Fogged Inn (A Maine Clambake Mystery Book 4)

“Eventually?”


“Yes. She was sad for a time. Then she married Phil.” Caroline was curt, like she didn’t expect me to understand. “Henry left college and joined the navy that fall.”

The U.S. Navy? He must have barely made the height requirement. And if he’d dropped out of college to join the service, how did he become a doctor?

Caroline fell silent. I gave her the time to gather herself. Then she exhaled noisily and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry. These are difficult memories for me.”

“Who are they?” I indicated the smiling couple at the center of the photograph.

“Howell Lowe and Madeleine Sparks. They were engaged when this photo was taken, not yet married. They were our king and queen. The smartest, most likely to succeed. Howell’s father owned Rabble Point Road. The rest of our cottages were on land leased from him.”

“And this woman?” I pointed to the person standing next to Barry Walker.

“Madeleine’s sister, Enid Sparks.”

I turned to face her. “Caroline, remember the gift certificate I asked about yesterday? I didn’t send it to you. Someone else did, and that person also sent gift certificates to the Walkers, the Bennetts, and the Smiths. There was one more certificate purchased. I think it was sent to one of these people, to gather all of you at Gus’s, too.”

Caroline blinked rapidly. “But whatever for?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you think it had something to do with the man who was murdered?”

“I don’t know that either, but I aim to find out.”

“I am very sorry to tell you that no one could have tried to lure Howell and Madeleine to your restaurant. They’re both dead.”

I was shocked. In a short time their vibrant faces in the photo had made them real for me. “Goodness. How?”

“Together. In an accident.” Her features softened, and her voice became hoarse. “They were very young when it happened. They missed it all. Raising a family, building a career. The joy of grandchildren. It’s so sad.”

“And Enid?” I prompted.

“I lost touch with Enid after Madeleine died, just as I lost touch with everyone else in this picture. I honestly don’t know if she’s alive or dead.”

“And you didn’t think it was remarkable to find all these other people at the restaurant?”

“I’ve told you. We lost touch. For us, Julia, it wasn’t like it is for you. We didn’t have e-mail or Facebook or other social media to stay in touch. Long-distance calls were expensive and reserved for special occasions and emergencies. It was a different time. I exchanged Christmas cards with Sheila for a few years after Madeleine and Howell died, but her life was so full of disappointments, I came to feel my happy letters about our girls and how well Henry’s navy career was going were cruel. I stopped sending them and she never got back in touch.”

Caroline looked down at the tabletop. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I knew this ancient friendship had nothing to do with the death of that man, and it would . . . complicate things. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Or the police. You didn’t tell the police either.”

“Or the police either,” she whispered.

“You’ve got to tell Lieutenant Binder and Sergeant Flynn all of this. Today.”

“We will,” she finally said. “I promise.”





Chapter 17


I left the Caswells and climbed back into the Caprice. Caroline had confirmed she knew the other people in the photograph forty years before, but she’d denied knowing them today. I wasn’t sure if I believed her, though that part of her story had a ring of truth. I was certain of one thing: She wasn’t going to call Lieutenant Binder today or any other day.

What to do next? I wanted to see Rabble Point Road for myself. Surely that wouldn’t upset anybody. I hadn’t asked Fee exactly where it was, so I looked for it on the map app on my phone. As I suspected, it didn’t show up. In fact, Eastclaw Point Road itself petered out where it forked, and thereafter it was designated “Insignificant Road” by the satellite that sent my phone its information.

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