Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [3]
Alex locked the door quietly behind him, wondering where his friend could be. The only other place Reg went during his visits was the top of the lighthouse. That’s where Alex would look next.
Alex left the guest building and headed for the lighthouse next door. To him, the lighthouse’s older sibling on the Outer Banks was the structure that looked out of place. It appeared downright naked sitting among the scrub pines and the sand dunes. Alex had taken a rare break from the inn to watch them move that lighthouse away from the sea’s ever-reaching grasp. Seeing the work the professional crew had undertaken, he’d been darned glad his lighthouse was safely tucked away in the mountains.
Alex stroked the granite base lightly as he entered the stairwell and headed up the two-hundred-sixty-eight steel steps that led to the top. Nine landings matched nine windows, offering Alex an excellent view of the nearby mountains.
He peeked out the fourth landing’s window and spotted Barb Matthews, a guest of the inn, scurrying along one of the wooded hiking trails that surrounded the property. The one thing Alex had was land, and plenty of it.
He watched Mrs. Matthews dart up the trail, pausing now and then to investigate something on the ground at her feet before hurrying on. She would stoop to pick up small rocks from the path, study them for a moment, then most likely cast them aside into the woods. It was like watching an ardent ant in search of food. Her walking stick stayed firmly in one hand the entire time, though he noticed that the older woman walked perfectly well without it.
Somehow she must have sensed Alex’s eyes upon her. Mrs. Matthews tilted her head back and stared directly into the window opening. There was a look of scorn on her face that Alex had grown used to seeing since she’d first started coming to the inn in early May. She was now on her third visit this year, and Alex supposed he should be happy for the business, but truthfully, he didn’t care for the grumpy woman.
Alex leaned back out of the window’s line of sight and finished his climb toward the watch room and the lantern above.
Great-grandfather Adlai had installed the original Fresnel lens that supplied the lighthouse’s strong beam, but he’d rarely used the beacon himself. Alex’s father had run it so often at night that the local townspeople had complained about the midnight strobe. The county government acted, passing a special ordinance limiting the operation of the lantern to situations of emergency in the valley.
The commissioners did make one exception to their ruling. A yearly test of the lantern’s light had evolved into a celebration for the area. People from seven counties came to picnic at the base of the lighthouse in the growing dusk, and there was always a hushed awe as the current Winston lighthouse keeper flipped on the electricity that now powered the slowly rotating beam. It was one of the moments Alex lived for since taking over the inn from his father.
The closer Alex got to the watch room and higher observation balcony located directly below the lens area, the more certain he became that something was wrong. He felt a kinship to the tower, as if they shared a common pulse. Something was screaming inside his head that the sentinel was out of balance. When Alex