Dean - A Little Taste of Murder

Youre not thinking of jumping, are ya?

Claire turned around, still gripping the wet guardrail. The cold seeped through her thin gloves. The mans question, asked with a note of genuine concern, was far too close to her own dark thoughts.

Well, not right now, Im not.

A bitter December wind pulled tendrils of her hair around her face, and she brushed the strands back impatiently. She blinked at the middle-aged police officer, her previous reverie broken by the sound of authority in his voice. He looked down his hawk-like nose at her for a moment, apparently considering what to do next. His brown eyes, shaded by salt-and-pepper eyebrows, seemed to be both kind and worried. The flat brim of his hat dripped rain off the side, running down the thick jacket over his uniform. A dark sedan was parked behind him, pulled off to the shoulder of the twisting country road. The door was still open, as if hed gotten out in haste, and the bar of red and blue lights on top were turned off.

My car died, and I was waiting for the tow truck, Claire said, almost apologetically. Im just waiting. Nothing else. No plans to jump, I promise.

Glad to hear it, he said, with a sigh. I mean, Im not happy your car died, but Im glad youre not thinking about jumping. Id hate to think that this viewpoint would have such a tragic thing happen. People would have to think about it whenever they stopped to look down at Brightwater Bay. He smiled. Thatd be terrible for the town, you know.

It took a moment for her to understand that the police officer was trying to crack a very bad joke, but she smiled anyway. Terrible.

The cop looked out at the view, ignoring the drizzling rain as it pelted them both. Pretty, isnt it?

Claire couldnt help but agree. From the highway, the thickly-forested bluff dropped steeply downward, wisps of coastal mist lingering over it and softening the scene. It was winter in Washington State, and the late afternoon light was already dimming. The town below, hugging the edge of inland waters of the Pacific Ocean, was sprawled across the lowest level of land. Claire could make out a marina full of small white boats, and a large dock where a ferry was patiently sitting, waiting for travelers. Over a mile to the right, a cluster of buildings by the waters edge were grouped around a central, sprawling lodge. Lights in houses and on street corners blinked on against the oncoming night. She briefly wondered about the people living there, heading home to their dinners and their families. It was an odd thought, that each light represented at least one person, living out their lives in a quiet town only a couple of miles long.

Which tow company did you call? Was it Ben Drapers Towing?

When Claire nodded in answer, the cop gave a short huff of irritation. Youll be waiting all night, if its Draper. He may be down at the tavern with his buddies or he could be out checking his crab traps.

Claires eyes widened in alarm. Im supposed to be at a rental house tonight, on Lopez Island. If I dont get this car fixed right away Im going to miss the last ferry. She quickly dug in her oversized purse and pulled out a folded schedule. Pointing to one of the lines on it, she showed it to the police officer. See? I have until 6. If the car can get fixed right away maybe I can still make it.

The cop shook his head, his eyebrows knit together in concern, and took the schedule from her hands, flipping it over. This timetable is for summer, when all the tourists are around and the ferries are full, he said, pointing at the dates for emphasis. Its almost Christmas, and in winter the ferry doesnt run as often. I hate to tell you this, but youve already missed the last one today. He looked up. Sorry, but I think youre stuck in Brightwater Bay for tonight.

Great, she said, not meaning it at all. Claire let out a long breath of frustration. It had been a stressful day already. Her car had started making a strange clunking sound just after shed driven by Bellingham, and by the time shed passed two more small towns it had finally given out altogether, coasting to a silent stop next to the road as shed mentally cursed her luck.

The policeman peered at her. Look, its miserable out here today. How about I give you a lift into town so you can get out of the weather and maybe have some hot coffee? The diner has pecan pie on special today, and it makes a really great chicken fried steak. Ill call Ben and let him know where to tow your car.

Rainwater trickling into her eyes, Claire nodded, then quickly checked the cops nameplate. Id appreciate it, OfficererPortman. She glanced back at her car, the hood still gaping open in distress. Can I bring a friend with me?

Call me Darryl, the officer said, turning to look at her car. Of course you can bring a friend, he added, then laughed when Claire opened the door and pulled a small black and white dog of indeterminate breed out of the passenger seat.

Im Claire, and this is Roscoe, Claire said, tucking the fluffy animal under her arm as she made the introduction. Hes my killer guard dog.

Oh, I can definitely tell that, Darryl said with a grin as Roscoe wagged his plume-like tail and stretched his head over to sniff Darryls coat. What does he do? Lick bad guys to death?

The drive into town was full of twists and turns as the road dropped down further and further toward the protected bay. It was the first time Claire had ridden in a police car, and she couldnt help but think it was much better to sit in the front with Officer Portman than it wouldve been to sit in the back, behind the grille-like panel that kept the policeman safe from passengers he could be taking to jail. The heater struggled to keep up with the December chill and to reduce the steam on the inside of the windows. Wiping a hand across the damp glass by her shoulder, Claire looked out. She could see far off dots of forested islands and peninsulas in the gray expanse of ocean water, and she idly wondered which bits of land were part of the San Juan Islands and which were attached to the mainland. The map shed been using showed over a hundred and fifty islands in the area, some attached by bridges and some only accessible by boat or ferry, and she didnt know which was which yet. Lopez Island didnt have a bridge, and if shed missed the last ferry shed just have to wait until the next day to get there. Shed made the reservation for a small rental house online, telling herself she was doing it for the cheap price and the possibility of December snow.

The truth was she didnt think she could stand another Christmas by herself in her empty home in Arizona. Last winter had been bad enough. It had been worth packing an overstuffed suitcase and a patient dog into her car for a long road trip to get this far away from everything. After days of travel, being escorted into a town by its local cop was the most adventure shed had.

Roscoe sat as tall as he could on Claires lap in the patrol car, his bright eyes locked on everything around him and his tail still wagging with excitement. There was a comfortable silence in the car. Over the last year Claire had developed a pretty good instinct of knowing when a man was interested in her and when he wasnt, and had learned to hone that ability to a fine science. Sitting in Darryls patrol car, she didnt feel threatened or nervous at all. It was surprising, because strange men normally set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was the heater blasting full force or maybe it was the kind light in Officer Portmans eyes, but Claire felt warmer than she had in some time.