At that moment, Hope’s phone rang. She smiled as she answered.
“Hi, hon, what did you do today?”
“We went to a black-sand beach. I didn’t know black beaches really existed.”
Hope listened as Cori described the beach, with its black sand, lava that had been pounded by the waves. It was cool. So was the beach where they were staying. They had gone snorkeling and Cori had seen yellow fish. She had also eaten a lot of macadamia nuts which she liked. She was going to send the photos from her phone after dinner, which would be late. Hope told Cori not to worry about it. She’d look at them as soon as she could. In the meantime, Cori needed to try to stuff as many memories as possible into every day.
“Tomorrow, volcano park,” Cori said. “Jackets advised.”
“Great. I’ll be waiting for a full recap.”
After saying “I love you,” Hope put down the phone. She had to admit she missed her daughter terribly, probably a whole lot more than her daughter missed her. And that was as it should be.
Hope waded through the script until she came upon the name Clotho, and that it struck her as one she should remember. She looked it up and discovered that it was the name of one of the Greek fates. While she wasn’t sure if the name would work, she needed to try it. It was the fifth file she tried that opened under the password “Clotho.”
Excitement filled Hope’s heart. Of course, she knew that the entire hidden story in the files might have nothing to do with Doug’s death. She had to accept that possibility.
The chapter in the story was about a lab, a government lab, deep in the heart of Maine. It was hidden in the mountains and trees in the middle of the state. There were lots of lakes around the lab, and more trees than there should have been, but there was little else. There was one road in and out. The outer fence was electrified and topped with razor wire. There were cameras every thirty yards, complete with motion detectors, which were tripped regularly by deer. The people who ran the lab didn’t care. The detectors were calibrated to be set off by large squirrels. The path on the inside of the fence was patrolled randomly by armed guards.
The facility itself was reported to be some sort of weapons lab, a place where lasers were regularly tested. In fact, it was a modern-day bio-lab, working with some of the most lethal viruses ever known. Very, very strict protocols protected the workers. Still, there was always a threat to the work, or so the contractors who ran the facility thought. When the unthinkable happened, when a virus was smuggled out, the government killed the contract and shut down the lab. Every last thing was hauled away.
But the woman who stole the sample was never captured.
Hope finished the chapter and wondered how her husband had come to fashion such a story. He was not an apocalypse-type writer. She shivered as she closed the laptop. And what about the chapter was so special that he had to encrypt it? What about the story needed hiding? Hope was at a loss. Just how much of the story was fiction, and how much was real? Did she want to know? And did the story have anything to do with the story Doug was investigating? Did it have something to do with his death? That was the ultimate question, and the one she couldn’t answer.
Hope finished her tea and decided it was time for bed. In the kitchen, she rinsed out her mug and looked around.
“Max,” she said.
“Yes, Mrs. Herring?”
She turned to the ghost. “It seems that I’m rather popular at the moment. A number of people have been dropping by without an invitation.”
“I recognized that.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, would you please keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re on the prowl.”
“I will make sure you are not disturbed.”
“Thank you. Oh, by the way, in case you were wondering, Cori is having a great time in Hawaii.”
“That is most encouraging. I’m happy to hear it. Thank you for telling me. In many respects, I feel part of your family.”
“And we’re happy to have you in our family. Good night.”
Hope went to sleep, wondering about two things—a bio-lab in Maine and a murder in North Carolina. When she woke, she wondered about the same two things.
Edsel greeted her with the usual upbeat attitude. Hope wondered if Edsel had some special happy pill. More likely, Edsel was simply a happy person. Some people saw lemons, some saw lemonade. Hope swore she would work to become more like Edsel.
Detective Robinson called and invited Hope to lunch. The Sunrise Café was within walking distance, even on the rawest of December days. They faced each other over coffee. The detective did not look as happy as Edsel.
“What is it?” Hope asked. “Because you don’t look all that pleased.”
“To tell the truth,” he said. “I have far too many suspects and not enough clues.”
“I’m guessing I’m at the top of your list.”
“You are, and you aren’t. I mean, I think you had means and opportunity, but where is the motive? Why would you harm Clive? What would you gain? While he might have chased you, there is no evidence that he caught you.”
“I assure you he didn’t.”
“And if you wanted to kill him, I think you’re more than smart enough to do it away from your house. In fact, if you wanted to kill someone, you’re probably clever enough that you wouldn’t get caught.”
“I don’t want to test that supposition.” Hope lifted her mug to her lips.
“Then, there are the siblings. Clive’s brother and sister need money, and they had opportunity. The means was there for anyone to use. But they don’t seem the killer type. Clive probably could have handled either one of them, even drunk, and he had been drinking. Then, there’s Clive’s wife who is more than strong enough to commit the crime. But again, Clive had been cheating on her for many years, and she had never tried to kill him previously.”
“Jealousy and money problems,” Hope said. “That might have been enough to push her over the edge.”
“It would be for a lot of people. Those are the family members. And yes, I know about the mayor. I’m sworn to secrecy, as she’s my boss, in a matter of speaking. But that doesn’t take her off my list.”
“Tell me,” Hope said. “You’ve no doubt run the financials by now. Did Clive have a secret nest egg some place?”
“Not as far as I’ve found out. He was pretty much bankrupt.”
“Why would he tell people differently?”
“Clive liked to brag. He wanted to be important. His exaggerations were part of his charm, or so he thought.”
Hope laughed. “Some charm. I wish I could help with ideas, but I’m as stumped as you are.”
They talked a bit longer, but she and the detective made no headway. She returned to the bakery for a short stint, before leaving for home. It was there, with the wind blowing, that she discovered just how drafty the old house was. She slipped on a sweater and started a fire in the living room fireplace.
The evening passed pleasantly enough. Hope sipped some tea and opened the journal of Amy Wainwright. She thumbed through the pages until she found the year she wanted. Hope wished Amy had not been so frugal with paper, as her scrawl was small, stuffing a lot of words into a tiny space. Hope took her time reading. She wanted to know what had made Max take notice. Then she spotted it in Amy’s tiny handwriting.