your smelly business. I might know a little more than I let on earlier, and your find might be a clue.”

Maggie put her hands to her ears. The air from their mouths tickled them. “After the prizes, I’ll tell you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, in fact.”

Barrie and Indira popped their heads forward. “Tell us what?”

Reluctantly, Maggie lifted her camera to her eye. “A fishing story, but…later. I’ve got to take pics of Rick.” Although she was burning to find out more from Adam and how she could help him in any way, duty called. “I’m working, remember?”

“Rick won’t be happy if you don’t ‘shoot’ him. Remember, his profile is best!” Adam winked.

*

Only the sound of crickets and a splash of water filled the darkness. All the revelers had gone home, bellies full and content. The fireflies twinkled in the woods. The Milky Way was on full display, without a moon to overshadow it.

The light was still on in the cafe. Heidi and her cook were clearing up. The servers had already left, all young students who had parties to go to. On the steps of the terrace, the silhouettes of five people cast agitated shadows onto the lawn.

The sound of voices started to mingle with the crickets’ murmur and rose up into the air. Their vibrations, carried by the breeze, disappeared across the lake. Only bits of conversation were audible.  “Where were you?”

“Poison?”

“You knew him then…”

“What about Bruno?”

“Ask Humphries…”

“Arthur didn’t want…police.”

“…but if you knew about the smuggling, then the llamas…”

“…cheese…”

Chapter Thirteen

Adam appeared at Maggie’s door bright and early in a pair of colorful board shorts and a T-shirt. He just needed a surfboard under his arm, and Maggie would have been transported to a beach in Australia. In his flip-flops, it appeared he had white socks, since his feet were normally hidden in his low boots, be it summer or winter. Adam looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes.

Maggie smiled. “You’ve been working too hard, no time to play on the water, I see. Come on in.” As they walked to the kitchen, she said, “But I don’t see your diving gear?”

“I brought my mask, that’s all I need here. The lake isn’t that deep, and if it’s buried in the mud, we won’t find it.”

“But I don’t want to leave it in the lake…even if it’s total loss, it isn’t a wooden canoe, and I don’t want to pollute.”

“I’ll do my best.” Adam looked straight at her neatly stacked muffins on the kitchen table.

“I already packed some with the thermoses of coffee and tea. I thought we could have some as a reward after we found the canoe.”

Adam’s mouth fell a little as he looked at her with pleading eyes. “It’s just that I thought it best to do the rescue now when few people are on the lake. I don’t want them to think that someone’s drowning or attract onlookers. Maybe we’ll find more cheese, who knows?”

Adam walked away slowly. “If you say so…I’ll get my mask.”

“Here, have two for the road. You need them!” Maggie put two muffins in his large hand. Adam grinned back at her and went out the front door with an added spring in his step, the dogs running after him—or was it after the muffins…

They locked the dogs in the house and headed to the shore.

“I know this canoe. It’s a very good one.” Adam tapped its hull.

“You mean the type or the actual canoe?”

“This canoe.” He bent down on one knee as he inspected the prow. “Yes, it’s Arthur’s. I can see he mended the scratch. He must have given it to you.”

“Do you know Arthur well?” Maggie asked, puzzled by their relationship.

Having put the basket with the thermoses and his towel and mask into the boat, he gestured for Maggie to climb in and then lowered himself into the canoe. “Yes, I do. It’s actually because of me that he bought the island.”

“Really?”

Maggie dipped her paddle unconvincingly in the water, too eager to listen to him. The boat moved fast under Adam’s stroke.

“He was looking for a place in the area and liked the idea of an island. It’s not for everyone, mind you. The game warden I was replacing was selling it for peanuts because the cottage needed a lot of repairs.”

Maggie raised an arm, pointing to the loon family. “That way, it was in this area, I think.”

Adam steered the canoe toward the loons. “So this cheese parcel—where did you find it exactly?”

“I don’t know. Arthur did. He was dragging it behind his boat when we collided. Do you know of a smuggling case here?”

“As it happens, I stumbled upon one a few weeks ago when I was patrolling a remote lake on Crown land. I was just checking for illegal fishing.” Adam stopped paddling. “Right here then?”

“Yes,” Maggie said, now more interested in his story than fishing out her canoe.

Adam removed his T-shirt, revealing no further tattoos. After the discovery of the one on his neck, she had wondered if his torso would be covered in them.

He picked up his mask. “A floatplane had landed there, not unusual, as they sometimes bring people to remote fishing spots like that. But when I saw a boat meet it and large boxes being transferred to it, my gut told me something was up, so I took pictures.”

He looked at Maggie through his mask.

“Was it a plane with red wings?” Maggie asked excitedly as Adam gently let himself down into the water.

He nodded. “Let me check this first. Keep an eye for boats.”

Having taken a deep breath, Adam disappeared under the canoe. Maggie waited a moment, peering over the side. Only a few bubbles reached the surface.

Time was ticking. Where was he? Four minutes had passed, and no sign of him. He was a tall man with a large lung capacity—no, something must have happened. She threw a life vest overboard and was prepared to go into the water after him when he finally appeared. A sprinkle of water from a shake of his long hair splashed her.

“I think I spotted it.” Adam pointed to the left of the boat.

“I was worried, you were under water for so long!”

“Sorry. I forgot to mention I learned some free-diving techniques. I can hold my breath for a long time. It’s a nicer way to dive. You can come up close to the fish without scaring them with bubbles.”

Getting over her initial fright, Maggie looked at Adam with wonder. “Jeez, I wish I could do that. So you found it?”

“Yes, but I need your help. I’m not sure I can pull it up like that.”

Maggie put one leg over the rim of the canoe. “Sure.”

“No, the tow rope will do. If you feel a tug on it, pull it up.”

In the wink of an eye, Adam was back underwater. Maggie barely had any time to hang on to the other end of the rope. She lay on her back across the middle of the canoe, her knees bent, pulling the rope in slowly as soon as she felt a tug. It was heavy. She tried to counter the weight with her body to prevent the canoe from rolling over. Adam’s large hand grabbed hold of the canoe just in time to steady it.

“You’re all right, not too heavy?”

“I can manage, but how will we bring it back if it doesn’t float?”

“We’ll just tow it. With the two us, it should be fine.”

Finally Maggie could see the tip of her canoe. She crawled to the back of the boat to tie the rope to it. Adam gripped one side of the canoe with both hands. “Can you sit opposite me? I’ll flip myself in. It’s a stable canoe, so I only need a little counterbalance.”

Maggie watched as Adam rolled into the boat, hoisting himself in with ease, as if he had done this all his life.

“Crikey, that was easier than I expected.”

Maggie handed him his towel and grabbed her basket. “That deserves a celebration!”

The canoe tipped up. “I’ll go in front. It’s being pulled down by the weight.”

Drops of water from Adam’s body dripped onto Maggie’s neck as he clambered around her to the bow. He sat facing Maggie, eyeing her basket, the mark of the mask still around his eyes. “You know, I think you might have to forget about your canoe. Not sure it’s worth repairing. It has a big crack in it and lots of scrapes, and I only saw one side.”

“It’s already had repairs. Gi is good at repairing fiberglass boats. I’ll give it a try. Thanks for fishing it out for me!”

“No worries.” With a mouth full of muffin, Adam said, “Arthur must have been going fast…he’s normally careful.”

“We were both focused on other things. He had the cheese. Speaking of which, you said the plane had red wings. Was it a Beaver?”

“Yup. Why, did you see it?”

“I did, at the airport.”

“Not that it’s useful, though; we’ve already intercepted it, and they didn’t have anything on board. It was as if they knew we were after them.”

“When was that?” Maggie asked, thinking about Arthur’s remark about the plane.

“Not sure, I’d have to check with Humphries. Why?”

Maggie poured some coffee into a cup and handed it to Adam.

“Here, and have another one.” She pointed to the muffins in the basket. “It’s just that Arthur spoke about having seen the same plane flying low, as if it wanted to land here.”

“Really? Now that makes sense. They could’ve dumped their cargo, having heard we were after them.”

“Of course, that’s it.” Maggie thought for a moment about Arthur. “But then the fact that Arthur saw the plane, and then picked up the cheese, seems a bit of a coincidence, no?”

Adam shook his head vigorously. “No, I don’t see that. Not Arthur.”

Maggie wondered why he seemed to want to protect him. “He didn’t want to go to the police. That is suspicious.”

Adam gave his deep, hearty laugh. “I see you don’t know Arthur well. Why would Arthur tell you about the plane if he were in on it?”

Maggie was silent. A wave from a passing motorboat rocked them.

“But who is this Arthur, whom you know so well then?”

“My godfather,” Adam said after a sip of coffee.

“Really?” Maggie asked, at a loss for words.

“Yeah, I know him well. He is above suspicion. Although now that Humphries will have heard about the cheese he found, he’ll be after him…”

The wind picked up. Adam grabbed hold of his paddle. “We’d better go if you don’t like paddling against the wind.”

Maggie paddled with all her might, feeling the drag of her canoe and the wind facing her. The pace was too fast for her to ask more questions, although they were burning the tip of her tongue. Adam had helped her when she found a body in her beaver pond, so this time she felt she had to help him solve the smuggling mystery.

He appeared fond of Arthur and was keen for him to be innocent, but what if he wasn’t? Adam had a conflict of interest. Perhaps that was where she could help him. She could be his objective eye on the matter.

Finally, they reached her dock and pulled her old canoe onto the shore. After inspecting it briefly, Maggie said, “I’ll just ask Gi what he thinks of it. Don’t know about you, but I’m boiling. Fancy another dip in the water?”

Adam had put his T-shirt back on. “Tempting, but I want to see Arthur before I go fishing up north now that I’ve got a better picture of your adventure.”

Disappointed, Maggie asked, “Can’t he wait a little? When are you leaving?”

“This afternoon, and I want to make sure I catch him before Humphries speaks to him about the plane he saw.”

“I see… Will you be away for long?”

“A couple of days, but I usually don’t know exactly when I return, and I’m typically out of reach then.”

“I can take care of your llamas and chickens. I told you I would, if you take care of Beans and Carrot when I go away.”

“Thanks for that. I won’t need to ask Arthur then. You already know what they like.”

“Yes, and I’ll make sure they eat the right things. But what about Arthur? What makes you say Humphries will be after him?” The idea of Arthur’s dubious role in the affair was nagging her.

“Nothing really. Just want to make sure I’m kept in the picture on this matter before Humphries blows it out of proportion.”

Maggie saw her opportunity. “I can try to find things out when you’re away. I’m part of it after all, having been privy to finding the cheese.”

“I don’t think I can stop you there…” Adam smiled. “But be careful. I will not tolerate you risking your life for this. There’s already one dead man.”

Maggie opened her eyes wide. “You think there’s a link?”

Adam gave her a bear hug. “Hold that thought, only if it makes you extra careful. Okay?” He held her firmly by the shoulders. “Stay clear of the marina death. That is up to the police. Promise?”

Maggie looked up at him and crossed her fingers behind her back, like she had as a child. How could she stay away if it meant clearing Arthur’s name for Adam’s sake, if the cheese smuggling were linked to the death at the marina? She whispered, “I’ll try.”

Muffled barking from Beans and Carrot reached their ears. Maggie looked toward the house.

Adam threw his towel onto his shoulder. “Thanks for the muffins and for taking care of the beasts. It should be just for four days or so. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back.”

“I’ll go to your place twice a day to feed them and check on them, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not, they’re in good hands.”

Adam waved to her as he walked to his Toyota Land Cruiser.

Maggie waved back with a sigh and a new determination to figure out who was behind the cheese operation.

Chapter Fourteen

Raj headed back to the police station, hoping that helping Sergeant Humphries with his IT issues might get him back on the murder case. To soften his boss, he had stopped over at Heidi’s to buy some coffee and two cinnamon rolls.

Although Sergeant Humphries was partial to donuts, Heidi’s pastries had slowly but surely replaced them. Homemade cooking seemed to have conquered the factory-prepared Boston cream donut. It had reached a point where Raj asked Heidi if she could one day bake donuts for times when the sergeant was ill-tempered. It would be his secret weapon to deal with him.

This time only the cook was around, and Raj didn’t get his special treatment. Heidi always gave him an espresso on the house. It wasn’t a special perk for a police officer but rather a small treat for her “adopted” big kids, as she called them: Adam, Barrie, and Raj.

The Horizon Cafe was never empty. Vacationers and villagers alike rubbed shoulders on a daily basis for a coffee and a bit of gossip or for lunches and dinners. At the bar, Raj greeted Bruno, who was sitting on one of the bar stools.

Bruno’s toes were curled around the footrest, revealing blackened soles from walking barefoot. He flipped his head back, his blond side-swept bangs only temporarily flicked out of his right eye.

Bruno gestured to his coffee cup. “Steve, another one.” After a nod from Steve, the cook, Bruno gave the thumbs up.

Raj had asked for his coffees and pastries before Bruno, but to his surprise, Steve busied himself with Bruno’s cappuccino first. Raj stared at him as he tapped his finger on the bar counter.

Without a reply, Steve put aside the cappuccino and placed two buns in a paper bag. Only the sound of the coffee machine and background voices filled the air. Bruno broke the building tension. “Relax, Steve’s had a long night.” He gave him a knowing wink.

Steve waved his hand, his back turned to them. A black cone in his right ear was distorted in the reflection of the large espresso machine, making it appear like a dancing figurine.

Steve seemed an introvert and had a roughness to him. He was unshaven. No, it was a sculpted stubble; the contours were too neat for a simple two-day beard.

To get his wife to accept his own beard attempt, Raj had argued it was in fashion. His real reason for growing one was laziness.

It had been short-lived. Indira found it too prickly and banished it forever when she said he looked like her father. Drifting back to reality, Raj observed Steve as he poured milk into the coffees facing him. He had dark patches under his eyes, flaky skin, and cracked lips with a cold sore.

Raj used any opportunity to study a new person to practice his ability to remember faces, judge character, and profile them. At first he had been convinced that he would be a good witness, but he had been challenged by his colleagues and found it hard to describe in detail a person he had only glanced at once.

He had tried practicing on Indira and had only managed to offend her by not remembering details about her. Aspiring to become a detective, he was determined to develop the skill.

“Hey, Steve? Is that right?” Raj asked. Steve nodded. “You’re alone today, no Heidi or any students to help out?” Raj looked around the room and toward the terrace, where a few tables were already occupied.

“Nope. It’s not a problem,” Steve replied, keeping his eyes down.

Raj wondered where he came from. He couldn’t explain the strange hissing ‘s’ at the end of his sentence or his unusually slow speech. “Have you just moved here? ”

Raj only got a nod back. Instead, Bruno replied, “He’s here for the summer. Right?” Not waiting for any response, Bruno said, “He’s an awesome DJ, by the way. Wish I’d get Mom’s cottage to myself more often. The parties…” Bruno stuck his fist out toward Steve, who lifted his own fist for a bump.

Irritated, Raj said, “That’s nice of your mom to let you have big parties, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, huge, ’cause of him, weekends were out. Come to think of it…” Bruno clicked his lips.

“What?” Raj asked.

“With him gone, party this weekend…” Bruno tapped his leg as if he were hearing music.

Raj wasn’t sure who Bruno was talking about, but he assumed his mother must have had a boyfriend she had broken up with or who was just out of town.

“Your mom likes parties then?” Raj asked with a bob of his head.

Bruno frowned and shifted his eyes away from Raj. “Yeah, she’s all right, she gets me. Unlike that idiot.” He shrugged and stood up. “Constable, you should know, right? You put the tape up. When is it coming off?  Who’s going to pay for my lost hours ’cause of all this?”

“It’s a murder, remember. To start with, you can come to the station—you still have to give your statement.” Raj couldn’t pinpoint what irritated him most. Was it that he sensed Bruno was hiding something or simply that he seemed full of himself?

“I’ve already been this morning, nothing more to say.”

Angry that the sergeant hadn’t kept him informed about the case, Raj replied, “Right. I’ll have more questions, so stick around. Anyway, I don’t have all day.”

Raj looked at the two thermal mugs with Raj and Sergeant Humphries stickers on them. At least Steve had been told about those. He put some change on the counter. “And the buns?”

Steve placed the paper bag next to the coffees and smiled. “Here you go. Late night and early shift. Sorry bro, I’m a bit slow.”

Maybe Raj had misjudged him. Lack of sleep could really screw you up.

A bell coming from the kitchen woke Spock, who was sleeping behind the bar. In a split second, Steve disappeared through the door, followed by the cat, its tail upright. When Raj turned to speak with Bruno, it was to find an empty barstool swiveling.

*

Maggie parked between the police car and a white van. She stepped out of her blue truck and slammed the door, leaving the windows open. As she walked to the other side of her car to pick up her photos, a strange smell reached her.

Phew, that stinks. Nothing under the soles of her shoes. She lifted her head and followed the smell to the open window of the van. She carefully approached it, just in case a dog might jump at her. The smell got stronger.

A few empty paper cups and a cap were strewn across worn-out seats. The back was closed off with black plastic. A sticker proclaiming Ice cream delivery right to your door covered the back windows of the van.

It didn’t make sense. Heidi got her ice cream from Danillies. The owner of the van must just be there for a coffee, not to deliver what must be really smelly ice cream. Maggie walked toward the cafe. She couldn’t get rid of the familiarity of the smell.

She pushed open the glass door, and her large folder fell to the floor, with some of the photos sliding out of it. Her handbag slid from her shoulder as she knelt down. She tried to hold the door with her foot to prevent it from crushing the prints.

A pair of black shoes with shiny tips topped by navy pants appeared next to her. She lifted her head and brushed her curly hair out of her eyes. The door closed on her and pushed her forward onto her hands.

Maggie looked up to Raj, who had picked up a number of prints. “Thanks for that. I didn’t want to do those again.” She gathered her belongings and rose to her feet with the help of his hand under her arm.

She smiled at the number of diners who had turned toward them. In a low voice she said, “A good way to get noticed.” Then, louder, so that everyone could hear, “The pictures will be available for sale, if you happen to have attended the regatta. Or you can just visit my site, Maggie’s Photo Booth.”

To illustrate, she held up one of her pictures. Then she picked up a large plastic bag and lifted it so that the dozen people in the cafe could see it. “More T-shirts too, check them out!” She let her arm fall down with the weight of the bag.

Raj took hold of it. “Let me help you. Great T-shirts, by the way.”

They walked together to the bar. Raj tapped one of the pictures with his thumb. “I want that picture.”

“Which one?”

He tilted the pictures he held under his arm to reveal one with the crowd on the terrace of the cafe and in the middle a little group smiling at the camera. Adam, Barrie, Indira, and Raj had their glasses raised.

“Yes, that’s a nice one. Pity Amy wasn’t there, though. Her kids would have loved all of it,” Maggie said.

“She doesn’t get a lot of time off. She might be called in to work on the poisoning,” Raj replied.

“Really? So her forensics team is on this case then?”

“Yes, I saw some of her colleagues when the coroner was here.”

“Anyhow, I’ve invited her for Barrie’s birthday, in a week.”

Raj’s eyes shifted away. It was as if he deliberately avoided talking about Barrie when he said, “It’s bloody hot in the city. It can’t be that hard to convince her to come up for the weekend. Indira’s parents use that excuse all the time to stay with us.” He tilted his chin forward and sighed. “When I tell them it’s a bit tight for all of us, they say ‘You’ll see, once the baby is there, you’ll be asking for us all the time.’”

Maggie looked at Raj in surprise. “A baby? That is fantastic!” She dropped her bags to hug him.

Raj bobbed his head. “No. No! There is no baby, not yet. That’s what they want.”

“I see. As far as you know…” Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“We both want to wait till I get a promotion.” Raj fell silent. He looked worried. “Come to think of it, maybe that’s where Indira was, getting a blood test.”

“Oh, still the time she wasn’t at the pharmacy? Sure, that’s possible…” Maggie thought of John having seen Indira and Barrie leave together the airfield. Eager to change the topic, she asked, “You’re on duty? I don’t want to be funny or anything, but—that sergeant of yours—”

“Yes, yes!” Raj looked at his watch and put his cap back on his head. “Makes me think… A thousand cups of wine do not suffice when true friends meet, but half a sentence is too much when there is no meeting of minds.”

Maggie smiled as Raj rushed out of the cafe. His concerned voice lingered in her mind. It was unlike him to talk about Indira in that way. Maybe there was a baby story behind this after all… Or was she having an affair with Barrie?

*

Raj had arrived at the police station just in time to witness two gentlemen in an agitated discussion with Sergeant Humphries.

“So what exactly was your relationship with the deceased?” Sergeant Humphries asked. He appeared frustrated, tapping his foot. His knuckles turned white from holding the counter too tight.

“None. We don’t have a relationship with him. I thought the police would not discriminate like this, and besides, you’re insulting my partner here,” Ronnie said.

“Right. Let’s start over. You said you knew the man.” The sergeant crossed his arms, leaning back a little. “You even came here to tell me that. Did I get that right?” He combed his moustache with his thumb and finger, a gesture that Raj had noticed had a calming effect on him. Pity Raj couldn’t go up to him and do it when he was excited.

Ronnie, the taller man of the two, stiffened. His unbuttoned blue linen shirt revealed a tanned torso down to the third button. The other played with a macramé bracelet on his left wrist, pulling at its loose strings as he took several loud, deep breaths.

Raj bobbed his head. “Sergeant.”

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Raj smiled and nodded at the pair, who returned his greeting.

“But sir, just that they—”

“What now?” Sergeant Humphries gave Raj his darkest look and stepped back.

Something must have upset the sergeant to put him in this state in front of members of the public. Raj was used to him addressing him like that within the walls of the police station or car. Perhaps it was pressure from above because of the murder case? He always seemed to hate interference from head office.

Thinking that all the sergeant needed to know to calm down was that they were villagers, Raj stuck his hand out to the men. “Hi Ronnie, Clive.” Raj turned to face the sergeant. “They took over the sports store in Foxton.”

Sergeant Humphries raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, now it’ll be more than a sports store,” Clive added as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

Ronnie put his hand on the counter. “Hey, Sergeant, drop in one of these days, we’ve got some great new shirts. The orange one would look awesome with your waistcoat.”

Sergeant Humphries looked confused and ill at ease. He blushed.

Clive quickly said, as his eyes moved back and forth between Ronnie and the sergeant, “We love your music. Such a manly voice.” His thin lips parted in a wide smile. “We saw you perform the other night. Just great.”

Sergeant Humphries’s cheeks were no longer pink but had turned purple. He fiddled with an earlobe. “Well, yes. Mmm. Thanks. So…”

Raj came to the rescue. “But you’re not here to discuss music or shirts.” He laughed and then took a serious tone. “Did you know the deceased man? I guess that was the question?”

Ronnie’s face became stern. “No. But we did see him around. He bought a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I think.” He looked at Clive.

“Yes, and a pareo, as a present. The flowery one, you know…”

Sergeant Humphries had regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Pareo?”

Ronnie explained swinging a virtual pareo around his hips, “Yes, women like wearing them over their bathing suits. Basically it’s a wraparound skirt.”

“Was there a woman with him?” asked the sergeant.

Clive put his hands into the pockets of his salmon shorts. “Yes, in fact, she has the cottage with the red roof not far from the harbor. You know.” Everyone looked at him, and he tapped Ronnie’s arm. Ronnie shook his head. Clive added, “Come on, She’s the mother of that cute guy who bought the long swim trunks last week.”

“I see, you mean Bruno,” Ronnie said. “Is she now? I didn’t know.”

Raj thought of his encounter with Bruno. The idiot Bruno was referring to must have been the deceased man. What was Bruno hiding? Was he protecting his mother or himself?

“Now that is interesting. Finally a lead.” The sergeant hit the table with his fist.

Clive knitted his fingers together. “So, we’ve helped then. You see, Ronnie, I was right to come see the sergeant.” He beamed, his green eyes shining with delight.

Chapter Fifteen

Damien was at the bar speaking with Bruno. Maggie had first met him after the death of his mother, the real estate agent. At the time, he was a shy young man who turned out to be level-headed and kind.

He and his father had helped her to build her photography website. She was hoping to ask him for some updates on her website and to catch up on his latest work. She had heard he was making waves with his new video game.

Maggie tapped Damien’s shoulder as he was pointing to his computer screen.

“Hey, Maggie. Good to see you.” Damien climbed down from the bar stool, shutting his laptop. He gave her a big hug.

She felt he had bulked up. She kept her hands on his arms and took a step back to look at him. “It’s been a while. Congrats about your game. It’s amazing.”

“You liked it?” Damien’s eyes lit up.

“I’ve got to admit, I haven’t tried it yet—” Maggie felt ashamed. “But I will.”

Damien smiled. “No worries. Yeah, crazy. But a lot of fun. Bruno here—” he slapped Bruno’s back “—is testing the latest version.”

“Yeah, it’s like, so intense, you know. Awesome.” Bruno beamed back at Damien. It was the first time Maggie saw admiration in Bruno’s eyes, instead of his usual arrogant look.

“So you’re doing this with your dad then?” Maggie asked, keen to hear if the pair had managed to forge a new relationship after his mother’s death.

“It’s working out really well. He deals with the boring stuff, and I can focus on the creative side. We’re growing, and I really need to hire more people. I still can’t believe it.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Maggie rubbed his arm affectionately.

“How’s your photo business? Picking up, I see.” Damien tapped the pile of T-shirts Maggie had just placed on the bar counter.

“Slowly, compared to you. It takes time for people to trust me for their wedding pics, but they seem to like pet-and-owner portraits. I have to offer something different from the pics they take with their phones. It’s a challenge.”

“From what I’ve heard, people love them. I’m a fan!”

“Thanks…Heidi’s been so helpful. She’s the one selling them for me,” Maggie said, eager to shift the attention away from herself.

“I can help you with more web presence. It’ll help. I know a few traffic builders now.”

“Traffic builders?”

“People with lots of followers,” Damien replied.

“But I take portraits of people here, not on the other side of the planet. I don’t see how it could help.”

“Maybe. Who says you won’t travel for a portrait, and isn’t wildlife photography your real passion?” Damien asked.

“So?” Maggie sighed. “There’s so much competition, forget it.”

“That shouldn’t stop you. Your pics are really good. I mean it. There’s no downside to selling prints online. Just test it. Your pet portraits are hilarious. I’m sure that’ll work.”

Maggie smiled as she thought of her enjoyment of the pet photo sessions. Some went very well, while others could be challenging when the animal had other ideas. In the end, many clicks later, it was always a bit of a surprise whether her setup resulted in the picture she hoped for, but she always ended up having a good laugh.

“I want to snap Spock. He’s gorgeous.”

She pointed to the cat asleep in a cardboard box on the windowsill. The box was just too small for him; his four paws hung out and shook as he dreamed.

Damien peered over her shoulder at the cat. Maggie added, “For Heidi. I’d really need to have him in my studio with the black sheet behind him. That way I can control the lighting. But how can I take him without her knowing?”

“Can’t Adam give you a hand with that? I’m allergic to cats…”

Maggie shrugged. She hoped to manage without his help, since he was away for a few days. She shifted her eyes from Damien’s to Bruno’s. Bruno looked away to the kitchen door as if he were trying to avoid eye contact.

Bruno had been listening to their conversation and staring at her. He hadn’t even glanced at his phone once. Listening was fine, but the feeling of being silently judged wasn’t pleasant. Maggie slipped her bag onto her shoulder. “Damien, I’ve got to rush. Sorry. About my website, I need some changes, but that can wait till next week.”

“For sure. Anytime.” She stepped in the direction of the door. Damien held her back with his hand. “By the way, have you figured out this murder yet?”

Bruno’s eyes widened like two footballs. A trickle of sweat formed at the base of his hair.

“No, why?” Maggie asked, only a little surprised by his question.

“Just ’cause you solved the mystery of Mom’s death…and with that cheese story of yours—”

“Gee…has it already been around the village then?” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “That’s the smell!”

“What?”

“You just made me think of something.”

As she spoke, Steve poked his head through the kitchen door and gestured for Bruno to join him.

Maggie rushed outside, leaving Damien with his mouth open. The smelly van had vanished. She hadn’t seen anyone in the cafe who could have been its likely driver. That could only mean whoever that person was had visited the back kitchen. Raj must have seen the van when he left. She glanced at her large pilot’s watch. No time to ask him.

The Reverend John Smithers, her flying instructor, had offered her a new slot for her lesson following a cancellation. Maggie couldn’t wait to complete her license as quickly as possible. Like an impatient child, she was eager to play with her new toy, her father’s yellow Cessna.

Maggie couldn’t see why Barrie was lingering on with the repair work of her plane. He had promised it would be done by the end of the summer, but at this pace, it would never happen. The only explanation she could think of was that a woman was taking up his time. Could it be Indira? It would explain Raj’s suspicions.

When Maggie pulled up at the airport, the same floatplane with its distinctive red lines and red wings she had seen the other day was taking off. She watched it for a moment until it disappeared behind a cloud. It was another sweltering day. She pinched her tank top to let some air down her chest.

The strap of her Billingham camera bag dug into her bare shoulder. As usual, she was too early for the lesson. She decided to take a look around the airfield to see if she could find anything related to the plane. She was on a mission for Adam. Someone must have dropped off the pilot, since no car was parked at the airfield aside from hers. Or perhaps it had just fueled up.

The door to the control tower was locked. How strange that this plane took off without anyone here. That meant they couldn’t have fueled up either. She hadn’t dreamed it. The hangar was also locked. She walked back to the building, hoping to find a place to hide from the sun.

No one, no car. Had she made a mistake and got the time or day wrong? Even the birds seemed to have retreated for their midday siesta. She sat down on the last step of the tower in the shade of a maple.

After swatting a deer fly with her hand, she pulled out her phone. For a moment she stared at the screen. She flicked through some pictures. Raj smiled back at her with a beer in his hand. As if she had been programmed to do so by an external force, Maggie clicked on his contact details and his phone number.

“Hey, Maggie. Can I call you back?” Raj asked.

Why was she calling him? She hesitated. The heat had obliterated her intention.

“Maggie, it is you?”

“Yes, yes, sorry. Mmm…” Suddenly it came back to her—the van. “Oh yes. Cheese.”

“What? If you’ve got something on the cheese business, then I can talk now,” Raj replied in his police voice.

“I do. I saw a van that smelled of cheese.”

“Are you serious? No time for jokes, okay, I’m on duty.”

Raj sounded very formal. This was unlike him. Perhaps his relationship problems with Indira were taking their toll on him. Or maybe the sergeant was breathing in his neck.

Maggie spoke fast to prevent him from hanging up. “No, no it’s not a joke. I know, it’s weird. But you know when I saw you at the cafe earlier?”

“Yup.”

“Well, when you drove away, did you see a white van parked close to your car?”

“Yes, possibly, why?”

“It stank of Stilton cheese, I’m sure of it.” Maggie kicked a little stone from under her foot.

“Go on.”

His encouragement reinforced her sense of being on a trail of some kind. “I think that van must have been used to transport cheese, but it said ice cream on its side.”

“I see. But many things can smell like cheese in this hot weather. You mustn’t stick your nose in my shoes!” Raj laughed.

Maggie heard typing through the phone. At the same time, John arrived.

“Yes, but it really was the same as the smell from the cheese found in the lake,” Maggie insisted, now convinced.

“Okay, give me a description of the van then. But stay out of this, you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, it’s gone anyway.” Maggie waved at John and followed him up the steps.

“Gone?” asked Raj.

“When I left the cafe, it was gone. Anyway, just thought it might be a lead.”

“Yes, right. Got it. Yes, sir.”

Maggie heard a change of tone. “Okay, I’m about to start my flying lesson. See you later.” As soon as she hung up, she realized she had forgotten to talk about the plane with the red wings. What if the driver of the van had delivered a cheese parcel right here? No one would have been around to witness the exchange…

No, she would stay out of it, at least until the end of her flying lesson. Focus, Maggie, focus this time.

*

The lesson went smoothly. It started with a takeoff and landing practice on land. Landing on water would come later. It was time for some slow flight. They flew over the chain of lakes, past Otter Lake, and into more remote areas with fewer cottages but still many lakes and a large field.

Maggie had already done the minimum controllable airspeed maneuver a number of times. Feeling confident, she said, “Selecting altitude. Toward the square field.” She looked out the windows to check visual references. “Yes, the lake in a clover shape to my left and the round lake on my right with the plane in it.” She looked out the window again. “The plane, look!”

The plane tilted dangerously as she tried to get a better view of the lake below.

“Watch out, you’re off target,” John said calmly.

Maggie’s heart beat faster. “Yes, but it’s the plane with the red wings. And look, there’s a boat!”

“Yes, there are float planes around and boats. Concentrate!” John’s voice rose a little.

“But look! There, they are unloading something,” Maggie insisted, trying to peer over the windshield, the instruments blocking most of her view.

“Maggie, you’re flying a plane. Concentrate.”

John slowly laid his hands on the yoke. He hadn’t done that since her first lessons.

Maggie steadied the aircraft. “Yes. Sorry. It’s just that—”

“There is no such thing as ‘just that’ when you’re in command.”

John looked angry, but she had to see what was happening on the lake. She was sure it was the same plane she had seen take off earlier, the plane Adam had spotted. Her gut told her she had to take a closer look, even if it meant she would upset John.

“Can I circle the lake? It might be important and related to the murder.”

John was aware of the murder investigation, having been to the regatta. Surely, he would want to help if he could.

Finally, John looked out the window. “You’re right. I recognize the plane. Yes, go ahead, but what’s so special about this plane?”

“There!” Maggie was excited. She pointed down to a dock and a van parked next to it. “I knew it. We’ve got to call Raj to intercept them!”

“Can you explain yourself? I just see a white van and a boat heading toward it. Careful now, the plane is preparing to take off.” John took over the controls. “Okay, now you can tell me what’s going on?” He sighed.

“I will, first Raj…” Maggie felt her pockets for her phone.

Having checked that John was in command, Maggie turned to the back of the plane, where she had left her bag. Half out of her chair, she grabbed the cell phone. “Got it.” Ignoring John, who was looking at her with round eyes, she called Raj as soon as she had flipped back in her seat.

“Raj, me again. I found it! The van. You’ve got to go there and stop them.”

“What? Calm down. I can’t hear you. Where are you?” Raj asked.

“I’m in a plane with John,” Maggie shouted down the phone, the roar of the engine drowning out her voice. “The van, with the cheese, the boat and plane. All here. The smuggling operation!”

“I only hear smuggling operation and van. You found the van?”

“Yes, yes, you have to go after it,” Maggie said urgently, articulating each word.

“Give me your coordinates.”

Maggie gave him the GPS location of the lake and the van as John flew low over it.

“Right, stay around there, I’ll try to get there. I’ll be in touch on your phone.”

John pointed to the number on his phone. “Let him call this number so that we have him on our headphones.”

Having sorted out the communication details, Maggie pulled out her camera from the back. The other plane was too far now to see who was in it. They had better stick with the car. She fitted her tele-lens on the camera and was too busy taking pictures of the van to explain the whole story to John. Instead, she gave orders for him to follow the van.

John didn’t seem to mind. He circled the lake a few times, flying low for Maggie to get a better picture of it. Unfortunately, the license plate wasn’t visible. The boat was abandoned on the shore, and the van sped away in a dust cloud. They lost it under the canopy of trees until it reappeared along the square field.

“It’s going north!” Maggie saw from the corner of her eye a flashing light. “There, the police car. But he’s going to the lake. No.” She shook her head, and out of reflex, she pointed in the direction of where it had gone, not that Raj could see it.

There was a crackle in the earphones, and Sergeant Humphries’s voice came through. “Position?”

Raj must be driving. Sergeant Humphries was hanging on to the dashboard with one hand and looking up at them through the windshield. John gave him directions.

The police car stopped and made a U-turn. Maggie felt her heart beat faster. We’re in a chase. Oh my God. I hope I’m right.

Chapter Sixteen

“They’ll never catch up with them.” She pulled on her seatbelt to loosen it and get a better view. “What are they doing?”

She put a hand to her mouth. The police car had been catching up with the van on the stretch of straight road until it appeared to have stopped in the middle of the road. Her eyes had been locked on the van, missing what happened with the police car. Had they broken down?

John interrupted her thought. “We’ve got to turn back, look.”

He pointed to the fuel gauge.

“But we can’t. We’ll lose the van, and the police car didn’t keep up with it!”

“I don’t want to run out of fuel.”

Maggie looked at the gauge. “But it’s still a quarter full.”

“Yes, and we’re farther away from the airport now. No. We’re going back. Another lesson for today.”

John made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

Her eagerness to follow the van had impaired her judgment. She shook her head. “Sorry. I see the danger that my decision could have led to. I’ve still got so much to learn.”

“And we’re not the police.” John looked at her from under his brows, his head tilted down slightly.

“Yes. I got carried away. But we were so close to catching them.” Adam must have felt like that when he witnessed the transaction. So close, but not enough to stop it. Maybe it was at this lake that he first saw the operation.

Maggie looked down at her hands. Anyhow, safety first. I will always remember that now. She put her hands firmly on the yoke and smiled at John.

*

The sergeant swore and hit the dashboard full force with his clenched fist. “Jeez, Constable, you nearly killed us. They didn’t—”

His last words were buried into the airbag that had exploded on the impact of his fist. Raj had put both feet on the brake to avoid a young deer crossing the road. He had managed to keep the car on the road, leaving behind a trail of black smoke from the tire friction.

Raj was still holding the steering wheel when a text popped up on his phone saying that Maggie and John were heading back due to low fuel levels. Sergeant Humphries was battling with the airbag with both hands. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stormed out of the car.

Raj took three deep breaths and murmured a thank-you prayer. He looked into the rear-view mirror. No car. They were fortunate that the roads up here were quiet. He slowly drove to the side of the road and stepped out.

An elated feeling soon replaced his sick one. He felt a rush of energy through his body—life. The near brush with death had heightened all his senses. That must be the adrenaline. Or was simply the joy of being alive enough to be cause for celebration?

He had enjoyed the excitement of the chase, as if he had been in the flow. His mind had been totally focused on the task, without any side thought to distract him. Time had appeared to move slowly. He had remained calm in his first chase. Good to know for future reference.

With the deer, there had been no other option but to brake. The sergeant mustn’t have seen the deer at the time. Raj still had his voice in his ear: “Faster, faster. We’re going to lose them.”

Raj’s reaction had saved their lives. If he hadn’t braked they would have had a direct hit with the deer. The thought allowed him to confront Sergeant Humphries, angry for having accused him of negligence. The sergeant was bent forward with his hands on his knees.

At the sight, Raj lost all his rage. He put himself in the sergeant’s shoes. As a passenger, the feelings of fear and helplessness must have been overwhelming. It was only natural for them to turn to anger against the driver.

He felt sorry for Sergeant Humphries. They both should be rejoicing to be alive. He went up to the sergeant and hugged him. Sergeant Humphries jumped back and looked around.

Raj bobbed his head. “I had to.” He made the gesture of the hug. “I’m glad you aren’t hurt—that we missed the deer.”

He looked toward the bushes where the deer had escaped. The sergeant was speechless for once. Raj had a little internal laugh at the idea of using hugs in future as a secret weapon against the sergeant’s bad moods.

But then he thought it might not be such a good idea when Sergeant Humphries replied, “This never happened. Right? You understand, Constable?”

“Yes, sir,” Raj replied, automatically saluting.

“Never again.”

“Never,” Raj echoed.

They drove back to the police station in silence.

*

On their way back to the airfield, John flew the plane and insisted Maggie look out the window in case she saw anything. Her camera in hand, she saw something that puzzled her.

Raj and Indira’s cottage was close to the airfield. The customary landing procedure with westerly winds always brought them over their red roof toward the runway. Since she started her flying lessons, she always took a glance to see if someone was home. Indira had urged her to drop by for a cup of tea whenever she saw her car parked in her yard.

This time, alongside Indira’s car stood a motorbike. Maggie wondered whom it might belong to.

It was close to Maggie’s morning tea ritual, and she would like to speak with Indira. She sent her a message.

Hey, Indira, just back from my flying lesson, time for a cuppa? xox Maggie

A frog beep signaled a reply. Sorry, no, busy now, parents are here. Luv Indira.

The reaction was surprising. Indira’s parents didn’t own a motorcycle, as far as she knew. They usually drove up in their RV in summer, and that was very hard to hide. Maybe they were on their way; that would explain it. The motorcycle was still there when Maggie drove past Indira’s house on her way back home.

Maggie thought of the chase. They must have captured the license plate number, but the cheese must be on the plane. She tried to imagine all sorts of reasons why the police car would have stopped and concluded that either they had a flat tire or they had received a call that another patrol car was taking over. In any case, they should be able to locate the van and its owner.

She imagined Adam fishing somewhere up north. Maybe he was investigating the affair but didn’t want to tell her for her own protection. The plane and the van seemed to be heading north.

Adam had entrusted her with his animals when he was away; the least she could do was keep her promise, and maybe, just maybe she could find what might have caused the llamas’ poisoning. A quick stop home to pick up some vegetable scraps for the chickens and then to Adam’s place. Maybe Beans would be able to sniff something out.

*

Beans leapt up into her arms and licked her face. “Did you miss me that much?” Maggie laughed. “I was only away a few hours.”

Carrot barked in circles, as if he were trying to catch his tail. Maggie gently pushed the animals away as she hurried to the kitchen to pick up the bucket of vegetable peels. She looked down at Beans, who was sitting expectantly at her feet. “No food, but I need your sense of smell. Come on, let’s go.” The dogs followed her eagerly into her car.

Adam’s white cottage, with its neat pile of wood, appeared in the clearing. Maggie stopped at the wooden fence that surrounded the field. The old barn at the back, where he parked his Toyota Land Cruiser, was closed; only his old tractor was left outside.

As soon as she opened the door of her truck, her Big Jay, as she had nicknamed it, Beans and Carrot darted out. The llamas came running to the gate. For a few minutes, it was one big sniffing contest.

Hearing soft calls, she turned around and faced a row of chickens. They would soon fly into her bucket if she wasn’t careful. She ushered the little crowd to the chicken coop area. The llamas never followed her when she had the bucket for the chickens. Adam was right. That couldn’t have been the cause of the poisoning.

Maggie checked over her shoulder whether she had closed the gate behind her. She wouldn’t want the llamas to escape without Adam around. She caught a glimpse of earth being flung up in the air. Beans was digging along the fence line toward a path at the back. Mary was just behind her, with her ears pricked up.

Before Maggie had time to get to her, Beans was out on the other side of the fence, running away. She had her nose down, clearly following a sent. Maggie climbed up the fence and jumped down with a thump on the other side.

She could barely see the dog’s tail above the grass. It seemed that other animals had been walking this way, as evidenced by the bent grass blades. Maggie listened for a moment, expecting a deer or porcupine. Beans always went after them. She caught a pungent smell in the air.

It was far-fetched to think someone would poison the llamas, and the llamas could have simply eaten a toxic plant. But what if the smugglers had come to Adam’s place when he was away to retrieve the implicating evidence—his photos of the operation.

Beans would recognize the cheese smell. And how could the smugglers not smell of cheese after a while? An increasingly pungent smell made her stop in fear. What was it?

Beans ceased barking. As she reached the dog, Maggie caught her breath as she slowly raised her head, putting her hand to her mouth.

“Well, I never…”

Chapter Seventeen

Bruno’s mother, Pamela, had been summoned to the police station for questioning. Her large bangles clattered against the glass door as she pushed it open. Once inside, she adjusted her peach suit so that the little belt on the jacket would sit just right. She appeared oblivious to her surroundings.

She opened her large tote bag and rummaged inside. Out came a lipstick and a mirror. With one hand, she expertly settled her hair and applied the pastel color to her lips. The items back in the bag, she pushed her skirt down with her hands and a wiggle of the hips.

With a spring in her step, she headed to the counter, where Raj was standing next to the sergeant. Seeing Raj open his mouth to speak, Sergeant Humphries said, “Hello—” only to be interrupted by Pamela.

“Okay, guys. Let’s get it over with. It’s so not like me to be here now. Yes, all because of him.”

She shook her head in the same manner as her son flicked his side-swept bangs from his eyes.

Sergeant Humphries straightened up, sensing he had to let her know who she was addressing. “You’re late. Two o’clock.” He pointed to the large clock behind him. “Please go ahead. It better be good.”

The interaction felt awkward. Sergeant Humphries had never encountered such an assertive woman; she had a manly, dominant trait he didn’t know how to handle. Once again, she was about to speak first, but he raised his voice higher than Pamela’s. “It’s a serious business. Please follow me to a place we can talk properly.” He put his hand out to indicate the way to the interrogation room.

“Exactly. I’m fine with it. Whatever.” Pamela lifted her hand in the air and bent her head down. She picked her bag up from the counter and swirled it around, knocking the swinging doors. The clicking of her heels set the tone.

The sergeant held the interrogation room door open for her. “Take a seat. Coffee, tea?”

“Wonderful, nice, so you can be pleasant.” Pamela sat down and tucked her hair behind her ears. She smiled at him. “Water, please.”

Sergeant Humphries shouted to Raj, who was at the other end of the corridor, “A coffee and a glass of water.” He closed the door behind him.

“Now then. Why didn’t you come forward to tell us that you knew Jean-Paul Jacquier?” he asked, tapping his index finger on the table.

“Why should I?”

“Because I explicitly asked for it.”

“Really? I totally didn’t know.” Pamela leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Weren’t you at the regatta to see your son?” He hoped to get an answer if he mentioned her son, Bruno.

“I can’t be at all his performances. I’m a busy woman.” Pamela pursed her lips.

Sergeant Humphries couldn’t bring himself to prod her further on that topic. It was as if she had raised a wall between them. He always had trouble with women, mostly because he underestimated them and saw a clear distinction between a man and a woman’s role in society.

He looked at her dominant blue eyes and pretty features. She must have power over men. Poor Jacquier. The thought angered him. “What was your relationship with Jean-Paul Jacquier?”

“It’s a private matter.”

“No. Not in a murder enquiry, it isn’t.” His voice rose a little. He didn’t see any hesitation in her eyes. Her face looked frozen, as if Botox had paralyzed all the muscles. “I can tell you if you like. We have witnesses.”

Aside from Ronny and Clive having suggested a relationship between the two, Sergeant Humphries kept up his sleeve new information he had just received from an anonymous caller that she had been seen close to the marina the night Jacquier died.

“Wonderful. Is that right, eh? Who would be spying on me, I wonder.” She shook her finger. “Yes. He was a fling. No idea what I was smoking then, but there you have it.” She sighed and lowered her arms, the bangles hitting the table. “Not when he died.” She looked at her fingernails.

“I see, and why’s that? Did he leave you then? Is that why you killed him?” He tried his aggressive approach, which had led to confessions in the past.

She crossed her legs, put her hands neatly on her lap, and then looked at him in silence. Sergeant Humphries could not bear it; it was as if the whole situation had backfired, and he was now the interrogated. He shook his head as he tried to reset his emotions. He hated silence.

“Right, I’ll start over. When did you last see him?”

Pamela stared at him. “Can’t remember.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Bruno then. He might remember.” He waited. He saw a twitch in her mouth. She did care for her son.

Without a blink, she replied, “The day he died. All right. I threw him out of the house because he was aggressive and intoxicated.”

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Raj popped his head through. “Coffee and water.”

The sergeant nodded and gestured for him to close the door again.

Pamela took a large sip of water. The sergeant observed her for signs of lying. Her eyes had stayed locked on his; she must be telling the truth. He looked down at his notes. She owned a branding and design agency. In his eyes, she couldn’t be trusted.

“What time was that?” he asked, scribbling the word “lying” on his pad.

“Pfff, I don’t know. In the evening.”

“Drunk? Did that happen often?”

“Let’s say it wasn’t unusual. But this was strange.” She looked down at her hands as if she suddenly remembered something. “He didn’t smell of alcohol…”

“So he did come close to you, even though you stated that you had broken up?” the sergeant asked, thinking he might be getting closer to a confession.

“Come on, give me a break. I can totally smell if you’ve had a drink without smooching you!”

Sergeant Humphries combed his moustache with his two fingers. The brief idea of smooching Pamela wasn’t unpleasant. She was pretty, after all. It was short-lived. She was his prime suspect.

“This is a murder inquiry. Describe what happened in detail. I’m listening.”

“Right.” Pamela looked up to the ceiling. “I didn’t expect him to visit me. It was over.”

“What was over?”

“The fling. Yes, he was going to leave the country, he said.” Pamela sighed heavily.

“Really? Now, that is interesting. Go on.” The sergeant put one elbow on the table, a hand supporting his chin, and narrowed his eyes.

“So when he turned up banging at my door, I was rather upset.”

Pamela had a detached look as she spoke. Sergeant Humphries remained silent. He didn’t want to interrupt her flow. He had many more questions about Jacquier, but it seemed the less he asked, the more she spoke.

“He looked paranoid. He wanted to pick up his pills. Pff, what a bad excuse.”

“What pills?”

“Some anti-anxiety stuff, I don’t know. I gave them to him, threw them in his face really, and told him to leave. That was it. I didn’t want to see that face again.”

“Oh really, so you got rid of him, did you?” He looked at her and leaned back in his chair, thinking she must have gone to the marina to get rid of the body.

“Right. Do you want my help or not?”

The sergeant was taken aback. Yes, he was in desperate need of help to get as many clues as possible before the detective team took over. He didn’t want to give his office up to the detective sergeant again. He nodded. This was unlike him; it was as if she had mesmerized him.

“Wonderful. We’re cool then.” She put her hands flat out in front of her and looked at him with a dominant intensity. She took another sip of water. “It was like this.” She gestured with her finger for him to take note. “He stood at the door and then left as soon as I gave him his pills.”

“What time was this?”

“I’d say maybe 11:00 p.m.”

“That late?”

“Yes, so you see why I was annoyed. But then again, typical of him, he usually barged in like that whenever it suited him.”

“Mmm, interesting. And where were you between 11:00 p.m. last Friday and 9:00 a.m. Saturday?”

“You persist. No, I didn’t follow him, and no, I didn’t kill him. I was at home.”

Sergeant Humphries raised an eyebrow. So his anonymous caller was wrong? “Anyone with you?”

“Well, yes, my son, Bruno, as you already know.” Pamela shuffled back into her seat, changing the crossing of her legs.

Sergeant Humphries tried to recollect what Bruno had said. His memory wasn’t very good; he would have to check the statement. “Are you sure? Think again.”

“Of course I’m sure.”

Sergeant Humphries grumbled.

Pamela stood up and picked up her tote. She put a finger on the table, leaning on it, and looked down upon the sergeant. “Is that it? I’m a busy woman.”

They didn’t have any evidence to hold her, and she had an alibi. Bruno could have done it, or she still could have out of revenge. It seemed so simple. If only he could prove it.

He was deep in his thoughts, still glued to his chair, one hand on the armrest. He pushed his coffee mug from the piece of paper his constable had put in front of him. Jacquier linked to the cheese smuggling, same ship that was apprehended.

“One more question. What did Jacquier do for a living?”

“He was a captain. No point asking me anything else. He never spoke about his affairs, neither did I.”

“So you really don’t know what he transported on his ship?”

“No, we never talked business, as I said. Can I go now?”

She clutched her bag and stared at him. He couldn’t hold her for longer if she didn’t want to talk, and he would need to check the link between Jacquier and the smuggling. He stood up. “Yes, for the moment only. But don’t leave Foxton.”

“But I’ve got a job to do in the city. I can’t possibly stay here.”

“Maybe, but that’s the way it is now until further notice.”

Pamela swung her bag around and marched to the door. “Outrageous! Wait till you hear from my lawyer.”

Just as she put her hand on the door handle, it swung open. She jumped back and landed in Sergeant Humphries’s arms. He prevented her fall by catching her from behind. Pamela wiggled her nose as his moustache touched it. In the tango embrace, they looked toward the door. Raj, still in the doorframe, stared at them with his mouth agape.

Pamela sprang up and walked pass Raj. “Brilliant, I’m so loving this. Wait till my lawyer hears about it.”

She swung her hair back and squeezed through.

Raj pressed himself against the door, letting her pass. In a few seconds, she was out of the building.

Humphries cleared his throat, rolling his eyes. His constable’s reaction triggered a brief feeling of pride at the thought a pretty woman like her would appear to be falling for a sergeant like him…until the threat of misinterpretation of the situation reared in front of his eyes. He said hastily, “Before you say anything, it’s not what you think. It’s your fault.”

Raj raised his eyebrows.

The sergeant pushed past him out of the room. “Yes, the door. You clumsy…Constable. And what’s this story about Jacquier and the smuggling? Couldn’t you have given it to me earlier, not like that in front of a suspect?”

Raj stammered, “But, sir, I thought it would be helpful…and I just got the information while you were in there.”

“What?” The sergeant was fuming.

“Well yes, I can show it to you.”

“And what about Bruno? Did he say where he was the night of the murder?” The sergeant scratched his neck. He just couldn’t recall Bruno having mentioned being at home with his mother. It bothered him.

“No, sir. He only described finding the body, sir.”

The sergeant hit his fist against his palm. “Get him in here then, and fast.”

“But on what grounds?”

“If Pamela won’t speak, her son might. I think we have our murderer.”

“Bruno? He seemed to be hiding something.”

“No. Pamela, you idiot.” Unless they both did it, he thought suddenly.

“Did she talk?” Raj gestured to the room.

“Of course she talked. Who do you think I am?”

He pulled up the belt of his trousers and told Raj the gist of what happened.

“Why would Jacquier go to the marina after visiting her? I just don’t get it, unless his body was put there after—”

“Precisely. Pamela lied. She had to get rid of the body. It fits with the anonymous tip-off.” The sergeant sensed he might have cracked the case.

“Tip-off?”

“Yes, she was seen at the marina that night…” The sergeant was suddenly happy again. He had something to tell the detective sergeant.

“What about the cheese? I mean the person we chased could also have killed Jacquier. Jacquier was the captain of the cargo ship that had been searched in the port of Montreal by customs, although he was off at the time. There must be a link. I can investigate it.”

“Cheese, ahh. No, no, a lovers’ fight. Who would kill for cheese?” Sergeant Humphries was convinced that Pamela, being such a strong woman, was capable of murder if she felt crossed in any way.

“For money—”

“Sure, if you want to waste your time, go ahead, but only bother me with it if you have something really good. Just follow up on the smuggling case. I’ll focus on the murder.”

The phone rang in his office. He walked in and picked it up. “Oh hello, Tina, yes. Yes.” He moved across his desk to close the door as he spoke. “Chase? No, not the murder. Yes, we have a lead, but I can’t say anything yet…”

He slammed the door shut.

Chapter Eighteen

Beans was sitting under a tall tree, her eyes riveted on something above. Maggie dropped her hand from her mouth as she stared at a huge black bear with a round head looking down at her. She moved her eyes from Beans to the bear. No doubt about it, Beans had scared it up the tree. It was true, the little dog was a mighty match.

Having gotten over her initial shock, Maggie looked around for cubs in the surrounding trees. Sure enough, two little fluffballs high up above the mother clung to a branch. Her heart beat faster as the mother bear grunted. They can have three, she thought as she scanned the foliage for another.

She grabbed hold of Beans’s collar in an attempt to pull her away from the tree. Beans resisted and dragged her closer to the tree. Maggie looked up as the bear climbed down a notch. She picked Beans up by the neck and squeezed her under her arm. Maggie slowly retreated one step at a time without losing sight of the bears. “Good bear. It’s all right, bear…stay up there…”

In the distance, Carrot was barking. Thankfully, he had not escaped from the llama enclosure. Now a few feet away, she took a bigger step back, tripped, and fell down onto a large pot with the remains of a plant in it. Beans escaped her grasp and raced back to the tree, barking up at the bears.

Maggie sat up, pushing the heavy pot away from her ankle. She had to act fast but stay calm in spite of her fear. “Good bear, stay up there.” Between her teeth she said, “Beans, bad girl. Heel.”

She looked up the tree at the big mama still hugging the tree trunk with her front paws, her large bum appearing closer to Beans than ever. Maggie was of two minds; she could either retreat and leave Beans there to sort out her own mess or try to get Beans to follow her. She slowly stood up, rubbing her ankle.

With all her will, Maggie focused on the little dog. “Beans, come here now. Enough. Not you, bear…”

To her surprise, Beans abandoned the tree and crept up to her, head low. Instead of picking her up, she kept walking, facing the tree, and pointing at the dog to listen to her and follow her. It worked. As soon as she could no longer see the bear, she picked up her pace, checking over her shoulder to see if they were followed.

She reached the fence, picked Beans up, and dropped her on the other side. As fast as she could, she climbed over the fence herself. She covered the hole Beans had dug under the fence with a plank.

That was close. She was shaking. Maggie shook her head. At least she could have thrown that potted plant at the bear if she defended her cubs. Come to think of it…because of that plant tripping her, the situation could have really turned pear-shaped.

What was it doing there anyway? She wasn’t going back there, that was for sure. Now that she had witnessed Beans in action, she would have to ask how best to handle the situation. She was lucky this time.

Right. The llamas. Food and water.

Maggie walked up to Mary and looked her in the eyes. She seemed fine. She had two thin slits for pupils and was steady on her legs as she gently pushed Maggie with her nose. Harry trotted toward them as she gave them their dose of alfalfa to complement their grazing.

Having dealt with Adam’s animals, Maggie walked the perimeter of the llama fence and ran her fingers along a recently mended page wire. She felt sudden exhaustion. I’ll look again tomorrow.

Back home, the thought of a nice swim in the lake with the copper hue of evening sun beckoned. Maggie floated on her back, looking at the turkey vultures still soaring high. She slowly moved into a back crawl, checking now and then how far away she was from the shore.

Carrot kept a watchful eye on her, sitting on the dock, while Beans patrolled the shore in search of anything that moved. Fortunately, catching fish or shrimp wasn’t her forte, or those funny beetles that lived upside down under the surface of the water.

Maggie swam back to the shore underwater. She popped out of the water, to the side of her dock, where Carrot barked at her. She spread her towel and sat down. It was warm enough just to let the droplets of water evaporate in the evening sun, if Carrot didn’t lick them off before that. She sighed and looked toward Arthur’s island.

It mustn’t be easy to live on an island like that, so close to everything yet always needing a boat, especially if you were old. He had to have another home. His island would be inaccessible in winter. Where did he go? Back to England to arrange for the cheese supply? He did say his family made Stilton cheese. That would be the perfect source of cheese, but he still was Arthur’s godfather, and Bettie looked so innocent. She had to prove Adam right. They must be innocent and just caught up in all this by accident. Strange coincidence, though…and why was Arthur fixated on Bruno for a bit of water on his dock?

Maggie wrapped her towel around her shoulders. Maybe Arthur wanted to teach Bruno a lesson? If Bruno was linked to the smuggling, and the smuggling was linked to the murder, maybe Arthur knew something and wanted him to confess, or was it the other way round?

A woman on a paddleboard glided past her dock. What if I get a water-skiing lesson from Bruno? She could question him during the lesson without raising any suspicion. Not that she really wanted to test her water-skiing skills with Bruno after all those years. She would feel better with Gi as a teacher.

Maggie headed back to the house, trying to picture herself on skis with Bruno waving instructions at her.

It was for a good cause. How else would she just speak with Bruno? At the cafe, there were always many people around. She had to swallow her pride and get over it, and besides, she might be wrong about him. A good night’s sleep might bring other ideas. In the meantime, those were her only leads.

If only she could solve part of the mystery and prove Adam was right about Arthur… Now that should please him. Maggie smiled at the thought. That is, if Adam is right…

Maggie had a restless night filled with strange dreams of potted plants being pulled behind Arthur’s fishing boat, canoes filled with teddy bears, and Adam being dragged under the water by something at the end of his fishing rod.

Chapter Nineteen

The following morning, Maggie went to her mailbox and retrieved the Daily Stumble she had forgotten to pick up the day before. She tucked it under her arm and went back in to prepare her morning cup of tea. She checked that the morning sun had reached her dock.

The golden rays lit her Bear chair; her special spot was ready for her arrival without the dawn mosquitoes that could still be around in the shade. She placed the cauliflower-shaped teapot with its matching cup on a red tray.

She washed a few strawberries and put them in a bowl, together with a blueberry muffin. Carrot and Beans watched all her moves with tongues extended to the side of their mouths and drips of saliva falling onto the kitchen floor. She picked a jar of dog cookies from the cupboard and put it on the tray.

“Breakfast later, cookies for now. Come along.”

She gently pushed the screen door open with her foot, letting the dogs slide through. It closed behind her with a bang. She carried the tray with her breakfast to the dock, the paper tucked under her arm.

She settled into her chair, a warm cup of tea placed on the large armrest and a muffin on the other. She opened the tin and gave a biscuit to each dog. They wolfed them down in a second.

“That’s it for now. Go play.”

On the front page she read, A Stinking Stilton Mystery.

The first image it conjured was that of the mayor, Ms. Stilton, but the story was all about the cheese. She turned to the next page to see what she wanted to read first. Ms. Stilton, with her distinctive orange lipstick, stared back at her with the caption, Let’s do it, proper garbage recycling.

Maggie put the Daily Stumble down on her knees and laughed. “Oops, Tina, you’ll regret this. I’d love to see how she’ll make mincemeat out of you. You could’ve just used cheese and not Stilton!”

She spoke to her excited dogs. “I know it’s not nice of me. But I can’t help it. Tina can be so bad-mouthed at times that she deserves a lesson. Maybe this’ll be one.”

Maggie pecked at her muffin while reading Tina’s take on the cheese mystery. A few crumbs of muffin and purple finger stains later, she closed the paper and took a sip of tea.

Staring into the distance, she thought, She’s linking the murder and the cheese too. Mmmm. Adam won’t like this. Poor Arthur and Bettie. Now the whole village might turn against them. Not surprising, though, if it is true what Tina claims, that Arthur used to be in the import/export business of cheeses. That does make him suspicious.

Maggie sprang up from her chair, slapping the armrests with her palms. I have to speak to him to hear it from the horse’s mouth. I won’t take Tina’s words for the real facts. Better get there before the police does… Sergeant Humphries will jump on this when he sees it, or worse when Tina tells him.

Maggie looked through her binoculars at the island. She could just see the motorboat. Good, he must still be there. She whistled to Beans and Carrot once she had gathered her life jacket and camera bag. Holding Beans by the collar, she pointed to the canoe that floated alongside the dock.

“In you go.” Carrot leapt in and walked up and down the canoe, sniffing every corner. “Sit. I said sit.”

Beans pulled on her collar, eager to join. Having thrown in her bag and lifejacket, Maggie tucked Beans under her arm. The little dog’s tail hit her back rhythmically as she licked her face. “Yes, yes, I know. Good girl, now steady…”

Once in the canoe, she put Beans in the front and directed Carrot to the back, hoping they would keep their positions as she paddled. Beans already had her little legs straight on the prow and nose in the wind.

Fortunately, the water was still calm like a mirror, which made paddling easier. The dogs were behaving surprisingly well, as if they had done this before. Carrot rested his head on the rim of the boat, his red ears spread out on either side. Beans, like a good watchdog, stayed up front, looking right and left, one ear pointing higher than the other. She constantly moisturized her nose with her long pink tongue as if it helped her smell the air better.

Maggie paddled alongside the shore of the island toward the dock. The dogs stood up barking as they approached. There was no sign of their boat. A distant engine noise came from the direction of narrows. They must be on their way to Foxton.

She dug in her bag for her binoculars. In the mouth of the narrows, two figures in life jackets disappeared from sight. Damn it. Missed them.

Just as she was about to paddle away, the sausage dog, Tinker, came running down, his ears vertical at each bounce. Maggie only just managed to get hold of Beans, but it was too late for Carrot, who had jumped into the water.

Carrot swam to shore. Tinker paced up and down the shoreline, soon followed by Carrot. Maggie was left standing in the boat with a red collar in her hand as she watched Beans join the pair.

She sighed. She could try to get the dogs back but would likely end up with three dogs in a canoe. She could leave Beans and Carrot on the island and paddle to Foxton with a chance that Beans and Carrot would swim away.

If she secured Tinker on the island somehow, she might be able to drag Beans and Carrot to the canoe. It was going to be another hot day, and Tinker would need to have access to water and shade. Who knew when Arthur and Bettie would be back?

Maggie climbed onto the island and walked straight to the shed where Arthur had put the cheese and where she had seen the vintage Morgan automobile. Perhaps a good place for Tinker? A padlock hung open on the latch of the door. She carefully opened it.

No car, but a cozy shed. It looked more like a workshop but with a carpet and an armchair, or maybe a museum was a more appropriate way to describe it. This was so different from the cottage, where Bettie’s touch was written everywhere. The nice towels, soft pastel colors, and lace curtains were most likely not Arthur’s doing.

Maggie tilted her head back to admire the different model airplanes hanging from the beams. It was a display of planes dating back to the triplane up to the eighties with the Concorde. Another version of the Concorde hung above her head. Was it the Russian version of it? She had never seen it before, only heard they had built their own version. Fascinating. They were all made out of wood with such craftsmanship.

Her eyes shifted down to a table on which stood a series of old radios. Not your usual radios but rather the ones she had seen in old war and spy movies. A leather suitcase that had been carefully waxed lay next them.

Everything seemed well maintained, without any signs of damp. The planes seemed to have had a recent layer of beeswax, a smell Maggie liked. Having learned about radios for her flying lessons, she recognized powerful air and land radios. These were definitely not what they called Ham radios for amateurs.

Her gaze glided across the room and landed on a framed award.

She took a step closer to see what it was: a laurel leaf surrounded a round cheese with Arthur Rattle’s name on it, and under it, Gold medal for Stilton. This one was awarded in England, no date on it. So it was true. Either his father had the same name, or it was Arthur’s. He did know his cheeses and not just an import/export business.

On the opposite wall, the door of a large closet was ajar. She listened for any sound, just like when she was eight years old, then tiptoed to it. “No, no, I can’t,” she said aloud. It would be just one peek inside—the door was open, after all.

Shelves had been cut out to accommodate another radio, with a headset and a piece of paper next to it with some sort of code on it. She picked up the note. Next to what looked like gibberish, she read the words meeting, black lake, half a ton, cheese. A clapping sound made her jump. She shoved the note back next to the headset and placed her hands on her chest.

She was about to say, “It wasn’t me,” when she was caught red-handed by—Tinker. The door was still closed. How did he get in? Beans’s head suddenly appeared through a hole at the bottom of the door. She didn’t seem to dare come in. Each time she pushed the flap upward, it fell down onto her nose. She wouldn’t take long to figure it out.

Maggie watched Beans, still struggling at the hatch, while she closed the metal door. Nowadays people had radio equipment for fun, but what about that note? It was as if he had decoded a message. Had Arthur used it to manage his cheese operation?

Having given Tinker four biscuits that he eagerly devoured, she ran out and picked up Beans, hoping Tinker would stay in the shed. Carrot always followed Beans, so it was easy to get him to follow her, especially since she was holding a biscuit with her free hand. Beans tried her best to catch it as she wiggled in Maggie’s arms.

Maggie threw a few more into the boat and put Beans in it. Carrot jumped in immediately. Maggie nearly capsized the boat as she hurried in it and unfastened it. Tinker’s bark became louder and louder.

She paddled as fast as she could and turned around only when she was far enough from the shore for her dogs to stay on board. Tinker was at the dock, sitting on his hind legs, his little trunk vertical and front short paws in the air. Clearly, he knew how to ask for more cookies.

Maggie laughed and paddled harder just in case her dogs would get funny ideas and jump out of the boat. She paddled toward Foxton, where the old couple must have gone.

Along the way, she thought of the murder. If only she could find out more about Jacquier, it might shed some light on the smuggling operation. It would be hard to ask Raj for details; she didn’t want to compromise him in any way, but Bruno, on the other hand…and perhaps even Gi—they found the body. By now his business must be open again, and Gi would likely need customers in his shop to attract others after this affair.

A blister was forming on the palm of her hand. She needed to paddle more and practice the J-stroke; that should harden her skin. Her hands had never been so sensitive. She glanced toward the harbor. Soon there.

A drop of sweat rode down the ridge of her nose. The beach of the Horizon Cafe was dotted with bathers. It looked so tempting, the cool water…but she was on a mission, no time for play. She let the canoe beach itself.

A shrill voice pierced her ears. “Be careful, you’ll get a heart attack, you’re as red as a pepper.”

The voice came from a woman lying on a deck chair, half her body in the shade of a sun umbrella. A little boy played next to her in the sand. Maggie felt too flustered and bothered by the heat to answer, so she waved instead.

The voice spoke again. “You’re like a lobster—look at those arms, pink. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Maggie glanced down at her arms. Indeed, she was right. She had forgotten to put on sunscreen with all the excitement. Okay, but this isn’t a way to tell it to me—unless you are…

Maggie walked up the beach and was greeted by Tina’s glowing face behind white-rimmed sunglasses. She was brown from head to toe from having sucked up the sunrays. The toddler next to her was the spitting image of Denis. He already had Denis’s full head of soft hair and charming smile.

Tina looked at Maggie over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t know why you exert yourself like that. It doesn’t improve your looks.”

Maggie, already hot, started to boil inside. Who was she to say that? She was the one needing exercise, and a tan was not such a good imperfection camouflage. Maggie touched her face. It must be crimson. She always had that issue when doing sports.

A small hand touched her leg. The toddler steadied himself with the help of her leg and Carrot’s back. He appeared delighted as he threw back his head and squealed. To Maggie’s surprise, Carrot was immobile, only his tail fanning Tina.

Tina sneezed. “Get your dog out of here.”

Carrot’s tail had reached her nose. She picked the child up.

“But he likes it. He likes animals, just like Denis.” As Maggie pulled Carrot away, she saw a copy of the Daily Stumble next to the chair. “I read your articles on Stilton.”

“Ah yes, good, eh?”

“I was rather thinking that you’re going to have to make amends with the mayor.” Maggie waited for her reaction.

Tina raised an eyebrow. “I think she’s going to be very happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I saw Arthur Rattle heading to the police station. I solved it, the murderer soon behind bars.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“Simple: he’s involved in the cheese-smuggling business, the kingpin if you like. Jacquier caught him out when he found out what he was really carrying in his cargo and traced it back to him. So Rattle had to kill him before he talked.” Tina lowered her voice. “And there’ll be more arrests, wait for it…”

If word got out, Arthur would be convicted of murder in the eyes of the villagers. Did Tina have any proof to support her claim? It was one thing that he might be involved in a smuggling operation, but murder? Maggie couldn’t see either Arthur being capable of it, or Bettie, who was so sweet. Adam had always been a good judge of character so far. Could he be that mistaken?

People loved to single out eccentric individuals. Arthur certainly fell in that category, living on his island, watching people from his dock with his binoculars. At least that was what people thought he did, but Maggie had never seen him do it the numerous times she was out on the lake.

“You should be careful with what you say. You can’t just accuse people like that. Where’s your proof?”

“Too many coincidences, for one. Rattle was in the cheese business. He has a pilot license…it all adds up. Face it, I solved the mystery this time.” Tina took her glasses off as she looked at Maggie. “Weren’t you with him when he hauled back some cheese? You caught him in the act.”

Maggie shook her head. It couldn’t be. She just felt it in her gut, he had to be the scapegoat.

Tina pulled out a bottle of fruit juice and gently made her son drink. “So, you should know better, I’d have thought.”

Maggie threw her arms in the air. “Brilliant, and will you be writing all this in your next paper? I mean, you’ve already insinuated that Heidi is, as you said, ‘laundering’ the cheese. Next you’ll put her behind bars too.”

“I had a platter of Stilton at her place the other day. So…”

“What about Bruno then? He found the body. Or the new cook, what’s his name…”

“Steve?” Tina shook her head. “What’s their motive? Heidi’s the one who decides what gets served, no?”

“Yes. But it could be an outsider. Have you thought of that? How can you explain the ice-cream van chase?” Maggie said, realizing too late that she might have let the cat out of the bag.

“Which ice-cream van?” Tina stared at Maggie, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, I see…that’s the chase I heard about. Good, good, some meat for my paper.”

Maggie bit her lip. Tina was smarter than she sometimes let others believe, and she had her ways to get information. Denis had told her she was hoping to have a breakthrough article that would give the boost she needed for her investigative journalist career aspirations. Maggie had to be more careful. She didn’t want to be her informant. She had to divert her somehow.

“The mayor. You’ve insulted her.” Maggie’s tone triggered Beans to bark at Tina, who put her hands on her child’s ears. “Beans, shush. Sorry. Yes, Ms. Stilton. The article.”

Tina looked at her with blank eyes, as if she didn’t understand what she was talking about. Maggie didn’t need to clarify because the mayor, Ms. Stilton, marched toward Tina, the Daily Stumble clutched in her hand. This isn’t going to be pleasant chat, thought Maggie. I’d better leave them to it.

She gathered her dogs and hurried up to police station to speak with Arthur and Bettie, or at least to help Bettie out if they had kept Arthur for questioning. It was the least she could do.

Chapter Twenty

Having tied the dogs outside the police station, Maggie walked in. Neither the sergeant nor Raj was around. She was told they were in a meeting. She stood in front of the police station and sighed, hoping Tina was wrong. Spotting Arthur’s boat at the marina that was open again for business, Maggie hurried over.

She poked her head through the door. Gi was speaking to two customers. She checked with him that her dogs were welcome inside and let them in. Beans and Carrot proceeded to investigate the place thoroughly. The cooled air was a relief from the stifling heat. A new fountain caught her attention, positioned right in the middle of the room. Five fish surrounded a mermaid that spat water down into a seashell. Maggie cupped her hands above the shell and splashed water over her hot face.

The fountain wasn’t for sale, as far as she could tell. It was a perfect fit for the growing collection of statues that Gi seemed to like. Would Gi’s yard be filled with fairies or dolphins or perhaps garden gnomes? Maggie smiled at the thought.

Gi approached her, followed by two men. “You like it?” He beamed, a sharp contrast to her recent encounters with him.

“Yes, could be a nice bird bath too, if you put it outside,” Maggie replied.

“Yes, yes, I’ve got another one for that. With birds, cranes.” He pointed outside to three cranes, their heads pointed to the sky, their beaks spewing water into a shallow dish sitting on their backs. “If you like it, I can get one for you.”

“Very nice for your place, but I prefer minimalistic designs.” Seeing Gi’s hesitation, she added, “A simple design, like a plain saucer.”

In stepped one of the men. “I totally know what you’re looking for and where to get it.”

Maggie turned to the shorter of the two men, in a tight-fitting polo shirt. She had seen them at the local fruit and vegetable vendor and had wondered who they were. They had been asking all kinds of questions on how best to grow tomatoes and beans.

For some reason, she thought they were vacationers rather than locals, perhaps because of their big-city elegance. She hadn’t expected someone like him to know all about birdbaths. She had assumed too quickly and was therefore mistaken. She smiled, waiting for him to elaborate.

“There’s a good online store for it. We got one for our garden. The name will come back to me.”

He put a hand on the taller man’s arm. With a broad smile, he stretched out his other hand toward Maggie.

“Ronnie, my partner.” With his hand on his chest, he added, “I’m Clive.”

“Maggie.”

“We’ve seen your photos at the Horizon Cafe. Awesome, isn’t that right, Ronnie?” Ronnie nodded. “We moved up here for the fresh air and relaxed lifestyle. We just bought the sports store in town.”

“I hope you like it here and everyone is treating you well.” Maggie recollected seeing Clive for the first time through the window of the store.

Ronnie’s deep voice filled the air. “Everyone has been so friendly so far—”

Clive interrupted, “Nearly all, I’d say, but that’s o—”

“Come on, the sergeant was just doing his job. Stop being upset by it. You did the right thing,” Ronnie cut in.

Maggie knew how difficult it had been to get Sergeant Humphries to accept her; it had taken numerous homemade muffins to soften him, and yet she still felt she had to tread carefully with him.

“Don’t take it personally. Sergeant Humphries is grumpy by nature but isn’t that bad. He takes time to warm up to newcomers. I had that issue myself.”

“It’s nothing really,” Ronnie replied. “Just a misunderstanding when we told him that we’d seen the dead man with Bruno’s mother.”

“Bruno’s mother?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, they were an item.” Clive nodded.

Ronnie looked at Gi. “I’m sorry to speak about all this here. Apologies. Totally insensitive of me.”

I should have remembered, thought Maggie. The sergeant must have grilled Gi. Most likely, he would have suspected him of killing the man over a love affair with his wife. He always jumped to conclusions.

Feeling a surge of empathy for Gi, Maggie said, “But now that it’s clear the deceased was linked to Bruno’s mother, I hope the sergeant is no longer accusing you.”

“No, not for the moment. I don’t wish it on anyone. He can be tough.” He shook his head. “But at least he didn’t question my wife—that’d have been too much.” Gi smiled broadly. “I’m happy to be open again for you, my customers.”

The good old Gi was back. For a moment Maggie had imagined Gi and Pamela together; if that were the case, it could still have been a lover’s spat. Maggie had often seen Pamela at the Horizon Cafe without ever having spoken to her much. She was always with a man, but never with Gi. He wasn’t glamorous enough for her.

Clive knelt down next to Beans, who was sitting quietly by his side. They seemed to be acquainted. Maggie felt a pang in her heart—was Beans Clive’s dog? At first, she had agreed to take care of the dogs on the condition that their owners would be tracked down. As time had passed, she had grown completely attached to them.

She had never admitted to herself that she had only looked for their owners the first few weeks. After that, she had even dismissed them, thinking they didn’t deserve such dogs if they didn’t try to reach out to find them.

Maybe Clive and Ronnie had lost the dogs in the woods when they were up on holiday here last summer. Clive seemed to be a kind man. She plucked up all her courage. “Do you recognize her?”

Clive was rubbing Bean’s ears just the way she liked it, in the middle of ear at its back. “In a way.”

Maggie’s heart raced. “They aren’t my dogs. I mean to say, I adopted them.”

“Then they’re yours,” Ronnie said.

“No, I’ve been looking for their owner and always said I’d hand them back if I thought they were missing them.” Maggie fought back the tears welling up in her eyes.

Clive stood up. “Sadly, not mine. Our little Muppet died a year ago. She looks just like her, only Muppet didn’t have those brown and black patches on the eyes. Hers were all white with brown ears.”

Maggie sighed with relief and happiness, and yet she was sad for Clive.

He took hold of her hand. “Maggie, you are their mother now. I see it. Stop looking for the owners. If they do appear one day, their story will have to be carefully evaluated before you do anything.”

A surge of warmth for him engulfed her. “You know what, if ever Beans has puppies…” She remembered the animal rescue center Adam had brought her to, where Beans and Carrot came from. “No, I’ve got a better idea. You have to visit Barbara’s place.” She scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “I heard she has a few cats and one dog for adoption. Oh, and you can also adopt a bear if you like.”

Clive and Ronnie opened their eyes wide and in unison said, “A bear?”

“No, just kidding, but she does have a bear that lives there, a nice one that can no longer be released into the wild. Not up for adoption.”

“For sure, I’ll check it out,” Clive replied. “I told Ronnie I wanted another pet now that we’ve settled in.”

“Maggie, look what you’ve done. I’ve got no choice now. I know who’ll have to vacuum the hairs.” Clive seemed to feign a sulk until Ronnie added, “It’s your birthday soon…”

The mention of a birthday made Maggie think about the water-skiing lesson with which she hoped to surprise Barrie. She asked Gi for details.

“Bruno is a better teacher than I,” Gi replied.

“Maybe, but you’re good with kids, and Amy’s boys will also be there.” Maggie thought that Barrie and Bruno would not gel; they would be too competitive.

“But Bruno is really good with kids, they adore him—”

Maggie interrupted Gi. “I will test Bruno’s teaching skills first, but it’s for Barrie’s birthday, and I know he likes you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “Let’s see. There, you’re booked in.”

He clicked his mouse as if he were signing a deal.

A sense of urgency crept in. “Arthur and Bettie, did they fuel up here this morning?”

“No,” Gi replied.

Maggie looked out the window to where she had last seen their boat. It was still moored at the marina dock.

“Their boat…” She pointed toward the lake.

“Yes, they left it here. They said they were going to the police station.”

“But I didn’t see them there. Strange.”

“I can give them a message if you like. I’ll see them when they pick their boat up. Something’s happened?” Gi appeared confused by her question.

Ronnie and Clive had formed a tight circle with Gi around Maggie, as if they were about to hear a secret. Maggie felt foolish; her imagination had gone wild again. She missed Amy, who always put a damper on her speculations if she thought they went overboard.

She suddenly saw the absurdity of her behavior, rushing out to see Arthur then paddling like a maniac to catch up with him to prove Adam right. She was eager to prevent Arthur and Bettie from being wrongly incriminated, like she had been in Wigmott’s death. Without Adam’s help, she might have gotten into real trouble.

What if they were guilty, maybe not for the murder but for the smuggling? How could she be a good judge of the situation? Nevertheless, she felt a strange nagging that urged her to act; after all, Adam hadn’t known her well at the time, and he had believed her.

She had been silent all the while, deep in reflection, and gasped at the sight of five pairs of eyes staring at her expectantly. Beans and Carrot had joined in the circle, eager to be part of any activity that resembled a game.

“No, nothing. I—it’s just that I read the local paper today and spoke with Tina. I was worried that the police might see Arthur as a suspect.”

Clive whispered into Ronnie’s ear. “Who’s Arthur?”

“He has the cottage on the island on Otter Lake,” Ronnie responded.

“That nice old couple? Impossible!”

Although it reassured her that they seemed to like Arthur and Bettie, she was uneasy. The whole story was getting out of hand and turning into what she dreaded, gossip, and all of her own doing.

“Look, ignore what I’ve said. Before you know it, we’ll all be suspects anyway. We’ve eaten some of the Stilton cheese at Heidi’s during the regatta party. At least I have.” She laughed, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

“The cheese platter with the drinks? I ate it. Was it poisoned?” asked Clive as he turned to Ronnie, holding his cheeks with his hands. “OMG.”

Ronnie rolled his eyes. “No, Clive.”

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Amy might be able to tell her if that were the case, if she had access to Jacquier’s forensic files. Maggie brushed aside the vision of Arthur eating the cheese from the lake. What if he spat it out without her seeing it…

“He might be right, who knows? Not that anyone at Heidi’s got poisoned, but what if Jacquier was involved with the cheese smuggling, and he ate some bad cheese…and died. Poisoned by his own cheese.”

Gi, who had been silent all the while, asked, “But why would he end up in one of my boats?”

Maggie was digging herself in. It didn’t make sense. Hoping the sound she had heard was coming from Arthur and Bettie’s boat, she looked out the window. No one. The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence.

That must be Bruno. He could provide the escape she needed from this situation. She would bite the bullet and get her water-skiing lesson with him. Gi would be happy, and she might get information out of Bruno. He must have an opinion of Jacquier, given his mother’s relationship with him. What was his mother really like?

Beans and Carrot ran toward the back door, from where the sounds were coming. The door was flung open, and the beads from the doorway curtain flew up its side.

Maggie shouted, “Beans, Carrot, heel. Now!” She had rushed behind the counter to get hold of the dogs. “So sorry, I’ll take them out and—”

Through the beads, Bruno’s golden head emerged. Gi beamed. “Just the man we need…Maggie here was talking about water-skiing.”

Maggie felt her heart sink. Did she really mean it? Did she want to water-ski with Bruno? Bruno froze in the doorframe for a few seconds, holding the wooden beads up, as if he were striking a bodybuilder’s pause, highlighting his bare upper body. He flicked his head sideways and let the beads rain down on his back as he made his entrance.

What if he were involved in the cheese smuggling? Would she really get any information about the murder that way? Would she want to be alone with him?

She could just as well have spoken to Pamela directly in the safety of the Horizon Cafe. She had seen her on weekends having a morning coffee. She could simply have joined the yoga class for once. It took place at nine in the morning every Saturday on the beach of the cafe. Pamela, the flexible one in her leggings, was impossible to miss.

Too late, Bruno said, “Cool, five-ish this afternoon? The water’ll be a mirror then.”

Maggie hesitated.

“Just here at the marina, it’s a good place to start,” Bruno added.

Maggie saw the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Everyone would be gathering for drinks or a nice dinner at the Horizon Cafe. One of the entertainments was to watch the lake activities and the good skiers perform, not Maggie. At least it would give her a sense of safety, since she wouldn’t be alone with him.

Clive tapped her shoulder. “Go, girl. Now that’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

“Clive, why don’t you go ahead then? I’m not sure I can make it,” Maggie replied.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, like, one person, two, no difference to me. I can put two lines out.” Bruno smiled and flicked away his side-swept bangs of hair with a jerk of his head.

“Can’t. Sadly, we both have to be at the store, it’s always very busy then.” Ronnie cast a dark eye toward Clive.

Maggie felt torn. She could always choose not to ask any compromising questions and enjoy the lesson. She did want to try it again. Ideally, it would have been from her dock on Otter Lake, not in front of the entire village. She would just have to be careful. She would tell Indira about her lesson. Indira gave swimming lessons at the Moose Lodge on Otter Lake, being a volunteer lifeguard in her spare time.

Content with her solution, Maggie asked, “Gi, you did say you could arrange a lesson from my dock?”

“Yes, more expensive, though.”

“That time works for me if you pick me up at my dock. It’s on Otter Lake, past the island you usually circle. We can stay on Otter Lake in the Moose Lodge area. It’ll be fun memories for me.”

“Gotcha,” Bruno said. “Boss?”

“Yes, fine with me,” Gi replied. “You can take the Orca.”

Bruno’s eyes glimmered at the word. “Cool.”

It must be a fast boat, thought Maggie. She attempted to psych herself up. “It’ll be fun. See you at five then.”

She had cooled down from her paddling in the air-conditioned room. The hot air hit her face like a wall as she pushed the door to the outside. She hadn’t thought about the fact that she would have to paddle back with the dogs, and it would be the hottest time of the day, unless she found someone to tow her or give her a lift…

Chapter Twenty-One

At the police station, a notice had just come in that the white van they had been chasing had been found in Montreal without a driver. It was registered in the name of the dead man, Jean-Paul Jacquier. The boat that had been abandoned at the lake didn’t have any identifiable number on it or clue as to its owner.

Dredging the lake for more clues or sending divers in had been dismissed, to Raj’s disappointment, the focus having turned to the death in the marina. Raj had combed the land where the van had been parked at the remote lake, hoping to find some evidence to support the smuggling case. He uncovered only a bit of wrapping plastic that could have been carried there by an animal or dumped by a human. He had still bagged it just in case.

Raj typed his last words, completing his report on the chase, when Arthur and Bettie walked in with a parcel they carried together. They both let it drop to the floor with a thump. The vibration reached the soles of Raj’s feet. He lifted his nose from his computer, only to be greeted by a strange whiff. It was a familiar yet disturbing smell. He reached for his tartan handkerchief and without thinking held it under his nose.

Arthur pointed to the parcel. “There it is. All yours.” He smiled at Bettie and lowered his voice. “More trouble than pleasure. You’re right, Bettie. Had I known, I would’ve gone into the cheese business over here—we’d have been rich, my little bee.” He laughed.

“Shush, Arthur, they can hear you.” She pointed to Raj, who hadn’t moved from behind his computer, a wall of stench preventing him from doing so.

“I’ve got nothing to hide, they can try all they want.” Arthur looked straight at Raj.

Raj greeted the pair and forced himself to walk around toward the increasing stench. “Gee, that’s foul.”

Arthur replied with a grin. “Not us.”

“I’d hope so, but what is it?” Raj replied with a bob of his head.

As soon as he said those words, he knew what it was. He hadn’t expected Arthur to bring it in, especially if he was guilty. Sergeant Humphries had asked him to interview Arthur about the whole cheese story now that it was confirmed Arthur had indeed worked in the import and export of cheeses.

“Thought you wanted some evidence for your case…wasn’t that why you asked me to come here?” Arthur swiped his remaining hairs flat onto his scalp.

Heavy footsteps followed by a grunt from the corridor reached their ears. Sergeant Humphries was headed their way. Before Raj could warn him, Humphries came through the flipping doors with a coffee.

“Constable, what’s this horrible smell?” Raj pointed to the parcel on the floor, his name bracelet sliding down his wrist. He shook it back up his arm and opened his mouth to explain when the sergeant said, “Don’t tell me you’ve brought a dead body in here!”

The anger caused the sergeant’s moustache to curl up at its sides. The rest of the time, he kept it down by regularly smoothing it out with his two fingers. Raj hadn’t figured out the exact reason for it to behave like this, only that there was a correlation between the two.

Arthur appeared calm, in contrast to the growing tension Raj felt inside his own body. He struggled for a reply when Arthur stepped forward, his hand outstretched to the sergeant.

“In some ways it is.” Arthur grinned. The sergeant’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Arthur took hold of his hand and shook it vigorously. “Oh, all right, it’s cheese, but it was given a water burial. Not a way to treat good Stilton.”

The sergeant wiped his hand on his trousers, to which Arthur said, “I didn’t touch it with my hands. Don’t worry.”

The sergeant blushed. “Right, yes, so where were we?” He gestured to them to follow him to the counter. “You are Mr. Rattle?”

“Yes, Arthur Rattle, and this is my wife, Elizabeth.”

The sergeant swung around to the back of the counter, as if he were trying to increase the distance between himself and the parcel as much as possible. Raj found himself alone next to the parcel. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief, wondering what to do.

The sergeant spread his hands across the counter. “So, let me get this right, you claim you found the cheese in the lake?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“Which lake?”

“Otter Lake.”

Raj knelt down next to the package to take a closer look at it. For once, Raj and the sergeant seemed to have a telepathic connection when the sergeant asked Raj, “Is it the same packaging as the one you found at Black Lake?”

Raj examined the plastic further—the same thickness, black. “Yes, sir, I think so, but we’d have to get forensics to confirm.”

Arthur put his hand on his lip. “Did you say Black Lake?”

The sergeant replied, “Yes, why? Is it familiar to you? Now let me guess, you owned property there? Or is it where you arranged the pickup?”

Raj had missed that information, unless it was fresh from the phone call the sergeant had with the township. I knew it, they look nice but can’t be trusted. Perfect cover-up. Who would suspect them? Humphries will love this, case closed, the cheese ring down to Arthur Rattle and the murder, the upset girlfriend, Pamela…

Raj joined the group to observe them up close, and the farther away from the cheese he could be, the better. He had to admit they didn’t look like the typical criminals he had encountered. He even felt a liking for Arthur and how he dealt with the sergeant.

Raj couldn’t help but stare at Arthur, perplexed by his body language and sudden aloof manner as he replied in a calm voice, “And if I did, is it a crime to own vacant land?”

“No, of course not,” Raj said.

The sergeant tapped his finger on the counter.

Arthur shrugged. “I sold it a year ago anyway.”

“Yes, indeed. To whom?” the sergeant asked.

“A company, from Montreal, I think. Why would that matter?”

“Just that the owner of the company happens to be Mr. Jacquier…” the sergeant said.

Arthur raised his brows. “Really? Even if that were the case, that has nothing to do with—”

The sergeant interrupted him. “Constable, deal with this. On the double!” He pointed to the cheese. “I can’t think straight with this stink. And you two—” He gestured with his finger to Arthur and Bettie to follow him to the interrogation room. “I want to hear the full story.”

Raj’s slim hope that the sergeant might take care of the cheese vanished. He bobbed his head and mumbled to himself, “Wait till I get a promotion, or better, I become detective, and you’ll see, Humphries.”

He tried to lift the parcel. It was heavier than he had thought and bulky. Suddenly he realized he had no idea where to put it. “But sir, our freezer is broken.”

“I wouldn’t leave it at room temperature if I were you…” Arthur looked at the sergeant. “Happy to be of help to you, if you let us, that is.”

“Deal with it, or is that too much for a constable?” Sergeant Humphries shouted back as he disappeared into the interrogation room after Arthur and Bettie. He closed the door behind him.

Raj carried the parcel by its string with arms extended to the counter. The weight was painful on his forearms, but the smell was worse the closer it was. He rubbed a few drops of sweat from his forehead. His eyes fell onto the coffee fridge where they stored milk, their lunch, and the sergeant’s donuts.

A wicked thought crossed his mind. He wants me to find a solution…well, there you go. He walked to the fridge, pulled out his lunch packet, and put the sergeant’s paper bag with a donut and sandwich in the side door, next to the milk. He eyed up the size of the cheese.

Having removed all the shelves in the fridge, he squeezed the cheese inside. Fortunately, they had a relatively big fridge, thanks to Heidi, who had replaced her fridges and given them this one. Raj contemplated his handiwork, resting his hands on his hips.

He glanced at the clock—noon, perfect timing for his own lunch while the sergeant spoke with the Rattles. He pinched his nose to pull out an iced tea from the fridge, settled in the reclining chair, and unwrapped his homemade lunch, a very hot chicken curry, just what he liked when it was warm.

Waiting for it to heat up in the microwave, he pulled out his book on interrogation techniques for detectives. The pleasant smell of his wife’s cooking finally replaced the cheese odor. Sergeant Humphries allowed him to heat his food in the station as long as he made sure to bring him a homemade curry once a week.

The leisurely moment didn’t last long. The sergeant’s voice penetrated his right ear. “Constable. Over here.”

Raj wheeled his chair abruptly backward and walked grumpily to the back room. He thrust his head through the door that had been left ajar. “You asked for me?”

“Now, that smells nice, doesn’t it make you feel hungry?” Arthur addressed his question to the sergeant.

“Constable, take over. Perhaps a chat with someone less friendly might refresh your memory.”

The sergeant spoke aggressively from between clenched teeth, and yet Raj sensed he didn’t mean it. It was as if the show was for him and not directed to Arthur.

Arthur stood up. “It must be lunch time, and we don’t want to keep you from it.”

“No, I’m not finished with you,” the sergeant said with knitted brows that contrasted with his eyes shifting away in a subdued manner.

“If I were you, I would try to track down the pilot rather than bother with two oldies like us.”

“He has a point, sir. I can follow up on that.” Raj hoped it might allow him to escape back to his lunch, even though it meant that he would be checking the data on the police network instead of reading his book.

Arthur helped Bettie up from her chair. “Sergeant Humphries, you have no evidence against me to warrant an extended questioning. I’ve already answered all your questions. Can we go now?”

Raj looked at the sergeant for an answer. As far as he was aware, they only had a vague suspicion but no proof that these two were linked to the smuggling affair. If finding the cheese had been sufficient to incriminate Arthur, then Maggie would also have to be held for questioning. While owning a piece of vacant land and having been in the cheese import/export business in Germany could be a lead, Arthur was right, they couldn’t hold him any longer for it.

“Yes, well, for the moment,” the sergeant said. “You are free to go. But don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Me, funny ideas?” Arthur raised his bushy white eyebrows. “I do have those at times.”

Bettie grabbed Arthur’s hand and squeezed it. Raj barely kept himself from laughing. Arthur had somehow tamed the sergeant. He normally would have thrown a tantrum for joking like that, but this time Sergeant Humphries replied, “Just stay around Foxton.”

Raj frowned. He should have been present during that interrogation, if only to find out what Arthur told the sergeant to change his stance. He had to find out somehow. Maybe if he took the side that Arthur was guilty, which he was inclined to think anyway; then he could get the sergeant to cough up the arguments in his defense. Or was it just a front, thinking he would get more out of Arthur by being nice?

Arthur and Bettie walked out arm in arm, followed by the sergeant. Arthur stopped next to Raj’s desk and waved a hand above Raj’s curry. “Mmm…Bettie, when will you cook this for me?”

Raj rushed to the side of the desk as he attempted to shield his lunch from view. He felt both proud that his wife’s cooking could be so appealing but also afraid that he would get in trouble for having heated up something with such a strong aroma in the main room, while Humphries was interrogating suspects. Since they didn’t have a dedicated corner for such a purpose, he hoped he might get away with it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rumbling and gurgling sound as the sergeant walked past him. I’d better get out of his way until he’s had his lunch. Raj looked at the fridge. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea…

Bettie and Arthur were just out the door when the sergeant rushed to the fridge. Raj tiptoed away toward the bathroom when rolling thunder reached him. Raj froze on the spot.

“Ouaaaah, what the…” came from the room. It was followed by a tremble, as if a moose were running at him. He pushed the bathroom door open.

Too late, he was nose-to-nose with the sergeant. “Constable. What did I tell you?”

“But, sir, it was the only place that was cold.”

He had never stood this close to the sergeant before. For the first time he noticed a few white hairs in the sergeant’s moustache, not daring to look him in the eyes.

The sergeant backed off. “Ahhh, this whole affair. I used to like cheese. Now it’s over. Enough.” He leaned with one hand on Raj’s desk. “Isn’t it curry day?”

Friday was curry day, but if eating his now would be the solution… “Sir…” He cleared his throat and bobbed his head.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you have mine? I didn’t bring two. I can run out and grab something. I eat curries every day.”

The sergeant’s eyes lit up. He rubbed his belly and glanced at Raj’s desk. “All right.” He frowned. “But don’t use this as an excuse to have an extended break. You’ve got twenty minutes left.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raj rushed outside, and only after he had reached the Horizon Cafe did he remember his curry was very hot, far too spicy for the sergeant…

Chapter Twenty-Two

Having abandoned the idea of finding Arthur, Maggie walked up and down the main street of Foxton, The Road, to see if anything had changed. Beans and Carrot were well behaved and walked by her side. The pull of the large ice-cream cone front of Danillies was too strong to ignore, in spite of the queue already reaching Barrie’s garage.

She took a position in line. Barrie’s garage door was closed. The lights were on inside, but no sign of life. The large sliding door the cars came in and out of was also closed. She sighed. There goes my lift back home.

She scanned the board for her favorite ice cream, maple syrup and walnut. As her turn approached, she settled for three scoops, now that she was convinced she would have to row back home.

As she waited to be served, Barrie stepped out of the pharmacy on the other side of the street. Nothing strange there, only he wasn’t carrying a package from the pharmacy. He could of course have dropped off a prescription or fitted whatever it was in his pocket.

She waved to him, to no avail. Instead of heading for his garage, he went straight to his motorcycle parked in front of the pharmacy. She had thought it wasn’t his, since he always kept his bike in his garage. Something was different. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. His hair, already a dark color, appeared black and shiny. He had never been one to put on gel.

Maybe his hair was wet. Normal for this heat. I’d like a shower or a swim myself. Her ice cream in hand, the dogs by her side, Maggie crossed the road and called out, “Barrrrie!”

Gone was her resolution to paddle back home, in spite of her three scoops. Barrie looked up just as he swung his leg over the saddle of his bike. He put his helmet down on the steering wheel.

Yes, wet hair, concluded Maggie, his T-shirt still humid around the collar.

“Hey, Maggie. That looks good, can I have some?” He stuck his tongue out playfully.

“I can get you one if you give me a lift home.”

Barrie looked at her and at the two dogs, then at his bike. “Not sure Humphries’d appreciate all of us on this ride. It can be done, though. In Thailand, I saw a family of five on a bike like this.”

Maggie laughed. “Yes, and with a canoe too?”

“What?”

“My canoe’s down at the beach. I hoped you could give me a ride home.” Maggie showed him the palm of her hand with a large blister on her thumb.

“For a black bear choc, moose on the loose, and…” Barrie licked his upper lip eyeing her full cup of ice cream. “Nutty choc.”

The ice cream dripped onto her hand, the cone being just a little too small for three scoops. She licked it off her hand. “Okay, deal.”

“I’ll get my truck.”

Barrie’s biceps appeared bigger as he put his helmet on without attaching it, not that he needed it to cross the street to his garage.

Barrie finished his ice cream as they made their way to the canoe. They walked in silence. Arthur’s boat was no longer moored at the marina. Perhaps it was just as well that she had missed the pair. They must have simply gone to the police station in relation to the cheese he found and the plane he saw, and nothing had come of it, aside from evidence for the smuggling. Maggie was pulled back to reality by Barrie asking, “Is this the one?”

He pointed to her canoe, the only one beached. She nodded. Barrie proceeded to lift the boat by himself.

“It’s heavy, let me help.”

“I’m good.” He loaded the boat upside down onto his shoulders. “Just guide me up. I can’t see a thing.”

“How come you don’t have a boat or canoe?” Maggie asked, realizing she had never seen Barrie on the lake. No response. Had he not heard her? Once at the car and the boat was safely in the bed of the truck, she asked, “So you don’t like boats then?” Barrie shrugged. “But you like anything with a motor, I thought?”

“Yeah…”

For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to want to talk about boats. She thought of her present of the water-skiing lesson. Perhaps she should arrange a flying lesson instead.

“But you do like water sports? You grew up around here, so it must be in your genes. I’ve got it in mine.”

“I guess so. Whatever. So what’s this about the plane chase?”

Was he having a bad day, or had something happened to him as a kid in the lake, and he didn’t want to talk about it?

“Not exactly a plane chase. Been listening to the gossip again?” She laughed.

“If John is a gossip, then yes.”

“No, but—”

“He told me that you followed an ice-cream van.” He looked at her with a naughty twinkle in the eye. “Was it that bad?”

“What?”

“Your desire for ice cream?”

She giggled. “No, I don’t usually take so many scoops, it was just…”

“Not for me to say anything about that. I’d have robbed the whole van. I love the stuff.”

“The van was carrying Stilton cheese, not ice cream. It was a cover-up.”

“I heard Humphries was going after Bruno and his mom.”

“Don’t think John said that.”

“Nope, I heard Bruno and Steve talk about it.”

“Didn’t know you knew them well?”

“Not really, but they throw crazy parties with lots of girls…and guys—I’ll tell ya when there’s goin’ to be one, you’ll like it.”

“A bit young for me…they’re in their late teens, early twenties, no?”

“Yeah, but it’s a mixed crowd. No idea where they get all these people from. I don’t see them in town.”

“So Bruno and Steve are good pals?” The sound of the engine drowned out Maggie’s last word.

“Come again?”

“Are they buddies?”

“I guess. Steve’s a great DJ. Cool guy. That’s all that matters, you know what I mean.” Maggie nodded.

Barrie opened his window all the way. Maggie did the same on her side, to Beans’s and Carrot’s delight. They both stuck their heads out of the window. Carrot’s cheeks flapped in the wind in rhythm with his ears, while Beans’s snout swirled around. Maggie often wondered what Beans could “see” with her nose. She closed her eyes and stuck her own head out to take in the air in a deep breath.

Maggie thought of Bruno and his relationship to Jacquier, if his mother had been dating him. Poison—she could see Pamela more than Bruno use that means to kill. Would she have done it because of a relationship gone bad? Or was it Bruno, out of jealousy? He was a mommy’s boy, as far as she could tell.

What about Steve? He could have handled the cheese laundering. She would have to ask Heidi about that. But then Damien seemed to think highly of him, and now Barrie did too. Maggie asked, “Why is Steve so cool? He didn’t seem very friendly to me.”

“That’s because you saw him during the day. He’s a night owl and knows how to party. He’s a good guy to be friends with…if you want extra beers.”

“But how can he? I mean on a cook’s salary. It’s not like he’s a chef.”

Unless he “borrowed” from the cafe beer fridge, but Heidi wouldn’t let that happen.

“And a DJ…he isn’t the only one. Damien always comes with his share of beer.”

“What? Am I the only one who doesn’t know about those parties? Does Adam go?”

“Naw, he doesn’t like crowds. And Damien is like a bro to Bruno. Bruno tests his video games. I was done with that after four takes of the same game.”

Carrot stood up on her knees, his rump covering her face. Maggie pulled him back down to the floor of the car. “So you know Bruno’s mom, Pamela?”

“What do you mean? I haven’t hung out with her, although…”

“Just wondering if you’d have heard about her boyfriend, Jacquier.”

“You mean he was? Naw, why would she go for him?” Barrie smiled. “Maybe I’ve got a chance then…”

Was he serious? He might be sleeping around, by the sounds of it, which wasn’t good news for Raj. She wasn’t aware of Indira and Barrie being so close that he would visit her without Raj around. But it could explain why Raj seemed upset with him.

“So you know him then?”

“I only saw the guy once. Never seen his face at the parties. Didn’t like him.”

“Why?”

“Adam asked me the same thing…’cause, you know, a gut feeling. To be honest, I spoke to him for a few seconds, that’s it.”

Barrie turned the music up and marked the rhythm with his hand on the steering wheel.

Maggie thought of the weekend ahead. She still hadn’t heard back from Amy. Perhaps she wasn’t assigned to the case this time.

“Any plans for Friday night?”

“Let me see…” He looked up at the car roof. “Nope. Why?”

“Amy’s staying with me for a week. I was thinking of a barbecue, inviting Adam, Raj, and Indira.” Maggie paused as she watched for a reaction to Indira’s name. Nothing. “I was hoping you’d join us.”

“Definitely. It’s not for my birthday, is it?”

“Isn’t your birthday Saturday?”

Maggie was taken aback. Had he guessed they were planning a surprise party for him? It was to be Saturday at Adam’s place, with drinks first at the Horizon Cafe after the surprise water-skiing lesson from Maggie’s dock. “Good, because I don’t want any surprises. This time, I’m throwing a party at the Horizon Cafe Saturday evening. I expect you to be there.”

There goes the water-skiing surprise. From the corner of her eye she saw something move in front of them. “Watch out!”

Barrie swerved around a chipmunk. The dogs were propelled back and forth in the truck.

“Hey! It was only a chipmunk! Not a deer. Don’t you know swerving is dangerous?” Barrie said.

“You didn’t run over it, I think.” Maggie looked through the back window.

“You’re lucky we’re the only ones on this road. Anyways, you’re coming?”

“Of course, with Amy and her hubby, is that all right? I guess I can find a babysitter for the boys,” Maggie said.

“Sure!”

The dogs were getting impatient as they approached home. Maggie thought again of Adam. Had he just gone fishing on his own? As she climbed out of the truck and opened the door to let the dogs out, she asked through the window, “Do you know where Adam goes fishing?”

“Nope, I don’t fish. Somewhere up north with the bugs.”

“He isn’t working then?” Maggie asked, thinking he might still have been investigating the smuggling without wanting her to be involved, to protect her. She pictured him hidden behind a tree, taking pictures of the floatplane with red wings.

“That’s what he said. That’s his idea of time off. Going into the bush to fish. Not mine.”

The floatplane made her think of hers.

“By the way, I hope you’ll work on my plane, as you promised.”

“Yup, as agreed.”

“But you didn’t do much last Saturday.”

“How d’you know that?”

“Just that I didn’t see you there when I had my flying lesson and—”

Barrie interrupted. “I’ll get ’er done.” He looked away briefly, as if he were trying to hide something. “Anyways, you don’t have your license yet. Where’s the rush?”

She had clearly touched on a sensitive topic.

“You’re right.” She smiled at him. “I can’t wait to fly it, that’s all. So Friday sixish, does that work for you?”

Barrie nodded. “I’ll bring beer. Have to keep up my Molson muscles!” He laughed as he rubbed his belly. “Anything else you want me to bring?”

“No, just yourself.” Maggie wondered when Barrie would stop with his beer belly joke. Never, she concluded, since his belly was more likely to expand with age than shrink.

He drove off, leaving Maggie thinking about drinks for the party. An engine rumble approached. It was a boat. She gasped—was it already five o’clock? That was impossible. The exertion of the day must have confused her. She thought she would have at least an hour before the water-skiing lesson with Bruno…she could cancel it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maggie had emptied her entire chest of drawers in search of her tankini. She found the top but couldn’t find the bottom. She pulled out a pair of shorts that weren’t too baggy, otherwise they would flap in the wind. She picked an old top to wear under the life jacket.

No doubt Bruno would be turning up in his trucker’s tank top. She looked in the mirror and said aloud, “Who cares anyway. Why am I worried like a teenager? It’s only Bruno.” She ran her hands through her red curls and slipped her light blue top over her tankini.

Beans had picked up a sock that had fallen from the drawer. She barked at it with her rump up in the air, as if it were alive. She picked it up and dropped it at Maggie’s feet. Maggie laughed. “No shoe pickup, not with socks.”

She bent down to retrieve it, but Beans growled and held it down. “Come on, that’s not the game.” As soon as she removed her hand, Beans let go and wagged her tail. Maggie saw it was an old sock with a hole. “I give up, it’s yours.”

She walked out of her bedroom and looked out the bow window of the living room at the mirror-like lake. The afternoon wind had calmed down, perfect conditions for water-skiing. A loon dove under the surface, creating a large ripple.

She remembered fondly the day her father had brought home a pair of water-skis. In spite of the rain, she had insisted on trying them out. She had argued that she would get wet anyway, until her father pointed out that he wasn’t keen on rain himself. She was so disappointed that he gave in.

She never made it out of the water that day, and because the drizzle had turned into a heavy downpour, they had to bail out the boat before it would sink. Day after day, she insisted on attempting it again, until she was halfway out of the water and vertical. She smiled. This time fair weather was forecasted, and the powerful engine of Gi’s boat would allow her to glide over the water without being half submerged.

A black-and-white boat sped across the lake, not leaving sufficient time to see who was in it. Only its waves crashing in regular beats on the shore indicated it might be Bruno.

Maggie gathered her towel and slipped on her red foam clogs. She carefully closed the door behind her, leaving Beans and Carrot looking a bit sad through the glass pane. She ran down to her dock just in time for Bruno to arrive, his hair in the wind, at the helm of the boat. She could see why Gi had called the boat the Orca, with its black-and-white pattern on the side and its sleek shape.

Bruno waved at her as he slowed the boat. “Hey. Just throw your stuff in. Is it sand?”

“Only part of it. I can jump in from the dock.” Maggie walked to the tip of the dock as Bruno maneuvered the Orca. She stretched out one leg and would have fallen into the water were it not for Bruno’s hand grabbing her arm.

“All right?”

Maggie nodded.

“Hang on!”

Before she had time to settle, she was propelled into the back seat as Bruno pushed the throttle forward. Her legs flew into the air, ejecting the clogs from her feet. Instead of getting angry, she felt excited, just like when she was little. She laughed. Bruno turned around. Slowing the boat to a halt, he said, “Oops, crap, sorry. Okay?”

“Yes, yes.” She pointed to her red shoes floating on the water.

“No way. Like, they’re yours?”

“Yes, and I want them back. Is this how you treat all your clients?”

Bruno flicked his head back in his usual manner and looked down at his feet. He seemed insecure all of a sudden.

Maggie smiled. “For next time, you’d better warn when you accelerate—”

“But I did.” He flicked his head back again to look at her from under his side-swept bangs of hair. He had a stern face. This was the first time she had seen this type of emotion in his eyes.

“No worries. But please be gentle for the lesson. And my clogs…”

To her surprise, Bruno took off his T-shirt and dove in. He recovered one red clog, then under her instruction swam to the next one. Back on board, he shook his head like a dog, sprinkling drops of water around him.

He handed her the shoes. “Sorry. We’re good?”

“Sure.” Maggie smiled. He did seem to have a soft side to him after all…or did he?

“Not promising. I mean, you really wanna water-ski?”

“Yes, why?”

“How’s your balance? ’Cause back there…” He pointed to the back of the boat with his thumb. “Like, to lose your shoes, that’s a first.”

“There’s a first time for everything. As long as I survive…”

Maggie only realized the link to the dead man when Bruno replied, “I didn’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

Bruno clenched his teeth. “Nothin’. Leave it…all right?”

She didn’t want to let go of the opportunity to talk about the murder, now that he had opened the discussion, although it might be risky.

“But it must’ve been horrible for you and your mother…” She observed his face for anger or other emotions before finishing. “This murder story. It must have been a real shock for you to find the body. How are you coping?”

Maggie tried to take a motherly approach as she put her hand on his shoulder. It seemed to work. Bruno let out a deep sigh and sat down like a bag of potatoes dropped to the floor.

“The body was okay. I mean, it was horrible. But what’s worse is they think I killed him. Come on, give me a break.” He slapped his thigh.

“But wasn’t he your mom’s boyfriend?” Maggie knew she was being provocative.

“So what? He was a loser. Good riddance, if you ask me. Don’t get what Mom saw in him.”

“He wasn’t a nice guy then?”

Bruno was silent for a short while before he twisted his mouth. “Kinda liked that he was loaded. He insisted on speaking French so I couldn’t understand what they said.” He pushed his hands down onto his knees and stood up. “No. He was a jerk.” He looked at Maggie with a surprising maturity in his eyes. “Why didn’t they consider he committed suicide beats me.”

“Maybe where he was found had to do with it?” Maggie was eager to hear more.

“That’s ’cause he’s just the kinda guy to bring everyone down with him and put the blame on me or Mom. He always had tons of pills.”

“Was he depressed?”

“I dunno. Why else pop anxiety pills?”

“That’s a good question. Did you tell this to Sergeant Humphries?”

Bruno shook his head. “That bastard wants to nail me to the wall. I tried. He’ll never listen to me. He thinks I did it.”

Maggie had not heard Raj mention suicide as a cause of death. It was plausible. If that were the case, could it still be linked to the cheese smuggling? Jacquier’s world might have appeared to collapse around him with the police narrowing on his cheese operation and Pamela leaving him. But would that drive him to kill himself?

Maggie caught a glimpse of a mean frown on Bruno’s handsome face. He could be lying, jealous of any man approaching his mother. He was strong enough to carry a body. If he knew about those pills, he could have spiked a drink. A shiver ran down her back.

Perhaps it was best to change conversation topic—she didn’t want to end up being the next victim. It seemed best to avoid any comment that he might take as an attack on his mother, at least as long as she was alone with him. Maggie cheerfully said, “I’m sure they’ll look into it, even if it didn’t sound like it.”

She wasn’t so sure of what she had just said, given the sergeant’s propensity to focus on his preferred explanation of events. Perhaps it would be different this time.

She stood up. “So, this water-skiing session. I’m ready.”

Bruno slipped with ease into his instructor role, as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened. “Right. Like, have you done this before?”

“Yes, when I was a kid, but treat me like a beginner.”

“It’s super easy. We’ll start with the fixed bar and see how you do.”

Bruno was like a fish in the water as he fixed the line for her, placed her skis on the low step of the boat, and handed her the life jacket in a wink of an eye. He planted himself in front of her, his hands on a small piece of wood.

“Only one thing to remember. Just one.” He raised his index finger.

Maggie nodded, wondering if he was going to talk about keeping the arms straight at all cost.

Bruno held the stick with both hands, his arms outstretched. “Keep smiling!” He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, the other thing is the arms straight. As soon as you fold them…see.” He mimicked the motion, his body bending backward until he fell onto the cushions of the back seat. “For now, focus on the legs.” He bent his legs into a squatting motion then stuck his bum out. “A no-go, unless you like belly flops. Imagine that you have a string pulling you from your head.” He motioned with his right hand, as if he were a puppeteer. “See, back straight…”

Maggie looked at his defined thighs, not an inch of fat to be seen.

Bruno handed her the stick. “Now you.”

Maggie wondered if anyone was watching them with their binoculars from their docks. Perhaps Arthur was? What if he was faking his dislike of Bruno, and Bruno worked for him? She waved at a man canoeing along the shoreline. At least someone saw me…

“Can we just go for it? I know the basics.”

“Cool. A long rope then?”

“No, no, like a beginner, I’m rusty.”

Having successfully completed the first phases of holding on to a fixed bar next to the boat, followed by a short rope, Maggie was exhilarated and had forgotten her fear. She had finally glided on the surface of the water without the drag of water across the body. The life jacket pushed her ears up and pinched her chin a little. She pointed her skis to the sky and held the bar with two hands, her arms as straight as sticks. Her heart pounded with excitement.

Bruno waved his hand, and they were off. The snake of a rope suddenly tightened, pulling her up. She kept her skis forward and let her body lift onto them. It was like magic. She was eight years old again.

It went smoothly until Bruno signaled her to move side-to-side, crossing the wake of the boat. She put a little more pressure on one foot then on the other and hit the wave with her ski. The bar together with one of her skis flew up in the air, while she sank down under the water line, then bobbed up.

Bruno swirled around her with the boat and threw her the rope. “Not bad for a first time. Keep your knees flexible.” He motioned to her with a few squats. “And feel the wave with your feet. Don’t force it down, follow it.”

Easier said than done, thought Maggie. She was ready for her next round. They circled the lake. She glided past a small public beach. She had passed by so fast that she wasn’t sure of what she had seen.

Could it really have been Barrie and Indira frolicking in the water? The thought made her lose her balance. She bobbed up and down in the wave of the boat, looking at the beach. She thought she had seen a man with tattoos on his arms and yes, a darker woman, but then many people were either tanned or had tattoos. What would they be doing there?

Maggie’s fingers were getting stiff. A shiver ran through her entire body. She signaled to Bruno to pick her up.

As she climbed onto the boat and grabbed her towel, Bruno asked, “So?”

“Great, I really liked it. I need practice.” She giggled.

“You know my fees. I can get you in a monoski in no time, and then wait till you try the wake board! Now that’s cool.”

“Not sure Arthur would appreciate it.” She smiled.

“Arthur?”

Maggie pointed to the island.

“Oh, him. Nah. He’s just an old fart, doesn’t see the fun, sad…”

“Maybe, but can’t you stay away from his island? I mean, why make waves to upset him?”

“For fun. You know. It’s so easy to get him goin’. He does it to himself.”

“Come on. You should respect him.”

“Why? From what I’ve heard from Mom, he could be the cheese dealer.”

“Nonsense. She mustn’t believe all what’s written in the Daily Stumble.”

“Oh yeah, and what about you then?”

“Me?”

“You found the cheese with him?”

Eager to avoid further discussion, Maggie urged Bruno to bring her back home, with the excuse of avoiding any overtime. A man stood on her dock, watching them as they approached. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Maggie thought she recognized the silhouette but couldn’t believe she was right. She had expected Adam to be out in the bush for another day. Instead, he was waving at her from her dock. How did he know she was water-skiing?

“Hey, how’s it goin’? On a boat tour, I see.” Adam stood with his hands in his pockets until Bruno steered the boat alongside the dock. He grabbed the stern cleat, and Maggie hopped off onto her dock.

“No, no, water-skiing, believe it or not.” She beamed at Adam.

“I should’ve guessed.”

Maggie smiled at the tinge of jealousy she thought she heard in his tone.

Bruno grinned at the pair. “Cool, so when’s the next lesson?”

Maggie didn’t want to commit to another lesson in front of Adam, although she contemplated taking a few more to become proficient.

“Adam, do you fancy a lesson one of these days? We could have one for the two of us?”

Both Adam and Bruno spoke at the same time. A “sure” came out of Bruno’s mouth while Adam replied, “Not my thing. No. Give me a canoe and a paddle and I’m happy. Not behind one of those things.” He pointed to the boat.

“You won’t get a tree-hugger to like this. Right, so just give me a shout any time. Ciao!” Bruno waved.

He pushed the throttle forward, propelling the boat toward the middle of the lake in no time, leaving behind a large wave in his wake. Maggie held on to the towel that was still wrapped around her waist with one hand. With the other hand, she gestured to the house. “Let’s go up. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you—”

Adam interrupted her. “Hugging trees.” He smiled. “That’s all right with me. I like trees. I just don’t like all that engine noise.”

“Neither do I. But I used to water-ski as a kid, and I wanted to try it again. If only they would make electric speedboats, it could be so much quieter.”

“Up north I just had birds and frog sounds, with the odd wolf howl. I need time to adjust to man-made sounds.”

Adam pushed his hat back up his forehead. He could have been an explorer; he did look the part, with his rugged features and mysterious gaze.

What was he thinking behind those blue eyes?

“That sounds so nice.” Maggie sighed.

The heads of Beans and Carrot were sticking out in the bow window. In a wink of an eye, they were at the front door, barking excitedly.

“You know.” Maggie stopped short, opening the door with her key.

“Yes?”

“You were right.”

“That’s nice to hear; it’s not often the case.” Adam laughed his deep, guttural laugh that hit your belly like the rumble of thunder.

“About the dogs, that is. I think I’ve adopted them for good.”

Adam grinned. “I know.”

“Come on.” She hit him gently with her hand and busied herself with the door. “Eh, Adam. You also knew I’d be in a boat?”

“No, I just walked around the house looking for you. I brought something.” He pointed to his car. “Let me get it.”

Maggie felt her eyes flicker with delight. Her mind raced as she tried to guess what it could be. No matter, he had thought of her while he was away. She flung open the door. Beans jumped up and down as if she had springs in her legs while Carrot, his tail tucked in, ran in tight circles.

Maggie greeted her two animals with a little less excess but nonetheless with enthusiasm. Carrot made larger and larger circles, his rump disappearing under his legs in pursuit of his tail. He accelerated until he lost balance and landed on Adam’s feet.

“Can I have some of what you’re feeding them? I wish I had that energy. It must be your cooking…”

Was Adam inviting himself for dinner? Maggie ran through her mind whether she had enough for two. Before she could say anything, Adam dangled a bag under her nose. It had a light whiff of the lake, of fish, but it was ever so slight.

“Your catch?”

He nodded. “Fresh from this morning. A trout. You like fish, don’t you? You said you were vegetarian, but I saw you eating a chicken brochette the other day…”

“I am most of the time, but I occasionally eat meat or fish. It looks so big.” She felt its weight as Adam handed her the bag. “Want to share it? Grilled on the BBQ. I can make a salad with potatoes to go with it.” He tilted his head sideways. “Don’t know about you, but all this water-skiing made me hungry, and I imagine you mustn’t eat a lot when you’re in the wild.”

“Fasting is good for the body. I typically rely on food I find, and that’s enough, but now…” A loud gurgling came from Adam’s tummy. He put a hand on his belly. “What can I say? It sounds irresistible.”

“Brilliant. You’ve got to tell me all about your trip.”

“Nothing much to say about that. What’s happened here? No more deaths, I hope?”

“No, but I’m glad you’re here. I’ll fill you in, and I want to hear all about Arthur.”

Adam made himself at home on the terrace with a cold beer while Maggie changed into a comfortable summer dress. She didn’t often wear dresses, unless they were loose-fitting and long. This one had crossed back straps, with peacock feather patterns at its hem.

She rubbed her humid curls with her fingers, the only attention she usually applied to her locks. Back in the bathroom, she rummaged in a drawer for her eyeliner. It had disappeared, not surprising, since she had hardly ever used it after she was back in Canada. She settled for her usual mascara to darken her light eyelashes. She grinned up close into the mirror. Nothing between the teeth. Good to go.

She was barefoot, her preference in summer. After a quick inspection of the darkened soles of her feet, she opted for a pair of sandals. She ran down the stairs two at a time, a habit she had kept in spite of her mother’s warnings for danger.

Down the hallway into the kitchen, she headed for the top cupboard where she hoarded all the nuts and nibbles. She hastily put pistachio nuts, olives, and a bottle of red wine on her tray. She contemplated the avocado among the fruits—in a salad, or as a dip?

She called out in the direction of the terrace, where Adam was leaning on the banister with his elbows, a beer still in his hand. “All good out there? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Sure. Did you plant all this milkweed?”

“Yes, for the monarch butterflies.”

“It’s working. I already counted five of them. It’s unusual in a small area like this.” Adam walked back toward the sliding door of the kitchen. “You’ve got a skunk living under your terrace.”

“What? With the dogs around?”

“That’s why you’ve got to do something about it. Aside from your lawn, which looks pockmarked.”

“I did see Beans digging under the terrace the other day but thought nothing of it. She was lucky then. But…I don’t want to kill it.” Maggie looked at Adam, alarmed both by the thought of being sprayed by a skunk and the idea of its death.

“No need for that. I can trap it live. They only spray if they really have to, since they don’t want to waste it on false alerts.”

“So you’ve never been sprayed then?” Maggie was doubtful; she had heard so many people warn how hard it was to clean a dog after it had encountered a skunk.

“Nope. But dogs could be predators to them, so they do get a squirt now and then. I don’t want Beans or Carrot around when I deal with it. I’ll put a live trap out tonight at dusk, and you’ll just call me in the morning. But don’t let the dogs out before you check it.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Release it where it belongs, in the woods. Mmm, come to think of it, anyone you want to gift it to?”

“I can think of someone…” Maggie thought of Tina. No, that was a naughty idea. She wouldn’t do that to the poor animal. What if Tina killed it, or her kids got hurt? “No, no.”

“Just kidding. Skunks eat lots of grubs and other insects, keeping the balance of nature. If it were not for its den location and your dogs, I’d say let it be.” Adam approached her from behind and looked over her shoulder at what she was preparing. “Enough with my stories. Now that looks good.”

She felt a tickle on her ear. Being sensitive to anything that could remotely be an insect on her body, she wiggled her shoulders.

“Oh, sorry.” Adam stepped back.

“No, no.” The long tail of his hair was resting on his left shoulder. It had grown since she first met him. “I’m very ticklish, and your ponytail…”

Adam had stepped away from her, his hands behind his back. Maggie wished she hadn’t reacted like that, but it was too late. She mashed the avocado fervently. “It’s guacamole, homemade. I hope you like celery sticks as dips. I don’t have any tortillas to dip in it.” She turned around to face him, but he was gone.

Adam was on his knees behind the kitchen table, rubbing Beans’s belly as she lay with all paws up. “Fine with me. I eat anything.” Still scratching the dog, he asked, “So you didn’t speak with Arthur again?”

Maggie shared with him the latest she had heard about Arthur but also about her suspicions of Bruno and Pamela and the possibility of it being a suicide rather than a murder. She had deliberately avoided mentioning the note she had seen at Arthur’s home for fear of it appearing as if she had spied on Arthur.

Maggie was enjoying her evening with Adam and contemplated making a move. He was hard to read. Unless she tried, how would she find out if he liked her? He had grilled the fish on the barbecue to perfection. They sat at a round table in the screened side of the terrace. Maggie reached out for the matches to light the candles.

Adam put his hands on the armrest of his chair. “I’d better put the trap out. I’ll help you with this first.” He picked up a plate.

Candlelight doesn’t do it, maybe dessert will. Maggie took the plates from his hands. “Leave this to me, you set the trap while I prepare dessert. Besides, you still need to tell me what you know about Arthur and why you think he can’t be involved in the cheese affair.”

“Keep the dogs in.”

The wooden porch door slammed behind Adam as he walked down the stairs to the yard. He pulled out a cage from his vintage Toyota Land Cruiser. Adam’s size made the cage look small.

“I thought it was for a skunk?” she shouted through the kitchen window.

“It is. They can be big.” He lifted the cage up. “This isn’t a big cage, by the way. Do you have some fruit, like apple pieces or strawberries?”

“Is that not going to attract raccoons or groundhogs?”

“Yes, and hares too. That’s the surprise that comes with live trapping.”

Maggie handed him a plate of cut strawberries, part of their dessert. He disappeared under the terrace. She rushed to prepare the strawberries with vanilla ice cream and a pot of fresh mint tea in case he wanted something other than wine.

It was just the right temperature, no need for a sweater. The moon appeared over the tree line and glistered in the still lake below. The loon called out to its companion, its melodious song echoing around the lake. The ice cream was finished.

“Arthur’s like a father to me. I’ve known him since I was born. He’s also a very sweet guy, he’d never deal in that kind of smuggling, let alone kill anyone.”

Adam stared far into the distance. Maggie kept quiet.

He took a sip of wine and sighed. “It’s because of him I became a ranger and didn’t end up a dropout. I owe him a lot.”

“A special bond. Did he live in Australia?”

“No. He just visited us down under. I see it.”

“What?”

“You won’t let go, will you?” Maggie didn’t understand what he meant. She stared at him. “My mother worked for a while at the Australian embassy in Berlin, where Arthur was a trainee a looong time ago. So now you know.”

They have a similar nose…and even the chin. I wonder. “So they were…?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s a very good pilot, by the way. That’s why I think you’d get on with him.”

That explained all the radio equipment, and the sculpted wooden planes. “Does he still fly?”

“No, he didn’t meet the medical check for it. It was tough for him. That was his way to reach the island before. Now he’s considering selling the place.”

“He never spoke about flying…”

That would have made him only more useful in the cheese- smuggling business.

“You look suspicious. I tell you, he’s always been on the good side. I know it, because Dad told me on his deathbed. He shouldn’t have, but he did, and I confronted Arthur with it. It was true. He is a very modest man. All I can say is that he played a key role in the fall of the Berlin Wall.”

How would an exporter of cheese play a role in the fall of the Berlin Wall? Was he a spy? “But did he really work in dairy import and export business?”

“Yes, a man can do many things. Look, just ask him about it, maybe he’ll tell you. I can’t speak for him.”

“I guess as a spy and pilot, he must have played around with radios?”

“Yes and no. He’s just a fanatic. You should see his equipment.” Adam smiled and shook his head.

“I was wondering if the smugglers used radio communication to avoid being traced via their mobile phones.” Maggie had let the cat out of the bag. It was just an assumption, having heard strange communication over the plane radio herself, and of course seeing Arthur’s note.

“How did you know that? You said you didn’t speak to Arthur.” Adam’s forehead furrows deepened, and he pierced Maggie with his look.

Had Arthur told Adam about the note? Was Adam in on it too? No one was immune to her suspicion. “What about you? You seem to know more than you let on?” she asked.

“Look, let’s play open cards, shall we?”

“That’d be nice,” Maggie retorted with irritation. She softened her tone. “I’ve a confession to make too. But you first.”

“Arthur told me the other day that he had heard a conversation in code, and he suspected it was linked to the cheese operation. He didn’t know what was said.”

“He does now!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Really? But—”

Maggie interrupted to explain her island adventure and how she had managed to trick Tinker into staying in the shed. She told him about the note, careful to say the door was open and the note was available for all to see.

“That’s strange,” Adam said.

“Why?”

“Arthur would never leave a paper like that just lying there.”

“He’s getting old. Maybe he forgot to put it away.”

“Maybe.”

They were both silent, lost in their thoughts. Maggie took another sip of her wine. Its effect was taking hold. She put her glass down and slid her finger on its base. Adam reached out for his teacup. He had been wise and had stopped drinking alcohol. She reached out to stroke his hand when a loud clap tore through the still night.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Maggie jumped back in her chair, irritated by the interruption. “What’s that?”

The dogs barked. Adam stood up, gulping down the rest of his tea. He placed the cup on its saucer. “Blimey! We’ve got a catch.”

“Catch?”

Adam pointed to the terrace floor beneath them.

“Oh. The skunk? Already?” Animals, never there when you want to take a picture, but when you don’t want them… Why couldn’t he have waited longer to eat a strawberry? “Maybe it’s not the trap but someone on the lake?”

Adam pushed his chair back. “No, I know the sound. Let’s take a look. I don’t want to leave whatever is in the cage longer than necessary.”

The caring ranger was taking over the situation. Maggie stood up and steadied herself with her hand on the table, a little dizzy from the wine. She wasn’t used to drinking that much.

Adam looked down at her bare feet; she had flicked off her sandals under the table.

“You’d better put something on. Do you have an old towel or sheet?”

“I’ll get it.”

Maggie walked slowly inside to test her balance. She could handle this. A glass of water later, and she was back with an old flowery sheet and her camera. Maggie had locked the dogs in the house and switched on the terrace lights. She tiptoed down the terrace steps.

Adam was already under the terrace. “Crikey, little bugger. You’re all black.”

She handed him the sheet with a stretched arm, careful to stay at safe distance from the cage.

Adam waved at her. “Come here matey, you’ll be fine. He’s relaxed. A big male, all black.”

She approached the animal. “It makes me think, with him and all this cheese story, I nearly forgot to tell you about the bear!”

“Bear?”

Maggie told him of her encounter and how Beans reacted. He shook his head. “Next time, just let Beans do whatever she wants and don’t get in between, otherwise you might get hurt. You did the right thing the second time—never lose sight of the bear when you walk away, and talk to it calmly.”

“I’ll try, but it’s hard. I want to protect Beans. The first time could have worked out if I hadn’t tripped on that plant! Why did you leave it there?”

“I didn’t. You know, the funny thing is, it’s a cannabis plant, or at least was. And that’s what the llamas ate!”

“So they were stoned? Noooo!”

At the sound of her voice, the skunk raised his tail. Maggie jumped back.

“Shh, it’s nothing. It’s all right.” Adam’s Australian accent was back, and it seemed to have a calming effect on the animal as it sniffed the air and slowly lowered its tail.

Maggie whispered, “Are you really sure it’s what made the llamas sick? It’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah. Matt checked their blood for it when I found the plant. Just before they fell ill, they’d escaped. It took me ages to find them, because they were lying in a bush.”

“A weird place to put a cannabis plant.”

“That’s for sure, a nice sunny spot, though. But I’ve really no idea how it got there. A mystery. Anyway, the llamas are okay now.”

The crack of a branch in the woods nearby alerted the skunk and Adam.

“Not another bear, I hope,” Maggie whispered.

“Who knows? I’d better get him out of here.”

Adam swiftly placed the sheet over the cage then picked it up. He walked backward, bent in half, until he was out from under the terrace.

Before she could ask him if he wanted another tea, Adam yawned. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so once this baby is released, I’ll hit the sack. I never sleep much in the bush.”

Trying to hide her disappointment, having sobered up a little, Maggie said, “You’d better catch up on sleep for this weekend…because I’m planning a BBQ Friday. Hope you can make it.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard what she said, when he said, “I really enjoyed the evening.” His arm moved under the pressure of the skunk below. “Better get going. He’s very awake now.”

Maggie walked sulkily next to him to his car. She was a bit angry with him for putting a skunk before her. Once the animal was in the back, Adam looked at her with laughing eyes and said cheerfully, “So what can I bring for your party?”

He had heard her. But it was too late. The magic was gone for now, even though it wasn’t really his fault that the skunk went into the cage at the wrong moment. Normally that wouldn’t stop her, but she couldn’t help feeling a little upset.

“Just yourself. Barrie’s bringing some beer, but really you always give me eggs or other nice things like this fish tonight, so—”

Adam interrupted her. “I’ll think of something. And thanks again for looking after my beasties.”

“No problem, any time.”

The skunk rattled the cage.

“I really have to let him loose before he stresses out too much.” Adam looked toward the open trunk.

“See you later. Don’t forget the BBQ. Amy and her family will be here too!”

Maggie kicked off her sandals and walked down to her dock, still a bit wobbly. She sat at its edge, her feet in the water, still warm from the sun of the day. She lay on her back, hands under her head, her feet splashing the water. She could see the Milky Way right above her.

So many questions…too few answers…

*

Raj came home to find Indira wasn’t back yet. Instead, his in-laws greeted him with questions. He hoped they would have found a cottage of their own to get a bit of privacy at last.

His own parents had moved to British Columbia and visited only a couple of times a year. The only nagging they did was about his career; for the rest, they let him live the life he wanted and didn’t interfere much.

It was a different story with Indira’s parents. She was their only child, the apple of their eye. They had high hopes for her and were a little disappointed that she chose to marry a police officer and moved to the middle of nowhere, as they saw it. They were very eager to become grandparents, especially Indira’s mother.

Raj only tolerated them because of Indira; he wanted to make her happy. She had insisted that family was important to her, and if he married her, they would have to accommodate them. Little did he know it meant that they would move in with them during the hot summer months.

“Raaaj?”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“When will you call me Mami?”

Raj shook his head. “I have one mother, and she lives in BC. I’d prefer calling you Mira than Aunty. It’s a nice name, and we’re in Canada.”

“No, no family member calls me like that. I can settle for Nani.”

“But we don’t have kids yet.” Irritated, he looked at the kitchen clock. Seven o’clock and still no Indira. He couldn’t ask his mother-in-law for fear of worrying her if she didn’t know. She had taken over the kitchen and was busy preparing dinner.

The aroma was powerful and reminded him of his early childhood back in India. Indira was a better cook than her mother, but she didn’t want to spend as much time as her in the kitchen.

Her father walked in with a slow shuffle. “Where’s Indira?”

Raj, eager to avoid giving an answer, picked his keys from a yellow dish. “I forgot. Indira asked me to buy some strawberries.”

He jumped into his car before his mother-in-law could catch up with him. Her image waving a box of strawberries appeared in his rear-view mirror. Of course she’s done the shopping too, like she always does.

Indira’s car pulled up on the driveway next to his. She rolled down her window. “Raj, where’re you going? It’s dinner-time, and you know what Mom’s like.”

“Who’s talking, and who’s late here?”

Indira’s eyelashes flickered. “Look, Mom’s waiting for us.”

“We’ve got to talk.” He could no longer ignore her mysterious whereabouts; even if she thought he was watching her, he had to find out.

She softened her voice. “I was at yoga…you always say you like my bendiness. I’ve got to keep it up!”

Raj melted away when he looked into her chestnut eyes and took in her charming smile. He jumped out and opened his wife’s car door.

*

After a delicious meal, talking again about kids, Raj and Indira lay in bed listening to the crickets and a distant loon. “But you do want kids?” Indira asked.

“Yes, of course, it’s just we’ve only been married a year. It’s nice to also have time just the two of us. It’s all so new, and you living here…”

“I like it here. I had my doubts, but I do. It’s just perfect for kids…” Indira sighed.

“I’d just like to get my promotion first.”

“But we can already manage.”

Raj sat up in bed. Indira’s long hair was spread all over the pillow. She looked beautiful. He had the urge to kiss her but instead he asked, “Are you pregnant?”

“No, you idiot. We have to agree to it first. You know that.” She threw a pillow at him.

A voice from the neighboring room cut through the wall. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Mami, go back to sleep!”

Raj whispered between clenched teeth, “I told you, we need to revamp that bunkie for them…why can’t they stay in their camper?”

“Shh, we will. I promise. They’re leaving tomorrow.”

The silence of the night crept into the room, together with a breeze from the lake. The large fan swirled. Raj stared at it. He often thought about his cases at night and found it put him to sleep.

The words “yoga” and “Tuesdays” floated in his mind together with smelly cheese until it merged into a dream. He was attempting to follow Arthur’s yoga moves, but he had difficulty doing the handstand, and all that because it was Wednesday and Indira… He woke up in the middle of his dream, unable to remember the answer to who was with Indira…

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maggie liked summer days because it meant she could get up very early and fill her day to the brim. She had been up already for a few hours. The house was ready for Amy’s arrival. She had prepared the BBQ salads for the evening, updated her photo blog, packed her camera bag, and even managed a dip in the lake.

Friday morning was farmer’s market day, which meant that Heidi was away buying produce for her cafe. This was the perfect opportunity to get hold of Spock the cat and bring him to her studio for a short photo session.

Maggie had transformed her father’s old workshop into a photo studio. It was independent from the house and closer to the road, with ample parking around it. She had repainted the wooden siding in red. On one side of the front door she had hung a large picture of a barred owl, meant to bring good luck, and on the other side a photo of Beans and Carrot curled up in a basket.

On the door itself, she had put a pair of eyes, Amy’s eyes cut out as if she were peering through the planks of the door. The workshop was one big room, at the back a series of plain-colored screens to be unrolled behind the model to be photographed.

She had set up her studio for Spock with a black sheet for the backdrop and a black velvet cloth for him to sit on. She had done a few cat portraits before, but always with the owners present to play, tease, or calm their pet. She had ended up taking owner and pet portraits, which turned out to be a great success.

She climbed into her old Big Jay and fluffed up the seat cushion she needed to peer out above the steering wheel. Her father’s old Ford pickup didn’t have the option to bring the seat up. She had placed a big cardboard box with a soft blanket inside on the side seat, hoping to carry Spock in it. He loved boxes, sleeping in them, hiding in them, so that should make him feel at home. She was ready. Steve had said he would be in the kitchen, cleaning and baking, so he would let her in.

Only Steve’s old beat-up truck was parked at the Horizon Cafe. It was quiet, and the air was fresh from the heavy rainfall of the night. Maggie, laden with her camera bag on one shoulder and the cardboard box on the other side, walked to the kitchen side door. Through the diamond-shaped-window she saw Steve mopping the floor and whistling.

She pressed the doorbell. Nothing. She pressed it again. Steve’s sleepy face appeared at the door. In a hoarse voice, he said, “She just left. The cat is next to the cooker.”

Spock approached Maggie with his back arched and tail straight. She knelt down next to him, placing the cardboard box on the floor.

“Thanks. You must have been up early.” The smell of freshly baked pastries was all over the kitchen. “You must dream of a lie-in.”

“Yeah. I tell ya, this ain’t the way I’m going to live. I’ve got bigger ideas. Between you and me, I already gave my notice.”

“Really? But it’ll be a blow for Heidi. It’s the busiest season.”

Steve looked away without saying a word.

“So you’ve found something else?”

He nodded. It was the first time Maggie saw him smile, truly smile. He held on to his mop and looked straight ahead as if he were seeing himself in the future.

“That’s great. Are you opening your own restaurant?”

“No way. I won’t need any of that. I guess you’ve never heard of cryptos?”

For a second, she had the vision of him being a dragon with a deep voice and a snake’s tongue as he pronounced the “s” at the end of “cryptos.” She had heard of digital currencies. There had even been talk in the cafe about accepting it as payment. The idea must have come from Steve.

“Sure, I have. Why?”

“You can make good money with it. That’s my future, and video games…” His voice trailed off.

“I don’t want to sound negative, but just be careful with it.”

“No risk, no gain.”

He started vigorously mopping the floor, his back turned to her. Eager to appear upbeat, thinking she might sound like an old geezer telling him to be careful, she said, “The video gaming business is exciting. It’s really great that Damien’s developed his own game. It seems to be working out for him.”

“Yep, that’s the future. Not all this.” He lifted the mop and threw it noisily into its pail of water. “Do whatever you’ve got to do. I’m having a smoke.”

He walked out.

Perhaps it was better for Heidi that he left, if that was his attitude. She would need someone who liked being in the kitchen to help her out. Maggie looked down—no more cat. All the noise had scared him away. She called out, “Spoooock, I’ve got a nice treat for you…” From the corner of her eye she saw the tip of a tail behind the bread oven. The aroma of fresh rolls was mouth-watering. She went down on all fours to be at the cat’s level. He was under a table, his golden eyes shining back at her from the darkness.

“Come out, this is not the place for a picture.”

Maggie extricated herself from under the table, banging her head on the way. This is harder than I thought. I’ll just pick him up if he doesn’t want to go in the box.

She placed a few treats just outside the counter. It worked. She bent down, ready to pick him up, when her eyes fell on a bag full of muffins tucked between the wall and counter. Spock stepped over the bag. Maggie stretched her arms out.

With a loud growl, a gray mass flew above her head. A stinging pain rushed up her right arm. Blood was dripping from her fingers. It was a big scratch but only a surface wound.

Standing up, she capsized the bag of muffins. She ran water over her wound and placed a clean paper towel on it then knelt down to pick the muffins up just as Steve walked in.

Spock jumped out of his way as he gave Maggie a black look. “What are you doing with that?”

“Nothing, it—”

Steve interrupted. “It’s supposed to be thrown out.”

“I wasn’t planning to eat it, although I like nutmeg and cinnamon, it smells so nice. What’s wrong with them?”

Maggie held one up and squeezed it a little. On the hard side, she thought.

Steve grabbed the bag from her. “They’re old.”

“But I can give it to a friendly bear I know.”

“What happened?” Steve pointed to her arm.

“Oh, that. Spock doesn’t like being picked up. It’s my fault.”

Steve softened his voice. “Let me put something on it.”

He rushed to the first-aid cabinet, on his way dumping the bag on a trolley of trays. A cloak of cigarette smoke particles surrounded Steve as he tended to her wound with care. Under the rough exterior there is a gentle man, thought Maggie.

“Right, all done. I’d leave that cat alone if I were you.” Steve put the first-aid kit back in its place.

“I will, for the moment anyway.”

Maggie had a new plan for the cat, but it would have to wait… She thanked Steve for his help and rushed back home, looking forward to her ten o’clock cup of tea, the bag of muffins lingering in her mind—most likely due to her hunger, having had a very early breakfast.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Maggie was deep in thought while painting a large cardboard box black. The latter prompted her to recall the cheese wrapped in black plastic and Arthur. The note she had seen in Arthur’s shed bothered her. If he had been involved with internal trade in the dairy business, as Adam had confirmed, he would have the means and knowledge to carry out a cheese-smuggling operation.

He could even be the ideal person to organize it. No one would suspect a Foxton geezer. He might have flown it in himself before his flying license was revoked. No wonder he would be annoyed to have lost it. That left him with the role of coordinator using his radio. There again, he had the means.

What would be his motive? Maggie held the spray paint up in the air for a moment. Money, she thought, before completing the last corner. He didn’t seem to be someone like that, though. Adam was biased because Arthur was his godfather. She placed the cut-out carton in front of her.

That would do. Spock would be on display in it. Hearing a knock at the workshop door, she wiped her hands clean on her paint-stained blouse. It was too early for Amy and her family to arrive, and she wasn’t expecting anyone else. Maybe a client? That would be nice.

She peered through the peephole. Pamela? What was she doing here?

As soon as Maggie opened the door, she was greeted by, “Your studio should really be in town. Well, if I can call Foxton a town. Anyways…”

Maggie interrupted her with a smile. “Hi, Pamela, but you did find me. So that’s a start and a real surprise.”

“Well, yes, exactly. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Damien.”

Pamela pushed her hair back with two fingers and looked down at Maggie from the height of her towering wedge sandals.

“Cute shoes. I wish I could wear shoes like that, but I’d be afraid to twist my ankle.”

Pamela rubbed one ankle. “Well, already done. Your driveway needs some maintenance.”

Maggie restrained her urge to react defensively. After all, Pamela might not be herself. If what Bruno said were true, that Jacquier had committed suicide, it would be terrible for her. “I’m sorry about your loss. It must be hard, especially with Bruno…”

Pamela’s face remained stiff. Only the tip of her nose twitched a little, and her right eyelid flickered. Was it the effect of too much Botox? The forehead was certainly smooth. They were both still standing in the doorframe inches from each other.

Maggie stepped aside to let her in. “Sorry, do come in. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No. Yes, a glass of water.” Pamela tromped to the middle of the room when a sound came from her large tote bag. She lifted the index finger. “I’ve got to get this. Sorry.”

“No worries.” Maybe Sergeant Humphries was calling.

Maggie poured a glass of water while observing Pamela from the corner of her eye. The emotion in her voice was replaced by a businesslike tone. “Exactly. That’s what I mean…totally…no, now that’s a no-no…you won’t get engagement that way.” Pamela shuffled in her bag and pulled out another cell phone, on which she started typing while talking. “Right, just posted it…no, no network on this one.” She threw her phone back into the bag.

Maggie pointed to the glass of water she had placed on a plant stand next to her. Pamela nodded and lifted her index finger again. Maggie waited patiently, busying herself with her black box. Pamela’s raised voice caught her attention.

“You’ve got one week before launch. It’ll be massive…”

If Pamela was always doing business when she was up at the cottage: it must have been tough for her family. I wouldn’t want to work for her.

“Maggie, right, where were we?”

“You need something from me?” Better go straight to the point with her.

“Actually, no. That’s exactly it. I don’t.”

Maggie was stunned. She remained silent, waiting to hear more.

“This poor kid Damien needs a real shakeup in his image if he wants to get anywhere.”

“Not sure what this has got to do with me, but he seems quite capable. What do you mean?”

“I’m his brand agent. And I better be blunt.” Pamela paused and looked Maggie in the eyes. “Your pictures are good, so no offence here, but it isn’t what I want for Damien.”

“My pictures? But I haven’t taken any for him.”

“Exactly. That makes it easier.”

Maggie was lost for words. What was she talking about?

“So he didn’t tell you?” Pamela glanced at the screen of her phone.

“No.”

“He had this idea of getting you to take his portrait for his video game launch.” She laughed.

Maggie clenched her teeth. She could see that she wasn’t the best person for such a job, but there were ways to say it that weren’t so harsh.

Pamela added, “He’s stubborn. I’ve got it all lined up, so I don’t want you to screw it up. It’s a big deal.”

This arrogant woman came all the way here to tell me that? Perhaps she did kill her boyfriend. If she treated him like that, he could also have killed her given the chance. Maggie couldn’t contain her thoughts.

“Me? Screwing it up without even knowing about it? You’re kidding me. Of the two of us, you appear to screw more things up.”

Pamela took a step back, her right eyelid flickered, and her lips quivered. Maggie feared she had gone too far when a tear appeared in Pamela’s eye.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me and Jean-Paul, but I’ve got nothing to do with his death, and when he broke up with me I was—” Pamela spoke quickly, as if she wanted to drown what she had just said. “I don’t know what I’m saying.” She tapped her eye with the corner of a tissue and regained composure. “I’m just asking you to refuse Damien’s request for you to take his picture. That’s it. Just say you’re too busy. That’ll do. It makes my life easier.”

Maggie wasn’t one for conflict and sighed. “Look, Pamela, fine I can do that. But really, you should’ve asked it in a nicer way.”

“It’s business, that’s all. Nothing to be nice about. You can do with some branding…”

“I know who to ask when I need it.”

Maggie meant it ironically, but instead Pamela pulled up her phone and with her red-varnished fingernail flicked through her calendar. “No…no…busy…but I can fit you in next—”

“No, no. I can’t afford you yet,” Maggie interrupted, eager to move on with her own day.

Pamela tilted her head and examined Maggie. She put her phone back in her bag. “I could consider a discount if you assure me you’ll turn Damien down.”

“No, it’s all right. You have my word.” Maggie barely managed to contain her irritation. Perhaps there was something that Pamela could help her with… If Pamela had nothing to do with the cheese smuggling, she would be surprised by her question but answer it thinking that she wanted to sell her cheese, and if she was involved, she might elude the question.

As Pamela slipped her tote bag onto her shoulder, Maggie asked, “Do you like cheese?”

“Cheese?”

“Yes. Cheese.”

“No, I’m a total vegan.”

“But there are cheeses made out of soy that a vegan can eat,” Maggie replied, having looked into it for herself.

Pamela laughed nervously. “I thought you meant traditional cheeses. Why?”

“Just thought you might have good source for cheeses,” Maggie lied.

Pamela shook her head. She seemed genuine about the cheese. The fact that Jacquier had broken up with her shed another light on Bruno’s suicide story and put the spotlight back on her. A revenge killing, unrelated to cheese.

“Why are you looking at me like that? ”

“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere,” Maggie said.

Pamela raised her eyes to the ceiling and with a tut walked to the door. Maggie followed her, opening the door for her. “Bruno, he’s a good instructor.”

Pamela beamed back at her. “Isn’t he? Whatever he touches, it works out. I wish he’d come and work with me at the agency.” She sighed. “Very different from his father, thank God for that. I raised him on my own.” She lifted her chin proudly.

Maggie smiled, not wanting to spoil her feeling with the question of whether Bruno might be jealous of her boyfriends, whoever they might be. She watched her wobble on her wedges all the way to her car. I don’t trust her. Maybe it’s her bully side. Very much like her son.

*

Satisfied with her makeshift portable studio for Spock, Maggie tidied her workshop just in case a true client might show up. In this business, weekends tended to be busiest when the weekenders were up from the city. She dusted her lenses and checked the camera memory cards had been downloaded and were ready to store new pictures.

She selected a set of photos to share with Amy. She had a keen eye for art and gave Maggie an outsider’s view. Absorbed in editing her photos, she had lost the sense of time.

Panic struck. She had forgotten to buy ice cream after the mishap with Spock. This might not sound like a disaster, but she couldn’t face disappointing Amy’s kids by having a BBQ without ice cream. They simply adored Danillies’s peach and chocolate chip flavor that was only available up here in Foxton. She rushed out.

She stood patiently in the long line in front of Danillies that was spilling onto The Road in Foxton. She checked her watch was correct, nearing five o’clock, which would make her late for Amy’s arrival.

“Don’t like queues?” a voice she recognized asked.

“Arthur…and Bettie.” She smiled at the pair.

Arthur grinned back at her from under his Panama hat and Bettie hugged her. “Don’t listen to him. He hates them.”

Bettie’s straw hat blew off with a sudden gust of wind. Maggie jumped to catch it before it crossed the road and found herself in Bruno’s arms, the hat rolling off the sidewalk.

“Hey, hey I’m already taken, sorry.”

He tilted his head toward a brunette who looked like a young foal with endless legs. She must be eighteen or nineteen. Good luck to her. “All yours.” Maggie turned to Bruno. “You’re not my type anyway.”

Bettie’s hat had miraculously returned to her head. It must have been Arthur. That was quick. Bruno had left his friend behind to move to the front of the queue. Arthur’s voice reached Maggie. “You can’t do that. Back in the line like everyone else.”

Maggie had approached the pair to see if she could help, fearing an altercation.

“Come on, take it easy,” Bruno said with pursed lips and a flap of his hand.

“What?”

“Relaaaax. She’s cool.” Bruno pointed to the plump woman he had just slipped in front of. He looked at her up and down and added, “She doesn’t need it anyways. I’m doing her a favor.”

The next thing Maggie heard was “How dare you?” followed by a high-pitched squeal from Bruno. “Ouch. That huuuurts.”

Arthur had immobilized Bruno on the ground in a flash. He was holding Bruno’s arm behind his back. “Apologize…”

Bruno yelled, “Stop! Owwww.”

“Apologize to the lady. That is not how you speak to a lady. Apologiiize.” Arthur tucked Bruno’s arm a little farther up behind his back.

How could Arthur overpower Bruno, such a strong young man? Arthur was either much stronger than he looked or had unusual martial art skills, or both… It happened so fast. Maybe it was part of the spy training—then again, a smuggling business might get rough at times.

Maggie attempted to release his grip by putting a hand on Arthur’s wrist. Bruno shouted louder and louder. A crowd gathered around them. She was torn because she thought Bruno could do with a lesson in manners. “Maybe you’re being a little hard on him, Arthur.”

“He’s doing it to himself. He just needs to apologize. He can’t go around insulting people.”

Bruno, with his left cheek squashed on the pavement, rolled his right eye toward Maggie. He looked like a grouper fish with plump lips and bulging eyes. “Okay. Okay. I’ll apologize.”

Arthur released his grip. Bruno sat up and rubbed his wrist. Arthur’s shadow loomed over him. The crowd was silent. A loud voice split the crowd into two lines, and in marched Sergeant Humphries. “What’s going on here? No fights in my town. You get it?”

Bruno moved onto his knees and took his time to stand up. He pointed to Arthur. “He attacked me.”

Sergeant Humphries stared at Bruno, then at Arthur, who was shaking his head.

“That’s unlikely,” the sergeant said after a little while.

“Look…” Bruno raised his wrist so that the sergeant could see it was still red from Arthur’s grip.

Sergeant Humphries examined it. He lifted his trousers from his belt as he always did when he was about to speak and take charge of a situation. “We have more than enough witnesses, and I want to hear what Mr. Rattle has to say.”

“That isn’t fair. You’re goin’ to pin it on me again.” Bruno stood up, flicked his hair back, and stormed out of the scene, pushing people away.

“Wait a moment, not so fast,” Sergeant Humphries shouted. “Only guilty parties try to escape when confronted. Come back here at once.”

Bruno showed his middle finger in the direction of the sergeant, and the bystanders let out a loud, collective “Ooooh.”

“What’s that?” the sergeant asked.

To Maggie’s surprise, Arthur intervened. “Nothing, Sergeant, just a young man with lots of testosterone. I might have been a little hard on him, but he wanted me to demonstrate one of the police’s immobilization moves.”

“Here?”

“Well, yes, indirectly. And I might have been a little too enthusiastic in my demonstration.”

Sergeant Humphries tilted his cap backward. “I see.”

Bruno had meanwhile escaped the crowd. Why had Arthur protected him? Why would Bruno run away? Was he afraid to be arrested?

Sergeant Humphries cleared his throat. “I don’t know what happened, and this time I’ll let it go. I’ve got more important fish to fry. Has anyone here seen Bruno’s mother?”

“No,” Maggie said, wondering if they had new evidence, “but I did see her earlier this afternoon.”

“Aha. Come over here.” Sergeant Humphries put a hand gently on Maggie’s shoulder to guide her away from the people who had now reformed a queue for their ice cream. “Now, what was your business with her?”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak and stopped short under the impression someone was listening to them. She turned around and saw Arthur with Bettie only a few steps away from them. Arthur swiftly jumped back as if nothing had happened.

Maggie said in a loud voice, “I’ll tell you, but it’s a bit busy over here.” The emphasis on her last words was directed to Arthur, who had his back turned to them but was still in earshot.

“Just walk with me to the car. I need to find her,” the sergeant said, his eyebrows dueling. Sergeant Humphries leaned against his car with his arms crossed. “Right. So about this meeting.”

Maggie explained to him the reason for Pamela’s visit to her studio.

“That’s not my concern.” He uncrossed his arms from over his prominent belly. “What time did she leave? Did she say where she was going?”

“Maybe 3:00 p.m. No, but why are you looking for her? If I may ask?”

“For more questioning about the anxiety drugs…none of your business.”

“It makes sense.”

“What?”

“Bruno said that the man committed suicide with an overdose of his usual barbiturates. He always had them with him…”

“No. Impossible.” Sergeant Humphries shook his head. His moustache quivered across his red cheeks.

“But…”

“Those pills didn’t kill him. The dose was too low.”

“In that case, I can tell you Pamela mentioned that Jacquier left her, not the other way around…”

Sergeant Humphries’s eyebrows fought with each other until they settled in a V shape. He combed his moustache with his thumb and index finger. He was silent for a moment. “Now, that’s it. I’ve got her!” He slammed his fist into his hand. “But that doesn’t mean Rattle isn’t involved…hmm.”

“Arthur Rattle? You think—”

Sergeant Humphries interrupted her. “What? No, nothing.”

It was as if he had a rocket mounted to his shoes when he sped around his car to the driver’s side and disappeared inside. The sirens and blue lights blared, forcing her to retreat without an answer. The police car drove off northward, where Pamela had her cottage.

Had she said too much? Maggie had an uneasy feeling rising in her tummy. She wouldn’t be able to face herself if she had given information that would incriminate someone who wasn’t guilty. Maybe she hadn’t said that much, and it would have to be checked anyway…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Arthur startled Maggie with a tap on her shoulder. “Is everything all right?” he asked gently.

“Yes, yes.” Maggie blinked.

“You look pale. I hope this sergeant hasn’t upset you?” Arthur put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. “Because he is barking up the wrong tree, if you ask me.”

“Why?”

“Bruno, he’s just a young lad with lots of energy to channel…he didn’t kill anyone.”

“How do you know that?” Maggie wondered why he was protecting Bruno after manhandling him a few moments ago.

Arthur pleated his eyes into slits behind his thick glasses. “Not capable of it. I just know.”

He pinched Maggie’s cheek, something her father always did but she hated as a child.

She rubbed her cheek. “Ouch.”

“You’ve got color again, that’s good. Isn’t she like Jane?” Arthur addressed Bettie with a smile.

“You’re right, she is.”

“Jane? Who’s Jane?” Maggie wondered if she might be Adam’s ex-wife.

“My wee sister,” Arthur said with fondness.

Bettie squeezed his hand. “She’s no longer with us, you see.”

“So sorry to hear that,” Maggie replied, in a strange way relieved that she didn’t look like Adam’s ex.

“Oh, that’s all right,” Arthur said. “She lives on in our minds. But I was wondering…why did Pamela visit you? Sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the sergeant.”

“Yes, I noticed that. Do you usually listen in on conversations, is it a professional tic?” Maggie asked, hoping to provoke Arthur into sharing some of his background and maybe, just maybe, she could get some confirmation that he had been a spy.

She knew it would be unlikely for him to spill the beans, unless he no longer was a spy and he had come out, like many had after the Iron Curtain came down.

Arthur laughed loudly. “I’m just a nosy old geezer wanting to help you. I heard a lot about you.”

“Really?”

Who would be talking about her, and why? Could it be—her cheeks warmed at the thought—Adam speaking to them about her? It was as if the tables had turned, Arthur wanting to help her. It was a smart approach for a smuggler to do away with her suspicions by gaining her trust.

“Only good things, my dear. It seems I’m not the only curious one around. If you know what I mean?”

Now that was a provocation. Was she that curious? Yes, she had to admit she was. It had helped her solve mysteries… How did he know that? Did she ask too many questions? Maybe he was a good judge of character, very useful in the spying business.

Arthur gently placed his hand on Maggie’s forearm. “Look, I’ll be direct with you.”

Maggie tried to guess what he would say. Yes, he had come out, she knew it. Finally, he was going to tell her about his life as a spy, how exciting. Maggie put her hand on his in response, waiting for the revelation. It was the first time she saw through his thick glasses. There was a brown mark in one eye, as if someone hadn’t properly finished the painting on his iris and left a blotch.

“I know you’ve been on our island.”

Maggie’s pulse raced. What should she say—lie to him? A heavy silence bore down on the pair. Moisture had built up in her palm, her hand still awkwardly over his. She stepped back and tucked it in her pocket. Does that mean he knew she saw the note? Was she in danger now?

Instinctively, she looked around for an escape. She was still in The Road of Foxton with people walking around. It was a safe place; Barrie’s garage wasn’t far, or the police station, for that matter.

Arthur broke the silence. “I think you know what I mean.”

He knew. Or he was trying to make her speak? It reminded her of when she had lied to her father about having climbed in his plane on her own. She often crept into it when it was docked at their shore. She had been so careful to keep her head down and make sure he was out of sight, or so she thought.

With hindsight, numerous times he must have seen with her red curls sticking out just above the window. It was her secret, her dreamland. When he told her, “Come on, Maggie, I already know, I don’t like lies,” Maggie burst out crying, admitting to hiding in the plane. She couldn’t bear the thought of deceiving him. He hadn’t explicitly said she wasn’t allowed in. In response, her father consoled her and explained that she just had to let them know where she was.

She felt she had to tell Arthur the truth. “Yes, I’ve been to your island, but you weren’t there. I followed my dogs, you see.”

Maggie went on to explain how she had managed to separate Tinker from her dogs, which had not been an easy feat. She still omitted mentioning the note, unsure on which side Arthur was, hoping Adam hadn’t spoken to him about it.

Bettie laughed. “That explains why Tinker kept barking in Arthur’s shed at one biscuit that was stuck under the cupboard. I never buy those biscuits, and how it landed on the island was a conundrum.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t explain everything, does it, Maggie?” Arthur tilted his head sideways.

A frog call in Maggie’s pocket interrupted them. Amy was calling her; she had arrived at Maggie’s home.

“So sorry, Arthur. I’ve got guests, and they’re locked out of my house.”

“That’s lucky, I mean, sure, you can’t keep them waiting. I can wait for my response. I’m a very patient man.” Arthur winked.

Maggie sighed with relief as she drove off. She had felt manipulated by Arthur, like she never had before. He had been sweet and pleasant, yet she would have told him everything had it not been for Amy’s call. And if he were part of the smuggling gang, what would he do to her?

She was being ridiculous. Amy would certainly point that out to her after hearing the story.

Amy was sitting on the dock with her hubby and her two boys running around in the yard. As Maggie walked toward them, she realized that with all the upheaval, she hadn’t accomplished her mission to buy ice cream.

A quick call to Barrie, who lived next door to Danillies, would do the trick. She should have thought of it earlier.

*

Sergeant Humphries, who was still on duty, had trouble getting hold of Pamela. He had left her numerous voicemails and even ordered a watch on her car. She was to come to the police station as soon as she was found. Gi’s wife had corroborated the tipoff he had received that her car had been seen at the marina the day of Jacquier’s death. Pamela had lied.

He felt a pang of hunger; it was past five o’clock. He picked up a pack of leaflets with menus from the very few delivery outfits in Foxton and sat back in his chair. Would it be the nice beef on a bun from the Horizon Cafe, or a pizza, or curry—but that wasn’t a dish he could order. He could still feel the burn from the last curry.

To make matters worse, when Raj returned, he had just caught Humphries drinking directly from his rum bottle, tears still running down his eyes. It wasn’t his habit to drink at work, but the heat of the chili peppers had been too much for him, and they had run out of milk for the police fridge.

From a trip to Mexico, he had found out that alcohol could inhibit the effect of capsaicin on the tongue. He’d had a very spicy burrito and been told to wash it down with tequila, which he had been more than happy to do at the time. It had worked, or was it that the tequila had made him too cheerful even to perceive the chili peppers…

He was still upset that his constable hadn’t warned him how hot that curry was. Nonetheless, he had kept his anger to himself at the time because of the rum incident. Having ordered a pizza, he walked to the fridge in the front room for a glass of milk and opened it slightly, only to slam the door shut.

“Damn it.”

It was too late; the smell had escaped. The sergeant waved his hands like windmills in a lame attempt to dissipate the smell before anyone might link it to him. Pamela strutted in, pushing the door with both hands. Bruno followed close on her heels.

The sergeant’s arms dropped to his side under Pamela’s aggressive stare.

He channeled his cheese frustration toward her. “You were hard to track down today, not answering any call. A narrow escape. If you hadn’t turned up now, I’d have classified you as a fugitive on the run.”

“Unbelievable, this is the rural police for you.” She looked at Bruno, who was sniffing the air. “You have nothing on me.” She wiggled her nose. “On top of it, this sewage smell…” She put a tissue to her nose.

“Yeah, it’s bad.” Bruno pinched his nose.

Sergeant Humphries was too upset to explain the cause of the smell. He launched into an attack. “Well then, you have some explaining to do. Why did you lie about Jean-Paul Jacquier having left you? You said you left him—a big difference. Out of revenge, you could have killed him. You were the last one to see him.”

“This is way too much.” She shook her index finger under the sergeant’s nose. “My relationship with Jean-Paul is none of your business.”

The sergeant sensed that he might be onto something. “Murder is my business. So what happened after you saw him?”

“I already told you.”

“Yes, and you confirm that you saw Mr. Jacquier in the evening?”

“Yes, how many times do I need to repeat this?”

The sergeant felt he was on the verge of cornering her. He had checked her recent statement, and Bruno’s, and noticed a glaring discrepancy. “Can you confirm you were with Bruno all evening?”

Bruno’s face turned red. Pamela stared at him and with a flick of her hair replied, “Yes, I thought he was there. I’m not a helicopter mom!”

Bruno rushed to her side. “But I was with her, she’s right.”

Sergeant Humphries felt in control now. “Really? So how can you explain witnesses seeing your car at the Horizon Cafe that evening?”

Bruno looked at his mother for help. She plunged her hand in her bag, retrieving her phone. She waved it in front of the sergeant. “You better leave my son out of this, or else…”

The sergeant calmly looked her straight in the eyes. “You know what that means? You don’t have an alibi any longer, and you were the last person to have seen him alive.”

“So what if that were the case? It doesn’t mean I killed him.”

“Ah-ha, so you are also admitting to being the last person to have seen him alive, and you lied. Now that is enough for me to arrest you on suspicion of murder.” The sergeant triumphantly pulled out his handcuffs, grabbed her arm, and slapped them on her wrists. “I’m arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Jean-Paul Jacquier.”

He read her her rights.

Pamela struggled with him. “I never said that. So unfair. You won’t get a word out of me. My lawyer will nail you to the wall for this.”

Bruno jumped between the pair. “You can’t do that. It was suicide.”

Sergeant Humphries turned to him. “Oh yes? So how did his body miraculously end up in a boat under a tarp, with traces of having been dragged from the parking of the marina where her car was seen to the boat?”

Bruno’s eyes were bloodshot; he hit the sergeant in the chest like an enraged bull. “No. No…”

Pamela put her head between the two, her hands tied behind her back. “Bruno, Bruno, you’ve done enough. Drop it. My lawyer will deal with him.”

The sergeant caught hold of Bruno’s hands as he pounded on his chest and immobilized him. “Not smart, son, you leave me no choice. I’m arresting you for assault of a police officer. It is my duty to inform you…”

Sergeant Humphries wasn’t able to finish his caution, having to manhandle Bruno into a cell. Normally, he would have had help from another officer, but they were all on their dinner break.

Pamela followed the pair, shouting in the sergeant’s ear, “I want to speak to my lawyer. I want to speak to my lawyer now. I want—”

Having closed the cell door on Bruno, he grabbed Pamela’s arm. “Yes, you will. Once you’ve calmed down.” He pointed to another cell. “In here.”

He locked the barred door and walked away. Pamela was still shouting about her lawyer. He was now convinced she had killed her ex-partner, and given Bruno’s closeness to her, he must have helped her dispose of the body. Why else would they not deny having their car at the marina?

Once again, the horrible smell of the cheese hit his nostrils. If only he could get rid of the cheese affair, together with its evidence, by pushing it toward the Mounties. After all, they dealt with this type of contraband affair. Then the cases would be closed, and he could return to his peaceful life once again. He smiled at the thought of having time again to fish from his little boat, dreaming up new songs.

The sergeant went to his office and closed the door to muffle Pamela’s voice. He sat in his chair and slid open a drawer where he always kept a donut or muffin in case of difficult situations or celebrations. He was of two minds whether he could celebrate or whether it was premature. On the one hand, he had a sense of relief that he was very close to cracking the case, which would make him look good. On the other hand, he was concerned about the cheese case. He couldn’t deny there was a clear link to Jacquier. Having gobbled a donut, he rubbed the crumbs from his moustache and picked up the phone to inform his superiors of his catch and prepare his paperwork. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Amy and Maggie were in the kitchen, preparing the sausages and brochettes for the BBQ. The windows were open, letting in Raj’s voice from the terrace. “So, Steve’s really leaving. That’ll be hard on Heidi.”

“I just had a thought,” Barrie said.

“Don’t tell me you’re volunteering?” Raj asked in an aggressive tone Maggie had not heard before.

She let her knife drop to the counter as she leaned over the sink to be closer to the window.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

“Shh, I’ll tell you, but I want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Tut-tut, why don’t you just go outside then?” Amy poked her elbow into Maggie’s ribs.

They both fell silent as they listened through the window.

“No. Your in-laws, they’re around a lot?” Barrie asked.

Raj raised his voice. “How would you know that?”

“Hey, hey, calm down. I’m not your in-laws or Humphries. Take out your frustration on him. Not me.”

Adam’s deep, calm voice broke the silence that had just fallen like an icy curtain between them. “What about his in-laws, Barrie? Go on.”

“Don’t think he wants to hear.”

“Go on, he’d love to find a way to get rid of them for a bit.” Adam laughed. “Just figuratively speaking, of course.”

“All right, well, your mother-in-law is a great cook, no? At least I love her curries.”

“Indira does better curries,” Raj said, “and you should know…”

“Wow, yes, don’t get me wrong, I love her curries.”

“I knew it,” Raj said.

Loud footstep thumps tumbled down the stairs of the terrace, followed by Barrie’s voice. “What’s this all about? Did I say something wrong? I just thought his mother-in-law could help Heidi. Come on, give me a break.”

“I don’t know. He’s on edge with this murder case. It’s not easy for him,” Adam said.

Maggie said into Amy’s ear, “Come here, I think I know why he’s upset. I don’t know if it’s true.”

Maggie went to the hallway so no one would hear them and explained Raj’s suspicion of Indira and Barrie having an affair. She wasn’t so sure herself; she didn’t think either of them could do that, but you never know with love.

She kept her voice down to a whisper in case someone would walk into the hallway. The bathroom door swung open. Maggie and Amy jumped.

“You gave us a fright.” Maggie held her chest as she looked with horror at Indira, who stared at her. She seemed to have grown on her pointy-toed mules, her flowing dress billowing in the draft of the hallway. She looked like the Greek goddess of war, Athena—whom you wouldn’t want to upset. She tapped her foot, her arms crossed.

Maggie and Amy looked at each other, each hoping the other would respond. Maggie blurted out without thinking, “We didn’t know you were there.”

“That is clear. But I was.”

Maggie tentatively asked, “What exactly did you hear?”

“What should I not have heard?”

“Eh. We were talking about you, because we’re worried about you,” Amy said.

“Worried? Or was it gossip?” Indira flicked her long braid away from her shoulder onto her back. “I did hear my name several times.”

“We were worried about you and your parents,” Maggie said quickly.

“My parents? That’s not the other name I heard.”

Maggie saw no way out. “I’ll be direct.”

“Good.” Indira waited for the answer, leaning against the wall.

If Indira had only caught part of the conversation, then Maggie could approach the matter differently. She wouldn’t speak about Raj. Maggie asked, “Are you seeing Barrie?”

Indira appeared surprised. She uncrossed her arms and pointed to the hallway. “You mean this Barrie?” Maggie nodded. “What do you mean by seeing?”

Indira burst out laughing; tears rolled down her eyes. She doubled up into a ball and sat on the floor in a fit of giggles.

Maggie was lost for words. “There’s nothing wrong with Barrie. I don’t see why you and him would be a funny idea.”

Indira replied through her giggle, “I don’t see how you could’ve thought this. No. There is nothing.”

“What so funny then?” Amy asked.

Indira stood up and wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “Sorry. It’s just it all falls into place. I finally understand why Raj was behaving weird these days, asking me all kinds of questions. And I thought he didn’t want kids.”

Maggie leaned on the wall, waiting for the story to unfold. “Yes, he thought you and Barrie…”

“I see that now. Poor Raj. I wanted to tell him, and I was going to, even though Barrie made me promise to keep it secret. I hate keeping anything from Raj. This is proof I shouldn’t have.” Indira sighed.

“So out with it, you’ve said too much now,” Amy exclaimed. “We won’t say anything.” She gestured zipped lips with her finger.

“I’ve been seeing Barrie, but not for what you think.”

“On Saturdays?” Maggie asked, thinking of the motorcycle she had seen at Indira’s place.

Indira nodded. “For swimming lessons. You know. I will never again have anyone close to a lake who doesn’t know how to swim, after my aunty drowned. That’s why I became a lifeguard.”

“I had no idea. Really, he didn’t know how to swim?” Amy asked.

“I found out by chance. He was asking me all sorts of questions about how I would save someone who was drowning. So I asked him if he knew how to swim. He didn’t want to answer, and that’s when I knew I had to help him. He thought he could never learn. It took a lot of convincing. He really didn’t want anyone to know about it, even Raj.”

Maggie realized that was why she had never seen Barrie close to the water and why he had never tried water-skiing. He wasn’t the only kid around who hadn’t been taught by his parents. She had thought swimming was compulsory now in schools, but perhaps it wasn’t.

“What a story. But how’re the lessons going?” Amy asked.

“My goal was to get him to swim before his birthday. I’d heard about your plan to give him a water-skiing lesson. Well, you can go ahead now!”

“You’d better speak with Raj now,” Maggie said, “before he gets really mad.”

Just as she spoke, Raj appeared at the end of the hallway, his hands clenched.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. So, what do you have to tell me then? I’m waiting.”

Maggie and Amy squeezed past him to leave them alone. They tiptoed away, picking up the BBQ veggie burgers, brochettes, and sausages in the kitchen. They spoke in unison. “That was a narrow escape.”

“What was?” Adam asked over their shoulders with Barrie just next to him.

“The sausages, I nearly forgot them. Here.” Maggie shoved one plate into Adam’s hand and another one into Barrie’s. “Go help Paul. Can’t have him alone over there.”

Amy’s husband, Paul, was turning corn on the cob on the barbecue with their two boys by his side. Barrie and Adam brought him their plates, Barrie dragging his feet as if he liked to hear the sound of his flip-flops.

If it was Barrie’s secret, it should be kept. It wasn’t up to her to broadcast it now that she knew the truth. She was relieved and happy for Raj and Indira. Everyone gathered around the smoking BBQ, aside from the boys, who, after a few sausages and corn, were off again to play in the woods. Raj put an arm around Barrie’s shoulders.

“Now you’ll listen to my idea?” Barrie was cut short by a call on Raj’s phone.

“I’ve got to get this, it’s Humphries,” Raj said.

A few moments later, Raj returned with the news of the two arrests and that he had to go to the station to help out. “Although I’m sure they have a role to play in this murder, I don’t get why Humphries won’t let me question the pilot of the plane.”

“They know who it is then?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, but he’s now under the Quebec jurisdiction because he flew there, and they want to interrogate him on their side—”

Indira interrupted. “Raj, go now. You don’t want Humpty unhappy.”

Maggie smiled; good nickname for Humphries, who had a bit of an egg shape with his round belly.

When Raj was gone, Indira said, “I’m very curious about your idea, Barrie.”

“It concerns you really—well, your mother. She likes cooking, right?”

“That’s for sure.”

“Heidi needs a cook to replace Steve, who’s leaving tomorrow, I think. What about your mom?”

“I like it. Yes, why not. I can always ask her. At least until Heidi gets someone else.”

Barrie whispered into Maggie’s ear, “That way poor Raj gets a bit of air space too.”

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear?” Indira asked.

“Just that Raj would love the idea too,” Maggie said. “It’s time for the campfire.”

*

The flames danced in front of the friends’ faces. Now and then, a splash in the water broke the stillness of the lake. This was Maggie’s idea of a perfect evening, but something was wrong.

She was unsettled. Pamela’s arrest was nagging her. If Pamela did kill Jacquier, it would explain why Arthur wanted to know why Pamela had visited Maggie. He might have wanted to protect her from Pamela, if he had guessed she was the murderer. All that made no sense if Pamela didn’t kill Jacquier.

She approached Amy. “Did you get anything on the cause of death? Was he really poisoned?”

“Yes, but I still don’t get how he could overdose on the amounts of barbiturate he had in his blood. It was too low for that. It must have been something else or a mix of things.”

“The cheese?” Maggie wondered if there could be a strange interaction between the two.

“They did find some in his stomach, but then for a Quebecois, it isn’t surprising; cheese is a big part of the diet.”

“How do they know it’s cheese once digested?”

“If he just ate it, they can see it, or they look for typical microscopic structures and compare it to references, but that is easier for fruit and vegetables. There was a case like that where they identified mozzarella cheese.”

“So would it help if they had the Stilton cheese from the smuggling to compare the two?”

“Yes. In any case, we can test it for toxic substances. They haven’t finished their toxicology report on the stomach contents. I should get it soon.”

“But I did see Arthur eat a piece of the Stilton cheese, and he was fine. At least I think he did…it could’ve been a pretense…”

“Maybe someone like Pamela put something toxic in the cheese to disguise its taste, but the cheese itself was fine,” Amy said.

Maybe she was right. Bruno and Pamela, being close to Jacquier, could have known about his business, and he might have given them some cheese as a present…death by his own cheese, what a perfect revenge.

“Mmm…maybe, or someone else in the cheese-smuggling business could have done it too.” Maggie thought of the driver of the ice-cream van or the pilot. “I still have a piece in the fridge. I took it just in case Arthur got ill.”

“That’s the funny smell in your fridge. Better get it out of there and put baking soda in your fridge to get rid of the smell after you clean it.”

Maggie stood up.

Amy pulled her back down by the sleeve of her dress. “It’s a piece of the one you found in the lake with Arthur, I take it?” Maggie nodded. “Then leave it for now. I’ll first check if they received the other one—it was dropped off at the police station and should be sent to the lab by now. You’ve done all you could. Just relax and enjoy the evening…” Amy slid her chair forward closer to the group around the bonfire. “Shh, I want to listen to his story.”

Adam’s soothing voice intertwined with the crackle of the wood burning and rose up into the night. Long shadows lit by the moon circled the dying fire. Maggie half listened to Adam as she stared at the embers. What if the cheese itself was toxic because it was contaminated during the trip from Europe? Arthur had eaten such a small piece that it didn’t affect him, but if he were to eat another piece, it could be a cumulative toxicity, or worse, Bettie might also eat it…that was if they had kept a piece.

Chapter Thirty

The following morning, Maggie rose early, having hardly slept. Armed with her binoculars, her mug of tea in hand, she walked down to the lake to get a close look at what was moving in the water next to Arthur’s island. It looked big. It wasn’t the first time she had seen movement around the island in the early morning, but she had yet to identify what it was.

It seemed to move in her direction. It had to be someone swimming, given the orange swimmer’s buoy floating behind it. A fast swimmer. Not a single boat in sight, just a silhouette in a dress on the island’s pier. It had to be Arthur. So that’s how he keeps fit. He fooled me in the boat. I was so worried for him.

At least he wasn’t sick, and Bettie must be the one standing on the dock. Could he be swimming to a cheese drop to spot it and fix his floater to it? Still no boat or plane in sight.

Maggie sat comfortably in her Bear chair and sipped her green mint tea, the binoculars glued to her eyes. He kept going. She was so absorbed in her observation that she didn’t hear Amy approach the dock until she rocked it by stepping on it.

“Amy. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry. Now I see why you’re up early. Give me those. What have you seen?” Amy grabbed the binoculars from her hands, just as she had when they were kids. “No. I thought you said you just looked at animals.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Really? What is it, then, if not someone swimming?”

Amy looked very sleepy, her hair matted into whatever shape the pillow dictated that night, panda eyes from the makeup she hadn’t removed. She was still pretty, even with puffy eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem to have fallen out of bed.”

“Who’s talking?” Amy touched the tips of Maggie’s curls with her fingertips. She let herself drop like a bag of potatoes into the chair next to Maggie. “Thank God, this swimmer is too far away to see us. Who is it, by the way?”

“I think it’s Arthur, you know, Adam’s godfather.”

“No way. Really?” Amy raised the binoculars to her eyes again. “I’ve got to meet him, if he’s that mad.”

“Why mad?”

“At his age, swimming that far from shore, an accident waiting to happen…”

“He has a floater. Maybe he does swimathons. I was thinking of testing whether I could swim across the lake while you paddle in the canoe, and then you could swim on the way back.”

“Not me, thank you, but maybe the boys could join you—but not all the way across. Look how far it is.”

Maggie looked across the lake. It seemed far but a distance she could see herself swimming. She had never checked the exact distance. Was it five miles? No, it was long but must be less than that. She wanted to speak to Arthur again to challenge her suspicion of him. If Arthur really was Adam’s godfather, which she had no reason to doubt, it was unlikely he would do anything to her, being one of Adam’s close friends.

“You said you wanted to meet Arthur. We could paddle to the island together this morning.”

“Paul has rented some kayaks for the boys. We can all go together, what about that?”

“I think he won’t mind. I’m sure Bettie would like it. I think she likes kids. And your boys will love Tinker, he’s such a funny little sausage dog. Speaking of sausages, if you’re up, the others should be up soon, so I’d better get on with breakfast.”

Amy yawned and threw her arms up in the air. “As you wish, but it’ll take them another half hour before they emerge, just enough time for my yoga.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“It would do you good too.”

“Maybe, but not today. You go ahead, and I’ll prepare breakfast. How about that?”

She liked the mindfulness but had no patience for the yoga moves, perhaps, because she had no flexibility whatsoever.

Since it was the first breakfast in a long time with Amy’s family, she wanted it to be welcoming, with all the coziness of a cooked breakfast. And Amy’s family was a jolly bunch, even early in the morning.

It wasn’t long before Amy joined Maggie in the kitchen.

“I just love the smell of toasted bread, I don’t know why, but…mmm.” Amy put her nose over the toaster.

“Careful! I know what you mean.” Maggie sniffed the aroma.

Amy didn’t seem to have heard her as she picked up the slice of bread that had just popped out of the toaster. She nibbled at the corner like a chipmunk, staring into the void.

“Do you have butter?”

“Yes, and honey from the local market.” Maggie pointed to the tray, where strawberries and freshly squeezed orange juice were waiting to be consumed.

“That’s a feast. You shouldn’t have.” Amy bit into a strawberry. “But I love it. It’s so nice to be up here, so peaceful and cozy.”

“I like having you around.”

“Wait till the end of the week. I’m not sure you’ll feel the same. The boys are growing up…as you’ll see…”

A tumbling noise came from the staircase, and two kids stormed into the kitchen. Gone was the quiet morning. No sooner was breakfast finished than the boys were in the kayaks, ready to paddle to the island, already arguing about who would reach it first.

They insisted the dogs join them. This time there would be enough hands to control them if Tinker was out. Maggie had packed a box full of her special carrot muffins in case Bettie invited them in for tea.

Having knocked on the front door of the house without a response, the boys and Maggie ended up in front of Arthur’s workshop, in pursuit of Tinker, who disappeared through his little door, followed by Beans.

Carrot managed to get stuck halfway in. He was whimpering. Arthur’s boat was docked, but no one had responded to the doorbell. Maggie shook the shed door. It was locked. Where were they? How could she free Carrot?

Amy laughed at the sight of poor Carrot.

“Mom, stop it,” cried Alex, her youngest boy, as he tried pulling Carrot from behind. He jumped back with the dog in his lap just as the door flung open.

Arthur stood in the doorframe, a pair of headphones around his neck, Beans in his arms. He let her down with a pat on the head. He put his hands on his hips, his eyes moving from Amy to the boys, and finally resting on Maggie. Paul had stayed behind, wanting to finish a thriller he had started.

“I knocked on your door. We didn’t mean to barge in like this. It was just to say hi, sorry. I hope it is a good time?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, it’s always nice to have visitors. Come on in.”

The older boy, Josh, rushed past Maggie and Arthur into the room. “Wow. Check this out!” He tilted his head back as he stared at the planes. Before anyone could say anything, he had spotted the radio station where Maggie had seen the note.

“Mom, come see this. That’s what I want.”

Amy waved to her son. “Joshua, come here. This is really not polite. So sorry. Joshuaaaa.”

“Oh, that’s all right, he can look at it. I was like that at his age. Besides, others here have already had a good look.”

All eyes shifted to Maggie. She felt her cheeks redden. So he must have found out that she had looked in the closet and seen the note, but how? She hadn’t seen a camera, unless Adam had told him about it. She felt ashamed. How could she now admit to it?

“Yes, I did come in here because the door was open, and I wanted to make sure Tinker wouldn’t follow my dogs. I thought I told you that.”

“Ah-ha, some of it, but not all of it.” Arthur shifted his eyes toward his radio.

Maggie laughed nervously. A little voice from inside the room called out, “Can you show me how it works? I want to speak to my friend…”

“Maybe Maggie can show you.” Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“But I’ve never s—”

“I hope you weren’t going to say seen.” Arthur chuckled. “Because I know you have.”

He paused and put a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “With all her flying lessons, she should know how to use one of these.”

Maggie sighed with relief, but why hadn’t he cornered her? He could have. Was he just trying to teach her a lesson without embarrassing her in front of her friends? Would he be the same if she were alone with him? She had better play along. “Well, yes, but I’ve never used this one, though.”

Arthur pulled out the chair for her to sit down and demonstrate to Josh. Maggie sat down. “Are you sure? We really don’t want to cause you any trouble. You must have been in the middle of something.”

“Not at all. I like it. Pity Bettie’s away at her knitting club; she would have loved to meet you. And a young lad like Josh, interested in radio communication—” Arthur rubbed Josh’s head with affection “—is always welcome.”

This was the opportunity to ask him. “So, Arthur, what do you use the radio for?”

“Communication, what else?”

“Hmm yes, or listening…?”

Amy made big eyes that Maggie chose to ignore.

“Yes, that’s part of communication. I help the fire department. I’m a volunteer.”

Maggie insisted, “But you must also be a pilot, with all those planes and the radio…”

“Yes, I used to fly, as a very keen amateur, I’d say.”

“Maggie is learning how to fly,” Amy said.

“So I’ve heard. You know where to find me if you want any help with it.” He winked at Maggie.

Maggie strategically positioned herself in front of the framed cheese award she had seen on her first visit, after having shown Josh how the radio worked. She deliberately stared at the award, hoping to prompt Amy to comment on it.

Instead, Amy said, “Maggie and I were wondering if you were the one swimming early morning around your island?”

“I see nothing goes unnoticed with you two. Yes, it so happens, I like swimming. Do you?”

Maggie kept flicking her chin toward the framed award each time Arthur had his back turned to her. As a last resort, she pointed to the wall and pretended to scratch her head when Arthur turned around.

In a loud voice meant for Maggie, Amy replied, “Yes, I do, in lakes like here, not in pools, though. It’s great to keep in shape.” She gave Arthur her seductive smile. She put her hands behind her back and looked around until she was in front of the frame. “You won a medal for cheese, I see. Were you in the cheese business?”

“Not me. My father was,” Arthur replied, not taking the hook Maggie had hoped for.

“But you did work in the cheese business in Europe?” Maggie asked.

“A while back, yes, in Germany.”

“Germany, so you must have lived through the fall of the Berlin Wall?”

“Yes, it was a big event. I still have a piece of it somewhere here. But all that is a long time ago.”

A little voice came from the corner of the room, where the leather suitcase Maggie had noticed on her first visit was lying.

“Are you an explorer?” Alex ran his hand on the top of the suitcase and down to the locks.

“Not really, although I would have liked to have been one. Do you like explorers?”

“When I grow up, I want to be one, to go down deep, deep in the ocean,” Alex replied.

Arthur put his hand on top of the suitcase. “You’ll need a submarine then. But why ask me that?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Or a spy. I want to be a spy.” He pulled the suitcase from the table and was dragged down by its weight.

“Careful. It’s a collector’s item.”

Arthur put the case back on the table. “I’m not sure I’ll show you what’s in it. You are all far too curious.”

“Sorry, my boys can be annoying that way,” Amy replied.

“I’m not speaking of your boys.” He looked straight at Maggie, who had maneuvered her way close to the case. “All right, it’s just another radio, but one from the Cold War, and yes, used by spies…”

He flicked open the locks using a key he had around his neck, revealing taping and listening equipment.

“Fascinating how technology has evolved. Today all this equipment would fit in a pocket, most likely.”

Maggie had so many questions for Arthur, none she thought he would answer, unless Adam were there. She was puzzled. If he was a spy, he could still be active, although what on earth would a spy do in Foxton…smuggle cheese?

He could be an undercover agent who infiltrated the smuggling operation, hence the drop-offs in Foxton. A little farfetched, but it would explain Adam’s view that he was innocent—but then Raj wouldn’t suspect him, and he still did.

What about Sergeant Humphries? He seemed to be under his spell. Arthur might be working for him. But that didn’t make sense either, since Raj had been assigned to the cheese-smuggling case, and he would have to be in the know. Unless they were all so good at keeping it secret that they wanted everyone to suspect him, including Tina the journalist.

That didn’t make sense either. Arthur was a member of the community in Foxton, and tarnishing his reputation could do a lot of damage to everyone once it came out in the open. What if Arthur’s eagerness to talk about Pamela’s visit was to find out if she had told Maggie something about him? Now, that would make sense…

Amy approached Maggie and said softly in her ear, “Maybe we shouldn’t overstay our welcome?”

Maggie ignored her. She looked straight into Arthur’s eyes, magnified by his thick glasses. “Were you a spy?”

“Me? I thought you were.”

His laugh resounded across the room. Maggie laughed along, not sure what else to say. Amy poked her and repeated her question. Getting the hint, she pointed to the clock on the wall. “It’s already that late. We’ve lots to do before Barrie’s birthday tonight, and we don’t want to keep—”

“Bettie waiting. You’re right, I didn’t see the time go by. You’re always welcome to visit, all of you. A little warning in advance is all I ask.” Arthur smiled.

“To compensate for our invasion, here are my specialty carrot muffins. I hope you like them.” Maggie handed him her box.

Arthur opened the lid to sniff them, and after he thanked her and tucked them away from Tinker, they all scattered to their respective boats.

Arthur put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Tinker appeared, followed by Carrot and Beans. “Why don’t you grab your dogs? I’ll take care of mine. We don’t want any more dog stories, do we?”

As the group paddled away from the motorboat, Maggie kept thinking about Arthur. This visit hadn’t eased any of Maggie’s suspicions; he had to be involved in this smuggling. He had the opportunity and the means. He had the ideal background to manage a cheese-smuggling operation. What better than a combination of a spy’s expertise, flying skills and excellent swimming capabilities, with some cheese knowledge? And the motive…money?

Chapter Thirty-One

The Horizon Cafe was full to the brim. It was as if Barrie had invited the entire village of Foxton to his birthday party.

Amy grabbed Maggie’s arm, pulling her close. “From what you said, I thought it’d be a small affair. I’m not sure that Josh and Alex will last the evening. I don’t see any other kids around either.”

“I know, and the babysitter cancelling last minute…I’m surprised too. I thought it would be just a table with our usual group. I’ll check what’s going on.”

Maggie recognized some faces, like Ronnie and Clive, but also others she had never seen before. She did see Damien speaking with Steve. So he was still around, which was good for Heidi—with this crowd, she’d need help.

Maggie elbowed her way through clusters of young people to where Damien was standing, hoping Barrie would be with him. When she reached them, Barrie wasn’t there, and Steve wasn’t wearing the usual long black apron all staff wore at the cafe.

“Hey, Maggie, good to see you.” Damien hugged her.

“It’s a big party Barrie’s throwing.”

“You haven’t heard?”

“What?”

“It’s a joint party, ’cause I just got extra funding for the game, and now that it’s launched, I can promote it.”

“That’s good news. That explains it.”

Maggie looked at the variety of young people around. She wondered where they had hidden away all those years. She had never seen them in Foxton, even in summer.

“Yeah, and—” he put his hand on Steve’s shoulder “—all thanks to him.”

Steve had indeed told her that thanks to the money he suddenly got, he could invest in Damien’s game. He avoided her eyes. She sensed something was wrong. Had he really made that much money trading digital currencies? Perhaps she was too narrow-minded; other people had made money from gambling, and perhaps he had invested before the value had exploded. She would keep quiet. Damien looked so happy, and she didn’t want to spoil it for him.

“But Steve, I thought you wanted to leave Foxton after quitting your job here. Did you find another job?”

Damien replied for him, “He doesn’t need to work anymore, the lucky bastard. I’m lucky too, thanks to him.”

“So you’re staying then?” Maggie asked, eager to get an answer from Steve.

“Nope, I’m out of here tonight.”

“Really?” Damien asked. “You can stay at my place. I told you. You’re sure?” Steve nodded. Suddenly, as he if had become someone very important, without any time for Maggie’s questions, Steve put his phone to his ear. One of those fake phone calls, thought Maggie.

Barrie finally appeared, chatting to Heidi behind the bar.

“Sorry, Damien, I want to congratulate Barrie. I’ll be back.” She hadn’t brought her present with her. It would have been impossible to move the large photo canvas around in the crowd. It was a shot of Barrie in a Subaru rally car. He had a determined winner’s look as the car flew up in the air before the final straight line. She had caught it just at the right moment, with all four wheels off the ground.

She pulled a large birthday card out of her bag, together with a note that his present would be delivered to his garage at his convenience. She waved it in the air to attract Barrie’s attention.

“That’s what I call a party! Almost thought I couldn’t make it through the crowd.” She hugged Barrie. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Maggie…you heard about Damien? Great, eh?”

“He deserves it. On such short notice, how did you get all those people?”

“A close call. I had to twist Steve’s arm, not just ’cause he’s a good DJ.”

“What? I can’t hear you well. Can we go in the kitchen?”

They pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Heidi had already retreated there and was behind her pots and pans, her cheeks red from the heat. Maggie felt sorry for her. She was cooking on her own without a replacement for Steve.

Spock was curled up in a box on top of a cupboard with just his lynx-like ears sticking out and his golden eyes observing everything.

“Maggie, hi.” Heidi pointed at Spock with her nose. “Poor little guy, he hates this kind of music.”

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

“Can I help you?” Maggie said, seeing the trays full of cinnamon buns in the middle of the barbecue brochettes. She had never seen Heidi’s kitchen in such a mess.

“No, no, you go off, it’s Barrie’s birthday.”

“So what? I can help too. I don’t really like being the center of attention. Now I have Damien for that. And the night is still early for me.” Barrie rubbed his hands.

“No, Barrie, you go, I won’t allow it,” Heidi insisted. “Wait, can you do one thing for me?” She gestured the pair to approach her pan.

“Taste this for me. I’ve tried a new curry sauce as a dip and made the curry from scratch. I’ve burned my tongue and can’t taste anymore.”

They dipped a spoon in it and put it to their mouths. Heidi’s face dropped. “Not good. I knew it. I should stick with Austrian cuisine. I love Indian food, but I just can’t get it right.”

Maggie shook her head as she coughed. She wiped away her tears. “No, it’s just…”

Barrie, who had also taken a generous spoonful of the sauce, replied, “Way to much chili pepper.” He stuck out his tongue and waved his hand in front of it.

“I’ve never managed to dose it well.”

“You can say that again!” Barrie took a gulp of his beer. “Aaaahh, that’s better.”

Maggie cleared her throat. “Heidi, just throw it away. You don’t want anyone to get sick.”

“Of course not, why?”

Between coughs and blowing her nose, Maggie said, “You put far too much in for any dilution to work. They like their curries mild here.”

Maggie held on to the chair with one arm. At first she refused Barrie’s beer, and then in spite of her dislike of beer, she gulped it down. It had dawned on her that she might have figured out the substance that killed Jacquier, although she found it hard to believe herself. She first had to check whether Amy had received the toxicology data before she could jump to conclusions.

“Are you all right, Maggie?” Heidi pulled out a chair.

“Yes, fine. Your sauce made me realize something. I need to talk to Amy.”

Maggie rushed out of the kitchen in search of her friend. If her suspicion was correct, it also meant that she might know who could have killed Jacquier. Maggie squeezed past hipsters with elaborate tattoos and jeggings that looked more like second skins, were it not for their bright colors.

Everyone seems to be fed on cow’s milk with growth hormone, thought Maggie as she tried in vain to catch a glimpse of Amy while avoiding the dancing elbows of the tall millennials. She headed toward the exit, hoping that Amy would have gone outside to the terrace with Paul and the kids.

She made it through the door and outside, where she could breathe again. It was far less crowded on the terrace. In a corner, Sergeant Humphries was chatting with Ronnie and Clive. Maggie stopped. She could tell him. No, first she had to get Amy to confirm. What if she were wrong?

Clive ran his fingers through the fringes of the sergeant’s stage waistcoat. “That’s soft, it’s soooo avant-garde…you look so dandy in it.”

Sergeant Humphries turned crimson. Ronnie grabbed hold of Clive’s hand. “Look with your eyes, not with your fingers. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the sergeant? Sorry, Sergeant, Clive can be so tactile. Tell us more about your band.”

Maggie turned her head away from them and smiled. It was as if her senses had been sharpened. Whenever she focused on a conversation, or people, she had developed bionic ears and eyes. Still no Amy. She grabbed hold of the terrace railing and felt compelled to look toward the lake.

There at the beach, Amy and Paul were talking to someone. The group of four headed Maggie’s way as if they had heard her silent call. Bettie’s distinctive limp caught her attention.

What were they doing here? Maggie really couldn’t see Barrie inviting them to his birthday party, let alone for a video game launch. She wanted to speak with Amy on her own without raising any suspicion. Now, with Arthur there, she had to think of a trick.

The thump of the bass vibrated through the terrace into her stomach. Steve must be in charge. Waiting for the group to arrive, she approached Sergeant Humphries.

“Big party. So you’re playing tonight. I’m looking forward to it.” She feigned a look around. “I thought I’d see Pamela. As Damien’s brand agent, this is a great opportunity for her. Oh, but of course, she must still be in custody,” she added innocently.

Sergeant Humphries combed his moustache with his thumb and index finger. “Yes, no, they were released.”

“I saw Bruno just a minute ago,” Clive said.

“I’m sure you did,” Ronnie hissed between his teeth.

“So no one is in custody?” Maggie asked.

Sergeant Humphries looked around the terrace and replied drily, “I had to let them go, but I’m keeping an eye on them, and so is Constable Gupta. Where is that constable?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve got to do it all myself.” He swore as he stormed off.

Amy squeezed Maggie’s waist from behind. She jumped.

“You took so long back there, I needed some fresh air.”

With both hands, Amy combed her thick hair back and twisted it into a tight bun that she secured with an elastic band from her wrist.

“Amy, I was looking for you. Barrie wants to speak with you.”

“Barry? Why?”

“Just come with me.” Maggie pulled her by her handbag. Noticing that they were all looking at her, she said, “Hi, Bettie and Arthur, nice to see you here. Sorry, I’m borrowing her for a moment. I’ve got to talk to her now about the present, but we’ll be back to chat.”

Maggie led Amy by the hand into the building then out through a side door, close to the garbage bins.

“What’s wrong with you? It stinks here.”

“I needed a quiet place to talk. It’s important. When you were working this afternoon, was it on the case?”

“Oh, I see. You want to know about the latest data. Yes, I got it. A puzzle.”

“So is it the cheese?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be.”

“Are they really sure?”

“Yes, as far as they can be. It isn’t an exact science, you know that as a biologist yourself. Maggie…you’re onto something…”

“Maybe, it’s far-fetched, though, but I think we might be able to check it out toni—”

The door to the outside opened, and one of the waiters walked out, cigarette in hand.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Maggie raced around the building, heading for the terrace after asking Amy to find Indira and Raj while she searched for Adam. She was hoping she could explain enough to him for him to prevent the perpetrator from leaving the premises while they gathered enough evidence.

As she turned the corner, she took a step back. Pamela stood in her way. She always appeared bigger than her size, with arms gesticulating like windmills.

“Maggie, good to see you kept your word. What’s the rush?”

Pamela was the last person Maggie wanted to interact with now. She stared into her heavily made up eyes. She hesitated. Maybe Amy was right; she did poison him with something hidden in a piece of cheese. She didn’t appear to be the type to be victimized.

“If you want to know, I’m in pursuit of the murderer.”

Pamela looked back over her own shoulder. She happened to be alone. “I see your amateurism extends to detective work. You know I can sue you for that?”

“Who says I’m accusing anyone here?” Maggie replied.

For the second time, Pamela’s shield seem to weaken. Her mouth quivered, and her eyes shifted away. “But you said…”

Maggie had to move fast. If Amy was right, Pamela was unlikely to be a direct threat to anyone here now, if it was a love story gone wrong, but if she was right, the person she was after could be. She was about to reply when Sergeant Humphries appeared.

“Sergeant, Pamela wanted to ask you something.” Maggie rushed away, leaving the pair to sort it out. At least she’s in good hands now.

Adam had his back turned to her. He was with Arthur and Bettie. If Arthur was an accomplice, at least in the cheese-smuggling part of it, she couldn’t divulge anything in front of him. Besides, it dawned on her that the reason for his presence might be to catch the murderer himself to take revenge. If she was right, the murderer was about to leave with impunity, along with the money from the cheese-smuggling affair.

It would be tricky to lure Adam away from his godfather, and maybe it wasn’t right for her to ask for his help because of Arthur. Time was on her side, the party only having just begun. A talk with Damien would confirm whether she had guessed the precise timing of the investment. It would have to have been after the murder. She felt her heart pound in her chest and beads of sweat trickle down her top.

She counted the number of exits to the building—too many. If only she could sow the seeds, the truth might come out by itself. Everyone was there—nearly everyone.

The terrace was now busy enough for her to slip unnoticed inside via the main door. Steve was on a small podium, DJ’ing with a headphone pad on one ear and the other resting on the side of his neck. He appeared to be “in the zone.” With his eyes closed, he beat the rhythm with his hand on his thigh, his body quivering with each beat.

Raj was leaning with his back against the wall, just behind the podium. Bruno shouldn’t be far away, if Raj was keeping an eye on him. Maggie just needed to follow his gaze, and there was Bruno.

Maggie didn’t have a plan yet for how to unmask the perpetrator; all she knew was that she needed more proof. She dug a tunnel through the multitude of people to reach Damien and Bruno, who had been joined by Barrie.

“It’s a real success.”

“Where did you come from, Maggie? You made me jump out of my socks,”  Damien said.

“Not that you’re wearing any,” Bruno said.

Damien peered at his feet and wiggled his toes in his flip-flops. “He really keeps a close eye on me.” He laughed. “Raj over there is doing the same. He hasn’t been more than a few feet away from me all evening. Strange.”

Maggie pointed with her eyes to Bruno and back to Raj when Bruno wasn’t looking. Damien silently acquiesced to her insinuation.

“I’m curious, how did this all happen? I mean this latest investment. I thought you didn’t really need it?” Maggie asked.

Damien bent down to speak into Maggie’s ear over the loud music. “You’re right. But I always need more funds, and when Steve got lucky with a digital currency trade and wanted to invest, how could I refuse? He’s got lots of followers as a DJ, so it’s good for the video game.”

“I see that, but when did he get his money?” She stood on tiptoes to speak in his ear.

Damien took a step back. “You’re onto something.”

Barrie barged in. “She always is, hold on tight.”

Amy joined the group with Indira, both with stern faces.

“It’s my birthday, not a funeral. What happened to you two?” Barrie asked.

The music had suddenly stopped, and only the voices filled the room. Barrie looked up to the podium. “Now, not the music too… I’ll be back.”

Amy tucked her arm under Maggie’s. “I won’t leave till you tell us all your theories.”

Maggie gestured for Amy and Indira to come closer. Damien and Bruno were now talking to each other. She glanced around to see who was in hearing distance—no one of interest. “Do you know whether nutmeg can interact with an anti-anxiety drug?”

“We eat nutmeg all the time, and the doses used are always small,” Indira replied. “No issue there, although a very high dose of nutmeg, because of the myristicin in it, can lead to paranoia, hallucinations, body pain, dry mouth, out-of-body—”

Amy interrupted her. “Hang on. I vaguely remember a case of a death caused by too much nutmeg.”

“Really? But nutmeg’s strong taste should be enough to prevent someone from ingesting the toxic dose, and swallowing a whole nutmeg would be tough, given its size,” Indira said, tilting her chin back.

“People go to great lengths to get high, even using nutmeg. I know the effect can be horrible, hard to imagine. But it’s worth checking. I’ll ask right away if they found anything.” Amy pulled out her phone.

As Amy searched for the information, Maggie said, “But I still don’t see what motive he could have.”

Amy signaled that she had to call to find out more. Maggie shook her head. “No, go ahead. It wasn’t for you. Arrrgh. It has to be about the cheese somehow.”

“And right you are,” a high-pitched voice said behind her.

Maggie turned around and came nose to chin with Tina. “What do you mean?”

“I figured it out, and I’m about to tell the sergeant. It’s all about cheese, as you said, but not the people you would suspect. Poor Pamela, I’m going to set things right.”

Tina had attracted a little crowd. Bruno appeared particularly attentive to what she was saying.

He lifted his hands in the air. “Finally, someone believes me.”

He took a step closer to Tina and was about to hug her, to her seeming delight, when Maggie interrupted. “Hang on. All right, Pamela might be innocent, but why would he be killed for cheese?”

Tina pointed in the direction of the terrace. “Over there, you have your man. He wanted the spoils of the cheese smuggling.”

The only person she meant who Maggie could think of was Arthur. With the nutmeg story, it no longer made sense that he would have killed Jacquier. He was nowhere near the cafe that day, because she had been in the water with him. Unless he had gone there in the evening…

Thinking of Adam, Maggie shook her head. “Tina, don’t mix things up. He isn’t your murderer.”

“Oh, and how would you know that, Miss Detective of the Year?”

Tina always knew how to exasperate her, and yet she might be the solution Maggie was looking for. If only she could get her on side.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Indira had slipped behind the podium. She must have taken it upon herself to inform Raj about the nutmeg, thought Maggie. Amy had just returned from her call. “They’re looking into it. It’s possible.”

In a corner of the room away from Tina, and as fast as she could, Maggie explained her encounter with Steve in the kitchen and the bag of nutmeg muffins.

“They did find some muffin leftovers in his stomach…I’ll speak to Humphries.”

“But be tactful. We don’t want to scare Steve away, and I can still be wrong, so—”

“Yes. Be careful.”

Damien, Barrie, and Bruno were still all ears, listening to Tina.

Maggie put a hand out to touch Bruno’s arm. “Bruno, I believe you. We might be able to prove it, but I need more details.”

“Gotcha, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Jacquier dumped your mother, right?” Maggie asked. Bruno nodded. “Why was that?”

“’Cause the bastard was leaving the country and didn’t want baggage, he claimed.”

“Did he have money?”

“Yeah, he bragged about it.” Bruno’s eyes lit up, as if something had clicked. “That jerk, I can’t believe it, but—”

Bruno sprang up onto the podium like a wild animal and went straight for Steve’s neck. All the while, he shouted, “He’s the one!”

The record squeaked on the player as Bruno pushed Steve’s head down on it. Barrie and Damien grabbed Bruno from behind and managed to pull him off Steve. Tina had mysteriously heaved herself up on the podium and went straight to the microphone.

“Everyone, calm down.” She raised a hand. “This is a misunderstanding.”

Raj and Indira were now just behind Tina as Maggie rushed to the stage. Bruno was swearing and kicking his legs in the air with the vigor of a young bull. Tina helped Steve up from the mixing table. To Maggie’s astonishment, she was going to protect him.

Tina continued, “I know this isn’t the right occasion, but we are still looking for a murderer, and I happen to know that a lot of money has been made with this cheese-smuggling, as you’ve read in the Daily Stumble.”

Steve was straight as a stick; only his eyes rolling around, as if he were looking for an escape. As soon as Tina pointed in the direction of where Arthur might be, Steve appeared to relax. He slipped behind her and bumped against Raj.

Maggie took the microphone from Tina’s hand. A loud, scratching sound from the rubbing of fabric brought everyone to attention. Tina had taken hold of the microphone again.

Sergeant Humphries’s voice carried to the front. “Everyone calm down. Ms. Partridge, this is neither the place or your job.”

“But I’m a reporter. I have to tell the truth. If you don’t do your job, someone has to,” Tina replied arrogantly.

In the spur of the moment, fearing Tina would ruin the chance to catch Steve, Maggie spoke into the microphone that was still in Tina’s possession. “You mean Steve here is involved with the cheese-smuggling business.” She had plunged in, and she had to finish the story. “The van you chased, Sergeant Humphries, was here when Steve was alone here. I was there.”

“Everyone can have a coffee. That doesn’t mean a thing,” Steve said in his bass voice and excruciatingly slow pace. Each word resonated through the bodies of the people standing next to the loudspeakers. His tendency to add a long, hissing sibilance to mark pauses in his sentences exacerbated his drawl.

Tina appeared too stunned to say anything. Instead, a voice floated up from close to the door of the terrace. It was Arthur. “I recognize that voice from the radio message. It was Steve’s. No one else I’ve ever heard speaks that way, so slow and so low. I have intercepted their smuggling operation on my radio. Definitely his voice, Sergeant, you’ll hear on the recording.”

Maggie was astonished by his intervention. He was involved in the cheese business, but not how she imagined it. He must have overheard their radio communications and followed them, hence the note. Had he spoken about it to the sergeant? Maggie felt a huge sense of relief. She liked Arthur; Adam was right all along.

Tina had regained her composure. “How convenient to accuse someone else. I wonder how could you know about their radio communications unless you were involved yourself? Take that.”

Arthur didn’t respond right away. The crowd gave him a large berth. “Now that’s better. I was feeling claustrophobic. Let me through.”

He headed for the stage, arm in arm with Bettie. Sergeant Humphries, together with Amy, reached the front at the same time as the pair. The crowd closed ranks around them.

Maggie addressed Steve at a far distance from the microphone that Tina was still clutching. “What about those muffins, Steve? You remember the ones hidden behind the counter in the kitchen that you were eager to get rid of?”

Only Raj and Indira could overhear what she had said. Steve took off. He jumped over his music installation and pushed his way to the swinging kitchen doors. Heidi, who Maggie only now saw had been standing in front of them, was flicked over as if she had been a fly.

Maggie helped Heidi up and pursued Steve, together with Raj and Bruno, who had broken loose from Barrie and Damien. They all stopped in their tracks at the sight. Steve was frozen on the spot, his back turned to them, hands up. He slowly walked back one step at a time into Raj’s arms.

“Calm down, shh,” he said in a trembling voice.

No one could see what was growling so loud. It gave Maggie the chills. Even Raj took a step back, leaving Maggie up front. Maggie stepped around the stoves. Spock’s golden eyes were glowing like fire, his mane had expanded around his head, and his back was arched with hairs she never imagined could lift up so high.

He was about to pounce on Steve. No one dared move. In a hushed voice, Maggie said, “Heidi, come here. Spock needs to be calmed down.”

Steve had backed into Raj, who grabbed his wrist and slung a handcuff around it. Spock raised his front paw with a display of claws when Steve moved his free arm away from Raj. Maggie wondered what Steve might have done to him to be treated this way, or was it because Spock had witnessed him knocking over his mistress?

Heidi walked past Raj. “Just wait till I get him, then you can cuff Steve. He can be so quick.”

Maggie watched in awe as Heidi approached this fierce-looking animal and knelt in front of him. She brought her shoulder forward and said softly, “It’s okay, he won’t do it again. Shh.” She didn’t touch the cat. She tapped her shoulder instead and turned her head to Maggie. “He hates aggressive behavior, especially against me. I don’t need a guard dog with him.”

The huge gray mass of a cat climbed onto Heidi’s shoulder and wrapped himself around it, covering her large frame. She stood up, the cat balanced on her shoulder without her helping hand.

“He’s all right now. He’s a shoulder cat.” Heidi stroked his head.

Spock purred and appeared content. Maggie approached Heidi with admiration. Encouraged, she ventured a hand out to touch him.

“He’s a hero. He’s so calm now. How did you do it?”

“He just likes being on a shoulder. If you ever want to pick him up, that’s the only way. But it has to be his way. If I left it up to him, I’d have to walk around with this fur coat all day.”

Damien walked up to Steve. “How could you? How many lives did you plan to ruin? I thought we were friends.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Face me.” Damien bent down to catch his eyes. “So this money. It wasn’t true? The crypto?”

Steve looked away. “It would’ve worked out. This freakin’ Jacquier, not my fault he wanted to get high and then he bragged about it all. I hate braggers…” He stared at Bruno.

Maggie stood on her toes to see what was happening through the window of the kitchen door. Sergeant Humphries, still in his country music outfit, spread out his arms and pushed the air with his palms to hustle the flow of onlookers back into the public space of the cafe. “Please, please, we need space here.”

Amy and Indira had been caught behind the sergeant and made signs to Maggie. She pushed the door open. Sergeant Humphries turned around, nearly jumping on Maggie to restrain her.

“It’s fine back here, your constable has everything under control. But he needs Amy, the forensic expert,” Maggie lied, hoping Amy at least would be let through. It worked.

Indira got pushed back next to Tina, who had taken the opportunity to approach the sergeant. As Maggie closed the door, she heard Tina’s high-pitched voice. “I will have exclusivity, as you promised?”

With all the action, Maggie had forgotten about Adam. He wasn’t in the kitchen, and she hadn’t seen his head stick out from the crowd when she peered through to the bar.

Heidi was busy locking the kitchen doors to prevent curious onlookers from coming in. She stopped in front of the back door leading outside. “Adam, you here? Come in.”

Adam let Arthur and Bettie walk in front of him.

“Not sure everyone—” Heidi threw a glance at Raj.

“It’s all right. Arthur helped us.”

“What?” Maggie asked. “And I thought you suspected him.”

“He did,” Arthur replied. “But it was Adam who convinced me to give Raj the recording I had. You already know its content, Maggie.”

Embarrassed, Maggie didn’t respond. “But then Raj, you knew about Steve?”

“No, because we hadn’t linked the two voices till now.” Raj flipped out his notebook and said, “I am arresting you, Steve Boman, for smuggling cheese into Ontario and embezzlement of funds from Mr. Jacquier.” He read aloud the rest of his rights.

Steve replied with a sigh. “Yes, I understand. But he deserved it.”

Maggie was alarmed that Raj was omitting the murder charge, unless he didn’t suspect it, in which case she had to step forward. “You planned to kill him with the nutmeg muffin. Why else would you have hidden the bag of muffins in the corner of the cooker? It was only by chance I saw it. Was it for his money?”

“No way!” Steve protested. “I didn’t kill him. I did give him a nutmeg-filled muffin. A pal told me you could get high on it, and it’s cheap. I even tried it, but the taste was awful, so I only took a bite of it. I had no idea it could kill.”

Amy was busy on her smartphone, as if she were searching for something. Everyone else was silent.

Steve looked out the window. “Yes, I was involved in the cheese smuggling. I just helped with the transfers. When he left behind a bag for me to look after, I had suspicions and cut a hole in it. He was going to run away with the money, cutting us all out of it. I suspected him the moment he dumped Pamela.” Steve shrugged. “It’s in the kitchen—you’ll find it anyway. I was going to invest part of it in Damien.” He looked at him with affection. “I wanted to go straight. Your game is good, really good.”

“But didn’t you know that high doses of nutmeg can be lethal?” Damien asked.

“I didn’t. I cook with it all the time. Just after he ate the muffin, he seemed okay and even complained he wasn’t feeling anything, so he took a few with him. Later, when Jacquier came back to the cafe, he looked totally insane, with slurred speech. I couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. I just thought he was tripping again, like he often did. He just asked for water. So I gave him a glass, and he popped a few pills he had in a bottle.”

“What time was that?” Raj asked.

“I guess eleven. Heidi had just left.” Steve fell silent.

“So what happened next? Why didn’t you call for an ambulance?” Raj asked.

“It was too late. I left him on the bar stool and went to the kitchen to finish cleaning. When I got back, he was dead.”

“Why not call us?” Raj asked.

“I panicked. You were already hot on my heels with the cheese smuggling, because of Jacquier and his role in it. It wouldn’t take long for you to think I killed him. I couldn’t risk it. So I got rid of the body.”

“But why put it in the marina?”

“Bruno worked there…and Jacquier had dumped Pamela…but I can’t believe the nutmeg killed him.”

Amy lifted her hand. “It did…that is, it was the interaction between his anti-anxiety drug, a benzodiazepine, and the high dose of nutmeg that was fatal. I found a reference to a previous case.”

It was as if the heavy steps of the sergeant spurred Raj into saying, “Steve Boman, I’m arresting you for manslaughter of Mr. Jacquier. It is my duty to inform you—”

“You already said it,” Steve interrupted. “I got the picture.”

“I have to finish. It’s the law. It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Steve shouted.

“You are charged with the manslaughter of Mr. Jacquier. Do you wish to say anything in answer to the charge?”

“I freakin’ already told you, I didn’t do it.” Steve kicked the leg of the table just as Sergeant Humphries approached the group.

“Now, now, calm down.”

“It’s all right, sir, I’m reading his rights.” Ignoring the sergeant, Raj finished reading them.

Sergeant Humphries took hold of one of Steve’s arms and gestured to the constable to mirror him. Raj resisted as the sergeant tugged at Steve. “Wait, sir. The money.”

“What money?”

Steve pointed with his chin to a little cupboard near the fridge. Heidi hurried to it and pulled out a duffel bag, letting it fall to the floor. She handed it to Raj. “It’s heavy.”

The constable replied to the sergeant’s inquisitive look. “It’ll be in the confession statement. It’s cash from the cheese smuggling.”

Pulling Steve along with him and with Raj in tow, the sergeant said, “We’d better go out the back door.”

With one last look toward Damien before the door closed on them, Steve said, “Sorry, buddy.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

“What a birthday party. I’ll sure remember this one!” Barrie rubbed the back of his head with both hands. “I just can’t believe it. One moment he seemed a normal guy, the next…”

Damien nodded. Bruno was silent and had shriveled away into a corner. He sat on a chair, staring at his hands. Damien called out to him, “You all right there?”

Bruno flicked his blond side-swept bangs back with his usual head jerk. He stood up and slowly walked toward Damien. “Maybe he’s right. It isn’t all about me. I can help you.”

“What with?” Damien replied with a smile.

As if out of nowhere, Pamela spoke. “Your branding, Damien.” Damien looked at them with astonishment. “Bruno is your ideal branding personality. It’s brilliant, he’s your go-to image. Already has lots of followers.” Pamela pulled out her phone.

Damien seemed lost for words.

Pamela put up her finger. “Wait. Yes. I love this. Done.” She smiled at the group. “Already tweeted, and look. That’s just one idea.”

Maggie just caught a glimpse of the image on her phone as Pamela showed it to Damien. Bruno’s head was popping out of a computer with his hands appearing in 3D directly in front of the viewer’s face, holding a game control.

Damien raised his eyes to the ceiling. A roar of laughter shook the group when Adam asked, “Wasn’t the game featuring robots?”

Bruno excitedly tapped on the phone. “Hey, fifty likes and counting. Look, Mom.”

Pamela beamed. “And this is just the start. Your reach will be humongous.”

Bruno and Pamela were both absorbed in the screens of their phones as the rest of the group moved away from them.

The Horizon Cafe was humming with people talking about the arrest. The murmur of voices replaced the music, both players having been called away from their performance. Heidi was back behind her pots and pans, sending the summer students working for her with bowls of food to replenish the buffet that she had laid out. Maggie gestured to Barrie to follow her into the kitchen to check on Heidi.

“What’s up?” Adam asked, following the pair.

“I want to see if Heidi needs help. She was struggling earlier. Come along.” Maggie peered over Heidi’s arm to see what was cooking. “If you need help…” She opened her arms to signal they were there for her.

Heidi put a motherly arm around her shoulders, nearly engulfing her in the embrace. “Thank you, my dears. No, no, I’m fine as long as I stick to my usual dishes, then I’m in control. Never again will I try a curry sauce.”

“You know, I know just the right person for you,” Barrie replied.

“What do you mean?” Heidi asked.

“Indira’s mom. She’s a fantastic cook, she could help you out.”

Adam added, “That way Raj’ll get some breathing space.”

Indira walked into the kitchen, followed by Amy. “Ah, you’re here. What’s that about Raj needing breathing space?”

“We were just telling Heidi about your mom and her fantastic curry. She wants to learn how to prepare it.”

Indira nodded with a large smile.

“Really? I mean, I’d love it and could do with help, but it’s hard work and—”

Arthur who had sneaked in without Maggie noticing, said, “All this curry talk, I think Bettie’ll join you in the kitchen. I want her to learn how to prepare it for me.” Bettie gave him a little slap on his arm. “Ouch, what did I say?”

“You know the ones who ask…we could do shifts.”

All of a sudden, Maggie had the urge to apologize to Arthur now that Adam was there.

“Arthur.”

“It’s all right,” Arthur replied. “I’d have done the same.”

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“But I do,” Arthur replied with a grin.

Adam intervened. “He’s like that, Maggie. He just knows. I’ve always had that issue with him. I couldn’t hide a thing from him. Don’t ask me how he does it, though.”

Maggie crossed her arms. “Go on then, what was I going to say?”

“I’ll just say two words. My note.” He looked at her from under a raised eyebrow. “I might even have tried to recruit you back then.”

“Hire me? For what?” Maggie feigned not to understand what he was insinuating.

“Yes, exactly what you are thinking now.” Arthur winked at her. “And don’t ask me to say it in front of everyone here,” he whispered for Maggie and Adam’s ears only.

Barrie’s voice rose above the cacophony of pots and pans. “It’s still my birthday party. Let’s have some food and fun.”

They followed Barrie in a line to the buffet, trying to avoid the waiters coming and going with plates laden with delicious canapés and summer salads. Maggie said, “It wasn’t a real birthday party tonight because of what happened. Why don’t we all go to Heidi’s Sunday barbecue tomorrow? That way Raj can also be there.” Everyone greeted her proposal with cheers. “But I have just one request. I need your help distracting Heidi in the morning. Anyone up early tomorrow?”

Bettie and Indira spoke at the same time. “I’ll be there to help her cook,” Bettie said, and Indira said, “I’ll send Mom over. If she comes to help, I can assure you Heidi won’t set a foot out of the kitchen. You can’t stop her when she gets started.”

“But what for?” Bettie asked.

“Just ask Arthur. He always seems to know what I’m about to say or do,” Maggie replied with a grin.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve no idea what she’s on about,” Arthur said. “You should try the sausages. I see only Maggie had them.”

“Sausages!” Barrie stuck his neck out as if he were a pointer dog that had just caught their scent. Before he could reach the sausages, singing voices approached and the lights went out.

Heidi, followed by everyone in the cafe, marched toward Barrie with a large cake lit with one big candle and firecrackers sparkling in the dark.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The following morning, Maggie’s house was still quiet at nine. The night before, she had explained her plan to Amy. She was keen to make it happen before the barbecue that evening. Not only did she have to take a series of pictures, but she also had to select the right one and then print it. She was determined to capture a good portrait of Spock this time.

Armed with her portable studio, the black painted cardboard box, Maggie arrived at the Horizon Cafe. Bettie had already sent her a message that they were keeping Heidi busy. The coast was clear.

Maggie hid behind a curtain while Bettie feigned a sneezing fit that would be best resolved with Spock out of the kitchen. As planned, the cat was shooed out of the kitchen.

Maggie used the shoulder trick to pick the cat up and place him in the box. Spock was huge; he fitted on Heidi’s shoulder, but Maggie had her head buried in his belly as he attempted to make himself comfortable. She spat out a few hairs, brushing aside his fur with one hand as she tried to identify his head from his tail.

She banged into a chair and stood still, afraid Heidi would run in to see what was happening. No sign of her. Instead of sitting in the box, Spock pounced on the catnip mouse Maggie had put in it, and raced around the tables.

A nice light from outside fell on his head. Maggie seized her moment and captured the lion with a click, his thick mane framing his jaw.

He stared back at Maggie with his golden eyes; only the black fluff on his ears moved slightly. Noise from the kitchen propelled her back onto her feet. On her way out, she dropped a handful of treats next to his favorite cushion. That was what she loved about photography: the idea of capturing the essence of a being, be it a plant, animal, human or even insect, revealing their beauty in full detail.

That evening, all the usual suspects were expected to turn up at Heidi’s barbecue, Indira and Raj, Barrie, Adam, and Maggie, with the addition of Amy and Paul. The kids had chosen to stay home with the dogs and an unlikely babysitter: Damien. The boys had taken to him and were desperate to try his game, which suited Damien perfectly.

A special round table had been reserved for them on the terrace with the best view of the lake, just under a string of red and yellow lanterns. It wasn’t dark enough for them to be turned on, but the lively colors gave the place a party atmosphere. Large terracotta pots overflowing with red geraniums together with citronella candles kept the mosquitoes at bay for most of the evening.

The terrace tables had all been painted by various local artists, some depicting the local wildlife and nature, others more abstract, but all were very colorful. There was always something new to look at, a new artist to discover.

Indira and Raj had not yet arrived. Adam and Barrie were already at the bar, in their usual far end corner next to Spock’s cushion. They were laughing and joking. Adam tapped Barrie’s shoulder before they both took a gulp of beer.

Maggie put down the canvases as she reached the pair.

“That is so sweet of you, but I could have picked it up.” Barrie stood up to hug her and Amy.

Maggie flicked his hand away from the canvases. “Who says it’s for you?”

Barrie’s chocolate eyes drooped as he pushed his lower lip forward.

“Yes, yes, it is for you. One of them, the other is for Heidi.”

“Is it her birthday? Eh, I had no idea. I’d have gotten her something.”

“No, don’t worry, it’s to thank her for selling my T-shirts.”

“Come on, Barrie, move over.” Adam pushed Barrie gently aside and towered down over Maggie with his long arms open. “Give us a hug. I’m angry, you know.” He held her by the shoulders. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look him in the eyes. “You really should’ve told me what you were up to yesterday. One day you’ll get into trouble.”

Maggie felt a surge of warmth build up in her chest. For a moment, it was as if everyone around her had disappeared aside from Adam. To her disappointment, he retreated to his barstool. Fearing she had upset him, she said, “It all happened so fast, and you were close to Arthur, I thought…”

“Arthur’s right about you.”

“How so?”

“You’ll poke your nose everywhere. But beware of the wasp’s nest.”

Amy stepped in. “He has a point, Maggie.” She laughed. “But it’s hopeless. I’ve tried all those years to warn her. She’s just like that, and on the plus side, she does solve mysteries…”

“You sound like my mother talking about me to other people when I was right next to her. So irritating.” Maggie grabbed a stool for Amy. “Here, and I wasn’t the one solving it. You all did.”

Indira and Raj joined the little group. Barrie asked, “What’s with you two? You look chirpy?”

Indira looked at Raj. “Yes, go on, say it.”

“No, no.” Raj bobbled his head and shook his name bracelet. He grinned at everyone, as if he was enjoying the suspense. “Maybe we should let them guess.”

“We could make bets. Given their faces, I think we’d win.” Indira giggled.

Everyone remained silent, looking at each other.

“I know what you’re all thinking I’m pregnant. But no, that’s not it.” Indira sighed.

Adam threw his hands up. “You’re happy to see us, that’s it. So am I.”

“Come on, I’ve a bit of an idea, but I’m not sure.” Maggie pointed her head toward the kitchen. “Has it got something to do with what’s happening in there?”

“Yeah, we had such a relaxed day. Dad went fishing, and now that Mom’s in Heidi’s kitchen, she’s no longer asking me about babies or criticizing my cooking. She’s happy. She’s back there tonight, believe it or not,” Indira said with a broad smile.

“Hope Heidi doesn’t kick her out,” Raj added. Indira stepped on his foot. “Ouch, but you agree, no?”

She nodded. Barrie caught the attention of the bartender with a wave of his hand. “I told ya. I had a good idea. This round is on me.”

Maggie took the opportunity to give Barrie his present. He propped it on the bar for everyone to admire. He never seemed to get enough of telling how he narrowly won the race, and it was all down to this jump.

“I just told myself, faster, faster…and then I was up in the air. Nothing to lose, but those few seconds were enough to win.” He took a sip of beer as he contemplated the picture of his rally car flying above the hill. “I don’t even look that scared, but to be honest, I was.”

Heidi came out of the kitchen and walked over to them.

“Can I take a look?” She turned the canvas and slipped her glasses on her nose. “Impressive. You look scary.” She took off her glasses and grabbed the frame with two hands. “Great picture, I can hang it here.”

“Nope, that one isn’t for you. It’s for the garage.” Barrie reached for his present.

Maggie swung the other canvas above Amy’s head, nearly poking Paul’s eye on the way.

“Sorry. Heidi, check this one out. It’s for you.”

“What do you mean? For sale?”

“No, no, for you.”

“But it isn’t my birthday.”

“Go on, open it.” She raised her glass of wine. “To our Mutti.”

Heidi blushed as she opened a corner of the canvas. She tore off a little more, and the fluffy ears of Spock appeared. She ripped apart the rest. “I’m speechless. You captured his spirit. I love it.” She turned the canvas around for everyone to see.

Everyone raised their glasses to Spock, who was on his cushion and opened one golden eye.

After hearing about Maggie’s photo sessions with Spock, Heidi propped the photograph in a prominent place against the wall just behind the bar. She rubbed her hands on her apron. “We’ve got a special for you tonight. Your table is ready.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

They all sat down around the owl table, as it was called. The artist had painted a sort of kaleidoscope of heads of owls so that each head would greet the person sitting around the table. Eight different owls faced each chair. Maggie gazed at the snowy owl in front of her.

Amy ran her hand over the surface of the table. “Good that she protected the table with glass, otherwise I’d never dare eat on it. Gorgeous. What’s this one?”

Maggie leaned over to look. “A screech owl, I think.” She looked at Adam for confirmation. He nodded.

“By the way, Adam, Maggie told me about your llamas and the cannabis plant. Are they all right now?” Amy asked.

“Yes, and I think they’ll stay clear of any hemp plant they find. At least I hope so.”

“Cannabis plant? You didn’t tell me about it,” Raj said.

Barrie shifted on his chair. His cheeks above his thick beard grew pale. Adam sat back in his chair. “It wasn’t anything, really, just a plant in a pot. I’d still like to know how it got there, though.”

“But they were ill all the same,” Maggie said. “It shouldn’t happen again.”

“Was she really that sick? Not a little stoned?” Barrie asked in an unusually small voice.

“Mostly groggy. Don’t exaggerate. They had escaped from their enclosure. They could’ve eaten other plants that aren’t good for them.”

“So you aren’t sure the cannabis made them sick?” Barrie asked.

Maggie stared at Barrie for a moment. He would normally never ask so many questions about plants or animals. She could see him as the type to smoke weed to relax. Maggie narrowed her eyes. “No, they are sure it was the cause. In fact, I tripped on the pot and nearly had a fight with a bear because of it.”

Maggie went on to tell them about her bear encounter. Barrie had shrunk on his chair.

“Relax, mate, it’s all fine. They’ve eaten other plants before. I’m used to it. Besides, I think it’s just some kid who wanted his plants to get a bit of sunlight. Impossible to know who…” Adam looked straight at Barrie as he talked.

Raj sat back in his chair, shaking his wrist so that his name bracelet would roll down his arm. Each time he did this, Maggie felt her own little hairs getting caught in the thick golden chain. “What did you do with it?” Raj asked.

He would not get an answer. All eyes shifted to Indira’s mother, who came to their table with a little pad and pencil. “I won’t really need this. I know what you’ll all be eating tonight.”

Everyone nodded their approval. “Told you,” Raj said.

“What did you tell them?” Indira’s mother asked with authority.

“That they’ll love your curry, Nani.”

“Such a sweet boy.” She ruffled his hair. “But first.” Everyone looked at this powerful little woman, dressed in a red sari. “You two come with me. I need you to taste it.” She pointed to Raj and Indira. “Follow me.”

As soon as Raj was away from the table, Barrie bent over toward Adam with a very concerned face. “This isn’t going to be easy. But I really didn’t know it would do any harm to the llamas. I’m so sorry.”

Adam was silent as he crossed his arms and looked at him. Barrie pushed his chair back and knelt down beside Adam. “Just tell me what I need to do to make up for it, anything, really anything…”

“Anything, really?” Adam asked.

“Yes.”

Raj clapped his hands. “We’re only gone a minute, and we miss a proposal!”

“What did we miss?” Indira asked.

Adam winked at Maggie. “Barrie promised that he was going to finish Maggie’s plane job by the end of the month.”

How did Adam know? Maggie was so eager to fly her father’s plane before the winter set in that she had even considered hiring another mechanic to get the job done. She went over to Barrie to hug him.

Barrie put his hand on his chest. “Yes, I promise.”

Heidi led her little team of ladies with the plates of curry to the owl table.

“So?” Heidi asked.

A silent forest of thumbs up rose around the table, just as the sunset and the lanterns cast their golden lights down on the friends. The soft sound of little waves crashing onto the shoreline mingled with happy voices late into the night.

AMBER BOFFIN loves stories and writing. She started writing to keep in touch with friends from different continents and then to document her travels around the world. British-born, she worked and lived in a number of countries together with her husband before settling in Canada. The warmth Amber experiences living in cottage country, together with her passion for nature, inspire her to write the cozy mysteries with a twist—a little less peaceful than reality.

The Maggie Flanagan Cozy Mysteries

Lethally Green

Lethally Ripe

Table of Contents

AMBER BOFFIN

LETHALLY RIPE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six