rook sometime or other. Me included. Liked to run a tab with me, and then when I'd try to make him pay, he'd argue. Claimed he'd never gotten things. I finally cut him off, and now the bastard does--well, did--all his shopping over on the mainland.'
'Then I suppose they'll cross-examine everyone on the island,' I said.
'I suppose they will, which means you don't have to go poking your nose in it,' Jeb retorted as he and Mamie turned to leave. 'You just let us handle it until the police get here.'
I stepped forward, about to tell them just what I thought of how they were handling things, but Michael grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and gave me a warning look. I fumed silently until Jeb and Mamie were out of earshot.
'I don't suppose there's any chance you're going to take that advice?' Michael asked.
'Not when they're trying to railroad my Dad, no,' I said. 'Let's get out of the rain a minute; I need to think.'
We shook the standing water off two metal Adirondack chairs on the front porch of the Island Inn and sat down. The birders continued to mill about in the square in front of us, trading bird news and crime rumors.
'Okay,' I said when I felt a little calmer. 'Let's make a mental list of the things we need to do.'
'A pity you didn't bring along the notebook that tells you when to breathe,' Michael said, referring to the organizer I normally took everywhere. For some reason, people interpret my attachment to my organizer as a sign that I am unnaturally organized. I'm not, really; just the opposite. I long ago accepted the fact that if I write something down, I'll probably get it done, and if I don't, all bets are off.
I'd left the organizer behind, though; which shows you just how complete a getaway from my day-to-day life I'd been planning. A pity, as I could have used it now. But before I could even begin my plan for the afternoon, Rob appeared out of the crowd, dragging Spike, who was making heroic efforts to bite unwary passing birders.
'Could you hang on to Spike while I run into the general store?' Rob asked, holding out the leash.
'They don't mind dogs in the general store,' I said.
'They mind Spike, ever since he took a chunk out of that woman who runs the gift shop,' Rob said. 'And Mother sent me to fetch some cream for Dad's coffee when he wakes up.'
'Oh, all right,' I said.
I watched as Rob ambled across the muddy square and disappeared into the general store.
'Help me keep an eye out for Rob,' I said.
'Why?' Michael asked. 'Is he in danger?'
'He will be if he tries to sneak off and leave me with Spike,' I said. 'If the general store had a back door, I wouldn't have let him out of my sight.'
But while we stared at the door, watching for Rob's reappearance, a commotion elsewhere in the square distracted us. Mrs. Peabody, the stout birder, had intercepted Jeb and Mamie and was haranguing them. She was thrusting something at them, and they were backing hastily away from her. After several attempts to give them whatever she was holding, Mrs. Peabody shook her finger at them.
'What's got them all fired up?' came a voice from behind us. I glanced up, to find Ken Takahashi looking over our shoulders. I deduced from the little bits of cork all over his clothes that he hadn't had much fun opening his Chardonnay.
'The murder, of course,' Michael said. Takahashi shuddered.
'Do you have any idea if the ferry's running today?' he asked, zipping up his parka.
'No, but I bet they know over at the general store,' I said. 'Let's go and ask.'
'Are we really that interested in the ferry's whereabouts?' Michael asked as the three of us strolled across the street.
'I'm more interested in Rob's whereabouts,' I said. 'He's been in there long enough to buy a case of cream. If he's gone off and left us with Spike, Jeb may have another homicide on his hands.'
'She's only kidding,' Michael said quickly. Takahashi looked as if he didn't quite believe him.
The locals all looked up when we entered, and several of them actually nodded. I stayed near the door, where they'd be less likely to object to my bringing in Spike. Evidently, Takahashi hadn't quite given up the idea of charming the locals out of their real estate. He pasted a bright smile on his face.
'My God, it's like the North Pole out there,' he said, shoving back the hood of his parka and shaking himself.
A couple of the locals huddling around the fire frowned. I suspected that any second we'd start hearing mutters about 'weak-livered city folk.'
'What brings you here, Mr. Takahashi?' Jeb Barnes asked.
'Do you know if the ferry's running today?'
'Doubt it,' Jeb said. 'Why?'
'I'd like to know how much longer I have to stay in this hellhole,' Takahashi said, bis charm slipping for a moment.
The native Monheganites bristled visibly at this. Even Takahashi noticed, and he returned to full-blown salesman mode.
'I mean, it's all very well for you hardy New England types, but I'm from Atlanta,' he said. The drawl was heavier than before; he made it sound as if the name Atlanta had at least twelve syllables. 'I can deal just fine with ninety-eight in the shade and near one hundred percent humidity. But this kind of weather--call me a wimp, but I just don't understand how y'all can bear it. I'd have double pneumonia half the time if I lived here. In fact,' he said, sniffling audibly, 'I think I am coming down with something now. I don't suppose I could buy a cup of hot tea?'
'I can put the teakettle on,' Jeb said. 'We don't have fancy herbal teas, though, like they do down the street. Just plain old supermarket tea.'
'As long as it's hot,' Takahashi said.
'I wouldn't mind some myself,' Michael said. 'What about you, Meg?'
'Actually, we're just looking for my brother, Rob,' I said. 'You haven't--'
Just then, the door flew open and a swarm of birders burst into the store.
'That's him! That's him!' they shouted, pointing to Ken Takahashi.
Chapter 22
I was afraid the birders planned to lynch Takahashi, for some unknown reason. And when I looked around for Jeb Barnes, I found that he'd slipped away into the store's back room. Ostensibly to put the teakettle on, I supposed, though surely he could hear the commotion out here in the store. Takahashi quailed behind Michael. I was relieved to see a few familiar faces entering at the tail end of the birder mob, including Winnie and Binkie.
'Now then, let's calm down,' Binkie called out in a surprisingly penetrating voice. 'Let's have a little order here!'
The shouting died down, and the birders stood back as Binkie pushed her way to the front of the crowd.
'One of you tell me what's going on here,' Binkie ordered. 'Just one!' she added as several birders began to speak.
Mrs. Peabody stepped forward and pointed a quivering hand at Ken Takahashi.
'He's the one!' she said.
'What one?' I asked. 'Do you mean you think he's the murderer?'
'Well, that's for the police to find out, isn't it?' Mrs. Peabody said. 'All I know is, he's the one pretending to be a birder.'
'Pretending to be a birder?' I said. I glanced at Takahashi, somewhat disappointed. I'd hoped the phony birder would turn out to be our missing biographer. Ken Takahashi seemed too down-to-earth to have written that much purple prose. Still, a way of testing the possibility occurred to me.
'Walking around, pretending to be one of us, when he doesn't know a tern from a seagull,' Mrs. Peabody said. 'Probably in league with that lunatic who was trying to wipe out the bird population of the island.'
Considering what Takahashi and Resnick had planned for the island, she wasn't that far off the mark.
