34

The knocking on the external door to Leo’s living quarters woke him from a restful nap, and he rubbed his eyes as he stood to answer the door. Miss Isabelle stared up at him, her big green eyes magnified and distorted by her glasses. “Did I wake you, Leo? I’m so sorry about that! I just wanted to make sure that you knew we have a prayer meeting tonight at 7 p.m. in the chapel. Didn’t want you to be caught flatfooted. We know that you’re settling in so you don’t have to come but we’d appreciate it if you did.”

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Leo assured Isabelle that he would show up for the prayer meeting, and went into the bathroom to splash water on his face and run his fingers through his hair. In the chapel, he found her setting up black folding chairs in a circle, equally spaced several inches apart. Isabelle explained that sometimes one of the women would play a few songs on the piano, and then they’d take prayer requests and spend time in prayer. He grabbed a few of the chairs himself, but every time he set up a chair, she would cluck her tongue and slide it to the exact distance that she had in mind. 

Isabelle told Leo that David had asked if she would take a shift sitting with Red, and she had agreed, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with her sleeve. “That was a terrible thing that happened to him,” she said. “Should be more careful on those steps. Especially at the bottom where they get slick with all of that seawater.”

Leo wasn’t sure exactly how Red had ended up concussed, but he had to admit that Miss Isabelle’ advice seemed reasonable to him. Still, she seemed upset enough for the both of them, so he went back to setting up chairs and pulling hymnals from the pews even though he figured that the people at prayer meeting probably knew all of the songs by heart. He started humming an old hymn, only marginally aware that Miss Isabelle had stopped to stare at him. Finally, she shook her head and told him that she had to run home and check on a few things. When he finished putting a hymnal on each chair, he decided it was time to introduce himself around town, hopefully one at a time instead of wholesale. 

The clock on the wall said it was a little past four, so Leo threw on his suit coat and headed down Main Street. There was a buzz on the street that hadn’t been there a day ago. There wwe certainly more people, he noticed, as he sidestepped out of the way of two sets of strollers, neither one belonging to his fellow travelers. By now, the sun had almost completely set, and a quiet sea breeze blew through. Leo was thankful for his coat, and buttoned it for just a bit more warmth. 

At the hardware store, Leo introduced himself to twin brothers Bruce and Phil, who had inherited the business from their father and kept up the tradition. The walls were loaded down by shelves, full of appliances, building materials, and products for every construction situation that Leo could think of. The men explained that they were often the ones called to fix plumbing or electrical problems, too, but they had a crew of teenagers providing most of the work in the hardware store itself. Still, they were more than happy to tell Leo about all of the jobs they had done on the island, from re-establishing the foundation of the O’Rourke mansion to replacing the siding on the chapel. 

When Leo walked into Cindi’s, he thought he might be able to get a quick haircut, but the line was already wrapped around her little salon. Each chair was taken and every head turned like Stepford Wives in unison as he dinged the little bell above the door. He introduced himself to a row of nodding heads, and Cindi herself, a big black woman with a smile that lit up the salon, and promised to be back sometime soon. Cindi grabbed him by the arm and a few of the women murmured that as the new preacher, he had to get a cut ahead of them. He spent the next hour smiling and nodding, until all of his cheek muscles hurt. On the street, Leo decided he wanted to interact with a few less people, and one of the remaining establishments looked like it would meet his needs. 

The funeral home was situated at the opposite end of Main Street and one block over. It was a simple building, with a pleasant facade up front that simply said Remembrances and Memories on the front. No matter where it was in the world, the hint of death and suffering had to be kept at arm’s length and if possible, behind closed doors. Leo pulled on the door handle and stepped into the dimly lit room. He could see straight into the giant room for gathering in memory of a loved one and off to the left he saw a door that led directly into a smaller parlor. The only other room he could see was the office, and through it he observed an older man who seemed intent on some paperwork he was doing. When the front door beeped, the man jumped up and came out of the office, removing a pair of reading glasses as he did so. “Oh, you’re the new pastor!” he exclaimed, hobbling over to shake Leo’s hand. 

Leo swallowed a smile, and observed the diminutive man more closely. While he was certainly taller than the other man, the man’s eyes held pools of meaning. His weathered face was heavily lined, and his grip was exceptionally firm. Except for a thin mustache, the man’s head was closely shaved, and the mustache moved spastically when he talked. Leo appreciated him immediately, and decided that he might be one of the more likable people that he had met on Tranquility.

“I’m Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby,” he was saying. “I’m not really a mortician but Tranquility pays me to balance the books and help if there’s a funeral. I served in the Navy back in the day, but I got this job when my wife asked me to move back home to take care of her parents. Stein, I mean Dr. Steinman doubles as the actual mortician and the town doctor.” 

All of this came out in a flurry of information that Leo tried to process and store away. He nodded, figuring it made sense for a little island like Tranquility to not have a full-time mortician, given that he heard they didn’t pay for any real law enforcement either. “How many funerals do you have a year here?” asked Leo, giving a side eye to the door marked ‘Private.’ 

Bobby sensed his discomfort and chuckled. “Yeah, you don’t want to end up behind that door. You do, and you’re probably leaving the island in a box.”

“Really, we only have a dozen a year,” Bobby continued. “We only have one kind of coffin available here, but folks can always get their loved one changed into something else on the mainland. It takes a special boat to come with a crane and everything, unless the person chooses to be cremated. But Dr. Steinman has to escort the body over until it’s turned over to the real funeral home on the mainland.”

Bobby limped over the room where families could confer with the pastor and funeral director, including any requests they had for their deceased loved one. One of the simple island boxes was on display in the room as well. Bobby gingerly opened it to show Leo, and Leo saw how badly Bobby’s hands shook as he grasped onto the handle. Bobby flexed his knuckles and winced, looking down at the left hand that wouldn’t completely follow his right’s lead. 

“You seem like you’re in some significant pain,” Leo pointed out. “What seems to be the cause?”

“Old age,” Bobby said, chuckling bitterly. “And maybe a few daredevil experiences of my youth that finally have caught up to me. My body just isn’t what it used to be. I’m not worth much anymore at this point.”

Leo looked Bobby in the eye. “Don’t sell yourself short, Bobby. Sounds like you’re providing the island with a service it needs. I’m sure your wife is proud of you!”

Bobby’s face fell. “My sweetheart has actually been gone for a while now, but I lost her way before that to dementia. She was proud of the way I’d gotten involved on the island, but she can’t really give me any advice now. I’m sure she’s looking down on me though.”

Leo apologized for his gaffe, and Bobby assured him that there was nothing to worry about. The funeral home volunteer walked Leo through the rest of the funeral home and then walked outside to stand in the gentle breeze.The two men exchanged pleasantries for several more minutes. Leo invited Bobby to come to the prayer meeting, and Bobby at least promised to see Leo for chapel service that Sunday. Leo told him that he would keep an eye out for him, and wished him a good afternoon.

By the time it was six, Leo had discussed the impending weather and tourist invasions with the senior postmaster who doubled as the volunteer fire chief, been offered a “free weekend getaway” by the Bed and Breakfast proprietor, and learned about the wares sold by a half-dozen pagoda operators who specifically came to the island to maximize on business during the annual migration. He was exhausted from smiling so much, forcing himself to match the cheerfulness of these folks who had made the island what it was. 

Deciding against cereal for dinner, Leo ducked into the Ocean’s Spray, but didn’t see anyone familiar. He took a seat at the bar, and introduced himself to the bartender, Fred. Fred was the big, garrulous man with an even bigger beard who Leo had seen refrain from whacking the tourist earlier over a credit card. Fred had the tattoos to show his military service, and a few more besides that. Looking at Leo, Fred cocked his head to one side, as if seeing Leo for the first time.  

“You’re the guy who paid for that obnoxious tourist, aren’t you?” Fred asked, eyes widening. “Those guys should either figure it out or move on.”

“I’m Leo,” Leo replied, choosing to leave the rest alone. 

Fred slapped the bar. “That’s right! You’re the new guy at the chapel. Well, welcome to Tranquility. Don’t let the tourists bring you down. Dinner is on the house tonight. Thanks for keeping me from doing something reckless.”

A few minutes later, Fred slid a burger and chips across the bar to Leo. “You need anything else, Pastor Leo?” Fred asked, while surveying the rest of the customers over Leo’s shoulder. Something in Fred’s expression made Leo turn, just as Gillian and Dr. Steinman walked in together. Gillian waved to Leo, who lifted a hand in greeting, as the two worked their way through the tables to take seats on either side of Leo at the bar. 

“I’ve been picking Dr. Steinman’s brain about the island and the cruise ships,” Gillian explained excitedly. “He knows a lot of the people here, and the stories around the island so it’s fantastic information for my backstories.”

The doctor shrugged sheepishly, lifting his hands in a ‘what can I say?’ sort of way. He asked Fred for a drink and slapped a few dollars down on the bar. 

Leo nodded at Gillian, his mouth full of burger. Gillian briefly perused the menu and looked around for someone to take her order. Fred had walked away from them, but a passing waitress collected Gillian’s request. 

Clearly feeling chatty, Gillian launched into her findings of the day, from Steinman’s knowledge of cruise ships to her detour out to the old lighthouse. She deemed it “ancient” and “creepy,” reporting that when she had finally reached that point of the island, there was no one there except for a few teenagers who hurried off when she showed up. “I couldn’t get into the lighthouse itself because it was chained shut with a padlock,” she explained. “The light apparently only turns on in the dark or fog, so it was just an old, empty tower to me.”

The waitress returned with Gillian’s food, finally forcing her to stop her monologue. Steinman looked relieved, and Leo finished up his meal, leaving a tip for Fred on the bar. 

After a few gulps of Coke, Leo pushed back from the bar. “The food here is fantastic! I’m going to have to watch it while I’m on the island,” he said, quietly squelching a burp. 

Dr. Steinman nodded. “Why do you think I look like this? It’s because I’ve been eating Ocean’s Spray and island food for too many years!” Steinman had ordered some food by now, and he and Gillian were digging into their meals vigorously, and Leo moaned at the thought of eating anymore. 

“I hate to cut out on you, but I have to get to prayer meeting,” Leo said. “You’re welcome to join us tonight if you’d like.”

Saying his goodbyes to Fred and the others, Leo headed back to the chapel. Ten of the twelve folding chairs were already occupied when he arrived, and Miss Isabelle waved him over to sit next to her. An old coffee pot had miraculously appeared, and most of the prayer meeting participants were holding styrofoam cups. “It’s decaf,” whispered Aggie to Leo, conspiratorially. “None of us can afford to drink caffeine this late!”

Leo smiled and poured a quick cup for himself, deciding based on its smell that he would have to soak the coffee in sugar and cream to choke it down. If only it was caffeinated so that it could serve a greater purpose! Around the circle, introductions were exchanged, and Leo found that he was in the presence of Tranquility’s oldest residents. Beyond Cindi, Phil, and Isabelle, the participants were strangers to Leo, and he marveled at the way that the island could seem too closed and limiting and yet full of so many people he didn’t see regularly throughout the day.

Malcolm had retired from running the island’s only lawn care business, and he lived with his oldest son who had taken it over. Juliet and Tom were lifelong Tranquility residents; she had run the now defunct library and Tom had been the previous postmaster. Phil’s wife had been a stay-at-home mother. The final participant was a tourist from one of the big ships moored just off of the island. She thought she was coming to an Alcoholics Anonymous group, and seemed uncomfortable at first, but the group drew her out of her shell. 

The group was halfway through sharing their joys and concerns, from various minor ailments to major upcoming surgeries, from grandchildren’s report cards to impending weddings, when the sanctuary door opened and Bobby walked in. He seemed hesitant to enter, but the longtime Tranquility residents all called out to him by name, and he sat in a pew just outside of the circle while they finished reflecting on the highs and lows of their lives. Millie’s granddaughter had broken her clavicle falling off of her bike; Liz Astin’s husband was fighting through a cancer diagnosis; several islanders were worried about how the storm would impact business income and opportunity; no one had seen Pat Garrett and Miss Isabelle said that wasn’t like him, so they prayed he wasn’t stuck somewhere feeling poorly. And of course, they prayed for Red O’Rourke, who still hadn’t fully regained consciousness but seemed to be improving. All of the regulars agreed that O’Rourke would never participate in the prayer meeting but that didn’t mean they couldn’t pray for him! Bobby didn’t say anything, but Leo watched him intentionally scribble down the requests of others on a miniature notebook he kept in his back pocket. 

For forty-five minutes, the group sang hymns while a woman named Ruth Lowery banged out songs on the piano with arthritis-ridden hands. Leo had to smile when he saw Aggie slide over to Bobby and offer to share her hymnal with him. He knew that community was something they each needed if they were going to be able to work through their grief. 

A little while later, the sanctuary was vacant, with the chairs and hymnals all returned to their regular places. When Leo locked up and turned off the lights, he surveyed the now still and dark sanctuary. He felt his way along the back row of pews to his living quarters, and sat for an hour at his kitchen table, eating a bowl of Pops and contemplating all of the things he had learned about Tranquility in just a few days. Thankfully, so far, the coffee seemed to be the worst of it. 

35

On the little beach, the tide low enough that one could move about, the two men turned back from where they had hidden the drugs and grimly shook their heads. Both of the men were sweat soaked from the exertion of moving the heavy containers, mixed with the anxiety of being caught by someone else from the Tranquility community. They had found different ways to hide their actions from less-suspecting people over their time working together, but the murder of the old policeman had made them more nervous than normal. 

“Do you think we secured it all?” asked the first man. His taller accomplice just shrugged, throwing some peanut shells down that had accumulated in his pockets. The first man pulled off of his glasses, and wiped off the mist that had coalesced there. He looked at the accomplice and shook his head. 

“It’s fine,” said the first man, attempting to reassure himself. “We just have to keep this buttoned up for another day or two and then we’ll be done with this. We can leave this godforsaken island and go wherever we want, and they’ll never find us again.”

“Who won’t find you again?” asked a voice from the shadows. The two accomplices turned, startled as a large figure emerged from the dark. It slowly took the form of a muscular man wearing the insignia of one of the cruise lines. 

The first man had his hand on his pistol inside of his coat pocket, and his fingers tightened almost instinctively. He looked out of the side of his eye at his accomplice, who looked just as stunned as he felt. 

“Who are you?” replied the first man. The stranger laughed, and ran his fingers through his long, perfectly maintained hair. 

“You can call me Jim,” said the newcomer, his dazzling white teeth flashing in the night. “Who are you two?”

“If you’re ‘Jim,’ you can call me Spock and he’s Bones,” chuckled the taller of the two accomplices. “Why are you here and what do you want?”

“I’m who our bosses sent to check up on you,” said Jim, pulling on his short sleeve cuffs, accentuating his overgrown muscles. “They’re pretty sure that you’re skimming off of the top. And you’ve gotten sloppy because word is out that there’s going to be law enforcement looking into the island soon. I told them you weren’t but I want a bigger cut than you paid the last guy, or I’m going to tell them that you’ve been ripping them off. I’m ready to get out of the drug business and stop looking over my shoulder all of the time.”

Jim grinned as he offered this last threat, and Bones and Spock turned to look at each other. “That won’t be necessary,” carefully said the one called Bones. “We’re happy to show you what we’ve been doing and where we are in the process. Right ‘Spock?’”

Spock nodded, and took a step toward Jim, balling his hands into fists. “Now, now,” said Bones, “there’s no need for violence.” 

Jim grinned at Spock, who gritted his teeth and stopped his advance. Jim casually slid his own switchblade out of his back pocket, flicking it open. “You’re welcome to try, big man,” said Jim, chuckling, “but I’ve tangled with bigger than you before and I’m still here.”

“Boys, let’s go up and have a conversation over some beers,” said Bones. “We can sort this all out.”

Spock looked like he still wanted to hit someone, but Bones’ words made him pause. He struggled with his desire to knock down the muscle-bound newcomer but he wasn’t going to override Bones. He looked at Bones, who nodded once, and gestured for Jim to lead them up the stone steps to the island.

Jim had made it ten steps up, when he felt the sting of bullet in his left leg as it creased his calf. He turned back to see the two men standing below him, and the one called Spock had drawn a pistol from his coat and was firing at him. The second shot caught him in the forearm, as his arm felt like it was electrified. Turning back toward the steps, Jim started to run, hoping to hurry up the stairs and put some space between himself and the two accomplices. 

Spock’s gun fired again, just barely audible above the roar of the waves and the wind. The pain in Jim’s chest was intense, and he looked down to see the hole where blood was now streaming out. His breath became rapid and he suddenly felt lightheaded. Spock fired again and missed, but Jim had to put out an arm to brace himself against the rock wall. He tried to take a step and slipped, his body not responding the way that he hoped it would. 

Suddenly, Jim’s body pitched to the right and his arms windmilled. He couldn’t hold his body up anymore, and now it was hanging out in space over the side of the rocks cut in the wall. His right shin banged off of the step and he fell away from the rock stairs into the air beside the stairs. Jim hit the water with a sudden splash and felt the coolness of the water envelop his body, and then he remembered nothing of the experience anymore. 

36

Carol had stood in the kitchen washing dishes and cleaning up after a day spent trying to coax Mr. O’Rourke to eat something that would help him regain his strength. He hadn’t said anything, but she knew that he was alert enough to recognize her and look at her when she entered the room. But the big stubborn bear wouldn’t eat anything. He just lay there staring at the ceiling most of the time, still dressed in the bathroom he’d worn the day of his terrible fall down the stone steps. 

Sliding Ziploc containers into the refrigerator, Carol had put away several servings of soup and a few ham biscuits she had put together, but which he had refused to eat. She’d even tried making one of his favorite desserts, but even the allure of chocolate chip cookies didn’t seem to have the ability to elicit a smile. He had taken to nodding at her when she entered the room, but it was as if he had forgotten how to talk. She’d seen this in soldiers who returned after serving in wars abroad, but she didn’t know what could possibly be eating at him to take away his voice altogether. 

Carol knew that Mr. O’Rourke had to eat sooner or later. She couldn’t bear the thought of him wasting away to nothing like Martha had. That woman hadn’t said more than a word the whole time Carol had been in the O’Rourke’s employment, but she thought sooner or later, the woman might open her mouth and let loose with a whole stream of thoughts that she’d kept bottled up for so long. Or maybe they would just find her singing one day and never get her to stop. Either way, Carol was hoping for something miraculous to shake up the O’Rourke household.  

Outside, the clouds had gathered and hung like a blanket over the island. Even in the dark, Carol could see the clouds when the moon reflected off of the water. The whitecaps were rising in frequency, and the calm breeze had given way to a stiff wind. Carol wasn’t swayed by the impending threat of a nor’easter, having lived on the island for decades. She’d seen worse than that out to see on a cruise ship, or growing up on her dear old daddy’s lobster boats back in Maine. She figured everyone would be fine if they would just get to doing what needed done and stopped worrying about what might or might not happen. The weather was the weather afterall. It was going to change. 

A whimper and scratch at the back door of the kitchen reminded her that she hadn’t seen the dogs in an hour. Opening the door, she was nearly knocked over by Poseidon and Neptune as they came surging in from the outside, hungry for whatever leftovers she had left unattended. A gust of wind blew in with them, and she struggled to force the door back closed. Then something caught her attention, a noise that didn’t seem normal for this time of night. 

Carol thought she heard something outside beyond where the dogs had come hurtling in from. Never inclined to take things lying down, the New Englander in her drove her to investigate, taking a three-foot long metal serving spatula as her defense. She listened intently, and thought she heard the sounds of voices blowing around in the wind. Looking left and right she didn’t see anything, but then Carol heard the noises again. 

Down over the side of the cliff, a flicker caught her eye. Carol’s eyesight wasn’t what it once was. She used to be able to shoot an acorn off of a can at one hundred yards, and now she was lucky if she could see the acorn at all. But she was reasonably sure she could see people moving around on the beach below. The tide must be out, she thought. 

The words weren’t loud enough to reach Carol but the tone seemed unfriendly. She knelt down to peer over the edge of the cliff again, as a giant cloud swept over the moon. She thought she heard a loud “pop” and then a splash. She couldn’t be sure that her eyes and ears weren’t playing a trick on her, but she was determined to wait for the next bright patch to move through so she could see for sure. She shivered in the wind, and felt the spray of the water around the island caught up in the frenzied wind. 

The moonlight disappeared completely as a cloud passed, large and threatening over the moon, making it darker than before. Carol was drenched in darkness momentarily, and she reminded herself not to lean forward for fear of pitching out into nothingness. When the cloud blew on by, Carol blinked because there wasn’t anyone or anything to observe on the beach below. Looking down, she couldn’t see anything except for the edge of the beach as the waves lapped up over it and then dropped away again. 

“Crazy old woman,” Carol muttered to herself. “That’s enough late night murder mysteries for you.” She looked down at the spatula clenched in her hand and shook her head. “What did you think you were going to do with that? Scare them away from the kitchen? You’re getting old, woman!”

Brushing off her knees, Carol wiped her hands on her apron. She made her way back to the kitchen door, where she locked up for the night, making sure to deadbolt the storm door, too. The dogs were running laps around the central island in the kitchen, waiting for her to get back. As she turned away from the door, they sat still, immobile like statues. When she called them by name, they wagged their tails and walked politely to the kitchen’s pantry. She poured generous portions of their favorite dog food into bowls marked with their names, and added some leftover bits of steak to each bowl. The dogs licked her hands happily and she left them nose down in the bowls, eating away.

As Carol walked the perimeter of the first floor, she made sure that every light was turned off and that the front door latch was locked as well. She imagined once or twice that she caught sight of someone staring at her in the window, but each time when she turned around, there was nothing to see there. Ascending the grand staircase slowly, Carol reflected on how jumpy she had become. Her wild reckless days were behind her, and she longed for peace and quiet. She knew her imagination was playing tricks on her, but one could never be too careful, she thought.

Mysteries could happen anywhere.

Chapters 37-39 coming May 17!