Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [52]
“When did she die?” Alex asked sadly.
“Less than twenty minutes ago. Craig called and asked me to sit with her while he came out to see you, and I couldn’t just leave the man alone when he got back. He was so distraught.”
Alex could believe that. He’d had a feeling in his gut that Marilynn was going to pull through. He couldn’t imagine what her husband was going through. “How’s Craig taking it?”
“He’s under sedation right now. They had a horrible time getting him away from the body.”
“I can only imagine,” Alex said. “Thanks for calling, Rachel.”
Alex immediately phoned Doc Drake. When he was finally put through, he said, “Doc, I just heard about Marilynn Baxter.”
“Yes, it was a real shame, Alex,” the doctor said brusquely.
“Excuse me for saying so, but you don’t sound all that upset about it.”
Doc took a deep breath, then said, “Alex, I’ve been up all night with two different emergencies, both of my patients fighting for their lives with every ounce of strength left in them. Marilynn Baxter threw her life away by choice. I’m sorry, it might sound heartless to you, but I don’t have any tears left for her. I’ll save my emotions for the ones fighting for their last chance.”
In all the years he’d known Doc Drake, Alex had never heard him sound so cynical. “I’m sorry. I was just concerned. To be honest with you, I sort of felt like I had a stake in her well-being, since I’m the one who found her.”
Doc took a deep breath, then said, “Alex, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been up around the clock, and I still have a full day of work staring at me. I’m sorry for what I said. I hate losing any of my patients, you know that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a nap. I have seventeen minutes before my first patient, and I plan to sleep sixteen of them.”
Alex wondered what Craig Monroe would be like now that his wife was dead. Alex remembered the shivers Craig had given him the night before, and though he felt foolish about his reactions in the light of day, he couldn’t help wondering if his instincts were trying to tell him something. Was Craig Monroe a grieving spouse, or was he a murderer, intent on covering the last vestiges of his trail? More importantly, did Monroe believe that Alex had held back on him, refusing to share something damning his wife had said? He’d believed Craig when the man had broken down, but could it all have been an act? Alex was going to have to watch his step until he knew for sure.
Alex found himself with time weighing heavily on his hands at The Hatteras West. With no guests at the inn, he’d easily done his day’s work in the morning, and while he liked someone to always be at the front desk to answer the phone, he was going crazy all by himself. The travel agent had called with regrets, so that was that. There was really no other reason to hang around. Finally, Alex decided to hang a sign out front and lock the place up tight. He believed in his heart that the answers he was looking for were in town, not at Hatteras West.
The first place Alex stopped was at Shantara’s General Store. Alex loved the old mercantile; he had since he was a kid, though his friend hadn’t owned it then. Old Mr. Gruber had been delighted to have kids explore the shelves filled with treasures every inch of the way. Shantara hadn’t changed much of the old, but she’d added enough new to give the place her own mark. The tiny post office was still in one corner, with its odd little boxes and the iron-barred window in front of it. The aisles held everything from massive electric coolers stocked with chilled beverages to shelves filled with nails, screws, kitchen gadgets and a thousand other things a general store should have.
The shelves on the outside walls featured biscuit mixes, pots, pans and all types of specialty goods that weren’t available anywhere else in town. Shantara had added a craft corner where the old pickle barrel had once stood, displaying samples from many of the people who had worked the Golden Days Fair. Another corner featured