Skating on Thin Ice (7 page)

“Or you’ll what? You have a contract, Devlin. If you think—”

“Mrs. Fletcher?” Lyla said from close behind me. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh, you startled me. No, thank you, dear.”

“Are you feeling all right? No headache from the fall earlier?”

“I’m fine, Lyla. I was just exploring, seeing the changes that Mr. Coddington has made.”

“Well, let me show you around,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the argument.

The voices fell silent.

Lyla walked in front of me. When she reached Coddington’s office, she pulled the door closed. “I think they might like some privacy,” she said. “Don’t you?”

T
he following morning I was in Mara’s Luncheonette, a popular dockside restaurant in downtown

Cabot Cove and home to the best blueberry pancakes in all of Maine, maybe all of the country. In addition to serving good food, Mara’s was a prime spot in the town’s gossip league, which also included Sassi’s Bakery and the Cabot Cove Post Office. And, of course, there was always Loretta’s Beauty Shop. Among them they regularly scooped the
Gazette
on local news, which was why Evelyn Phillips made certain to stop at each place on an almost daily basis. On this morning she was detailing her plans for coverage of rehearsals for the upcoming skating exhibition. She buttered her toasted bagel and tapped the lip of her cup to show Mara she wanted more coffee.

“Our regular photographer ran out on me,” Evelyn said to me. “He’s driving his daughter up to school in Montreal. He should be back in time for the exhibition, but in the meantime Richard Koser said he’d take pictures for me on Saturday. He’s calling himself the paper’s ‘second-string photographer,’ told me to order him business cards with that title. Smart aleck! But I need him. I’m going with a double truck of photos in the center of the issue. It’s a slow news week.” She took a bite of her bagel.

“What’s a double truck?” Mara asked.

“That’s newspaper talk for a two-page centerfold,” I said, saving Evelyn from having to speak with her mouth full.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so? ‘Double truck’ sounds like a tandem tractor trailer.”

Evelyn swallowed and took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t like to refer to a centerfold in the newspaper,” she said. “People always get the wrong idea.”

“You mean no naked pictures of Alexei Olshansky or Brian Devlin?” Mara said, chuckling. “Too bad. I kinda like that idea.”

“See what I mean?” Evelyn said. “Who’s the new waiter?” she asked, cocking her head toward a young man delivering two orders of pancakes to a table by the window. “Haven’t seen him around before.”

“I think I saw him at Charles Department Store the other evening,” I said.

“That’s Tommy Hunter,” Mara replied. “Isn’t he just the cutest kid?” She lowered her voice. “Came up from New York City. Told me he lost his folks a few years ago in a car wreck, poor thing. He’s working his way through college.”

“He looks too young for college,” Evelyn said.

“He showed me his California driver’s license. He’s twenty-one.”

“I thought you said he was from New York,” Evelyn said.

“Must have moved there from California,” Mara offered.

“How did you find him?” I asked.

“He found me,” Mara replied. “He had breakfast here a few days ago, raved about my pancakes, paid his bill, then asked if I had any openings for work.”

“Smart kid,” Evelyn said. “He knew right away how to get around you.”

“At least he paid his bill
first
,” Mara said. “But he’s been a big hit since he started. Real mannerly. A little shy. He offered to teach me how to use the computer for my accounting. I don’t know if I’ll take him up on it, though. Those machines scare me.”

“Mara, you’ve had that computer for three years,” I said. “You must use it for something. Don’t you?”

“Just to e-mail my sister in Bangor.”

“You could just as easily call her up,” Evelyn pointed out.

“I do that, too. Anyway, Tommy said he’d show me what I need to do. I think he’s a good addition to the staff.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said.

“Let me introduce you.” Mara called out, “Tommy, come meet these ladies while I go refill this pot.”

“I’ll refill it for you, if you like,” Tommy said. He was a slight young man with close-clipped sandy hair and a baby face.

“Isn’t he sweet?” Mara said. “No, thanks, hon. The coffee is my job. How else would I learn about what’s going on in this town if I didn’t go table to table? Say hello to Evelyn Phillips and Jessica Fletcher. Mrs. Phillips is the editor of the town paper, and Mrs. Fletcher is our resident celebrity.”

“Mara, please,” I said.

“Well, you are, Jessica, and I like to brag about you.”

“Wh-why are you a celebrity, Mrs. Fletcher?” the young man asked.

“You see, Mara, I’m not such a celebrity as you think.”

The young man’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“She wasn’t a finalist on
American Idol
,” Evelyn put in. “That’s probably why you don’t know her name.”

“This is the famous J. B. Fletcher,” Mara said.

“Stop that, you two.” I turned to Tommy. “I write mysteries under the name J. B. Fletcher. If you’re not a mystery fan, you wouldn’t have heard of me. And even if you are, you might not have heard of me.”

“Nonsense,” Evelyn said. “If he reads mysteries, he knows your name.”

“Um, I don’t read much, I mean books, that is, actually. I’m kind of more of a sports fan,” he said, looking nervous. “Can I get you anything? Mara has a terrific special, chicken noodle soup, perfect for a cold day.” He pulled a black pencil from behind his ear and started scribbling on his order pad, clearly eager to make his escape.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn said. “The bagel is enough, but I wouldn’t mind more coffee.” She eyed Mara’s empty pot.

“Coming up,” Mara said and went behind the counter.

“I’ll have a cup of the soup,” I said, “and some whole wheat toast.”

“Speaking of a cold day,” Evelyn said after Tommy went to fill my order, “it’s supposed to snow like the dickens this weekend. I’m praying it won’t interfere with the rehearsals. That’s my lead story. That and the Russians in town. I bet their government is hopping mad that Alexei and Christine are going to skate for America in the next Olympics.”

“They haven’t even skated together in public yet. It’s a little early to assume they’ll make the Olympic team,” I said. “And doesn’t he have to have American citizenship first?”

“He does, I think. I’ll ask Devlin. He’s addressing the Cabot Cove Chamber of Commerce today. I’m going to stop by before I meet Richard at my office. Want to join me?”

“Yes, I’d like to hear his talk.”

“Thought you might. How’s the skating going? Heard you took a tumble.”

“I was hoping no one would hear about that. Who told
you
?”

“Doc Hazlitt.”

I sighed. “I have to admit that Seth cautioned me about falling.”

“Lyla, the assistant coach at the ice arena, also mentioned it to me, but I don’t plan to put it in the paper. I’m not that desperate for news.”

I laughed. “I appreciate that.”

“What made you decide to take up skating again?”

“You’re partially responsible.”

“I am?” Evelyn looked at me skeptically.

“I’ve been reading all your coverage of the renovations to the rink, and the excitement about the pairs program and the new coach. I guess I just got a yen to try it again.”

“If you say so, Jessica, but I’m no lumper’s helper. Sure you don’t have some other motive, something else up your sleeve?”

I smiled. “You’re looking for news where there is none, Evelyn.”

“We’ll see,” she said, wrapping the second half of her bagel in a napkin and tucking it in her shoulder bag.

We left Mara’s and walked over to Nudd’s Bait & Tackle, where the chamber of commerce was meeting. Nudd’s was the center of attention in the summertime, when Cabot Cove was filled with tourists and fishermen. Its barnlike interior was a popular stop, especially for children, who goggled at the huge fish mounted high on the walls and rafters, the small whale arched over one of the doors, and a fierce-looking shark over another. But business dwindled in the winter. Any fishermen going out had stocked up before dawn, the busiest time, and the remainder of the day for Nudd’s was mostly long and empty. To fill his time and space—and sell the occasional item—Nudd volunteered his store for local gatherings. While the town’s other fraternal organizations—the Lions, Moose, garden club, Rotary, and others—held their meetings at local restaurants, Cabot Cove’s chamber of commerce chose Nudd’s because he was an active member and to show its support for local businesses. He didn’t charge a fee for using the space, which warmed everyone’s thrifty Yankee souls; attendees paid only for the buffet lunch, which was catered by Mara’s Luncheonette.

Folding chairs had been set up at makeshift tables toward the front, with several rows without tables at the rear for people who weren’t interested in eating. All the tables were occupied when Evelyn and I arrived, and most of the seats in the front were, too. We took seats in the back near the door.

Tim Purdy, Cabot Cove’s historian and the chamber’s longtime treasurer, who’d also been elected president when no one else wanted the headaches, tapped on the microphone with his fingernail to make certain it was working. A screen on a tripod stand behind him showed a picture of Christine and Alexei in matching costumes and sporting big smiles.

“Our speaker is our outstanding figure skating coach, Brian Devlin, of the Cabot Cove Ice Arena,” Tim said, rattling a piece of paper. “Mr. Devlin is considered—” Tim raised his chin to look down through the bottom of his glasses at the paper in his hand. “He’s considered one of the best pairs coaches and choreographers in the country. He’s a former gold medalist, a professional skater for many years before turning to coaching at the world-famous skating center at Hackensack, New Jersey. That means he’s not a New Englander, but we won’t hold that against him, I guess.” There was laughter. “He’s going to fill us in on what he does and explain his plans for the rinks. Let’s give a warm Cabot Cove welcome to Brian Devlin.”

There was a round of applause as Devlin stepped to the microphone. Without the bulky brown jacket that all the arena personnel wore, and without the added height provided by skate blades, he looked different than he appeared at the rink. He was shorter, of course, maybe just shy of six feet, and with a slender build, but his shoulders were broad under a tan wool sports jacket worn over dark blue jeans. He had shaved for the occasion, revealing a dimple in his chin that his usual whiskers obscured.

“My, my, he
is
handsome,” Evelyn whispered to me. “I can see why all the ladies are gaga over him.”

“Are they?”

“Oh, yes. I hear they beat a path to his door. The older ones, that is. Some of the younger ones are smitten with Alexei Olshansky.”

“Not Marisa, the young woman who works at the rink. She’s crazy about Devlin, not Alexei.”

“She’s in the minority,” Evelyn said. “Between the two of them, the ladies in Cabot Cove have a lot to talk about. Not so sure how the men feel about them, though.”

Devlin cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming today. I must say Cabot Cove has made me feel very much at home these past few months, and I thank you for that. My dad was in the military for twenty years, and we moved around a lot, ending up at Nellis Air Force Base before he retired. Having been a military brat, the opportunity to put down roots in as nice a town as you have here is deeply gratifying.”

I looked around. He had everyone’s ear.

“I want to tell you a little about figure skating and what we hope to accomplish at the arena, and leave you some time for questions. But I won’t talk too long. By the way, I understand there’s a nor’easter coming in this weekend. I’m not sure how my car will handle a Maine snowstorm. I hope there’s at least one tow operator in the room.”

There was a general chuckle.

“Al’s Garage can help you out,” someone at a front table said as he stood.

“Sit down, Witham,” Tim said. “You don’t have to advertise here. We all know who you are.”

“Well, he asked, Tim. Just thought I’d be of help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Witham,” Devlin said. “I’ll get your business card before I leave.”

The picture behind him changed to a bar chart. “Just a few statistics to start off. I’m happy to see so many businesswomen with us today because women comprise the major portion of figure skating’s fan base—seventy percent, in fact. It’s the number one spectator sport of women and their teenage daughters. This will come as no surprise to the gentlemen here, but women prefer to watch figure skating on television than college basketball or football, tennis, or professional hockey.”

“That’s why I gotta fight my wife for the remote during the Super Bowl,” said Al Witham.

“That’s called counterprogramming, Mr. Witham,” Devlin said. “The TV folks are no fools. They usually put skating on the schedule opposite a big sports event. You don’t have to give up your Sunday game, but guys, if you want to woo your ladies, you should get tickets to the skating exhibition we’re putting on the Saturday after this.”

“We have some flyers up here on the counter,” Tim put in. “Don’t get up now. You can pick one up on your way out.”

Devlin continued. “Americans love all kinds of skating—figure skating, speed skating, hockey—not just as spectators but as participants, too. Skating is great at any time of life, from toddlers through seniors. My mother put me on skates as soon as I could walk. I was skating as part of a pair by the time I was six, in competitions at nine. But you can start skating at any age. We have quite a few older folks taking up skating or coming back to it after a time away. I see a few familiar faces here.” He looked to the rear of the room and smiled at me, causing heads to turn.