The cruiser pulls into the roundabout just as Fran arrives.
“Is everything okay?” she asks the officer who steps out of the car.
“Mr. MacCullough asked me to come out,” Joe offers. Extending his hand, he continues, “And you are?”
“I’m Fran Davies, one of the writers staying here this month.”
All heads turn as Libby opens the front door.
“Oh, Fran,” she says, looking surprised. “You’re here too. In all of the commotion, I forgot we were going to pick up Cynthia.”
Stepping out of the way, she continues, “Come in everyone, please.”
Fran and Joe follow Libby to the kitchen.
“My God it smells good in here,” Joe says. As he extends his hand, Niall says, “I bake when I’m upset.”
“He bakes regardless of the emotion,” Libby says smiling. “Please have a seat.”
“Did the hospital say they would release Cynthia today?” Fran asks.
“With the recent developments, I haven’t called yet.”
Niall sets a plate of freshly baked scones on the table, and Libby pours coffee for everyone. After taking a bite, Joe says, “Seriously, what is this? I’m in heaven.”
“They’re chocolate-drizzled chocolate scones with chocolate-and-orange-speckled clotted cream and orange marmalade,” Niall answers. “Chocolate is my drug of choice.”
“What developments?” Fran interrupts.
Before anyone can answer, Mick arrives. After thanking Joe for coming back, he says, “First and foremost, we’ve got to find Emma. Emma Benton.
“When Libby and I went to Austen cottage this morning, the front door was bolted, so we went around back and entered through the sliding glass door. She wasn’t there, and we didn’t see any signs of a struggle.
“It’s important to note that Austen cottage is specifically designed around the needs of a person in a wheelchair. I lived there myself, that’s where I recovered.”
His look is grave as his eyes travel from face to face around the table. “I’m point on this case.” His tone brooks no discussion as he leaves to get the journal.
Returning from The Ink Well, his glove-clad hands set the book on the table. Before opening it, he brings them up to speed on the towel-filled suitcase he found in Thoreau.
“When we’re done here,” Joe says, “I’ll retrieve the suitcases. They could be evidence. I’ll run the names on the hotel badges against the hotels to see if we get any leads. From what you said, I don’t recognize any of those hotels as being from around here.”
Turning back to the book, Mick says, “Each of our guests has access to and is encouraged to write something in the Pines & Quill journal. This morning, a newly coned Hemingway,” he nods in the direction of the Dutch door, “knocked over the stand this sits on,” he says, tapping the edge of the book.
Nodding toward Libby, he continues, “When my sister picked it up, she saw a new entry.” Pointing to it he reads out loud. “‘Look in the mirror and what do you see? An eerie reflection that looks like me.’ It’s signed, Andrew Berndt. He’s one of the two ringleaders in the drug heist that killed my partner, Sam.
“I think that Jason Hughes is the other ringleader. I think he’s Andrew Berndt’s fraternal twin.”
CHAPTER 21
“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.”
—NEIL GAIMAN
When Libby and Fran arrive at St. Joseph Hospital, the cacophony of institutional sounds and intrusive fluorescent lighting stirs unwelcome memories of long, white hospital hours that Fran has spent searching for answers to her infertility. A sinking sensation fills her chest. She blinks, swallows down a wave of nausea, and makes herself focus. Hands fisted at her sides, she keeps it to herself as the two women walk with purpose to Cynthia’s room.
Cynthia has never been happier to see two people in all of her life. “The cavalry has arrived,” she says, beaming. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Paddy, what are you doing here?” Libby asks her brother-in-law who’s sitting in the chair next to the bed that Cynthia’s sitting on.
“I’m at St. Joseph’s on chaplaincy duty and discovered Ms. Winters. She just brought me up to speed on the recent events.”
“Well, it’s good to see you. Please come out to the house later this week for a visit. Niall and I were just talking about you.”
“So that’s why my ears were burning.” He winks. “I will. Thank you for the invitation.” Turning to Cynthia, he continues, “I wish it had been under different circumstances, but it was a pleasure to see you again.”
Libby and Fran step away from the doorway so Paddy can leave. As he steps out, an orderly with a wheelchair steps in.
Libby turns to Cynthia. “Hospital discharge policy dictates that patients be wheeled to their ride home.”
“But I can walk.” Cynthia shakes her head.
“If you want Dr. Zimmerman to change her mind—” the orderly says.
“No, I don’t,” Cynthia interjects.
Leaning forward between the two front bucket seats, Fran asks Cynthia, “How do you feel? Are you really okay?”
“The only thing that’s wrong with me is that I’m out of the loop. What happened while I was in the hospital?”
In rapid-fire succession, Libby and Fran fill her in on the recent events.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Cynthia says. “I saw Jason fall over the cliff, but the diving team hasn’t found his body, at least not yet.
“When you went to check on Emma in Austen cottage, you had to enter through the glass slider because the front door was bolted shut. She wasn’t there, and there were no signs of a struggle. Yet she hasn’t been seen or heard from since last night when she remembered she’d forgotten to turn off the flame under the tea kettle.
“Mick found one of Jason’s suitcases filled with towels that have hotel name badges pinned to them.
“And poor sweet Hemingway is wearing an Elizabethan collar because of the wounds he got while saving my life.”
“Whew! That about
