Murder Most Maine by Karen MacInerney Page B

car interrupted my reverie; it grew steadily louder, and then stopped outside the inn. A moment later, Charlene appeared at my kitchen doorstep, stamping mud from her boots and trying to rearrange her hair under the hood of her green jacket.
    “You’re here early,” I said as she peeled off her boots at the kitchen door.
    “Wouldn’t want to miss the jog,” she said. “Although how they’re going to get to the lighthouse in this, I have no idea.” She eyed the mug in my hand. “Got any coffee? I’m still half asleep.”
    “Coming right up,” I said, pouring her a mug as she hung her slicker on the hook by the door. Under her jacket she was dressed in a form-fitting pink sweater and designer jeans. “You’re jogging in that?” I asked.
    “Beauty before practicality,” she said, pulling up a chair at my big farm table.
    “Maybe you’ll just have to stay in by the fire,” I suggested.
    “That would be lovely,” Charlene sighed. “I wouldn’t mind a little one-on-one time with Dirk. As long as we could get rid of all those other people.”
    I laughed. “Better watch out. Rumor is that he and Vanessa are a couple.”
    She pushed out her lower lip. “Really?”
    “I can’t tell,” I confessed. “They don’t seem very close if they are.”
    “Speaking of close, what’s up between Vanessa and John?”
    “I don’t know. But they’ve been doing a bit more ‘catching up’ than I’m comfortable with. And Tom Lockhart was here last night, with fifteen pounds of free lobster.”
    “Uh-oh,” she said.
    “Exactly. He seemed absolutely smitten. Does Lorraine know?”
    “I don’t know, but you’d better watch out for that one,” Charlene said, cradling the mug of coffee between her hands as she slid into a kitchen chair. “Eleazer told me last night that she broke a lot of hearts on the island.”
    “Was John’s one of them?”
    “One of many, from what I’ve heard.” She took a sip of coffee and plunked the mug down on the table. “That woman,” she said, “is a menace.”
    “I’m positive she met with someone in the middle of the night. There was a car at the top of the hill, and she came in a few minutes later.”
    Charlene arched an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like Dirk’s a single man, then. Which is good news for you, too,” she added. “John doesn’t have a car on the island, so she must have been out with someone else.”
    “You’re right,” I said, feeling a bit more chipper all of a sudden. “How come I didn’t think of that?”
    “That’s what friends are for,” she replied, glancing at the clock. “By the way, shouldn’t you be cooking something? It’s almost seven thirty.”
    “Already?” I glanced at the clock; she was right. I grabbed my now-cold toast from the toaster and tore off a bite before opening the pumpkin. I was scraping orange goo out of a measuring cup when Gwen trundled downstairs.
    “You’re up early,” I said.
    “You’re jogging up to the lighthouse along with John and Vanessa,” she reminded me.
    “Good plan,” Charlene said. “I wouldn’t leave him with that woman for a moment. It’s not that I don’t trust John. It’s just …”
    “Exactly,” said Gwen.
    I glanced out the window and shuddered, thinking of my last attempt to jog. I added a teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice to the oatmeal, suffusing the kitchen with the warm scents of allspice and nutmeg. After stirring it a few times, then stepped away from the stove. “The things we do for love,” I grumbled as I headed upstairs to find a decent pair of shoes.

When I walked into the dining room in my sneakers a little while later, Bethany, who had donned a rather tight black sweat suit for this morning’s outing, was standing beside Vanessa, who had hardly touched her oatmeal.
    “Where’s Dirk?” Bethany asked. “Isn’t he going to be leading the hike?”
    “I’m sure he’ll be down at any moment,” said Vanessa, who didn’t seem to be showing any signs of sleep