Berried to the Hilt by Karen MacInerney Page A

reimburse you for the dish.”
    “There’s no need for that,” I said. They weren’t very expensive, and I had more than I would ever use. Still, Molly insisted on paying, and also insisted on helping me pick up the big pieces, only relenting when I told her I’d sweep up the rest.
    As I left to retrieve the broom, I glanced at Cherry, who had put down her book and was now jotting down notes in a small, leather-bound book. What was she doing? Keeping a journal? Or was even she somehow involved in the shipwreck?
    _____
    Phone calls at three a.m. almost never mean good news, and the one that came that night was no exception. John and I bolted upright. He turned on the bedside lamp as I reached for the phone, adrenaline rushing through me.
    “Hello?” I said, dispensing with the usual “Gray Whale Inn” greeting.
    “Is John at your place?”
    “Eleazer! What’s wrong?”
    “I think I’d best save that for John,” he said.
    My stomach flipped over as I handed the phone to John. Had another boat failed to come in? The weather was good, but things sometimes happened …
    My fiancé was fully alert, and there was no trace of sleep in his voice when he spoke. “Eleazer. What’s going on?” He was silent for a moment, and I could faintly hear Eli’s voice speaking rapidly. I smoothed the comforter nervously. Biscuit opened one eye, then curled up in a tight orange ball and went back to sleep.
    “What time did you find him?” John asked, and my stomach did another flip. That didn’t sound good at all. “You’re sure he’s gone?” he continued. Then he let out a short sigh. “I’ll meet you at the town pier.”
    “What’s going on?” I asked as he hung up the phone.
    “It’s Gerald—the guy who runs Iliad,” he said, getting out of bed and pulling on his jeans.
    “What about him?”
    “He’s dead,” John said. “Eleazer found him out by the wreck site.”
    “Oh, no,” I breathed. I clenched the comforter between my hands. “What happened? Did he drown?”
    John shook his head. “Somebody stabbed him in the back.”
    Murder. And violent murder, at that. “What was Eleazer doing out there at three in the morning?” I asked, dreading the answer. Eleazer had been so angry yesterday; was it possible he had made good on his threat?
    “I don’t know, Natalie,” he said, his face grim. “But I’m sure the investigators will be asking the same question.”
    He buttoned his shirt and reached for his sweater. Suddenly, my foggy brain registered where he was going. “You’re not heading out to the site in a skiff, are you?” It was a couple of miles out to the wreck—far for a small boat, particularly at night.
    “I’ve got to,” he said. “First I’ll call the Coast Guard, though. I’m going to meet Eli at the main pier, and we’ll go out together.”
    “Can’t you just leave it to them?”
    He shook his head and pulled on his wool sweater. “I’m worried about Eli, Nat. I’ve got to talk to him—and see the body.”
    I understood. He was going to protect our friend. I didn’t like it—Eli was the most skilled boatsman I knew, but that still didn’t make it safe—but John was probably right.
    “Let me brew you two a thermos of coffee to take with you,” I offered. “It’ll be cold out on the water, and the caffeine will help.”
    “There’s no time,” he said.
    “Ten minutes won’t change what happened to Gerald,” I said. “You can call the Coast Guard just as you’re leaving.” As I got up and slipped into my bathrobe, a horrible thought occurred to me. “John—what if the murderer is still out there?”
    “The thought occurred to me, too, but I’m guessing whoever did it is long gone,” he said. We looked at each other for a moment, not wanting to say what both of us feared—that John was about to head out to the wreck in the murderer’s boat. “I’m sure it will be fine, Nat. But just in case, I’ll take my gun.”
    Together we went downstairs. John