Trouble Island Page 5

  Jacques was focused on cleaning my wounds, so he didn’t look up. “It’s a small island. You know what they say about familiarity breeding contempt. People have their differences. Things happen. But it doesn’t usually lead to violence.”

  “On such a small island, doesn’t it make sense to be more careful how you treat your neighbors?” I asked. “You know, you throw a brick through someone’s window, then you run into them at the coffee shop. Awkward!”

  Jacques laughed. “Well, the inn is different. Islanders are private. They don’t care much for outsiders. I wasn’t terribly popular when I bought the Sea Spray ten years ago. They saw me as this snooty French Canadian, taking over a piece of their beloved island history. It took me a long time to earn people’s trust.”

  “But you have?” Frank said. “Earned their trust, I mean?”

  Jacques sighed. Suddenly he looked very tired. I remembered it was the middle of the night after a long day for us all. “Look,” he said. “To be honest? The person who threw the brick was probably someone upset that Colton was coming and bringing a bunch of city people with him. The islanders just don’t want any trouble. They like their quiet life.”

  Frank shook his head. “That’s a crummy reason to throw a brick at someone.”

  For a few seconds, an awkward silence descended over the group.

  Colton ended it. Taking a last swig of his tea, he stood up and turned toward the stairs. “Listen, we shouldn’t make too much of this.… It was probably just someone trying to scare me. Anyway, I’m exhausted, and we should all get to bed. I’m heading up to my new room. There’s a rooster on the island, and he’ll be waking everyone up in about six hours.” After Colton had gone, it wasn’t long before the rest of us followed.

  Aunt Trudy and Gemma passed us as they went down the hallway to their rooms. Colton was fumbling with the lock on the door next to ours while Frank dug in his pocket for our key. I was just standing there, idly watching them both.

  Before Colton could disappear inside his new room, I leaned in close and touched his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay, man? That must have been really scary.”

  Colton’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for asking. Good night.” He pulled away, walked through the door, and shut it quickly—barely leaving me time to pull my hand back.

  Frank had gotten our door open. He raised an eyebrow at me, and then we both went inside. “What was that?”

  “I noticed something, and I wanted to take a closer look to confirm it,” I whispered back. “Colton’s robe pocket had a folded-up note written in thick black marker. You know what that means?”

  Frank’s eyes lit up. “I’m guessing the vandal wrapped a note around the brick… and it’s something Colton doesn’t want us to see.”

  5 MEET CUTE

  FRANK

  COLTON HADN’T BEEN KIDDING ABOUT that rooster—he was up at six and had some lungs on him.

  Rustled from our beds, Joe and I chatted about what’d happened the night before. “Why would Colton hide the note?” I asked. “Especially since whoever sent it was targeting him.”

  Joe shook his head as he dug around in his suitcase. “All I can think is there’s something in that note he doesn’t want us to know,” he replied.

  I sighed. “Wow.” This trip was supposed to be time to relax and watch Aunt Trudy live out her dream. “Rubble Island seems like a lot more than I was bargaining for.”

  Joe pulled on a T-shirt. “More like Trouble Island, amirite?”

  I groaned. “Please never say that again.”

  “Anyway, it definitely seems like something weird is happening here.”

  “Right,” I said. “Everyone keeps talking about the islanders not liking outsiders… but it really seems like Colton is less welcome than anyone else would be.”

  “Remember what happened in East Harbor?”

  I grunted. The image of the guy from the general store spitting in our direction wasn’t one I’d forget soon. Clearly, Colton was unpopular in this part of Maine, but why? What was he hiding?

  By the time we went downstairs for breakfast, around eight o’clock, Aunt Trudy had already eaten and was working on food prep with Colton in the kitchen. It looked like a couple of the “local helpers” had shown up. Colton, wearing an orange polo shirt with a tiny chili pepper embroidered on it, had two people over on the far side of the kitchen chopping vegetables, occasionally berating them about their knife skills being garbage: “You hold it at a forty-five-degree angle! Honestly, who trained you?!”

  The helpers glanced at each other, shrugged, and corrected their knife angles. Colton rolled his eyes and stared out the window. I was glad Aunt Trudy didn’t seem to be a target too.

  “Are you boys hungry?” she asked. “Oh, Joe. Your poor face! Does it hurt?”

  “Only when I move,” Joe replied.

  Aunt Trudy sighed. “Oof. Well, Polly left us some delicious scones with clotted cream, fruit salad, hard-boiled eggs.…” She indicated the walk-in pantry, and the industrial-size refrigerator beside it. There was enough food in the pantry to feed a small army. Huge sacks of organic sweet potatoes and onions lined the floor. We grabbed scones from a container on the counter, then turned our attention to the refrigerator. The shelves were stacked with different kinds of fancy cheeses, produce, meats, and other goodies. We each grabbed what we wanted, then walked back out into the kitchen, where Aunt Trudy pointed us toward the coffee and tea.

  “Are you ready?” I asked with a smile. “Only one day to go.” Colton was still on the other side of the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he stirred a huge vat of what looked like broth.

  Aunt Trudy nodded, but I could see from the tension in her face that she was feeling a little harried. She leaned in close. “Only two of the five promised ‘helpers’ from the mainland arrived on the ferry this morning,” she whispered.

  “Two of five? Do you know why?”

  Aunt Trudy shrugged. “All Colton will say is that it’s so hard to find reliable help. Who would turn down the opportunity to learn from a celebrity chef?”

  “Even if the locals don’t like outsiders, surely there are some foodies around here?” Joe said.

  Aunt Trudy glanced nervously over her shoulder. “I suggested finding some islanders who might help, but Colton changed the subject.”

  At that moment, the chef in question looked up. “Trudy! Would you mind working with Celine and Tom for a few minutes? Maybe you can teach them proper knife skills, since they clearly aren’t listening to me!”

  “Of course,” Aunt Trudy called back, before heading across the kitchen. Honestly, Colton seemed like a bit of a prima donna to me, but I was glad to see that Aunt Trudy seemed to jibe with him in a weird way. The two helpers looked relieved when she demonstrated chopping an onion, talking to them quietly and calmly. Colton also seemed relieved and went back to his broth.

  Joe and I waved at Aunt Trudy before carrying our breakfast into the empty dining room.

  “We need to figure out what’s going on,” I said, spreading jam on my (delicious) scone. “This is Aunt Trudy’s big chance to live out her dream. I don’t want her to lose out on that, and I definitely don’t want to see her put in any danger.”

  “Agreed,” Joe said. “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this for Aunt Trudy.”

  “Then I guess it’s time for us to meet some islanders and learn more about Rubble Island.”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “You mean Trouble—”

  “Please stop. Let’s not make that a thing.”

  * * *

  “Jacques has some trail maps down in the lobby,” I said as Joe and I headed upstairs. “We should grab some. Maybe if we get the lay of the land today in daylight, we’ll be ready if something else happens tonight.”

  Joe nodded. “Some of the trails are marked ‘difficult,’ ” he said. “If we do those, let’s make time for a nap later.”

  “Aw, come on.”

  Joe scowled. “Frank, we’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  I paused outside the room next to ours. “Seriously, if you’re this lazy now, what are you going to be like when you’re middle-aged?”

  “Like myself, but better.” He pulled out a multi-tool from his wallet. “Like a Joe that’s had more practice.” He knelt down and peered at the lock, then carefully inserted the flat screwdriver blade between the door and the frame, sliding it up, then down, then to the right. Finally there was a click and the door popped open.

  We glanced around the hallway, then slipped into Colton Sparks’s room.

  The space was tidy and unremarkable. It hadn’t been made up yet, but Colton’s things were stacked neatly in his suitcase, and through the open bathroom door, we could see his toiletries arranged in a small bag. We’d been looking around a little bit, careful not to make too much noise, when Joe nudged me and pointed. Colton’s bathrobe was hanging on the bathroom door. Jackpot!

  While I played lookout, Joe carefully reached into the robe’s pocket. He slowly pulled out the note, unfolded it, and aimed it in my direction. As we’d planned, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and was just snapping a picture when we heard the unmistakable sound of a housekeeping cart being pushed up the hall.

  I caught Joe’s eye. Yikes! We hadn’t really had time to work out an escape route from Colton’s room if someone was blocking the door, and seeing as the building dated back to the early twentieth century, it seemed safe to assume there weren’t a lot of emergency exits. Quickly Joe put the folded paper back in Colton’s robe pocket. We’d have time to examine the photo on my phone later.

  “So I told her, listen, there’s no way I’m doing all your errands.…” The housekeeper seemed to be talking on her phone as she made
her way down the hallway. I remembered with a groan that Colton’s room, now that he’d moved, was the first in the line of those occupied by the Golden Claw Awards party. It only made sense that the housekeeper would start here, which meant we had no time to sneak out into the hall and past the housekeeper without being seen.

  “What do we do?” I whispered to Joe as we heard the cart park just outside the door.

  He shrugged, his eyes darting around the room. “We could hide under the bed? Or in the closet?”

  I shook my head. “Are you new? She’s the housekeeper, Joe. She’ll be cleaning those places.”

  Joe looked a little hurt. “Only if she’s a good housekeeper.”

  “Let’s assume she is.”

  I could hear the key being inserted in the lock. We had only seconds to get out of sight. I nudged Joe hard with my elbow and pointed to the large bay window. Thank goodness the side windows opened out and there were no screens, so we could scramble onto the sloping roof. The door opened as we scooched down the weathered wooden shingles, just out of sight.

  Holding our breath, we waited a few moments. When we didn’t hear a cry of alarm, I knew we were safe—for now. Wordlessly, Joe pointed out toward the water. Rubble Island’s harbor was even more stunningly beautiful than it had been when we’d sailed in the previous afternoon. And since we were so high up, we could see the ocean spreading out between Seal and Heron Rocks all the way to the mainland. The rocky coast of the island curved around toward the woods to our left, and the tiny village stretched to our right.

  “Gorgeous,” I said softly.

  Joe pointed at the harbor. “Look. I think that guy sees us.” There was a man in canvas overalls and black rubber boots moving some lobster traps from the pier onto his boat. Cautiously, I raised my hand in greeting, and sure enough, he waved back. He was wearing a hat with a green-and-black-stripe pattern on the front.

  We heard a loud click behind us farther up the roof. I glanced back just in time to see the housekeeper, a young woman with her dark hair in a ponytail, stepping away from the window—which she’d clearly just locked.

  “Great,” Joe muttered, following my eye to the window. “Well, I guess it’s time we figured out how to get down from here.”

  We were too high to jump, but there didn’t seem to be any easy path down. We crawled around the roof, trying not to attract attention, before I spotted our best bet: the covered porch facing the harbor, where most of the guests ate breakfast. It was late in the morning. We probably could sneak by undetected.

  “We just have to time it right,” Joe said after I explained my plan.

  “Right,” I agreed.

  Slowly, and as silently as we could, we made our way over to the corner of the roof. The only noise we could hear was the calling of seagulls as they swooped around overhead. The lawn, the porch, the whole inn seemed to be under a silent spell.

  We scooted out over the covered porch and dangled our legs over the edge by a post that led to a waist-high railing. Joe went first, carefully wrapping his legs around the post and shinnying down. He stood on the railing, then jumped off onto the lawn. It was a good jump—six feet or so—but he landed easily, then turned around, grinning up at me.

  “Piece of cake,” he called. “Come on, Frank. Let’s get out of here.”

  I followed his lead. When my feet hit the railing, I stood up, then swung my right foot off and jumped down onto the lawn.

  I missed slightly, landing partly in a scraggly, just-budding bush. Still, apart from a few scratches, I was intact, and considering where we’d started, that felt like a victory.

  “All right!” I cried, getting to my feet. “Hardy Boys one, Sea Spray Inn zero! Amirite?”

  Then I noticed the look on Joe’s face. He did not look like I was “rite.” He glanced at me quickly, then back at the porch, pointing awkwardly into the shadows.

  Huddled under one of the porch’s eaves, in a corner near a potted plant, stood a boy slightly younger than Joe. He had in wireless earbuds and was clearly listening to something on his phone.

  “Hi,” he said, unhooking one earbud and looking right at us.

  6 LAY OF THE LAND

  JOE

  HI,” I REPLIED. I CONSIDER myself pretty smooth—I mean, definitely compared to Frank—but even I was struggling to keep it cool and breezy. This dude had just watched us casually climb off the hotel’s roof. What possible explanation could there be for that?

  He moved closer to us, pointing up at the porch overhang. “Were you guys checking out the widow’s walk?”

  “Ah,” said Frank, looking up at the roof and gesturing like some disco robot. See, it’s not hard to seem smooth compared to him.

  “It’s supercool,” the boy said. As he stepped into a beam of sunlight, I could see that he had a medium-brown complexion, with chocolate eyes and wavy, chin-length chestnut hair. “My dad decided it was too dangerous to let guests go up there because the steps are kind of steep and the railing is old and not really high enough for kids. Last year he closed off the stairway on the inside of the building. Now you can only get there from the roof. You’re not really supposed to go up there, but I love to, honestly. You can’t beat the view. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, it’s amazing up there. I’m sorry, you said your dad closed it off?”

  “Yeah,” the boy said, holding out his hand. “I should introduce myself. I’m Dev, Jacques’s son. I was working with a friend on a school project last night, so I missed dinner.”

  Ahhh. The son Jacques had mentioned last night. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Joe Hardy, and this is my older brother, Frank.”

  Dev smiled and shook Frank’s hand too. Then he reached up to pull out his other earbud before sticking them in his pocket. “Are you guys with Colton Sparks’s group?”

  “That’s right,” Frank said. “But we’re not really part of the group. We’re just kind of… group-adjacent.”

  When Dev looked confused, I explained, “We’re here with our aunt, who won the chance to be Colton’s intern. Our school’s on vacation this week, and Aunt Trudy was allowed to bring guests, so we decided to tag along.”

  “Cool,” said Dev, nodding. “Your aunt must be a great cook.”

  “The best,” I agreed. “And she’s a big fan of Colton’s, so this is a lot of fun for her. Do you go to the school here on the island?”

  “Yeah.” Dev glanced at his watch. “It’s tiny. There are, like, fifteen of us for all of kindergarten through twelfth.”

  “That must be interesting,” Frank said.

  Dev ran a hand through his hair, pinning it behind one ear. “Interesting, yeah. It’s actually kind of cool. You really get to know your classmates, and the older kids help teach the younger ones. I’m in tenth grade.”

  “Are you on vacation this week too?” I asked.

  “Actually, no.” Dev shook his head. “We don’t get a break until Easter. But today is the start of lobster season, which is kind of a big deal, so we have it off.”

  “The start of lobster season?” Frank asked. “I thought you could lobster year-round. At least, that’s what I saw online when I was getting ready for our trip.”

  “You can,” Dev explained, “but a few years ago, the lobstermen and -women on Rubble Island got together and mutually agreed to take the winters off so that the lobster population could grow back up, and they could take advantage of the higher summer prices. Lobstering can be a competitive, nasty business—a guy a few islands away got shot a several years back for trapping on another lobsterman’s territory. Folks here want to avoid all that, so they try to work together.”

  “That’s cool,” I said. “What happens on the first day of the season that makes it so special?”

  Dev smiled and shrugged. “Come with me to the pier and see for yourself. I was just about to head down there.”

  I looked at Frank. I hadn’t forgotten about the note from Colton’s room, but this seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. After all, if we were looking to learn more about Rubble Island, I couldn’t think of a better way to do that than to go exploring with a local. Frank nodded, and I could tell from his expression that he was thinking the same thing I was.