Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [4]
There was no sign that the lock had been forced, but Alex owned the only key, and the door had been securely locked the night before. He climbed the last few steep stairs carefully, then looked out on the narrow walkway that surrounded the top part of the tower.
There was a body lying face up on the catwalk, the head lolling eerily toward Alex.
Reginald Wellington Senior wouldn’t be needing his pill after all.
Somehow, he’d managed to get into the highest observation point of the lighthouse on his own. But it appeared that the climb had killed him. One look at Reg’s pallid, lifeless face and hollow, empty gaze told Alex that there was no real hurry to call Doc Drake.
His friend had obviously been dead for some time.
Chapter 2
“Sheriff Armstrong, I need you out at the inn right away.” The sheriff had been hanging out at the second place Alex had phoned, a diner called Buck’s Grill. To Alex’s credit, he’d tried to reach the sheriff at his office in town with his first call.
“Is that you, Alex? What’s the rush?” Armstrong asked. In a lower voice, he added, “Is it anything we can handle over the phone? I’m doing a little campaigning at the moment.”
“I need you at the lighthouse. This is serious.”
Alex’s words instantly sobered the sheriff. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Alex knew the man was a competent sheriff; unfortunately that wasn’t all it took to get elected in Canawba County. Armstrong had barely won his primary, and there were doubts around Elkton Falls that he could beat his old crony Hiram Blankenship in the upcoming general election. The only qualification required to run for sheriff was a pulse. Blankenship was the town barber, and really seemed uninterested in being sheriff at all. An argument over what Armstrong still described as the worst haircut of his life had prodded Hiram Blankenship to throw his hat into the political arena and “…show that uppity son of a mutt he’s not the King of Canawba County.” Whatever that was supposed to mean. The way the scissors and clippers had been flying that day, Alex had resolved to let his hair grow long until after the election; it just wasn’t safe sitting in the barber’s chair during one of Hiram’s tirades. Alex had to admit that the barber was more qualified to be sheriff than some of the candidates that county had seen in the past. At least Hiram had been a member of the military police when he’d served his stint in the armed forces.
They would have to hose down the whole county after the November balloting to get rid of all the mud being slung between the two candidates.
Alex paused on the phone for a moment as one of his guests entered the lobby. He wanted to get Reg’s body out as discreetly as possible. Out of respect, he wanted to protect his friend from prying eyes. And in the process, just maybe he wouldn’t lose all of his paying guests that way. A dead body was an innkeeper’s worst nightmare; Alex couldn’t bear to think about what it meant to him personally losing Reg.
The sheriff prodded him again. “Get on with it, Alex. What’s so all fired important?”
Keeping his voice to a near-whisper, Alex said, “I’ve got a body up here, and I need you to send someone out to pick it up. It has to be done quietly, Calvin.”
Alex almost never used the sheriff’s first name, and that finally seemed to get the sheriff’s attention as much as the news that there was a body at Hatteras West. “Was it foul play?”
Truthfully, the thought hadn’t even occurred to Alex. “I sincerely doubt it. It looks like one of my guests had a heart attack climbing the lighthouse stairs.”
The sheriff sounded a little disappointed. “As soon as I round up Doc Drake we’ll head out your way. Just in case, though, don’t touch anything, Alex.”
“I mean it about keeping quiet, okay? I don’t want to disturb my other guests any more than I have to. Can you forget the flashing lights and the siren for once?”
Armstrong chuckled. “Come on, Alex. I’ve got to let folks know I’m out doing my job.