Final Chapter: A Megan Montaigne Mystery (Megan Montaigne Mysteries) Read online

  “I read voraciously as a kid. And one day, I realized that in books, everything is possible.” Megan pictured in her mind the library beneath them, its rows upon rows of books. “You know how science fiction movies sometimes have mad scientists who keep endless jars of brains in some secret back room? Well, if you think about it, what you have down there—” she inclined her head in the direction of the library “—is a room full of brains. Every book is a piece of someone’s brain. When I read a book, I’m basically reading someone’s mind. Not their thoughts exactly, but you get an idea of their worldview, or at the very least, you get an idea of their understanding of humans. When I was a kid, it felt like that helped. I could understand the characters in books because I knew their motives. Books helped me figure people out.” She laughed. “I guess. Or maybe they’re just a good escape. But, I mean, libraries include everything we can think of in the universe. All possibilities. If someone has imagined it, it’s in a library. That’s pretty amazing.”

  A smile crept across Romy’s face. “A room full of brains,” she said. “I love that. That’s perfect.” A sudden thought popped her eyes wide open. “Say, you should come to my housewarming party. Next week. The house is mostly done. It’s time to celebrate.”

  “I’d be honored,” Megan said. She wrapped her arms around herself and gazed out at the reflections of lights shimmering on the river. The past year had been the worst of her life. But now, here she was, on top of a mansion sharing deep thoughts with one of the nation’s best writers, sipping wine as the moon rose up over the trees. The thought made her smile. For a moment, she felt hope again. She reached out to that hope and held it tight.

  TWO

  “What’s for lunch?” Megan said brightly as she walked into Rae’s Pub, a favorite local hangout. Rae Norris, the owner and a master chef—at least as far as standard bar and grill fare went—could never be bothered to print up an actual menu, but the food was so good that no one cared. Hungry patrons simply walked in and ate what she was serving that day, just like they’d eat whatever their moms served when they were kids. Megan settled herself onto a seat at the bar next to Officer Max Coleman, the Deputy whose beat included Emerson Falls. “Is it burgers?” Megan said, noticing a drop of ketchup and some breadcrumbs on Max’s otherwise empty plate. “I hope it’s burgers.” Rae’s burgers were legendary: juicy, always cooked to perfection (grilled to a sweet spot between medium and medium rare, because that’s how you liked it whether you knew it or not), topped with sautéed onions, shredded lettuce, fresh tomato, a sharp cheddar, and a secret tangy sauce that many had tried to replicate, but none had succeeded.

  Max gave Megan a nod of welcome. “It’s burgers,” he smiled, flashing a row of perfect white teeth. Max had become a part of the local police force less than a year prior, and Megan had often wondered why he hadn’t pursued modeling. The floppy, slightly curly black hair; the brown eyes that penetrated your soul; the physique that could be on a Police Men of the Skagit Valley Calendar, should someone ever be inclined to make one. Max was camera-ready. Surely, Megan thought, surely one day she’d find out he had a fatal flaw of some sort: he kept dozens of kittens locked up in an attic cage with no food, or he stole presents from children with cancer, or he insisted on putting cilantro into every dish he made. Megan hated cilantro.

  “Yes,” Megan said, pumping her arm to show her enthusiasm about the burgers. “So what’s new, Max?” she said, as Max reached over the counter to grab a pitcher and pour her a glass of water.

  “K9,” said Max, handing her the glass.

  “Canine? Dogs?” said Megan. She took a sip of the water. “Ahhhh,” she said. “Water.”

  Max gave her a funny look and smiled, dimples denting his cheeks. “Water is good. And K9. Letter K, number nine, not c-a-n-i-n-e. A police dog. I’ve been asking since I started if I could get one. I’m out on my own all the time, patrolling this whole area by myself. Seems only right I should have a K9 companion to keep me company while I chase down the bad guys.”

  This probably negated the possibility that he had kittens locked up in the attic. “That seems fair,” said Megan. “Good for back-up and whatnot. When will you find out?”

  “Not sure,” he said. “But probably soon. I always assume good things are going to happen soon.” He smiled again, and Megan imagined a sparkling gleam bouncing off his teeth.

  She tilted her head to ask him a very serious question. “Max, how do you feel about cilantro?”

  “Cilantro?” he said, puzzled but willing to go along with the line of questioning. “I love it. I make this great salsa, cilantro salsa. It’s delicious on everything. Cilantro’s amazing.” He raised an eyebrow: why are we talking about cilantro?

  “Cilantro is gross,” Megan said, feeling slightly smug. At last. A fault.

  The door that led to the kitchen swung open and Rae emerged carrying a plate of fries and a burger, which she set unceremoniously in front of Megan. “Heard you come in,” she said. “Burgers today.” She winked. “Eat up.”

  “You’re the best, Rae,” said Megan, cutting the enormous burger in half. “How’s things here?”

  “Woke up to another day, can’t complain,” said Rae. “Not as fancy as living in a mansion, going to celebrity open houses and such, but still, can’t complain.” She looked at Megan, the question in her eyes indicating she was awaiting some information.

  “Ah,” said Megan. “You must have talked to Lily.” Lily Bell was one of Megan's closest friends, and the only person Megan had told about being invited to Romy’s housewarming. Lily was also the owner of a local B&B, with a catering business on the side, and she had been hired to cater Romy’s party. As soon as Romy had packed up and returned to her own home, Megan had called Lily for advice on what a person should wear to such an event. Lily had promised to come over later to dig through Megan's closet to find just the right outfit.

  “Can’t believe you told Lily but didn’t tell old Rae,” said Rae, feigning offense. “How’d you get yourself invited to that?”

  “While Romy was staying at the library”—Megan felt odd calling referring to it as “my house”—“we had a lot of great conversations. She’s such a good listener. Like, you feel really heard. I guess we just bonded. She invited me. I couldn’t say no!”

  “I’m a good listener,” said Rae. “Aren’t I, Max?”

  “What?” said Max, eyes wide and innocent. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” His dimples revealed his lie.

  “You are a no-good person,” said Rae, swatting at him with a dishtowel she pulled off her shoulder. “Go on, get out of here, go save the town from some criminal.”

  Max laughed, a hearty laugh that came from his gut. He dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “I do have to be getting back to work. Keep the change.” He winked, got up, and left.

  “‘Keep the change,’” Rae mimicked. “All two dollars of it, what a gent.” But her smile showed her fondness for the police officer. Even if he hadn’t been around long, he already fit right in. “You and Lily gotta report back on that house, then,” she said to Megan. “Can’t believe old Rae didn’t get an invite.”

  “I can’t believe it, Rae,” Megan affirmed solemnly. “You’re the backbone of Emerson Falls.”

  “That’s right,” said Rae. “You tell that writer that when you see her next. Party’s Sunday?”

  “Sunday,” said Megan. “We will come back with all the scoop. I promise.”

  “What’s she like, the author? She’s come in here a couple of times but she sits at a table.” Sitting at a table at Rae’s was a sure way to identify oneself as an outsider. If they were eating alone, locals sat at the bar, unless it was full. Tables were for tourists, passing through on their way to the mountains.

  “She’s nice,” said Megan. “I really liked her. Maybe I’ll see if she wants to do an author event at the library. Honestly, I’d sort of assumed she’d be … I don’t know, too good for us. But she was down to earth. Just like a normal p
erson.”

  “Doesn’t her ex-husband live over by Concrete?” said Rae. “I’m sure I heard that. He bought up some land near the lake and started building there shortly after Romy started building here.”

  “Could be,” said Megan, shrugging. “You hear a lot more gossip than I do.”

  “That’s because I’m such a good listener,” Rae said over her shoulder, twirling her dishtowel in the air as she headed back to the kitchen.

  * * *

  Sunday morning, Megan was awake early. Had a noise startled her awake, or was it just the growing light, the lengthening days, that alerted her body it was time to get up? Regardless, she stretched and got out of bed. Giant windows and French doors on the river side of her bedroom beckoned to her. These doors led to a second, smaller deck than the one where she and Romy had sat talking the other night.

  The April air was crisp and the sun was weak, but Megan thought that if she was lucky enough to have a bedroom balcony with this magnificent view, she should use it. Padding into the kitchen, she sighed with contentment. “Green tea today, I think,” she said to the kitchen, as she poked through her tea choices. When she was alone, Megan had a tendency to talk out loud, to herself, to the room, to the river, to her thoughts, to whatever was occupying her mind. She put the electric kettle on to boil and dropped a tea bag into her favorite mug, a bright yellow oversized ceramic piece with rounded sides.

  Once the tea was ready, she headed out onto the bedroom balcony to greet the morning. “Good morning, river,” she said as she settled into her favorite Adirondack chair, painted a crisp white.

  She sipped her tea slowly, savoring the beam of sunshine that had broken through the clouds to welcome her. The river rushed by, the sound of it filling her as she contemplated the natural force. “Never the same river twice,” Megan said under her breath. She thought about the saying. The river itself was the same, but every drop today was a different drop than every drop a year ago. She watched the water as it danced and sidestepped around rocks, twirling twigs and leaves in its path to wherever it might end up, only to be replaced by the water behind it in an endless cycle of nature.

  She looked to the treetops. Come winter, the trees would be filled again with dozens of eagles in some places, perched on high, looking down into the river, watching the salmon spawning grounds for their unsuspecting prey. Megan hoped she might spot a nest; that there might be new eagle friends in her own territory that she could watch every day from her own perch.

  Her heart dropped momentarily as she thought of Zeus. She sighed heavily.

  “I know you’re still here,” she said to the treetops. A part of her brain held her hopes in suspension, waiting for an eagle to appear that surely would be a sign.

  None came.

  A cloud covered the sun again. Megan looked at her watch. Eight o’clock. The housewarming wasn’t until one. She settled into her chair and breathed.

  THREE

  At the last minute, Megan realized she’d forgotten about a housewarming gift for Romy. Houseplant? Bottle of wine? Gourmet gift food? She dug through her cupboards, found a red blend from a local winery, and decided that would be good enough. Dressed in a forest green pencil skirt and a white knit top, her long hair curled into loose waves for the event, she hopped in her car and headed to the party.

  Romy’s new home was on the other side of the river, near a side channel that broke off from the main river and re-joined about a mile downstream. Though Romy’s house was very close to the library as the eagle flies, to get there Megan had to drive several miles west to a bridge, across the river, and then back east to Romy’s property. GPS was sometimes sketchy in this area, but Romy had emailed precise directions to all the invitees. At the final turn into the driveway, someone had tied a festive bouquet of balloons. The driveway was long but ungated. A handful of construction trailers still lined the way, and a portable outhouse sat, green and garish, a few dozen feet outside the front door.

  As Megan was trying to figure out where to park, she saw a man in black jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt running toward her.

  “Kevin!” Megan exclaimed as the man approached her rolled-down window. “What are you doing here?” Kevin had been one of Zeus’s friends, a fellow river rafter, and one of the more talented ones.

  “Some extra cash,” Kevin said, leaning into Megan's window, rubbing his blond buzz cut. “My girlfriend is Romy’s assistant. She got me a job doing valet parking today.”

  Megan couldn’t believe she’d missed the news that Kevin was dating someone who worked for Romy, but then since Zeus died, she’d lost touch with the river rafting group. “It’s good to see you,” she said, a little wistfully. “Will you come join the party so we can catch up?” Zeus’s death had been especially hard on the fellow rafter. As another side job, Kevin had worked at the hangar where Zeus had been learning to fly. After Zeus died, Kevin had quit that job, saying it was too painful to return.

  Kevin straightened up. “Not sure I’ll have time, but I’ll try. Let me park your car for you. But yeah, we should catch up.” His smile was forced and sad.

  Megan felt bad for not having reached out to the young man more. She’d been Zeus’s fiancé, sure, but that didn’t mean she’d been the only one who had cared about him. She promised herself she’d make an effort to see Kevin soon. Grabbing her purse and the wine from the passenger seat, Megan stepped out of the car and handed Kevin her keys. “Thanks. It’s really good to see you, Kevin. Come inside when you can, okay? You need to tell me what’s up with your life.”

  His answer was a salute, which seemed more like a non-commitment than a reply. Megan let it slide, and headed to the front door.

  Much to Megan's surprise Romy opened the door herself, wearing a cocktail dress in a dark dusty rose. “My first guest!” Romy exclaimed, her arms flung wide in welcome. “Come in, come in!”

  Megan blushed as she looked at her watch. Just barely one o’clock. She’d overestimated how long it would take her to get there, and now she was embarrassingly right on time. Who arrived at a party right on time? “I do, that’s who.” Megan whispered the words, not realizing until they came out that she was speaking out loud.

  “What?” said Romy, linking arms with Megan and leading her inside.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so early,” Megan said. She handed Romy the wine. “Wine,” she said.

  Romy looked over the bottle with delight. “I’ve been meaning to check out this winery! Thank you!” She set the bottle on a table. “Don’t worry a bit. I like punctuality. If I say a party starts at one, then the party starts at one! Even if it’s just you and me. This gives me a chance to show you around the house and give you my full attention.” She led Megan through the various rooms of the house, pointing out her favorite features in each: the crown molding in one, a tiled fireplace in another, and the newly cured hardwood floors that had been the reason she’d needed to stay with Megan in the first place. Finally they got to the library. Megan gasped in delight at the shelves of books lining every wall, and the two short, freestanding shelves in the middle of the room. A chaise longue and an overstuffed chair sat on either side of a fireplace. Wide windows were outfitted with thick-cushioned window seats, just waiting for a reader and perhaps a cat to curl up during a rainstorm.

  Romy’s eyes danced. “I have to show you something,” she said. She dropped her arm from Megan's elbow and grasped her hand, an excited child leading her friend to a treasure. “Over here,” she said, pointing at a shelf of books near the fireplace.

  Without having to be told what she was looking at, Megan instantly recognized the aged blue cloth spines of three rows of books. “Nancy Drew!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe. “First editions?” She reached out and gently caressed the covers. “May I?” she said, looking at Romy.

  “Of course! Yes, Nancy Drew! You mentioned the other day that you’re a fan, too. I had to show you. Not all first editions, but many. Others are just from the original s
eries. But …” With great care, she pulled a book off a shelf, one of the few books that still had an intact dust cover. “The Secret of the Old Clock, first printing, 1930. This was a gift from my agent when my fiftieth book was released. She spent two years looking for it, she told me! Too bad you won’t meet her. She’s on maternity leave. My fill-in agent is coming today, though,” she said. Her pursed lips suggested she was not her temporary agent’s biggest fan.

  “This is incredible,” said Megan, flipping reverently through the book. She handed it back to Romy, scared to hold it for too long. Her eyes gleamed as she gazed around the room. “It’s all so beautiful. You must be thrilled,” said Megan.

  “Thrilled that the renovations and construction are almost over,” said Romy. “Never again! Now, let me show you to the back. Where all the action is! We lucked out on a nice, sunny day, so we’re having the party outside.” She led Megan out a set of French doors onto a patio where catering staff were busily milling about, arranging platters of appetizers on one long table in the middle and setting out the final centerpieces on round tables covered with crisp white linen.

  Megan saw her friend Lily at the main table and waved.

  “You know Lily?” said Romy. A woman approached them with a tray of cocktails and wine. Romy picked a glass of red from the tray, and Megan selected what looked like it might be a margarita on the rocks.

  “One of my closest friends,” said Megan. “You were smart to hire her. She’s the best.” She looked around the vast, impeccably landscaped lawn. “Again, all so beautiful. Well done.”

  “I can’t take the credit. I signed the checks; that’s about it. But thank you. It’s becoming the sanctuary I wanted. I can’t wait for the workers and that porta-potty to be gone, though, that’s for sure!” She continued to lead Megan around the parameter of the house, pointing out her favorite plants, a decorative bench, and in the distance, a teak lattice structure, from which a very large hammock hung. As they neared the side of the house, a large pool came into view, out toward the edge of the property.