A Deadly Course Page 2

  “Mrs. Fox, are you coming back in? You’re not canceling our session, I hope,” called out Tessa Carlisle.

  Emily couldn’t do that to them. They’d traveled a long way and paid for this experience. “No, I’m not leaving. Let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 3

  The morning flew by. The participants had all written a short summary of the story they planned to start writing during the summer. Tessa was planning a classic who-dunnit. Maria was planning a work in which a select group of highly intelligent teens overthrow the government and get the country back on track, and Logan envisioned a spy thriller. The participants were all staying at the Sugarbury Outside Inn, a bed and breakfast run by Emily’s friend, Coralee Saunders.

  “The Outside Inn has the best food around. I suggest going there for lunch,” said Emily.

  “If their lunch is anything like their breakfast, I’m in,” said Logan. “I had the best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever eaten there this morning.”

  The inn was painted a sunny yellow with white trim and looked like it had popped out of the pages of a fairy tale. A porch, sporting wicker rockers, wooden Adirondack chairs, and a swing, wrapped around the building. A few guests sat on the porch, reading or doing crossword puzzles. Emily was happy to walk into the air conditioning.

  Coralee, a doughy-skinned lady with sparkling eyes and a warm smile, greeted them. “Nice to see you all back for lunch.” She counted the participants. “Did you lose a few along the way?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Emily. “Turns out the dead biker I found yesterday morning was registered for my workshop. So are his wife and his business associate. The police came by and needed someone to identify the body and those two went with them. Like I said, it’s a long story.”

  Emily realized something she hadn’t thought about. “He must have been staying here like the rest of the participants. I’m sure you met him, Coralee.”

  “No, I didn’t. A Carter Jenson had a reservation but never checked in.”

  “That’s strange. He was out riding early in the morning. I assumed he’d have been here the night before.”

  “Wasn’t here, I’m sure of that. Follow me, everyone. Do you prefer to sit inside or on the patio?”

  “I’m not used to this heat,” said Maria. “If it’s agreeable, I’d prefer inside.”

  Emily was all in favor of being comfortable too. Coralee handed them lunch menus and described the mouth-watering specials––grilled vegetable and Brie Panini, clam chowder, and a strawberry-walnut salad topped with goat cheese.

  Coralee’s handyman, Franklin Matherson, a middle-aged gentleman with weathered hands and a full head of hair, ran up to the table. Tessa whispered, “What a hunk. He looks just like Tom Selleck.”

  “I spotted him first,” said Maria.

  “Coralee,” the man said, “I have an emergency. I need to get down to the police station.”

  “What’s wrong Franklin?”

  “It’s my son-in-law. He died in a biking accident yesterday. My daughter is at the station. I didn’t even know he was already in town. Why didn’t he let us know he was here early? Holly needs me.”

  Coralee said, “Go on. Take whatever time you need.”

  Tessa said, “Poor man.”

  “Looks like he’ll need a bit of consoling,” said Maria.

  Emily’s head felt like a volcano about to erupt. How much more could she handle? Carter Jenson was Franklin Matherson’s son in law? Now it made sense. Holly had moved up here to be with her father.

  “Coralee, did you know Franklin’s daughter was moving in with him?”

  “He mentioned it. His grandson’s here too. Franklin saw the flier for your summer camp and told Holly about it. Guess that explains how her husband knew about it.”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but my stomach is growling,” said Logan. “I’ll take the clam chowder and the panini!”

  “I’ll get right on it,” said Coralee.

  Chapter 4

  Henry hadn’t gotten a minute to breathe all morning. He was helping out in the emergency room and in the past three hours had pushed a dislocated shoulder back into its socket, bandaged a sprained ankle, treated a bad case of poison ivy, prescribed cough syrup for a toddler with a hacking cough, and refilled an inhaler for an asthmatic. Practicing medicine here was much more varied than practicing radiology back in New York had been.

  Pat Hester, the medical examiner, popped into his office. “Hey, buddy, want to grab some lunch?”

  “Sounds good. Cafeteria?”

  “Yeah.” He started walking toward the elevator.

  “No,” said Henry, “let’s take the stairs. I want to get in a few more steps.” He checked his wrist. Competitive as he was, no one in his Fit-Bit group was going to outwalk him.

  “I have to get back to work on the biker this afternoon. I finished the autopsy and I’m still puzzled over cause of death,” said Pat. “I’m going to send a few other samples out for a more comprehensive screening. Could take a few days to get the results back, though if the detectives call the lab, they’ll be more likely to rush it.”

  “Did you look for bite marks? Needle marks? Heat exhaustion?”

  “Come on, Henry. Of course I did. The man’s wife identified him this morning. Guy’s name is Carter Jenson. He owned a software business in New York. He was up here for Emily’s writing camp. So was his wife and business associate.”

  They took the steps down and walked into the noisy, brightly lit cafeteria. Pat handed Henry a tray and they proceeded through the line.

  “A software exec coming to a writing camp?”

  “His wife said something about him working on an educational writing program. How’s Emily doing?”

  “She’s still a bit rattled. I called her a little while ago. She was taken aback when she realized the dead biker she found yesterday was supposed to have been in her class.”

  They grabbed a table near the exit. Henry took out his travel-sized hand sanitizer and bathed his hands in it.

  “Emily says Carter Jenson hadn’t shown up at Coralee’s place either. He had a reservation for two days ago. If he wasn’t staying at the Outside Inn, then where did he stay?”

  “There are only two other hotels nearby. There’s a Holiday Inn and another privately owned bed and breakfast.”

  “But why make a reservation at one place, have your credit card charged for not showing up there, and show up at a different hotel? I don’t know anyone who’d do that. Hotel rooms aren’t cheap.” Henry shoved the last bite of tuna sandwich into his mouth and swallowed the rest of his iced tea.

  “Guy owned a successful company from what I hear. Maybe he has dollars to burn, who knows. I’m going to have to head back upstairs. You going home?”

  “Yes, but I may make a stop or two first.”

  Henry checked his GPS for directions to the Holiday Inn. If Carter Jenson was staying somewhere other than Coralee’s, he had to have been hiding something––probably a mistress. The woman might still be around and if so could shed some light on the situation. If she’d already left, the police needed to track her down ASAP for questioning. The Holiday Inn was coming up on the left. He took the parking spot furthest from the door.

  After marching up to the front desk, looking as confident as possible, he said, “I’m here to meet a friend, Carter Jenson. I forgot what room he’s in. Would you mind checking?”

  The clerk typed in the name. “There’s no guest here by that name.”

  “Maybe he already checked out. Could you look?”

  Henry knew this was most likely against policy, but the clerk was young and eager to help.

  “Give me a minute. No, we never had a guest by that name. Sorry.”

  Henry thanked the clerk and set out for the next place, a bed and breakfast. When he pulled into the last space in the parking lot, he wondered how it did any business with Coralee’s much spiffier place minutes away. The white building needed a good power washing and the hedges begged for a good trimming. He hoped the owner would be as amenable as the clerk at the Holiday Inn had been. Two women were talking on the front porch.

  “Look here in the newspaper. They found a dead man over on Lake Pleasant Road the other day. He was from out of state. Some sort of bike accident.”

  “I’m just glad he wasn’t staying at my place. What a horrible thing to have one of our guests die.”

  Henry said, “Excuse me. I couldn’t help overhearing. I saw the story on the news. You said he wasn’t a guest here?”

  “Nope. All our rooms are full. Didn’t have any no shows all month.”

  “All your rooms are full? Darn. I was hoping to make a reservation. Can you tell me what other places are around here? Hotels or bed and breakfasts—doesn’t matter which.”

  “Well, there’s Coralee’s place down the road. It’s called the Outside Inn. She’s usually filled to capacity during the summer months. There’s a Holiday Inn down the street.”

  “I already stopped there. No luck. Any others?”

  “Not real close to here. The next closest is the Ramada, about ten miles away.”

  “I’ll try that. Guess I have no other choice. You have a lovely place here. Maybe next time.”

  Ten miles isn’t so far. Might as well explore all my options. He turned on the Sirius radio in his Jeep and plugged the hotel into his GPS. The roads were devoid of traffic at this hour, and he hadn’t even finished listening to the NPR podcast when he pulled in front of the three story Ramada Inn, hopeful he’d get the information he was looking for. Losing patience, he parked right in front of the entrance. The employee behind the desk was middle aged, with thick glasses, a neatly pressed uniform jacket, and a bow tie. Henry crossed his fingers.

&
nbsp; “Excuse me. I have a friend who’s staying here. I’m supposed to meet him but I forgot his room number. Can you pull it up for me?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not permitted to do that. It’s a privacy issue. If he’s your friend, why don’t you call his cellphone?”

  Why don’t I call his cellphone? Duh, I never thought of that.

  Henry glanced at the activity board beside the desk and tried an alternate approach. “Hey, the map on your board shows there’s a bike trail that starts behind the hotel. I’m an avid biker.” If spinning classes count. He surprised himself at how easily that little fib flew out of his mouth.

  “Yep. Nice long one. Goes all the way into town and around Lake Pleasant.”

  “I’ll bet lots of your guests take advantage of that.”

  “A fair amount do. We even have bikes for rent.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going to try my friend’s cell. Thanks anyway.”

  Henry got back into his Jeep. On his way home, he called the Ramada Inn, hoping the front desk person wouldn’t recognize his voice, which he’d attempted to disguise, using advice he’d read in a private investigator’s manual.

  “Hello. My wife and I are coming into town this weekend and I’d like to make a reservation. My name is Carter Jenson. J E N S O N. Yes, Friday night, two people. One night. Okay, Thanks.”

  I’m sure Emily won’t mind a little get away. Especially when she finds out why.

  Chapter 5

  When Henry got home, Emily was still at the workshop. He pulled out his laptop, chased Chester off the keyboard, and googled Carter Jenson.

  Born in Bergan County, New Jersey. Worked for a struggling software company. Developed a revolutionary software program for teaching math, which made him rich. He bought his own company in New York and was listed in Business Weekly’s top ten CEO’s in 2015. He was so engrossed in his research, that he didn’t hear Emily come in.

  “Hi, hon.” She gave him a kiss.

  “You startled me. I’m digging up lots of background on your dead biker.”

  “He’s not my dead biker. I can’t get the image of his mangled body out of my head.”

  “I think you’ll rest easier when we know what happened. I had lunch with Pat. He said no snake or insect bites. Then I did some legwork. I went around to other hotels in the area, since you told me Carter Jenson never made it to Coralee’s.”

  “Did you find out where he stayed?”

  “I ruled out the two places in town. Then I rode out to the Ramada Inn.”

  “Isn’t that a little out of the way?”

  “Yeah, but get this. They have a great biking path. It’s even mentioned on their website. I have a feeling Carter stayed there.”

  “Let me guess. They wouldn’t confirm it, right?”

  “No. They played by the rules, but I know how we can find out. Want to take a romantic overnight to the Ramada on Friday?” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

  “Ooh. How could I resist? What’s your plan, handsome fella?” She looked into his sparkly blue eyes.

  “Well…” He heard a knock and looked from Emily to the door and back again. He sighed. “To be continued. I’ll get it.”

  Henry led Detective Wooster into the living room. “What can we do for you?”

  “I wanted to ask Mrs. Fox a few more questions.”

  “Please, have a seat. Ask away.”

  Detective Wooster sat in the rocking chair in front of the fireplace. “I was wondering if you noticed anything else about the morning you found the biker. Had you passed him on the road earlier? Did you notice maybe a car either speeding or creeping—maybe looking for someone?”

  “No. I didn’t see any other bikers, runners, or walkers for that matter. The traffic was like usual. Nothing remarkable.”

  “Did you hear anything? Maybe an unusual noise? An odor?”

  Emily thought for a moment. “No, I wish I could be more help.”

  “It’s okay. It’s an open investigation and we’re making sure we don’t miss anything. Was Mrs. Jenson at the workshop today?”

  “Yes. She said she wanted to keep her mind busy. She was anxious to plan a funeral and have closure.”

  “I know. I told her we couldn’t release the body yet.”

  Henry stood up. “Why’s that? Why can’t you release it?” Henry knew very well that they were investigating this as a potential murder, but played dumb, hoping to get some tidbit of information from the detective.

  “Let’s just say it’s an open investigation. Thanks for your time. If you remember anything further…”

  “I’ll call you right away.” Emily saw him out. She was disappointed in herself. There must have been something she missed which could have helped the police.

  Henry plopped down on the couch. “Hungry?”

  “Yes, but I don’t feel like cooking.”

  In unison, they said, “Coralee’s.”

  Emily filled Chester’s bowl, then washed her face and changed into a pair of capris. Henry, wearing plaid shorts and a red polo shirt, grabbed the keys. The sun was lower in the sky, but there was still a good hour of daylight left. When they got to the inn, three of her students––Tessa, Maria, and Logan––were seated at a table, pouring over the menus.

  “Henry, these are some of my students. Tessa is a retired pharmacist. Maria came all the way from San Diego, and Logan is an elementary school teacher living in Rochester, New York. He’s going to be the next James Patterson.”

  Logan laughed. “Don’t I wish. Your wife is a fabulous teacher. I’ve learned so much already.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.” Henry put his arm around Emily, and she ruffled his wavy blond hair.

  “Why don’t you join us?” asked Tessa.

  Emily looked at Henry, who said, “Sure.” They both sat down and perused the menus, as if they hadn’t practically memorized them with as often as they ate there. Henry poured hand sanitizer into his palms and rubbed them together.

  After ordering, Maria said, “Did you hear anything more about Holly’s husband? I’m surprised she showed up at the workshop today. Poor dear. And she has a little boy. Losing your husband is bad enough, but suddenly being a single parent on top of it?”

  “At least she’s living with her father. I’m sure he’ll be a big help. Wouldn’t mind living with that hottie myself,” said Tessa.

  “Remember, I saw him first,” said Maria. Looking at Henry’s confused expression, she said, “We’re talking about Franklin, the handyman here.”

  “Coralee’s Franklin?” asked Henry. “Nice guy. And he wasn’t always a handyman you know. He’s a retired chemist. Smart man.”

  “He sure does have chemistry,” said Tessa.

  “And he’s charming to boot,” said Maria. “Easy on the eyes, too.”

  Coralee brought the food to the table herself. “Are we talking about Franklin? You’re not the first female guests to take a shining to him.” She set plates of glazed chicken potpie and pasta primavera on the table. “I grew those vegetables myself. I’ve got a lovely garden in back.”

  Logan took a bite of his pasta. “Wow, this is fabulous. I better do a few extra miles on the bike or take an extra-long walk to make up for this. My doctor’s already on my back about my weight.”

  When they’d finished dinner, Henry and Emily stopped at the desk to say goodnight to Coralee. Wichita Johnson, wearing jeans and a Harvard t-shirt, was gathering packages off the counter.

  “Here two days and you’re already getting mail?” said Emily.

  Wichita jumped. “Work stuff. Follows you everywhere. Now that Carter is gone, I’ll have to keep things flowing smoothly so the stockholders don’t panic.”

  “Well, don’t work too hard,” said Emily. “How’s Holly doing?”

  “Holding up better than most would under these circumstances. Little Jimmy’s keeping her going. I’m sure money won’t be a problem. She’s going to inherit a small fortune, plus the company life insurance. Double being as how Carter’s death was accidental. I can’t believe he just tumbled off the ravine like he did.”