The Beastly Island Murder. Carol W. Hazelwood

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      When the day arrived to leave the island, Clarence, an old salt who ran a ferry and fishing guide service, picked up Jennifer in his sturdy trawler, the Bertie Blue. As usual he dropped anchor beyond the buoy marker. Although his hull had a shallow draft, he didn’t take chances. Sudden wind storms at low tide had grounded many boats around Beastly.

      Clarence’s gray-whiskered face was always a welcome sight. He was a bear of a man, with a belly that protruded over his belt. His wife, Bertie, a jolly woman and a long time friend of Jennifer’s family, was as wide and as tall as Clarence. It had been Clarence and Bertie who had convinced Jennifer’s grandmother that, despite the breed’s size, a Newfoundland would suit a sea kayaker.

      “How’s the cabin?” Clarence asked after she and Lydia were on board with her kayak, duffle bag, and other gear.

      “I think I need a new roof on the water tower, maybe the cabin too,” Jennifer said. “Know anyone?”

      “I’ll ask around.” He chucked Lydia under the chin. “She looks like she had a good time.”

      “Are you referring to her tangled fur?”

      “Yep.” He grinned, then motioned to the open water beyond the cove. “Ocean’s stirred up. Coming over was rough and it’s getting worse. Going to make for a nasty crossing back to the mainland. I’ll winch up the anchor while you secure your kayak,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the bow.

      Lydia stayed out on deck sniffing the sea air, while Jennifer joined Clarence inside the wheelhouse and stood next to him, swaying with the trawler’s motion as it cut through the cold sea. “I had a visitor. A guy named Rick Carlson. Do you know him?”

      Clarence scratched the bristle on his cheek. “Nope.”

      “He owns a 36 foot Morris sloop called The High Life.”

      “There was an old Morris docked up in Grotto Place a long while back. Wood, old, a real relic.”

      She shook her head. “This one was pristine, totally refurbished.”

      “The one I’m talking about would have cost a pretty penny to overhaul. I think it was sold for salvage.” He motioned to a tin on a shelf behind him. “Help yourself to some of Bertie’s chocolate chip cookies.”

      “Thanks.” Jennifer pried open the lid and handed a cookie to Clarence before taking one herself. They munched as they watched the spray wash over the prow of the boat.

      After a while, Clarence said, “Now tell me how you’re really doing. I’ve been thinking of you out on the island all alone.”

      “I wasn’t alone; I had Lydia and the unannounced visitor.”

      “Damn it, Jennifer. You know what I mean. Bertie and I have been getting calls all week from your mom and dad. Said you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

      “Sorry they pestered you. I go to the island for peace, not to keep in touch.”

      “They blame me for taking you out there.”

      “They want me to sell the island and I’m not going to.”

      He nodded. “I know that.” He kept his eyes on his course. “You never talk about Alex. He wasn’t a bad sort. Where is he?”

      “He got married about a year ago.”

      “Oh. I guess the gossip was too much for him.”

      “I don’t blame him. He said the suspicion thrown on him would ruin our relationship.” She shrugged. “He was right.”

      “Well, he sure passed up the best gal around here. That’s for sure.”

      “You’re prejudiced because you’ve known me forever.”

      “True.” The boat shuddered as a big wave hit, forcing him to spin the helm to take on the next one. “You used to be a lot more chipper. Have you thought of being an outdoor guide again? Seems that made you happy.”

      She shrugged. “It did, but they fired me. Didn’t want the kind of publicity an accused murderer would bring.”

      He shook his head. “Daft to let you go.” He turned the wheel. “What about selling the bookstore, go back to Seattle and take up with your friends there?”

      “The store’s important to the town, to Emma Mae and to me.”

      “Emma says you got into appraising and selling books. Says that’s kept the store going. Emma says ….”

      “Emma says too much.”

      “She cares about you just like Bertie and I do. Keeping yourself locked up in Brandon isn’t the best place for a young gal. You had Joe Baker out to the island awhile back.” He gave her a side long glance. “How did that go?”

      “Not for you to know, Clarence. You said you’d keep our trip to yourself.”

      “I have. No sense giving food to the tongue waggers. Did you know he’s got a job offer from a company in Bellingham?”

      Her heart skipped a beat. Joe hadn’t said anything to her about a new job, much less moving.

      “Some kind of company security job,” Clarence continued. “Wonder if he’ll take it.”

      “Joe’s a good friend,” she said, covering up her surprise. As another wave washed over the bow, she glanced out the window. “It’s getting rougher; I’ll bring Lydia inside.”

      “Good idea.”

      For the rest of the trip, Clarence remained at the helm telling one sea yarn after another. The boat’s rolling motion and Clarence’s voice lulled her into a dreamlike state as she rode out the trip seated on the floor next to Lydia. She knew he wouldn’t take offense at her dozing nor would he lose his craggy smile.

      When she awoke, rain drummed on the roof of the pilot house as they passed the old lighthouse and cruised into the small harbor north of Brandon. In the calmer water Clarence nudged the Bertie Blue into a slip. Pulling on her Gore-Tex jacket, she went out on deck, jumped onto the pier with the bowline in hand and secured it to the cleat, then hurried to the stern to do the same. Lydia leaped off the boat and trotted up the ramp to where Bertie stood wearing a yellow rain slicker.

      “Storm came in faster than expected,” Bertie yelled to Clarence as he stuck his head out of the wheelhouse, waved, and shut down the engine.

      “Hey Jen,” Bertie called out. “Come up to the house for a hot drink and sit by the fire.”

      Bertie and Joe were the only ones who called her Jen. “Gotta get home,” Jennifer said as she walked up the ramp to get a hug from Bertie. “I need to get Lydia to the groomer before he closes.”

      Bertie glanced at Lydia. “She does look ratty.”

      “But she’s happy.” Jennifer laughed and gave her dog a scratch behind the ears. “I enjoyed your cookies. Delicious as usual. Thanks.”

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