Read Online Murder With Puffins by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online
Authors: Donna Andrews
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous stories, Islands, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Detective and Mystery Stories, Maine, Mystery Fiction, Women Detectives, Murder, Langslow; Meg (Fictitious character), Women detectives - Maine, Hurricanes
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constable sighed again. Here I was, offering to press charges against his biggest local scofflaw, and he wasn't acting the least bit grateful.
"You're Phoebe Hollingworth's niece?" he asked finally.
"Meg Langslow," I said, holding out my hand. Jeb Barnes shook it with obvious reluctance.
"One of them Hollingworths," I heard one of the locals mutter. "They'll take him on."
I was glad to see Mother's family name was still a force to be reckoned with here on Monhegan.
"Yeah, they're all crazy enough," agreed another local.
Well, I couldn't exactly argue with him. I heard Michael make a noise that sounded like a cough but had no doubt started out life as a chuckle. I decided to bring him onstage. Why should I have all the fun?
"And this is Michael Waterston, a family friend. I'm sure Professor Waterston will also want to press charges."
"Naturally," Michael said. "What a pity I haven't been admitted to the bar in Maine."
I had to hand it to Michael: he carried that off beautifully. Jeb Barnes turned pale.
"What about that cousin of yours in Bangor?" I said, picking up on the improvisation.
"He doesn't practice anymore," Michael said.
"Oh, I like that," I said. "Elect the guy to the legislature and suddenly he's too good to represent us common people."
"He has to avoid conflict of interest," Michael said. "But as soon as the phones are working again, I'll give him a call; I'm sure he knows someone who can help."
"You've got a cousin in the legislature?" asked one of the locals.
"A very distant cousin," Michael said.
Our joke had backfired, big-time. We spent the next half hour listening to a point-by-point analysis of a bill pending before the state legislature that Monheganites considered the last hope of preserving their lobster industry. By the end of the discussion, I still didn't understand the issue, but I had grasped that if anyone asked me where I stood on the lobster bill, I should express enthusiastic support for the town proposal and apologize for not being a registered Maine voter. Either that or turn tail and run the minute they brought up the subject.
We finally escaped, after Michael had promised to fill his cousin in on the details of the Monhegan bill. I had to admire the way he'd changed the conversation every time anyone tried to ask which legislator his cousin was. It wasn't as if we could make a name up; Maine had fewer than two hundred legislators, and the townspeople knew exactly how every one of them felt about their bill.
"And another thing," Jeb Barnes called out, following us out onto the front porch of the store. "Don't you listen to that Resnick fellow. He's got investments in foreign lobstering interests. Been spending a lot of money trying to kill our bill."
"Considering that he takes potshots at us whenever we get near him, it's not very likely we'll discuss it, now is it?" I said. "Don't forget to file my complaint with the mainland police if the phones come back up."
As I suspected, this sent Jeb scurrying back into the store.
"Everyone's quite impassioned about this lobster thing," Michael remarked.
"Well, it is the main local industry," I said.
"I thought that was tourism."
"Okay, the other main local industry. And no one's going to get all worked up about anyone preying on the tourists; they're not in short supply."
"But what am I supposed to do if someone corners me and asks about my cousin?"
"We'll ask Aunt Phoebe; she's sure to know a legislator on the right side of the issue, and she'll persuade him to adopt you."
"Speaking of your aunt Phoebe, shouldn't we get back to the house?"
"You want to go back to the house?" I said. "We'll be cooped up with my family soon enough when the hurricane actually hits. Do you really want to get a head start?"
"Well, it is warm and dry there," Michael said, pulling up the hood of his parka.
"It's warm and dry in the house," I said. "But right now I doubt if they'd let us stay inside."
"Why on earth not?"
"Look around you," I
"You're Phoebe Hollingworth's niece?" he asked finally.
"Meg Langslow," I said, holding out my hand. Jeb Barnes shook it with obvious reluctance.
"One of them Hollingworths," I heard one of the locals mutter. "They'll take him on."
I was glad to see Mother's family name was still a force to be reckoned with here on Monhegan.
"Yeah, they're all crazy enough," agreed another local.
Well, I couldn't exactly argue with him. I heard Michael make a noise that sounded like a cough but had no doubt started out life as a chuckle. I decided to bring him onstage. Why should I have all the fun?
"And this is Michael Waterston, a family friend. I'm sure Professor Waterston will also want to press charges."
"Naturally," Michael said. "What a pity I haven't been admitted to the bar in Maine."
I had to hand it to Michael: he carried that off beautifully. Jeb Barnes turned pale.
"What about that cousin of yours in Bangor?" I said, picking up on the improvisation.
"He doesn't practice anymore," Michael said.
"Oh, I like that," I said. "Elect the guy to the legislature and suddenly he's too good to represent us common people."
"He has to avoid conflict of interest," Michael said. "But as soon as the phones are working again, I'll give him a call; I'm sure he knows someone who can help."
"You've got a cousin in the legislature?" asked one of the locals.
"A very distant cousin," Michael said.
Our joke had backfired, big-time. We spent the next half hour listening to a point-by-point analysis of a bill pending before the state legislature that Monheganites considered the last hope of preserving their lobster industry. By the end of the discussion, I still didn't understand the issue, but I had grasped that if anyone asked me where I stood on the lobster bill, I should express enthusiastic support for the town proposal and apologize for not being a registered Maine voter. Either that or turn tail and run the minute they brought up the subject.
We finally escaped, after Michael had promised to fill his cousin in on the details of the Monhegan bill. I had to admire the way he'd changed the conversation every time anyone tried to ask which legislator his cousin was. It wasn't as if we could make a name up; Maine had fewer than two hundred legislators, and the townspeople knew exactly how every one of them felt about their bill.
"And another thing," Jeb Barnes called out, following us out onto the front porch of the store. "Don't you listen to that Resnick fellow. He's got investments in foreign lobstering interests. Been spending a lot of money trying to kill our bill."
"Considering that he takes potshots at us whenever we get near him, it's not very likely we'll discuss it, now is it?" I said. "Don't forget to file my complaint with the mainland police if the phones come back up."
As I suspected, this sent Jeb scurrying back into the store.
"Everyone's quite impassioned about this lobster thing," Michael remarked.
"Well, it is the main local industry," I said.
"I thought that was tourism."
"Okay, the other main local industry. And no one's going to get all worked up about anyone preying on the tourists; they're not in short supply."
"But what am I supposed to do if someone corners me and asks about my cousin?"
"We'll ask Aunt Phoebe; she's sure to know a legislator on the right side of the issue, and she'll persuade him to adopt you."
"Speaking of your aunt Phoebe, shouldn't we get back to the house?"
"You want to go back to the house?" I said. "We'll be cooped up with my family soon enough when the hurricane actually hits. Do you really want to get a head start?"
"Well, it is warm and dry there," Michael said, pulling up the hood of his parka.
"It's warm and dry in the house," I said. "But right now I doubt if they'd let us stay inside."
"Why on earth not?"
"Look around you," I
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