Read Online Murder With Puffins by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online Page A

said. "What do you see?"
    "Birders," he said automatically.
    "Aside from the birders."
    Just then, Fred Dickerman drove by at his usual breakneck speed. We leapt into some bushes by the side of the road while a flock of lady birders squawked and scattered like geese before his honking horn.
    "The natives are getting hostile?" he asked.
    "The natives are busy." I pointed out the half a dozen locals boarding or taping their windows, trudging back from the grocery stores with bags and boxes of supplies, and frantically trying to tie down or carry indoors every object smaller than a Volkswagen.
    "With the exception of that crowd of old-timers killing time in the general store, you're right."
    "If we go home now, Aunt Phoebe will find half a hundred chores for us to do, most of them outdoors," I said.
    "And those same chores won't be waiting for us when we get back?"
    "With any luck, she'll manage to get Dad and Rob to do quite a few of them while we're gone."
    "So what should we do?" Michael asked. "I'll tell you straight out--I'm not up for another hike around the island, even if it wasn't infested with armed lunatics."
    "We're going shopping," I said. "Monhegan has a few artists' studios and craft shops. You're not going to go back to Yorktown without a present for your mom, are you?"
    "Now that's a good idea," Michael said.
    We spent the next hour inspecting the remarkable number and variety of closed for the season signs in the windows of the island shops and studios. Some of them were genuine works of art in their own right, but I wasn't having a lot of fun viewing them on water-soaked, locked doors or through rain-splattered windowpanes while my feet remained firmly planted in the mud.
    At one point, we actually saw Victor Resnick stalking down the street in a disreputable mackinaw that made him look more like a scarecrow than ever. We ducked behind a building until he'd passed.
    "He doesn't have his gun," Michael reported, peering around the corner. "If I were the constable, I'd tackle him now."
    "I wouldn't count on it, though," I said, getting up the nerve to poke my head out.
    Resnick stood in front of the general store, talking to someone--a young Asian man.
    "Who do you suppose that is?" Michael said. "Doesn't have binoculars, so I doubt he's a birder."
    "Definitely not a birder," I said. "He's wearing a necktie underneath his raincoat."
    "The men at the general store did say something about Resnick having ties with foreign lobstering interests," Michael said. "Maybe he's from some Japanese seafood conglomerate."
    "That's possible," I said. "Although around here, the word foreign just means 'not from Monhegan.' But he definitely looks corporate."
    Resnick's discussion with the corporate man had grown heated. They stood nose-to-nose, both talking and gesturing furiously. Resnick's complexion grew redder and redder, and he shook his finger in the Asian man's face. Obviously, our visitor from the East hadn't heard about Resnick's readiness with firearms; he gave back as good as he got. A pity the wind, rain, and surf kept us from hearing what they said. Well, if the argument turned violent, we'd have plenty of witnesses, I realized. I could see at least three other people hiding behind nearby buildings, although I had no idea whether they wanted to avoid Resnick or eavesdrop on his conversation.
    Suddenly, Resnick whirled and began striding down the street the way he'd come--toward us.

Chapter 8

The Little Puffin Around the Corner

    "Oh my God, he's coming this way," I whispered. We both jerked back, but not so far that we couldn't see what went on.
    "You can go to hell for all I care!" Resnick shouted over his shoulder.
    The Asian man opened his mouth as if to reply, then stopped, took a deep breath, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his raincoat. He stood there for a few moments, staring after Resnick, then turned on his heels and began walking in the other direction.
    About then, Michael and I scurried around