Wynn in the Willows (26 page)

“Thank you.” Roxie got to her feet and started to tape the paper to the living room wall, but it was so long it kept tearing.

“Let me help.” Side by side the women unfolded the paper a bit at a time and carefully reattached it.

“Later, I'll go to the bank and pick up the pictures that go with this.”

“I'll help.” Wynn took the tape from her aunt. “Did you ever find out why my dad broke up with you for the second time?”

“Never.”

“I do know.”

Roxie's mouth slacked.

“There was a letter addressed to you that I found in the car's glove box.”

“A letter?” Roxie was surprised. She gulped hard. “From Steve?”

Wynn nodded. “It was signed ‘Steve'.

“Oh my….can you tell me what it said?” Roxie seemed anxious, as though everything was pinned on the answer.

“You can read it for yourself.” Wynn smiled. She pulled the envelope from her backpack and placed it into Roxie's hand. “When you said the answers I seek are right under my nose, I guess you never looked for your answers under your own nose.”

“I feel like I am recovering from the shock of this.” She kept blinking back tears as she unfolded the paper a bit at a time. “This is like a time capsule.” As she read, a wide smile spread across her face. Then she pressed it to her chest as Wynn had pressed Doug's poem to hers. “Steve probably imagined I would find it someday.”

“And you did. Mom was pregnant with me at the time. And time had to wait until I had grown up to come back to you, so I could hand this letter to the recipient.”

“You dad loved me. Steve did love me.”

“And I am sure that you and Ruth always loved one another, even though you didn't get along. And now I know Dad loved you both, as you both loved him. And as for me? I was born into this love. I am loved.” Wynn's voice broke off for several minutes. “It's a gift. It's a gift I have needed all of my life.”

“You are so much like your dad. You've always been fascinated by the croak of a frog, the chirp of a bird, an overhead branch with an unusual twist, the unfiltered sparkle on a hidden marsh. Being with you is like being with your Dad, too.”

“Dad. My dad wrote this letter to you about me.”

“Yes, and here we are. Finally together.”

“I think he's watching over you and me, just as he watches over Mom. This clue was inside of my car, just as faith was inside of me—both were waiting to be discovered. And I've made a conscious decision to accept the Lord who brought me back home to you—where I've belonged all along.”

 

 

 

 

31

 

“If you aren't busy tonight, I thought, perhaps, we might do something together.”

“It just so happens I am not busy tonight. Is there anything you have in mind?” Wynn held the cell to her ear, thinking Doug sounded kind of coy and mysterious.

“There's a drive-in at the end of the peninsula.”

“A drive-in on the island? That's so old school and it sounds wonderful. What's playing?” Already she was wishing she had more time so she could buy something special to wear.

“The best movie ever made; a killer view complete with sounds of the sea.”

“Now I know what you mean. You are right. There's nothing better.” She wound hair tendrils around her fingers.

“The moon will be out by then and dancing on the waves. There's no one else I'd rather see it with.”

“I'd like to see that with you, too.”

“We might as well join the moon and water, and dance together.”

“I'd like that.”

A short silence fell between them filled with light and longing and anticipation. She welcomed each emotion. Tilting her head back she looked at the reddening sky ‘sailors delight'. Her pulse was rapid and she tried to remember the last time she felt like this, realizing with a start, this was the first time that joy and hope made her heart race.

“Well—see you about nine.”

“See you at nine.”

Maybe this is a dress kind of a night.
Wynn laughed, feeling girlishly giddy. She opened her wardrobe closet and saw nothing but jeans, pullover shirts and plenty of sweatshirts. There was one funeral dress. No good. And there was the white gauzy, peasant dress. That's what she'd wear. She held it up and stood in front of the full length mirror trying to imagine dancing in the moonlight with Doug. And then she thought about Roxie and her mom, Ruth, and her dad Steve. How all three loved one another, but in the end, lost each other. Yet, she still had Roxie. She would hold onto Roxie.

After showering, blow drying, make-uping, powdering, and brushing, she put the dress on and stood again in the front of the mirror. She had to admit that she didn't look so bad. Perfume was considered, but then just as quickly dismissed for it was a lightning rod for bugs. She decided to go to Roxie's for her opinion. As she passed the mailbox, she noticed it slightly ajar.

She looked inside and there was the unique skeleton key. It seemed to be identical to the key Anna Reed wore in the museum painting. Her hands began trembling. Suddenly a sickening feeling enveloped her. “Are you toying with me, Doug?”

She slipped the key into her pocket as she walked down to the cottage. The door was locked. Roxie never locked her home. Worried, Wynn walked all the way around the cottage peering into windows to see if anything appeared amiss. The place was just as tidy as ever. Next she tried her cell phone. It went right to voice mail. “Roxie, I found an old skeleton key in my mailbox. It's too long to go into, but I think there is a door at the Willow Inn that this just might fit. Meet me there? I don't want to look around alone.”

First she'd lock her Tree House. She'd miss Doug before he arrived. She hated herself for standing him up, but she felt rattled. Doubts were creeping back about his innocence. How could she care so much about him and have reservations about his virtue?

As she ran up the steps, she began considering that Doug wouldn't have put something as obvious as this key in the mailbox even if he was the killer. And if he was innocent, wouldn't he want them to go together to find the lock where the key fit? After all, why kill her? Maybe he thought she had the ring? Would Owl have told him that Roxie had it? Chills ran up her arms. Maybe she should go to the police with what she knew and give them the key and Agatha's brooch. Where was that brooch, anyway? She dug through a dresser drawer, found it, and slipped it into her purse.

By now, it was heavy dusk and shadows were long in the room. She needed to go now if she was to avoid Doug. In all politeness she should leave a note. Sailor lay on the bed near the desk. “Hi, sweetie.” She tried to pet him, but he jumped under the bed. “Well, phooey on you, little man.”

As she took pen in hand, there were sounds coming up the steps. “Doug? Roxie is that you?” Wynn peered down the corridor and saw a figure dressed in black coming right towards her.

“Who are you? Stop right there.” She slammed the door and decided to run to the porch for her escape. She could shimmy down a tree. Only she had waited a moment too long to figure her route. Just as she reached the middle of the room, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around her neck.

Trying to fight him off, she twirled about and her legs got tangled up with her attacker's, making her fall to the floor—he fell on her. The crack of her head on the wood floor radiated through her skull. Her vision went blurry.

A dark figure loomed above. Over his face was a stocking cap with the eyes cut out. Without a word, he slung her over his shoulder and carried her down the flight of stairs, rolling her into the back of some kind of SUV, before covering her face with a mask with a sickening sweet smell.

When she awoke, she was in a small room with peeling blue toile wallpaper. She tried to focus and take brief inventory. There was a single unmade bed. An old scuffed dresser. But what fascinated her was the glass coffin lined in velvet that was now decayed and torn.

Beneath the rocker was a long cylindrical object: a red straw. Fear set off anger and panic, igniting like sparklers on the 4
th
of July.

Doug just happened to be on the same ferry taking Sailor to Clara's on the same day she was going to the bank. A good cover story to keep tabs on her and get information. He even encouraged her to accept Frank's date invitation. Days later, when he took her to the museum he called her attention to the key. Perhaps the same key was placed in the mailbox just hours ago when he planned to take her to a view of the sea; a killer view, he told her.

Why her? For ransom? Roxie had the ring in her wall safe. So now she was about to be disposed of just like Boone. But how did he get all that vitamin A in his system?

The room looked like the one in the paintings, but the furnishings were all very different.

It was so hot that she felt the room had to be near the roof line of the attic. Slowly she moved her hand towards the red straw and pushed it down into the pocket of her skirt.

“I need a hypothesis.” She tried to get her mind off her weak stomach. Scientific reasoning made her think more clearly.

The giant man looked down on her.

“Who are you?” she barely moaned. Despite every muscle in her body hurting she managed to push herself up into a sitting position.

The giant didn't respond.

“You killed Boone. Why?”

Still no response.

“Who is working with you? Certainly, you aren't doing this alone.”

“Why not?” His voice was gruff, yet familiar.

“You tell me.” She shrugged. “How'd you get Boone to the island without help? How'd you lift him up on the boat without help? How did you kill him? And why?” With each question she rose until she was standing. There was such a burning desire to hurt this person and she took several steps forward. She tried to kick him in the thigh, but it was like kicking a boulder. He grabbed her foot and lifted it high, causing her to lose her balance. She fell back on the floor. This wasn't Doug. This man was way too large. But she did get a whiff of something. Vanilla?

“Frank?” she puffed out the word before thrusting her body forward. “Polar bear!”

“What?” the giant shook his head.

“You took me on a tour of the Inn. There was polar bear meat in your locker. Polar bear's liver has high levels of vitamin A which can poison. You killed Boone! It's you, Frank! You look pretty warm in that mask. Might as well take it off, now that I know who you are.” She spotted her backpack on the floor a few yards from Frank's feet. Suddenly she remembered the brooch with the nice, sharp clasp.

The giant removed his wool mask, and then his cap and jacket. He sat down. “How'd you know?” Frank said looking defeated.

“You're a chef and chefs smell like food. Today I would say you are making pastries. I smell vanilla with a bit of almond.” Wynn sat down on the floor hoping he would consider it a submissive position while moving her hand towards the zipper on her backpack. She groped around on the inside until she felt the brooch. She kept the piece of jewelry on the inside of her hand.

“I really didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt Boone, either.”

“I believe you, Frank.” She moved a little closer to him. “Tell me about it.”

“He was coming back to the island on the five o'clock ferry. We were supposed to buy the Willow Inn together. Said that he had a piece of valuable jewelry to make it happen. First, he needed to get it from his mother. But when I saw him, he said he had changed his mind. He wanted the Inn for himself only.”

“You met him at the ferry.”

“That's right. I thought we'd take the ferry back and we could set a date for closing. Discuss the new menu.”

“That must have been hard on you to see it suddenly fall apart.” Wynn tried to appear sympathetic as she got even closer.

“It was. I told everyone I was buying the Inn. Clearly I was about to look very stupid to the islanders. I cannot stand people going back on their word.” He sniffled. “Boone was so cold-hearted. He said he needed to think about himself and his future.”

“I can't stand people who go back on their word, either. Poor Frank.” Wynn shook her head sadly. Now she was by his shoe. She figured she could get one good stab in, and then head for the door. “So, what's going to happen to me?”

“Pretty soon Roxie O'Malley will be getting the first ransom notice for you. I want the ring.”

“You and Doug murdered Boone, and then hid him on Doug's schooner to later drop at sea. But who sent the note to the police? And the threatening notes to Jackie? Doug? Or was it Agatha? Were they in on this with you?”

“What makes you think either one of those jokers helped me? I'm smarter than they.”

Wynn sat up straighter with a jolt. “They didn't have anything to do with Boone's death?”

“Not at all. It was all me.” Frank seemed quite proud. “I fed the polar bear liver to Boone and locked him in this room. It's pretty sound proof. He was way too sick to make a noise, anyway. He lay right there in that bed clawing at the wallpaper, until he passed. Late at night, I took him to the schooner and hid him. I also wrote the notes. All of them; to the police, to Jackie. For good measure I put Agatha's pin thingie she always wears on Doug's ship.”

“You mean, this pin?” Wynn jumped up and lunged at Frank, stabbing him in the groin where the clasp went in three inches.

Frank started screaming.

Voices came from the hallway. Someone started pounding on the wall and was trying to get in the door. Wynn did her best to unlock the door but it wouldn't budge.

In one loud scream, Frank pulled the brooch from his groin and hit Wynn with a giant right hook. She fell flat on her back and he hung above. He booted her several times, before the door was kicked in.