A Pattern for Murder (The Bait & Stitch Cozy Mystery Series, Book 1) Read online

  "A picture? Henrikki (my real name) looks like a picture of a stuffed sausage. She is much too fat for that dress."

  "Oh, no, no." My great Aunt Ianthe cannot bear any unkindness, especially if it is aimed at one of her family members. "Hatti is not fat. She has big bones, like my side of the family."

  It was a valiant, if ridiculous, defense. Aunt Ianthe is my stepdad's aunt.

  Miss Irene, long in the habit of punctuating every conversation with a not-too germane reference from the King James Bible, chose a verse from Ezekiel.

  "Prophesy upon these bones and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!"

  No one knew what to say to that and Mrs. Ollanketo filled in that pause, too.

  "Fat can be a good thing," she yelled, an impish grin on her wrinkled face. "Perhaps Hatti is already in the family way."

  "A baby?" Aunt Ianthe was moved to utter a mild expletive of excitement. "Voi kahuia! What a splendid thing for the family, isn't it, Irene? And, of course, for Jack."

  "For unto us a child is born," Miss Irene said. "Isaiah."

  "Oh, for Pete's sake," Miss Thyra exploded. "You are all imbeciles. There isn't any baby! This isn't a real wedding!"

  Mrs. Ollanketo grinned at her. "Who's Pete?"

  "Is this thing over," Jack asked. He leered at me. "I'm ready to kiss the bride. And have a beer."

  Arvo, aware that he'd lost control of the situation and determined to accomplish the real business of the day, raised his voice.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife," he said, "and, this being the 365th day since the death of the late Johanna Marttinen, I pronounce the Painted Rock Lighthouse the official property of the Copper County Board of Commissioners. Henceforth, it will be used as a retirement home for the elderly of the Keweenaw who find themselves with a limited income and Riitta Lemppi is hereby appointed to a life term as director."

  "Hear! Hear!"

  Erik Sundback, attorney for the late Mrs. Marttinen, borrowed the phrase of approbation from a long-ago British Parliament. Sundback, who was of an age with Arvo and, in fact, looked remarkably like him, owned a condominium in Houghton on the banks of the Keweenaw Waterway near his law practice. He had spent countless hours during the past year up in Copper Country working, gratis, on the lighthouse commission. Both Arvo and Riitta, the other two members of the lighthouse commission, said they could not have handled all the paperwork without him. When I saw the way he looked at Riitta, I wondered how much was altruism and how much, attraction.

  Perspiration beaded on my upper lip and I began to worry about dehydration for the older folks. The accordion player, Mrs. Marta Mikola, may have felt the same way. In any case, she struck up Bach's Brandenburg Concerto which she executed in polka time. Captain Jack responded by grasping my shoulders and lunging at me in an attempt to reach my mouth with his and I, caught unawares, staggered backward, nearly falling on Lydia. The abrupt movement was enough to loosen the adhesive on the back of the tape and as my bodice dropped unceremoniously to my waist I thought that Sofi was right about removing the tape.

  It hurt like hell.

  I barely had time to register my topless state (or my pain) when I felt the weight of a pair of hands and the security of a man's sports jacket on my shoulders. At the same time, I inhaled a scent of expensive aftershave and I turned to thank Sir Galahad, whoever he was. But as I gazed into a pair of unfamiliar eyes which were the exact color of the lake when the sun caresses it first thing in the morning (turquoise), I couldn't come up with any words. I stared at the lean, tanned face with its straight nose, firm, dimpled jaw, and expressive eyebrows that matched the perfectly styled hair. It was old gold, like a pirate's doubloon.

  "Geez Louise," I whispered, finally. "It's Prince Charming."

  He grinned at me, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth.

  "Hardly. I'm Alex Martin, at your service."

  "Alex?" I couldn't think with that much male beauty in front of me. His perfectly sculpted lips twisted.

  "Otherwise known as, the Prodigal Son."

  "This the brother was dead and is alive again," Miss Irene said, "and was lost and is found. The gospel according to Luke."

  Chapter 3

  "Don't romanticize this, Irene!"

  Miss Thyra, who had drawn herself up to her full impressive height, barked at the smaller woman. She pointed a bony finger at the newcomer.

  "This is not about a fatted calf. This man is Judas. He's here to betray us. He's here," she intoned, revealing that she was no stranger to drama, "to steal our home."

  "I think you mean my home," Alex said, unperturbed. "I am the one who grew up here. It was my mother who died last year and left me the lighthouse and the residue of her fortune. This is my inheritance and I am here to claim it."

  "It's too late," Arvo said, in a hoarse whisper. "Time has run out. You had a year and the year is up."

  "I doubt whether the court will see it that way," Alex said, pleasantly. "After all, I was only informed about the provisions of the Will last week. And I have arrived here within hours of the deadline."

  "Look," I said, finally finding my voice. "You don't understand the situation. My cousin has turned the lighthouse into a retirement home for folks who have nowhere else to live. They have come here in good faith and it's their home now. You can't throw them out."

  He lifted a golden eyebrow.

  "I suppose they could take up residence at the clubhouse. I have had an offer from a golf course developer."

  Aunt Ianthe's response to his sarcasm revealed our communal state of mind. We all tend to think of what's good for the community.

  "We don't need a golf course," she said, quite seriously. "There's a driving range at Eagle River and Pat's Par Three down at Chassell."

  "For heaven's sake, Ianthe." Miss Thyra sounded bitter. "This has nothing to do with golf. It's about profit. This-this-interloper wants to make money by selling our home." She narrowed her light, colorless eyes at him. "He's willing to sell us down the river for filthy lucre that I would guess he does not even need."

  Alex Martin nodded. "You are quite right. I don't need the money. And yet, the property belongs to me. Why should I hand it over to people I don't even know? I am neither a philanthropist nor a fool, as it happens. Perhaps you would like to make me an offer."

  "Of course," Aunt Ianthe said, happily. "We can use Johanna's trust fund money to buy the lighthouse. It is a perfect solution!"

  "Not really," Arvo said, dispiritedly. "The trust fund is part of his inheritance. That belongs to Mr. Martin, too." He looked at his co-commissioners, Erik Sundback and Riitta. Alex followed his gaze and then went very still.

  "Riitta?"

  There was a hoarseness in Alex's voice as he zeroed in on my cousin.

  "Hello, Alex," she said, her face pale, her voice expressionless. "Welcome home."

  "Let me echo that sentiment," Erik Sundback said. He introduced himself to the heir. "Your dear mother would have been so pleased to see you here. But, why not come inside for a drink? We can talk about this situation and figure out the best solution." After the honest comments of the others, Erik sounded like a used car salesman. I tried to remember that he wasn't personally affected by any of this.

  "Yes, yes," Arvo said, "Erik is right. We will work something out. In the meantime, we should get the ladies out of the sun, eh? And get ready for tonight's festival."

  Alex Martin couldn't seem to take his eyes off Riitta. He watched her haul Mrs. Ollanketo to her feet and help support the heavyset old lady as she tottered toward the house. At nearly forty, my cousin Riitta has retained her long, honey-colored hair and her slender figure. The only sign of age are a few laugh lines radiating from eyes the color of robin's eggs. She's a good person who seems to glow from within and Erik Sundback isn't the only man interested in her. For Tom Kukka, the doctor who takes care of the old folks at the lighthouse, Riitta is the North Star.

  It seemed fairly obvious that Riitta and Alex had met
before but it must have been more than twenty years earlier, since he had left the Keweenaw at that point and never been back. I was thinking about that as I clutched the Prodigal's jacket around me and started to walk toward the lighthouse, up the front porch steps, down the corridor and to the wide, walnut stairs that led to the second floor. It wasn't until I got to the landing that I realized I wasn't alone.

  "I'm not stalking you, I promise," his pleasant voice was low in my ear. "I'm not even stalking my jacket. The light keeper's study up in the tower was always my favorite room and I'm planning to make it my headquarters while I'm here. Under the circumstances, I don't think it would be prudent to ask for a bed."

  "My bedroom is that little closet up in the tower," I said, my heart trip-hammering in my chest.

  He laughed. "Then we'll be neighbors. Don't hesitate to drop in for a cup of sugar."

  Was he flirting with me? This sun god who had returned to the Keweenaw to blow up the hopes for a retirement home? I ignored a flutter of excitement in my stomach and frowned at him.

  He gave me a slow, nearly irresistible grin. "What's a girl like you doing in a dying place like this?"

  "The Keweenaw isn't dying," I snapped. "The people here are living their lives just like anybody else. The mines are closed and the jobs are gone but we have a close-knit community that is forging a new identity and we have irons in the fire in terms of tourism."

  His grin widened. "I meant what are you doing at an old folks home. You have to admit, it's a dying place."

  "Death," I said, tight-lipped, "is not a popular topic of discussion around here."

  "Not discussing it doesn't make it less true. I like you, princess, but I'm damned if I can see any point in giving up millions of dollars so a handful of ancients can spend their last hours in my childhood home."

  He didn't look quite as royal after that. I'm not going to lie. He still looked really, really good, but somehow, he was less attractive. A little less, anyway.

  When we reached the second floor, a teenager wearing nothing but shorts and running shoes passed us on his way down.

  "Hey, Hatti," he said. "Wardrobe malfunction?"

  "Something like that." In spite of my irritation at Alex Martin I remembered my manners. "This is Alex Martin," I said. "His mother used to own the lighthouse. Alex, this is Danny Thorne, Riitta's son."

  Alex held out his hand but, after a few seconds, he let it drop. The two stared at each other with matching looks of disbelief on their faces. The faces mirrored each other. Two sets of turquoise eyes flared under identical thatches of golden hair. Danny came to his senses first, mumbled, "excuse me" and clattered down the steps. Alex watched him go then looked at me. We were still staring at each other when Miss Irene joined us on the landing.

  "Hatti, dear, I know it was a make-believe wedding," she said. "But is there going to be a baby?"

  Chapter 4

  I stood at the window in my bedroom and watched a stream of vehicles serpentine their way along the dusty, unpaved road that connected the interstate with the lighthouse. From fifty feet up they looked like toy cars as they threaded through the randomly planted white pines on the landward side of the house. One by one the vehicles disgorged human beings, coolers, beach umbrellas, chairs and blankets and I could hear the sounds of chatter and excitement as they moved through the early evening sun toward the lighthouse yard and the shoreline.

  It was quite a turnout and I took my hat off to Arvo and his public relations czar, Betty Ann Pritula, the host of KPLW's morning show, "The Finnish Line" or, as Pops likes to call it, "The Finnish-me-off Line." Betty Ann considers herself a cross between Edward R. Murrow, Martha Stuart and the town crier. She is a craft maven and a household tips guru who provides lectures on how to make wreaths of out pussy willow branches, how to spice up tuna casserole by adding cilantro and how to get red crayon out of the coat of a white cat.

  Betty Ann also keeps us informed of everything that's happening from the church picnics, Girl Scout meetings, major birthday celebrations, sales at the shops in town and most of all, Arvo's festivals. The thing is, she doesn't just tell us about the events. She coaxes, cajoles and guilt trips us into attending them. Needless to say, Arvo simply adores her.

  I placed Alex's jacket on a hanger, removed what was left of my grandmother's dress, pulled on a red-striped tank top, red shorts and red flip-flops. The brush I ran through my hair made no real difference. The chrysanthemum leaves pretty much always did what they chose. I stepped out onto the landing and noticed the door to the lightkeeper's study, which is also called a watch room, was standing open and Alex was out on the gallery gazing at the lake.

  At this distance he looked no older than Danny. He spotted me and came back inside.

  "Thank you for the jacket," I said, handing it to him. "It was a lifesaver."

  "Come in for a minute," he said, accepting the garment. "Have you been in here before?"

  "Briefly. Captain Jack gave me a tour when I first arrived."

  "Captain Jack?" He grinned. "Your new husband?"

  "I'm not sure we're actually married. Arvo never even said the vows."

  I looked around the room at the heavy, mahogany desk, the old-fashioned secretary in the corner, the wooden rocking chair, the rag rugs on the floor and the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the curve of the room. Outside, some six or eight feet along the low-railed gallery, there was a stationary ladder composed of iron footholds that led to the lantern room. And, in the center of the ceiling was a circular opening with a rope ladder that could be released to allow someone to climb up to the lantern room or down from it.

  "This was always my favorite place in the house," Alex said. "Up here in the tower, overlooking the sea, I was a sea captain or a pirate. I was king of my world, master of all I surveyed."

  "Pretty heady stuff for a young boy."

  "Pretty lonely stuff, too," he said. "I wasn't allowed to go to school. Mother brought in tutors."

  "Why?"

  "She had a kind of agoraphobia. Of course I didn't understand that at the time. I just felt the restrictions and resented them." He looked out the window again. "This seems like a good place to go over my mother's papers. She used to keep them up here in the desk. I imagine they're still here."

  "What're you hoping to find?"

  "Oh, nothing in particular. I like to be thorough." He was lying and I wondered why. He shrugged at my inquiring look. "That's how I've been so successful out in L.A. I do not let grass grow under my feet. Or, in this case, maybe I should say I don't let sand accumulate."

  "So you're determined to take the lighthouse away from Riitta and the others?"

  A cloud darkened his handsome face.

  "I have only one long-standing, unalterable policy, Hatti. I don't let anyone take advantage of me."

  "Alex," I said, because I just couldn't seem to help myself, "did you know Riitta before?"

  He looked away from me and back through the window at the water. It was six o'clock and the sun was still well above the horizon. The rays hit the water at a slant, illuminating the ruffles of foam as the waves came into the shore. They reminded me of the precision of a well-trained marching band.

  "She worked here as a maid one summer after high school. You can imagine how she bewitched me, I, who had had no friends before that. My mother realized her mistake and finally gave me permission to leave which I did. I cared about Riitta but I cared more about freedom."

  "And Danny?"

  It was unconscionably rude but he seemed so open and so thunderstruck.

  "I didn't know about Danny. She never told me."

  "Do you think your mother knew?"

  Alex nodded. "That's why she included the caveat in the will. She wanted me to come back to the Keweenaw. She wanted me to meet Danny."

  It was a sobering thought and cast a new light on Alex's part in the lighthouse drama.

  The evening was long and festive and culminated in a brilliant display of Northern Lights just
after the sun finally set around ten thirty. The light display morphed into a ferocious storm, one of the kind that had killed tens of thousands of sailors and sunk some six thousand ships.

  That night Lydia joined Larry and me in our little tower bedroom and, thanks to the crashing thunder and the brilliant lightning, the dogs were plastered against me on the bed.

  It had been a tumultuous day and a crazy night and I was dog-tired, too tired, in fact, to think much about the fact that it was my first wedding anniversary and I was in a narrow bed sandwiched by a basset hound and a poodle. I breathed in with my left nostril and out with my right the way Chakra, my yoga instructor, had taught me and I could feel sleep approaching. I was almost there when I heard a familiar, angry voice.

  "You ruined her life," Danny Thorne shouted. "You owe her, dammit!"

  "Quiet down, son." Alex sounded half amused. "Do you want the Canadians on the other side of the lake to hear you?"

  "Don't call me son." Danny's voice had dropped to a menacing growl. "What are you going to do? Are you going to give her the lighthouse?"

  "First thing I'm going to do is apologize. I didn't know about you but that's no excuse. I should never have left your mother with no support. But as far as ruining her life, it seems to me she got the better end of the deal. She got you."

  "Those are just words," Danny said. I pictured the way his brow furrowed when he was angry. "They don't mean anything. What I want to know is what you're going to do for her now."

  "And what I'm going to do for you?"

  Alex spoke in a pleasant, conversational tone but I shivered at the insult and expected Danny to mount an impassioned defense of himself. But he didn't do that. He stuck to business just the way, I suspected, his father would have.

  "I don't care what you do for me and I don't care what you think of me. What I want to know is whether you are going to give the house to Riitta and Tom."