Read Online Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) by Karen MacInerney - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen MacInerney
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Maine, cozy, amateur sleuth, Murder, murder mystery, mystery novels, regional fiction, Gray Whale Inn
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cozy, with big windows facing the water, overstuffed couches, and a thick peach-and-blue Oriental rug. On cold nights, I laid a fire in the big river stone fireplace, but tonight was perfect even with the windows open. An early evening breeze ruffled the curtains as I set the tray down on the coffee table.
Agnes, the mystery writer, sat up eagerly, adjusting her chambray shirt over her ample middle as she reached for the cheese knife. “This looks fabulous. I’m absolutely starved,” she told me.
“I’ve got dinner going in the kitchen,” I said. “Tell me about the trip. Was the crucifix a match?”
Beryl answered, eyes shining with excitement. “It’s not a hundred percent, but they’re pretty sure it’s the same one. They’re doing DNA testing to confirm his identity; I had to give them a swab.”
“When will they know?”
“They’re going to test it this week.” She shivered. “It’s weird to think of my grandfather being murdered, but it’s looking like that’s what happened.”
“How can they tell?”
“Well, the unmarked grave is suspicious,” she said. “He wasn’t in a cemetery, and as a man of the cloth, he would have wanted to be buried on hallowed ground.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed.
“But beyond that, it appears someone put a bullet through his skull.” Beryl shuddered. “They even found the bullet.”
“You’re kidding me,” I said.
“It didn’t pass all the way through his skull, so they buried him with it still in his head.” She grimaced. “He was a country priest. Who could have wanted him dead?”
“Maybe there were other things going on in his life,” I suggested, thinking of a murder that had happened on the island a few years back. “Even priests have private lives. Maybe Matilda can shed some light on what might have happened.”
“Oh, that’s right … we were going to call her!”
“Tell her she’s welcome to join us,” I said. “I’ve got enough to add a plate.”
Beryl stood up, smoothing out her cotton dress. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“Of course,” I said, pointing her to the desk in the front hall.
As Beryl hurried off, Agnes poured herself a glass of wine and sat back in her wing chair. “Speaking of death or possible murders,” she said in a low voice, “I heard there was a bit of excitement here this morning, too.”
“How did you know?”
“George McLeod told us you found a body in a dinghy.” She shivered.
“It’s true, unfortunately,” I told her.
“How terrifying,” Agnes breathed, but her eyes were gleaming with interest. “Was he murdered?”
“We’re still waiting to hear the official word,” I replied, “but from what I saw, I can’t think what else it would have been.”
“Was the victim local?”
“He lived here with his aunt and uncle for a bit, but he came from Ellsworth. He was dating a young woman I know, though.”
“You wouldn’t think something like that would happen on an island like this,” Agnes said, taking a sip of her wine.
“It is surprising,” I agreed. “But it does happen.”
Beryl walked back in and told us Matilda was on her way. When she arrived a few minutes later, Agnes wasted no time filling her in on what she had missed, and the plump woman’s eyes grew round. “Do you think we’re safe?” she asked, pushing a salt-and-pepper curl behind one ear.
“I think we’ll be just fine. Besides, you should be safer here than anywhere else on the island; my fiancé is a deputy.”
“That handsome man with the green eyes?” Beryl asked.
I nodded, feeling a surge of pride. “He’s really good looking,” Agnes said, taking another sip of wine. “Are there more like him around here?”
“If there were, my friend Charlene would call first dibs,” I joked.
“Is she the pretty woman who runs the store?”
“That’s the one.” I grinned. “She’s been on the hunt for eligible bachelors for years. She’s not a fan of the smell of herring, though, so
Agnes, the mystery writer, sat up eagerly, adjusting her chambray shirt over her ample middle as she reached for the cheese knife. “This looks fabulous. I’m absolutely starved,” she told me.
“I’ve got dinner going in the kitchen,” I said. “Tell me about the trip. Was the crucifix a match?”
Beryl answered, eyes shining with excitement. “It’s not a hundred percent, but they’re pretty sure it’s the same one. They’re doing DNA testing to confirm his identity; I had to give them a swab.”
“When will they know?”
“They’re going to test it this week.” She shivered. “It’s weird to think of my grandfather being murdered, but it’s looking like that’s what happened.”
“How can they tell?”
“Well, the unmarked grave is suspicious,” she said. “He wasn’t in a cemetery, and as a man of the cloth, he would have wanted to be buried on hallowed ground.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed.
“But beyond that, it appears someone put a bullet through his skull.” Beryl shuddered. “They even found the bullet.”
“You’re kidding me,” I said.
“It didn’t pass all the way through his skull, so they buried him with it still in his head.” She grimaced. “He was a country priest. Who could have wanted him dead?”
“Maybe there were other things going on in his life,” I suggested, thinking of a murder that had happened on the island a few years back. “Even priests have private lives. Maybe Matilda can shed some light on what might have happened.”
“Oh, that’s right … we were going to call her!”
“Tell her she’s welcome to join us,” I said. “I’ve got enough to add a plate.”
Beryl stood up, smoothing out her cotton dress. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“Of course,” I said, pointing her to the desk in the front hall.
As Beryl hurried off, Agnes poured herself a glass of wine and sat back in her wing chair. “Speaking of death or possible murders,” she said in a low voice, “I heard there was a bit of excitement here this morning, too.”
“How did you know?”
“George McLeod told us you found a body in a dinghy.” She shivered.
“It’s true, unfortunately,” I told her.
“How terrifying,” Agnes breathed, but her eyes were gleaming with interest. “Was he murdered?”
“We’re still waiting to hear the official word,” I replied, “but from what I saw, I can’t think what else it would have been.”
“Was the victim local?”
“He lived here with his aunt and uncle for a bit, but he came from Ellsworth. He was dating a young woman I know, though.”
“You wouldn’t think something like that would happen on an island like this,” Agnes said, taking a sip of her wine.
“It is surprising,” I agreed. “But it does happen.”
Beryl walked back in and told us Matilda was on her way. When she arrived a few minutes later, Agnes wasted no time filling her in on what she had missed, and the plump woman’s eyes grew round. “Do you think we’re safe?” she asked, pushing a salt-and-pepper curl behind one ear.
“I think we’ll be just fine. Besides, you should be safer here than anywhere else on the island; my fiancé is a deputy.”
“That handsome man with the green eyes?” Beryl asked.
I nodded, feeling a surge of pride. “He’s really good looking,” Agnes said, taking another sip of wine. “Are there more like him around here?”
“If there were, my friend Charlene would call first dibs,” I joked.
“Is she the pretty woman who runs the store?”
“That’s the one.” I grinned. “She’s been on the hunt for eligible bachelors for years. She’s not a fan of the smell of herring, though, so
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