Blue Heron Mysteries - Complete Works

Blue Heron Mysteries

Complete Works

By

Susan A. Jennings

Hannah and Tom Wilton spend the summers and winter weekends, at Blue Heron Cottage enjoying their retirement, on the shores of tranquil Black Lake, Ontario Canada. Hannah, an amateur sleuth and photographer, has a propensity to get involved in strange, quirky and often dangerous happenings including murder and drugs, an unlikely thief aa few gruesome murders and the cunning kidnapping of a little girl and a heart warming story around a glowing wood stove.

With minor changes some of these stories have been previously published in the Black Lake Chronicles  Vol. 1 – 6 by The Ottawa Story Spinners

DISCLAIMER:

These stories are a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is pure coincidence.

Dedication:

To

The Ottawa Story Spinners:

Without whose support, enthusiasm and critical eye these

stories would not have been published.

The Big Island Mysteries

Hannah Wilton woke to her heart pounding. The pit of her stomach was in fight or flight mode, angry voices, a mournful, blood curdling cry and splashing water were swirling in her head. She opened her eyes as the digital numbers flipped over to 3.00 am. Taking a deep breath she sat up in bed, for fear that the nightmare would return.

Pulling the sheet back she slowly swung her legs to the floor, watching Tom’s chest rise and fall in deep sleep. Just looking at him made her feel better she loved him as much, if not more, than the day she married him, forty years ago. She moved quietly into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk spilling some on the counter, her hands were shaking.

That was a disturbing nightmare, she whispered. Instinctively avoiding the squeaky areas of the old maple floor, she stepped over to the patio door, easing it open. She leaned out, the air felt, only slightly cooler. Her eyes, now accustomed to the dark, could make out the outline of the Big Island. She frowned. Tiny lights were dancing on the cliff. Fireflies! It can’t be. I’m too far away. The light disappeared and re-appeared briefly on the point. She shook her head and looked again but there was nothing there. I’m tired, she thought, I need to get some sleep.

Hannah didn’t sleep, the nightmare kept rewinding in her head until the sun came up. At 5:30 Tom began to stir, she got up and made coffee. Savouring the rich aroma of the brewing coffee she opened her dresser trying to find something cool to wear deciding on blue cotton shorts and a matching blouse. Tom emerged in red bathing shorts, a yellow and black stripped T-shirt. His old Tilley hat pulled too low over his forehead; unlike Hannah, he rarely matched, she smiled, he reminded her of a yellow jacket but she knew better than to say anything. Tom carried the coffee tray to the deck and they settled in their Adirondack chairs gazing idly across the ever changing Black Lake.

Tom, I had a horrible nightmare last night. I was so scared I couldn’t sleep.

I thought I heard you up in the night. What was it about?

Now I think about it, it was nothing; some angry voices and splashing water. It sounds silly now. But you know it’s strange, the sounds were quite vivid but, I don’t have any kind of image She tried to smile but just thinking about it made her tense.

Dreams are funny like that. Tom said draining his coffee mug. I think I’ll take the canoe out before it gets too hot.

Hannah leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The birds chirping their morning chorus to the rhythm of the lapping lake lulled her to sleep. She awoke with the trill call of the loon calling her mate followed by their haunting duet. She heard the gentle plop of Tom’s paddles as the canoe glided by the blue heron standing on guard at the inlet. Hannah opened her eyes. He waved, she smiled. It was too hot to do anything else.

Black Lake, near Perth and a two hour drive from Ottawa was home to Blue Heron Cottage—aptly named for the resident blue heron. Tom had inherited the cottage from his grandfather. He enjoyed paddling his canoe on Black Lake. Hannah’s hobby was capturing the lake on camera preferring to have her feet firmly planted on dry land.

Maggie Gregory, their closest neighbour waved, good morning, from Lavender Cottage, so named for the lavender hedge that grew along the front porch. In reply Hannah raised her coffee mug and smiled. Hannah and Tom had known Maggie and husband Chuck for fifteen years, it was a comfortable friendship. Tom was a retired City engineer, Chuck a retired navy captain. They canoed and golfed together; Maggie and Hannah, both retired teachers and artists—Maggie with canvas and brush; Hannah with camera and lens. Evenings were spent playing Scrabble or cards. Black Lake served them all well.

It was getting hotter by the second. The humid air so thick Hannah thought she might just dissolve in a puddle. Seeing Tom paddling towards the dock she walked to meet him. It was unlikely, but perhaps there would be a breeze off the water.

Tom, would you take me over to the Big Island? I want to take some pictures.

You are asking to go in the boat! Tom said, his eyebrows meeting his none existing hair line with surprise. Sure! The boats at the dock but I need to get the motor. Are you up to something?

I just feel like taking pictures. Hannah was trying to sound nonchalant. Sitting in a piece of floating aluminum wasn’t Hannah’s favourite pastime, although it was better than the canoe. Tom hooked up the electric motor while Hannah fetched her camera. Tom ducked as the blue heron, who was fishing for his breakfast, swooshed into flight. Helping Hannah into the center seat—the most stable position in the boat—he was surprise to see her move to the bow seat. Now he knew she was up to something. The camera click clicked and the engine gave a quiet put-put as they moved out of the inlet towards Big Island.

Hannah what are you up too?

I didn’t tell you before but last night I saw a light on the island. First at the top of the cliff and then at the point but it disappeared. I want to take a look.

Okay, but it’s probably kids camping. Tom steered the boat towards the rickety island dock. Old Joe Saunders, had owned Stone Haven, the cottage across from the Big Island; for the past forty years Joe had maintained the dock but he died last winter. His grandson Little Joe was not doing a very good job of taking care of Stone Haven, let alone the dock. Stone Haven sat still and lifeless in a jungle of weeds, a big FOR SALE sign on the dock.

Poor Joe, he would have a fit if he could see Stone Haven looking this way. I hope it sells soon. Hannah said.

Tom nodded with a sigh. That’s odd. Joe’s boat is in the water and look the oars are sticking up. Do you think Little Joe is here? May be he was on Big Island last night.

Tom took Hannah’s hand and they climbed up the rocky path to a clearing where there was definitely evidence of campers. A circle of charred wood, an empty package of Red Hots, buzzing with flies, beer bottles scattered everywhere.

See! I told you kids camping.

Say cheese, Hannah called as Tom started to climb the cliff.

Come and join me, the view is lovely from the top. Tom held out his hand and helped Hannah to the top of the island.

Picture perfect! I should come more often. It’s a pity I have to get in the boat. Hannah said clicking the camera.

Tom laughed. Well...it is an island. Turning to face Hannah his expression changed. What the hell happened here?

Hannah followed Tom’s eyes and turned to see broken bushes and freshly flattened plants around the edge of the cliff. She gasped. There was a path of broken brush going down the cliff to the rocks at the bottom. A feeling of terror pulsed through her. The nightmare returned.

It wasn’t a nightmare. Tom, I heard a fight and the splashing was someone falling in the water. In spite of the heat Hannah felt chilled. Stepping to the edge she looked over expecting to see a body.

"Hannah come back from there, you’ll fall!" The sight of Hannah on the cliff edge raised Tom’s voice several octaves. Hannah backed away reaching for Tom’s hand.

I can’t see anything down there. Let’s go down to the point.

Tom took the lead on the narrow path, Hannah grabbing at Tom’s ‘waspy’ T-shirt. About halfway up she got a whiff of smoke. Having taught in high school she was quite familiar with the smell of marijuana. Branches snapped, she could hear stones rolling and then plop as they fell in the lake. Suddenly she felt threatened—were they being watched?

Tom!

I know I heard it too. I don’t see anything. I think it’s a gopher or squirrel

Hannah was not comforted by Tom’s explanation. Since when did squirrels or gophers smoke pot? But it did look normal at the point. There were no signs of a struggle and no body floating in the lake. Suddenly Hannah fell forward bumping into Tom as her ankle twisted on something. She bent down and picked up a brown leather wallet.

Opening the wallet Hannah gasped. Cash and lots of it! Tom look! I have never seen that many $100 bills.

Tom gave a whistle but said nothing.

This is spooky. I am feeling very nervous I think we should call the police.

And tell them what? We found evidence of kids camping. A few plants knocked down, and maybe someone was watching us. Sounds a bit paranoid, don’t you think?

What about the wallet and all that money?

The money is none of our business. We behave like good citizens, call the guy and give him his wallet back.

Hannah could not shake the feeling someone was watching them, glancing over her shoulder she said. I guess your right. That nightmare has me on edge. But her intuition was telling her to get off the island. She followed Tom closely to the boat. The centre seat seemed safer to Hannah on the way back.

I thought we’d take a spin around the Island and see if there’s anything unusual.

Hannah nodded in agreement. Like a dead body!

Circling Big Island they passed a family of Loons, three little heads peaked over the feathers on mother’s back, father paddled behind protecting. Tom cut the engine and they glided by slowly. Hannah was delighted with the photo op. Tom waved to two young boys rowing across the