Kim Herdman Shapiro

  THE LOON’S SONG

  A Wynter Island Mystery

  First published by Level Best Books 2024

  Copyright © 2024 by Kim Herdman Shapiro

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Kim Herdman Shapiro asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Author Photo Credit: Ben Shapiro

  First edition

  ISBN: 978-1-68512-604-9

  Cover art by Kim Herdman Shapiro

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  For Arlene,

  with love and gratitude

  for all the years of sisterhood

  Reviews for The Raven’s Cry, Book I of The Wynter Island Mysteries

  “Readers who enjoy skewed, twisty plots will appreciate the threads of quirky characters and doubt Shapiro has carefully woven together. Fans of small-town cozy mysteries will enjoy this action-packed yet character-driven story.”—BookLife/Publishers Weekly

  “Shapiro, a former print and broadcast journalist in Canada, creates a vivid world on Wynter Island, and it’s one that’s full of quirky characters—from bitter hotel manager Bob Corker, who’s certain that his daughter should have gotten Kate’s job, to kind Shea Porter, an animal rescuer and librarian, and elderly Vera Schmidt, whose reputation for the best eggs on the island starts events in motion that put Kate’s life in danger. Although the novel can’t accurately be called a cozy mystery—certain details are simply too graphic and frightening for that subgenre—the small-town environment is inherently comforting, with enough genuine goodwill that readers will be able to see Kate’s future as a happy one—provided she gets through the next few weeks alive. A suspenseful blend of cozy and thrilling mystery elements.”—Kirkus Reviews

  “Kim Herdman Shapiro tells a deeply immersive, evocative tale against an enticing backdrop of characters and plot threads that will leave cozy mystery fans eager to explore in future installments.”—IndieReader

  “The Raven’s Cry will have you on your toes after encountering cleverly imagined stakes, surprises, and tidbits by the experienced journalist and author, Kim Herdman Shapiro. It is a must-read mystery that brims with exciting cliffhangers which will adeptly build anticipation for the second part of this new series.”—The Feathered Quill

  Characters

  Main

  Kate Zöe Thomas - Manager of CWYN - Wynter Island’s Community TV station

  Jupiter - Kate’s Australian Shepherd mix and constant companion

  Gwen Wynter - Matriarch of island and owner of CWYN

  Shea Porter - Kate’s best friend. Island librarian and animal rescuer

  Ben Navaerez - Local veterinarian who is romantically interested in Kate

  Michael Rossino - Island Trustee and lawyer, married and unaware of Kate’s crush on him

  Police

  Sgt. Stewart MacLeod - Chief RCMP officer on island

  Const. Lesley Akiyama - Other full time RCMP officer on island, in a relationship with Shea Porter

  Staff Sgt. Ian Singh - RCMP officer brought in to deal with homicide investigations

  Islanders

  Vera Schmidt - Retired pharmacist who specializes in herbal medicines

  Bob Corker - Co-owner of the Lind Hotel and volunteer at the TV station

  Doreen Corker - Co-owner of the Lind Hotel, married to Bob

  Dougie Whitestone - Local jack-of-all trades and volunteer at the TV station

  Anna Rossino - Lawyer and Green Party politician, in a troubled marriage to Michael Rossino

  Nate Rossino - Son of Anna and Michael and volunteer at the TV Station

  Fisherman Phil - Grumpy elderly fisherman

  Kurt - Co-manager of The Legion Bar

  Harald - Co-manager of the Legion Bar, married to Kurt

  T’sawout Band - Wynter Island Reserve #9

  Sam Hanks - Unofficial leader of the Reserve, consultant for businesses working with Indigenous peoples

  Selesia Sixto - Sam’s sister and social worker. Divorced with two sons

  Brad Sixto - Selesia’s son - 16 years old

  Will Sixto - Selesia’s son - 18 years old

  Newcomers to the island

  Rosalie/Rose Morgan - Wynter Island native who ran away to Hollywood and became a TV star. Retires and returns to island to write her autobiography.

  Jason Bálachet - Rosalie’s manager/boyfriend

  Scott Quillimento - Personal assistant to Rosalie

  Betty Wu - retiree who has bought the house next door to Rosalie’s

  Gordon Wu - husband of Betty

  Maps

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe that bitch actually came back.”

  I took a sip from my paper coffee cup and walked toward the two women chatting beside the cash register. The rain thundered outside the steamy windows of the Lind General Store, a sluice of water racing downhill toward the ferry dock. In bright sunshine, the grand Victorian-style Lind Hotel beckoned tourists to its bed & breakfast, restaurant, and cozy General store. But it had been a horrible summer on Wynter Island, weather-wise. Nothing but rain, rain, and then more rain. We’d barely seen the sun since June. And it wasn’t just us. The entire southwest coast of British Columbia was as soaked as we were. Was it possible for people to mildew? If we didn’t get some sunshine soon, I might have to start worrying about that.

  “Which bitch came back?”

  Vera turned from Doreen to see who had spoken. “Oh, it’s you, Kate.” Her brow softened as she smiled over at me. “I wasn’t sure who it was.”

  I walked over to the two women. Vera, the island’s retired pharmacist, wore her gray hair swept up into a bun topped with an abalone hair clip, her body dressed in a paisley smock dress that looked large enough to hide two Vera’s within it. Vera’s style was questionable—to say the least—but she sold it with her typical verve and conviction. Doreen, who ran the hotel and General Store with her husband, appeared much more down to earth in her jeans and blue fleece top. It would have been easy to place both of them in two white t-shirts with the words “Extrovert” written on one and “Introvert” written on the other.

  “Does it matter who it was?”

  Vera and Doreen exchanged a look that said, you better believe it does, before shaking their heads no.

  “Oh no. We were just gossiping.”

  “I know, that’s why I asked. Oh, before I forget.” I slid my toonies across the counter towards Doreen, who picked it up and placed it in the drawer. “For the coffee.”

  “Thanks, Kate.”

  Jupiter, my Australian shepherd mix, skittered around my feet, anxious for the treat he knew was in my pocket. “Okay, Jupiter. Settle.”

  He lay down on the floor beside me, his nose pointed upwards, mouth open and ready to receive. He radiated self-satisfaction like a child awaiting a lollipop. I bent down and placed a treat in his mouth, which vanished immediately with a rosy tongue slurp.

  “He’s getting better, isn’t he?” Vera asked, looking down at his distinctive white, black, and grey coat, which gave him the look of a small silver wolf.

  “I’ve been working with him. Reading books on dog training and dog behavior. He’ll let you pet him now if you want to, Vera.”

  “Really?” Vera placed one quick pat on his silky back and immediately lifted her hand away. She remembered only too well the stray I had adopted a few months earlier. Anti-social was an appropriate term to describe him. “He’s getting friendlier.”

  “How long have you had him now? Four months or so?” Doreen asked.

  “Yup. We’re partners in crime, aren’t we, Jupe?” He glanced up at the sound of his name, hoping for another treat. “No, that’s it for now, mister. You settle while I find out who Vera and Doreen are gossiping about.”

  Doreen sighed. “It’s Rose. Rose Morgan.”

  I hesitated, waiting for more information, but none was forthcoming. “Okay, who is Rose Morgan?”

  “You don’t know who Rose Morgan is?” Vera asked, stunned.

  “Of course, Kate doesn’t know who she is.” Doreen turned back toward me. “She goes by her stage name now: Rosalie Morgann.”

  “Rosalie Morgann? The actress? The one in that evening soap?”

  Both women nodded their heads.

  “She’s from here? Wynter Island?”

  “Yes, not that you’d know it from her interviews. I don’t think she’s ever even mentioned that she’s Canadian. She probably wanted to cover her tracks. Didn’t want the press finding out about the mess she left when she ran away.”

  “Ran away? Hold on, go back to the beginning, Doreen.”

  Doreen sighed. “Okay. Rose, sorry Rosalie, grew up here on Wynter. Her father was a fisherman. I can’t remember what her mom did.”

  “Nurse,” Vera supplied.

  “Yes, her mother was a nurse. She was killed in a car accident when Rose was about nine. Her father never got over it, started to drink
, and stopped fishing regularly. He sold his boat when the bills started to pile up, and they lived off that money until it ran out.”

  “It was unfortunate,” Vera said. “People tried to help. I know Phil tried to get him to see the doctor, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

  “So what happened to Rosalie?”

  “Well, all of their money went to booze and then, if she was lucky, food,” Doreen answered, her face betraying a brief moment of sadness. “The minister saw to it that regular meals came to the house. He finally called Social Services, and they came out from Victoria and read her father the riot act.”

  “Did that help?”

  “Sorta. He went on welfare and ensured Rose had enough to eat.”

  “Well, she might’ve had a full belly, but she didn’t have a stitch of decent clothing to cover it,” Vera said. “She ended up living in hand-me-downs.”

  Doreen added, “So she looked a mess: dirty hair, unwashed, shabby clothes. The kids started to tease her.”

  “So far,” I said, “I’m not seeing the bitch part of this story.”

  “It’s coming,” Doreen answered with grim determination.

  “She didn’t have any friends, so Selesia, who was a few years older, took Rose under her wing,” Vera continued. “She was always out there on the Reserve. As she got older, Selesia showed her how to look after herself: makeup and stuff. And then she…umm…blossomed.”

  “Blossomed?” I laughed. “That sounds like something from a Victorian bodice-ripper romance.”

  “Well,” Doreen bristled, “that’s what happened. One day, she was a filthy little stick of a girl, and the next, she was a voluptuous…” she stumbled a little over the word, “woman.”

  “And she was stunning. I mean, beautiful,” Vera added. “Just like she is now. Those big blue eyes and thick gold hair.”

  “Still not seeing the bitch part.”

  “Oh, you will. Suddenly, she was getting a lot of attention.” Doreen paused to let that sink in for a moment. “From men.”

  “Older men,” Vera added. “Married men.”

  “I’m beginning to see where this is going now.”

  “Rosalie realized that her beauty was a way to get attention, affection, and money. And so she took all three. From many men.”

  “Many?”

  “Many,” Vera repeated. “Between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, she ran through most of the available men on the island.”

  “And several of the unavailable,” Doreen added. “It was as if her beauty was some magical potion that drew them in.”

  “I’m guessing the women on Wynter were immune?”

  Vera glanced over at Doreen. “Well, there was that painter lady who spent one summer here…”

  “It doesn’t matter, Vera,” Doreen continued. “The point is that she used whomever she could, man or woman, and didn’t care about the consequences.”

  “She broke up more than one marriage …” Vera let that trail off.

  Doreen clamped her lips together in a solid, unforgiving line. “She slept with my best friend’s husband,” she said in a brittle tone, “and he was stupid enough to believe they had a future together.”

  Vera nodded her head in agreement. “It was very sad. He left Alice, and she, well, she…”

  “Killed herself.” Doreen’s chin trembled slightly. “Shot herself out in the woods near Wynter Mountain. It was days before we found her.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah, oh shit, is right.”

  “By that point, she had managed to alienate everyone on the island except for Selesia.”

  “What happened with Selesia?”

  The General Store door tinkled as Dougie rushed in. He had his hood up on his waterproof jacket and held both hands over his head as if that might offer extra protection.

  “Yes, b’y, is it raining outside or what! If it keeps pissin’ like this, we won’t have any summer at all!”

  “Good morning to you, too, Dougie.” Doreen pointed to a half dozen brown boxes sticking out of the back room entrance. “The Amazon parcels are over there.”

  “G’morning, Doreen, Vera. Hi Kate, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you for a bit.”

  Dougie smiled his ever-present grin. It sliced across his red cheeks to expose bright white teeth, clenching a scotch mint in one corner. No matter what the problem, Dougie was a perpetual optimist, the stereotypical jolly ginger. I immediately smiled back at him.

  “Yeah, I know. I took a bit of a break after…” I hesitated as everyone already knew the story.

  How I had been suspected of murdering my ex-boyfriend, only to have the actual murderer attempt to drown Jupiter and me in an attempt to tie up all the loose ends.

  Sometimes, in my dreams, I was back there again, sinking deeper and deeper below the surface, the dark, watery depths dragging me down. I would jolt awake and, in the inky blackness, reach out for the silky, sleeping form of Jupiter, relief flooding through me at the thump of his gently wagging tail against the bed.

  Yes, it’s just a dream. Everything is alright. We survived. We’re home.

  “I drove back East with Jupiter to visit my family.”

  Doreen hesitated before speaking to Dougie, her eyes watching me with wary concern. “Dougie, have you seen Greg at all?”

  Dougie shook the rainwater off the arms of his jacket. “Yeah. He’s doing okay. Worried about his mom.” Dougie also glanced at my face with a flash of concern. “She pleaded guilty to Second-degree murder, so she has ten years to go before she has any chance of parole. She’s in Maple Ridge, at the women’s correctional center.”

  “And Greg’s sentence? It’s not as bad as hers, is it?”

  Dougie shook his head no. “Because they both pleaded guilty and accepted a plea deal, he’s got five years before he can request parole.”

  The three of them watched me. I glanced away to study the candy rack, fingering a Coffee Crisp while trying not to remember that day. The day I had watched as the two of them, shackled at their hands and feet, stood in court to accept their punishment. When the judge struck his gavel and adjourned the courtroom, my anger dissipated like a fine mist. All that was left was loss. Loss for Daniel, loss for me, loss for everyone.

  “Umm, I’ve got to get going.” I gestured with my hand for Jupiter to stand. “Can’t talk all morning. I’ve got to get some work done!”

  I assumed my smile looked as forced as it felt as I quickly hurried out the door and into the pouring rain.

  Chapter Two

  Icouldn’t believe the station was finally finished. At times, it had felt like an insurmountable Everest, what with the difficulties of construction on a small, isolated island. But the construction crew had worked miracles and completed it during my six-week recuperation break, transforming a single office space into a functioning TV station. The wall of windows overlooking the street now lit an open-plan office/meeting area of desks, tables, comfy chairs, and editing bays. The studio was hidden behind a dividing wall, with two access doors and a soundproofed control room attached. The odd whiff of new paint and freshly sawn wood still hung fleetingly in the air, but the space was usable. Jupiter, still suspicious that the noisy men would return, waited warily in his dog bed for their reappearance.

  “It’s nice to see everyone again.”

  I smiled at the looks of surprise from the volunteers, glancing around in wonder at the transformed space. Doreen quickly stuck her hand up like an eager child in a classroom.

  “You don’t have to put your hand up, Doreen. This is just our monthly volunteer meeting.”

  “Sorry, Kate. When we ask questions at the Garden Club, Bob makes me raise my hand first.” She laughed, the dimples pushing up into her cheeks to dot both sides of her nose in quasi-punctuation marks.

  Sitting next to Gwen on the folding chairs I had placed out, Vera rolled her eyes heavenward. “Of course he does,” she muttered. “An anal-retentive if ever I saw one.”