Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [43]
“What’s the matter, does the septic system need to be cleaned out?”
“No, this is easy. Hang around here a couple of hours by the front desk and answer the telephone for me. My guests are all gone now that the crafters have left, and the next group isn’t scheduled until tomorrow, but I’m expecting a call from a travel agent who’s promised to book the entire inn for a full week this autumn.”
“Why can’t you put your answering machine on for that?”
“Because she’s not going to want to use Hatteras West if she thinks I’m an absentee innkeeper. Listen, if it’s a problem, I’ll hang around myself.”
Mor picked up a magazine and said, “No, I’ll take care of it. I need to have a talk with Emma anyway, and she’s as likely to show up here as anywhere I could look.”
Alex wasn’t about to open that hornet’s nest if he could help it. “Thanks, man, you’re the best. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
After Alex loaded all of the luggage in the cab of his old gray Ford pickup, he drove toward town, glancing back at the lighthouse as he went. The structure stood there as a constant, a landmark in his life, always watching over him. Somehow its presence made him feel safe. Too bad it hadn’t helped Jefferson Lee or Marilynn Baxter.
Alex’s first stop was the hospital. He wanted to check on Marilynn’s condition, and the luggage he was carrying would give him the perfect excuse to be there.
He asked a volunteer at the front desk wearing a name tag that said Bob about Marilynn. The man tapped a few keys on the computer and directed him to the Intensive Care Unit.
Alex found Craig Monroe there looking a hundred years older than he had the day before. Was it worry or guilt that had aged him overnight?
“How’s she doing?” Alex asked.
Craig looked surprised by his presence, lost in his own thoughts. “No change. Alex, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what were you doing up in our room, anyway? Not that I’m not grateful,” he added hastily.
“I was doing my daily cleaning. When no one answered my knock, I used my passkey.”
Craig pushed. “Alex, did she say anything at all the whole time you were there?”
What an odd question! Alex was just about to answer when he saw Sheriff Armstrong strolling down the hallway. “Hey there, Alex. Got a second?”
“Hang on, Sheriff, I’ll be right with you.” He turned back to Craig. “I’ve got your bags with me in my truck. Where would you like them?”
The potter said, “Why don’t we head over to my house together, and you can help me carry everything inside.”
“Don’t you need to be here with your wife?” Alex asked pointedly.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Alex, I still need to talk to you later.”
“Not a problem,” Alex said as he walked down the hall with Armstrong. There had been an edge and an urgency to Monroe’s request that Alex didn’t like. He promised himself that if he did have another talk with the potter, he was going to make darn sure it was in a well-lit place with lots of other people around.
Alex asked Armstrong, “Are you here investigating what happened to Marilynn Baxter?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Nope. From what I hear, there’s nothing to investigate. She tried to kill herself. Whether she succeeds or not is still up in the air. I had to swing by the hospital to check on a drunk driver from NewCon. Some guy got a snoot full, then decided to go joyriding in Elkton Falls. Why he didn’t stay there and be Dave Wooster’s headache, I’ll never know.”
“I don’t know how to put this, but I’m not so sure Marilynn Baxter tried to kill herself.”
Armstrong grabbed Alex’s arm and led him to an alcove nearby. “Alex, do you have any facts to back up that wild talk?”
“Nothing for sure.” He hesitated telling the sheriff that his gut reacted strongly to Craig Monroe’s attitude about his wife.
The sheriff grimaced. “Alex, don’t go spreading this around Elkton Falls. I’ve got enough trouble on my hands without you adding to it. I understand the lady’s been depressed lately. It happens more often than you and I would ever imagine.”
“Where did you hear that she was depressed?” Alex asked.
“Why,