Chapter One I pedaled my bicycle along the streets of my hometown, heading for the wharf that edged the inlet of the Gulf of Maine that gave Cabot Cove its name. I marveled at how bright and warm the sunshine was for this early in the spring. Here we were, barely past April Fools'' Day, and it felt as though we were moving rapidly from sherpa-lined-jacket weather to sweatshirt weather. Of course, we Mainers knew better than to expect a soft and easy slide from winter to spring. I''d be keeping my coats, jackets, scarves, hats, and gloves handy for some weeks to come. I parked my bicycle in the rack at the north end of the row of storefronts that lined the street above the wharf. I stood for a moment, watching a sight I never tired of-all the activity that went along with boating and fishing. People carrying fishing poles and nets were scurrying about waving and joking with one another.
I knew that the fishermen and lobstermen who worked these waters for a living had cast off hours ago, so those who remained on the dock this late in the morning were more relaxed. Their goal was a day of fishing that, if they were lucky, would result in some bragging rights along with a nice dinner of crispy fried flounder. I looked at my watch, murmured, "Oh dear," and strode quickly toward Mara''s Luncheonette, where, undoubtedly, my good friend and everyone''s favorite town doctor, Seth Hazlitt, was sitting, tapping his fingers impatiently on the Formica tabletop, because, according to my watch, I was nearly ten minutes late. Two fishermen, sporting colorful fishing lures pinned to their bucket hats, were coming out of Mara''s, and the smells of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the doorway. I thanked the man who held the door for me and wished them both "good fishing." They smiled in reply. I spotted Seth at a table toward the middle of the room. I was surprised to see he was sitting with Walter Hendon, our harbormaster, and Pierce Collymore, newly appointed chief of the Cabot Cove Fire Department.
When the department''s longtime chief Angus Billingsworth had announced he was retiring due to ill health, Collymore was among several out-of-town fire officials who applied for the job. Much to the chagrin of some of the locals who felt the job should go to a Cabot Cove resident, Collymore was selected by our mayor, Jim Shevlin, and the town council. He''d recently moved here from a village in northern Vermont. I slid into a vacant chair and apologized to Seth for being late. "But I am glad to see that Walter and the chief have been keeping you company." "Aye, Jessica." Walter''s blue eyes crinkled as he laughed. "Doc here looked so forlorn; I couldn''t walk by and leave him sitting by himself.
" "Hogwash," Seth blustered. "Not hogwash at all," the fire chief chimed in. "Never see you at a table that you don''t have a crowd of your friends laughing and talking." I could see by the look on Seth''s face that he was ready to argue over this simple truth, so I quickly changed the topic. "When I was parking my bicycle I couldn''t help but notice that the harbor is really bustling for so early in the season. I''m guessing it''s this springlike weather we are having." "Ayuh. You''re right about that.
Winter will be back right around Wednesday and the less hardy fishermen will be in rockers near the fireplace. ''Course those whose livelihood depends on the waters will be out there every day that doesn''t feature cat-four hurricanes or severe winter blizzards." Pleased that he had defended the way of life that had been at the core of our town for centuries, Walter leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and gave me a satisfied smile. I hadn''t seen Mara come up behind me, coffeepot in her hand, until I heard her cheery greeting. "Morning, Jessica. Here''s your coffee. I''m just about to serve blueberry pancakes to these fellows. Will you be having the same?" "Not today, I''m afraid.
" I shook my head and patted my midriff. "I''ve been spending too many hours sitting in the library researching my latest book, so I haven''t been getting enough exercise. I decided just this morning that I have to spend more time on my bicycle and watch what I eat for the next few weeks." Mara scribbled on her order pad while saying, "One boiled egg and one mini blueberry muffin coming up." "You know me too well," I said to her back as she hustled to the kitchen. She returned in a flash with three plates, each with a short stack of her piping hot award-winning blueberry pancakes. Try as I might, I could never figure out the special something that made her hotcakes so delicious. Whenever I asked, she declared it was a secret she would take to her grave.
I''d begun to believe her. After slathering butter on his pancakes, Seth reached for a tin container that sat midtable. "Nothing like true maple syrup. Comes from hearty New England maple trees. Mara gets this local, you know. Farmer up by Bangor." He passed the syrup to Walt. "What do you think I am? A flatlander? Maine born and raised, and don''t you forget it.
I know real maple syrup when I taste it. It''s the chief here that is new to our state and our ways. Tell him about your maple syrup." The look on Pierce Collymore''s face said he wasn''t sure whether Walter was joking. "Walter, you do know that Vermont produces more maple syrup than any other state ." But Walter had become too distracted to hear so much as one word that Pierce said. "Oh, will you lookee there? Speaking of flatlanders ." Walt pushed back his chair and pulled his dark blue harbormaster cap off his head; a jolt of static electricity caused a few strands of hair to rise with the cap.
He waved the cap to get someone''s attention and then began signaling for them to join us. Seth and I turned toward the door and I could barely believe my eyes. Evelyn Phillips, former editor of the Cabot Cove Gazette, who''d left to travel the country, catching up with family and friends, was walking through Mara''s like a rock star, stopping to shake hands and even accepting a kiss on the cheek from Cabot Cove town historian Tim Purdy, who was perched on one of the round stools that lined Mara''s counter. "Well, I''ll be ." Seth said. "Of all mornings for Dan Andrews to be among the missing. Gregory Leung told me Dan''s doing interviews at the hospital today." Spontaneously, we all stood as she approached our table.
After Evelyn shook hands all around, Walt introduced her to Pierce Collymore and then indicated an empty chair. As she settled in, I realized that in the time she''d been away from Cabot Cove very little about her had changed. Her tousled gray hair appeared a bit longer than I remembered but still didn''t reach her earlobes. Her black quilted jacket was unzipped, revealing what I''d come to think of as Evelyn''s usual uniform of jeans and a plaid shirt. This one was black and green. Mara placed my breakfast on the table and filled a clean cup with steaming coffee for Evelyn, who dropped on the floor her massively oversized tote, which landed with a thud that nearly shook the room. Then she looked at us expectantly. "What is going on in this town? I checked into the Hill House last night, and just as I was leaving reception and heading to my room, I ran into your good mayor and his wife, Jim and Susan Shevlin.
They''d had dinner at the hotel and were heading home. We exchanged greetings, and I assumed they would spread the word and ruin my surprise arrival for sure. But no one seems to have heard that I''m in town. What has happened to the Cabot Cove gossip mill?" "Nothing at all wrong with the gossip mill," Seth said with an evil grin. "I suspect all it means is you''re not as popular in these parts as you thought you were." "Oh, Seth, don''t tease Evelyn like that." I gave his hand a light slap. "Evelyn, we are all delighted to see you.
I, for one, can''t wait to hear of your adventurous travels." "Actually, Jessica, that''s not what brings me-" Walter interrupted. "Much as I''d love to hang on your every word, Evelyn, I have to get back to work. Stop by the wharf later and fill me in." He stuffed a fork overloaded with pancake into his mouth, stood, and walked to the cash register without waiting for a reply. And I suppose Pierce felt out of place, because he dropped a piece of bacon on top of a pancake and wrapped it in a paper napkin. He picked it up, said a quick round of good-byes to us, and followed along behind Walter. Evelyn dismissed them with a backhand wave.
"It''s really you two I came looking for this morning. I think there is a bit of a problem here in town that you might be able to help me solve." I was content to let Evelyn give us more information, but Seth cut right in. "Didn''t you say you arrived last night? How in the dickens did you find out about this so-called problem so quickly?" he asked. "Because I had my suspicions before I ever got on the plane in Chicago." Evelyn gave him a triumphant grin. Always a scrapper, she skipped a beat or two to wait for Seth''s response, but when there wasn''t any, a mildly disappointed Evelyn began her tale. "You know I have a good many friends in Cabot Cove," she began, and I immediately gave Seth a warning look.
Evelyn continued. "I keep in touch as much as I can, and I am always happy to hear back. But lately ." She seemed to change her tack. "You both know Bertha Mae Cormier. Her great-great-grandfather was one of the first settlers of this part of coastal Maine and she''s lived here all her life. Naturally, when I to.