Showing a sudden interest, Toni asks, “Is that why Jason Hughes fought with Ms. Winters on the bluff?”
“He’s the one guest who wouldn’t let her read his palm,” Mick says.
“Maybe he has something to hide,” Toni suggests.
“The only thing I know,” Mick says, “is that Blanchard Hill’s a bust. Let’s head to the next one on the list.”
Swatting at her neck, Toni agrees. “Yes, let’s get out of here.”
Libby picks up her cell phone when she hears Mick’s ringtone.
“Mick?” she answers, her voice filled with hope. “Well crap!” she says, shaking her head to let Niall, Fran, and Cynthia know that they hadn’t found Emma yet. “Which one?” she asks. “Okay. Thank you for letting us know. Please be careful.” Then she disconnects the call.
“There isn’t any sign of Emma or Jason at Blanchard Hill, so they’re heading to the Big Four Ice Caves in Snohomish, the next set of caves on the list. They’re about an hour and fifteen minutes from here, but Joe’s taking I-5 with cherry lights and sirens to shave off time.”
“Hey, big fella,” Niall says to Hemingway when he comes over and nudges his leg. “You’ve had your dinner, so you must need to go out. Hold on just a minute while I grab my jacket and torch. You might be able to see in the dark, but I can’t.”
“Torch?” Fran looks at Niall inquiringly.
“That’s right,” Niall says with a smile. “Outside of North America, flashlights are commonly known as torches.”
“They say you learn something new every day. That’s my ‘something new’ for today,” Fran says with a laugh.
The women can hear “the boys” getting ready for Hemingway’s evening routine. “We’ll be back shortly,” Niall calls over his shoulder before pulling the mudroom door shut behind him.
“You hit the jackpot with that one,” Fran says to Libby.
“Yes, but Niall hit the jackpot with Libby too,” Cynthia says, pointing to Libby.
Laughing, Libby says, “We are fortunate to have each other, foibles and all.”
Niall takes a deep breath and looks up. The moon is a well-manicured crescent between the clouds in the sky, and the night is wafting a salt-laden breeze from the bay. Every now and again a flurry of wind dispenses a sprinkling of rain that never amounts to anything more than that.
Hemingway tries to poke his head in a bush to get a better sniff, but the Elizabethan collar makes it difficult. Niall smiles as an orchestra of startled crickets becomes instantly silent. “Hey buddy, you know you wouldn’t have to wear that thing if you’d stop licking the salve on your wounds.”
Their continued meandering brings them close to Austen cottage. And though he can’t see them, Niall knows from Hemingway’s stance that his ears are perked. Tipping his head back for a better sniff, Hemingway catches a scent on the air. He looks at Niall, at least six feet away. Never slow on the uptake, he sees his chance and takes it.
“Come back here!” Niall shouts, bolting after Hemingway.
Hemingway keeps his nose as close to the ground as he can, but the blasted cone doesn’t help. He picks up his best friend Mick’s scent, and Emma’s too. Then he discovers two more. One is from the man he doesn’t like. The other is a human scent, but from a person he’s not familiar with. He keeps going.
Niall finds Hemingway standing statue still, head to the ground. “There you are, you stinker. What’s gotten into you?” he asks.
Hemingway doesn’t move. When Niall approaches, Hemingway still doesn’t move, nor does he look up.
What the heck is he so intent on? Niall wonders.
Aiming his torch on the ground in front of Hemingway, the beam picks up an object. Bending over to get a closer look, he says, “Well I’ll be damned.” It’s the matching pearl earring to the one Mick had dropped from his pocket onto the kitchen table earlier in the day.
“Good boy, Hemingway. You’re such a good boy!” When Hemingway sees Niall pick up a stick, he thinks they’re going to play, a reward for finding the prize.
“Not just yet, mister. I’m going to use it as a stake to mark this spot in case we need to find it again.” After that, Niall scoops up Emma’s earring with a leaf just like Mick had done and slips it into his pocket. “Race ya home,” he says to Hemingway and takes off at a dead run.
When the mudroom door flies open with a bang, it startles all three women.
Libby jumps. Her hand flies to her chest where her heart races. “What on earth?”
Niall bends over, both hands on top of his thighs, trying to catch his breath. He raises his head slightly. “Someone, please give Hemingway a biscuit. You’re not going to believe what he found.”
Happy to assist, Fran gets a biscuit from the jar and gives it to Hemingway.
Once he catches his breath, Niall makes his way to the kitchen table and turns so that his right thigh is up against the edge. He reaches into his pocket just like Mick had done, and pulls the interior fabric until the pearl earring tumbles onto the table.
“I didn’t touch it. When Hemingway found it, I scooped it up with a leaf like Mick did and slid it into my pocket.”
Wide-eyed, Fran asks, “Do you think Emma’s dropped her earrings on purpose, like a trail of breadcrumbs?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Libby says. “She’s an intelligent woman.”
“I’d like to see if I get the same energetic impressions from this earring,” Cynthia interjects. “Would that be okay with everyone?”
“Yes,” comes their unanimous response.
Fran asks, “Does each object—even if they’re the same thing and belong to the same person—have different stories to tell?”
“I’ve never worked with two objects from the same person before,” Cynthia answers. “So I haven’t had the opportunity to find out. But I’d like to try.”
Cynthia picks up Emma’s pearl earring,
