“A walk? In this weather?” Doreen asked.

  “Yes. If you want to go for a walk, there aren’t many other options these days. What’s going on?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Bob barked in brittle irritation.

  “Who has access to the back room, Doreen?” Stewart asked, drawing all eyes back to him.

  Doreen hesitated, the pupils in her eyes bobbing manically back and forth. “Well, Bob and I, of course.”

  “And Dougie,” Bob added.

  “That’s where we store all the Amazon packages. Either people come and get them for themselves, or Dougie picks them up when he’s got some free time and delivers them for tip money.”

  “So anyone can go in there and rummage through the boxes?” Stewart asked.

  Doreen nodded.

  “That’s not a very secure operation, is it?” Ian asked.

  Doreen turned back to him, a little spark of color returning to her cheeks. “They won’t fit in the P.O. Boxes, so we have to store them somewhere, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. I’ve never had a complaint that a box was stolen. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, I say.”

  “So anyone can access your back room?” Stewart repeated.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  He nodded for a few moments before glancing up at the CCTV camera facing the cash register. “Do you pay much attention to your security system?”

  Doreen followed his gaze to the camera, confused. “No. Why?”

  “Did you set it up yourself?”

  “Yes,” Bob answered. “A few years ago. We haven’t needed to access the video on it, so it just copies over when it runs out of space.”

  “Our candy counter is right at the front of the store.” Doreen gestured to the display of Aero chocolate bars and Smarties boxes nestled directly beneath the counter. “The only theft we have is the occasional gobstopper, and I can usually grab the kid’s arm before he runs out the door.”

  Stewart tilted his chin toward one of the ceiling cameras. “Do you notice anything now?”

  “What in the Sam Hill are you talking about, Stewart?” Bob bellowed. “Just tell us what you found!”

  “If you look up at the camera, Bob, you’ll see there’s no light. "

  All eyes turned to the ceiling.

  “You’re right, Stewart,” I said. “It looks like the system is dead.”

  “It is dead.”

  “What do you mean?” Bob asked, his eyes widening in confusion.

  “Exactly what I said. Someone—or something—severed the power to your CCTV security system.” Stewart opened his fist to show a few large brown pellets resting in the palm of his hand.

  “Rats?” I asked in surprise.

  He nodded. “It looks like it. There is not only rat poop, but several traps set around the back room. You obviously knew there was a problem back there, Bob.”

  “Yes, I did. So what? This building is almost a hundred years old and sits right next to the ocean. You know as well as I do that there’s a rat problem on all of the islands.”

  “Don’t you dare make it sound like we don’t keep our place clean, Stewart,” Doreen piped up angrily. “We’re cleaning all the time. It’s just part of living so close to the water.”

  Stewart walked over to a garbage can and dumped the pellets into it before wiping his hands on his trousers. “I know, but it adds an extra layer of difficulty to this investigation.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Stewart looked directly at me, his hazel eyes serious. “Because it’s impossible to tell whether the wires were damaged by rats or humans.”

  “They were gnawed at?”

  “And pulled. But I can’t tell by whom.”

  “So that means we don’t know if this power outage was purely coincidental or if it was something the killer did on purpose.”

  “Are you sure you can’t tell by looking at the wiring?” Lesley asked.

  “No,” Stewart shook his head. “There are signs of chewing damage, so it’s reasonable to assume it was rodents. But the timing of it is highly suspicious, to say the least. I can’t believe it’s purely coincidental that the security system was shut down at that exact moment.”

  “But why would someone need to shut down our security system?” Doreen asked in confusion.

  “I would think the answer to that would be obvious,” Ian stated. “To stop the camera from recording any attempt to poison a bottle or place an already poisoned bottle into your cooler.”

  “Which means,” Lesley offered. “we have no way of knowing whether the bottle was poisoned before it arrived at the store, while it was in the store, or sometime after Jason purchased it.”

  “Were you able to look at the video that was shot just before the power cut out?” Ian asked.

  “Yup, just Doreen puttering around behind the front counter. It’s angled to cover the cash register rather than the door, so it’s possible someone walked in and just wasn’t filmed.”

  “I have a question, Stewart,” I asked.

  Bob scowled in my direction. “Are you still here, Kate? Shouldn’t you and your dog be doing something other than butting into our business?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Lesley’s lips tilt in a half-smile. “That’s never stopped her before, Bob.”

  “Well, I came in here for a cup of coffee,” I reached over to grab a paper cup and filled it with hazelnut coffee before walking towards the cold case, “and some milk. How was I supposed to know an investigation was going on?” I innocently grabbed a container of milk, walked to the cash register, and placed several toonies on the counter. I grabbed a treat from Doreen’s dog bowl and gave it to Jupiter.

  “What’s the question, Kate?” Stewart asked.

  I pointed to the cooler’s juices, iced teas, and energy drinks. “Those are all glass bottles with metal caps. How on earth did someone tamper with that? Nothing’s going to pierce through that lid.”

  Stewart walked over and took out one of the juice bottles. With a twist of one hand, he removed the lid. “This type of bottle doesn’t have a tamper-evident band like sodas do.” He screwed the top back on and held it out to me. I leaned closer to look. “It’s almost impossible to tell if your drink has been opened. The seal is released, and a small hump appears on the lid, but it’s easy to miss.”

  “Talk about lucky for the killer,” Ian muttered. “Any other type of bottle, and they couldn’t have gotten away with it.”

  “There is no such thing as luck,” I murmured, mainly to myself.

  “What was that, Kate?”

  “It’s a quote. From Patton, I think. ‘There is no such thing as luck. Merely opportunity meeting preparedness.’” I pointed to the coins on the counter. “That’s for the coffee and milk, Doreen. Keep the change.”

  And with my mind still mulling over these new details, I led Jupiter out of the store.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The grey mistiness of another rainy day blanketed the island, the tops of the fir trees pointing up like distant arrowheads through the mist. Jupiter had settled on a woolen blanket I had set out at the station, cozily toasting himself beside the portable electric heater I had brought in. Although the station was heated, the icy dampness in the air called for something a little toastier. Not that I got much access to it.

  Nate’s small blue Kia pulled into a parking spot in front of the station. The door alarm tinkled as he dashed inside.

  “Sorry I’m late, Kate. There’s a tree down on Rte. 97.”

  “Oh no, a car accident?”

  He shook his head. “No, too much erosion in the soil from all the rain. Luckily, it didn’t hit anyone on its way down. Although it came pretty close to Dougie’s new truck. He must have been sweating!”

  “I saw him driving it off the ferry the other day. A white Ford 150. They don’t come cheap.”

  Nate nodded. “Yeah, he came into some money unexpectedly.”

  “That’s a lot of money to come into. How’d he do that?”

  “I don’t know, an inheritance or something.”

  Or perhaps payment for a big job? Like poisoning Rosalie’s drink?

  Even though I knew it was ridiculous, my mind still ran through the details. Dougie had easy access to the back room at the Lind General Store. In fact, no one would have noticed if he had spent any time alone in there. They would just assume he was picking up Amazon packages to deliver. He had also been the last person to touch the bottle before Rosalie drank from it. He could have easily tampered with it out in the lobby before returning to the set. And he had volunteered to go and get it for her. I hadn’t asked him to do it.

  He volunteered. And then pretended he didn’t know Rosalie. Even though it’s pretty obvious he’s been doing some landscaping work at her house.

  But…no, this was craziness! It couldn’t be Dougie. Dougie wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone another human being. I pushed this theory to the back of my mind.

  “Stewart had to get out there with his chainsaw to clear a path for traffic to get through,” Nate continued.

  I smiled. “Calling it traffic might be a bit much for Wynter Island.”

  “Okay, well, cars then.”

  Nate stripped off his soaking rain jacket and pulled out a chair. “So, what do we need to go over today?”

  “I thought we should touch base to see how Fish Bingo went while I was away.”

  Fish Bingo, our first program on CWYN, had turned into an unexpected hit. Not only did all of the islanders watch, but a small piece in the Victoria Citizen newspaper alerted Vancouver Island to the wonders of our small TV station streaming on YouTube. They couldn’t play bingo without a copy of the Wynter Island Times but were happy to watch the inevitable fights between Fisherman Phil and me over Phil’s desperate need to win back the salmon he had just sold to us.

  Only on Wynter Island.

  “Fine. We’re shooting it at the Community Centre since Doreen won’t let us use the hotel restaurant during tourist season.”

  “Did Phil call in to complain?

  “Of course.”

  “I think that’s why most people watch it! To hear Phil rabbit on about his rights as enshrined in the Canadian Constitution. Hopefully, he’ll stop fussing about that now that he has his own show to focus on.”

  “I can’t believe he came up with ‘Fishing with Phil.’ And that Brad Sixto is crazy enough to want to work on it with him.”

  “A little birdie told me he is hoping that the publicity from the show might lead to some lucrative fishing charters.”

  “Fishing charters? In the Wet Witch? That old thing is held together with chewing gum and prayer.”

  “I know, I know. But Phil’s got it into his head that this is his path to a lucrative retirement.”

  “Old Age Pension is going to be the only path he’s going to have to retirement,” Nate said with a grin.

  I smiled as well. “Probably, but we can keep our fingers crossed that Fishing with Phil will be as successful as Fish Bingo.”

  Nate’s mouth tipped over into a doubtful frown. “I don’t know about that, Kate.”

  “Don’t know about what?”

  “Whether Phil is in decent enough shape to do either.”

  I remembered the drunken husk of a man who had stumbled into our last meeting. It was as if Rosalie’s death had sapped away whatever minimal joy he had in his life.

  “Is he still drinking?”

  “Yup. He only leaves the cottage to go to the liquor store. Luckily, Brad drives him, so he doesn’t kill anyone on the way over.”

  “Fishing at all?”

  Nate shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen. That’s the problem. If he isn’t fishing, I don’t know if we’ll have a prize for next week’s Fish Bingo.”

  “Which means I have to go and see him,” I said flatly.

  Shit. The only thing more uncomfortable than a social visit with Phil would be one where he was drinking and sobbing simultaneously.

  “I’m sorry, Kate.”

  I shrugged it off. “It’s okay. Responsibility brings with it the crappy jobs that no one else wants to do. You’ll soon learn that when you venture out into the big, bad world. You’re starting twelfth grade this fall, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s hard to believe I’ll be graduating in less than a year from now.”

  “Brad Sixto graduates this year as well, doesn’t he?”

  Nate nodded. “Yeah, from the tribal high school over in Saanich.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  Nate turned toward me, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Not really.”

  “Because he’s First Nations?”

  He considered that for a moment, his face scrunched into a perplexed frown. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not racist. I mean, I hang out with Will occasionally. But Brad has always been a loner kid. Kind of, " he paused to think of the term, “troubled. He mostly hangs out with his brother.”

  “So, not a lot of friends on Wynter.”

  “No. I think he made some friends at his school, but they live on the Reserve in Saanich. Why? What’s up with Brad?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’ve just been hearing that he’s having a tough summer. I’m glad he’s got Phil’s show to focus on.”

  “Yeah, God knows how that pairing came together.”

  I smiled. “Yes, God is probably the only one who knows the answer to that, Nate.” I smiled and changed the subject. “Enough about Brad. Do you know what you want to do when you graduate? Where you’d like to go?”

  “Not sure yet. A toss-up between SFU and Capilano University. I like both of their film programs, but I haven’t had a chance to go over and tour the campuses with my parents.”

  His lean face shifted toward sorrow.

  “Are things getting any…” I hesitated, “better at home?”

  The island had been gossiping all summer about the affair Anna, Michaels’ wife and Nate’s mother, had with a Green Party coworker. It didn’t help that Michael’s position as the sole lawyer on the island and its representative on several municipal boards drew a lot of attention to their family. Anna had brought her own notoriety. There had been whisperings that when our present provincial representative retired, Anna would run in her place. I hadn’t heard anyone mention it recently, so perhaps the scandal had scuppered Anna’s hopes for a political career.

  He shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Mom says it’s all over with that guy. I think she’s telling the truth. I don’t know whether Dad believes her, though. They’re still sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

  My heart fluttered. An image flickered in my mind and was just as quickly pushed away. It was of Anna packing up and leaving their island home, Michael standing on the front doorstep watching her go. His face was riven with sadness but there was a brief moment of hope. A hope that there might be something else, someone else, out there waiting for him.

  Someone like me.

  “Kate?”

  “I’m sorry, Nate. You were saying?”

  “It’s all my mom’s fault.”

  I sighed. “It’s never as simple as that, Nate.”

  He harumphed. “Yeah, in this case, it is. We had a great family, and she ruined it.”

  “Try not to judge your mother too harshly.” I smiled inwardly at the irony of my defending Anna, the woman married to the man I wanted. “There may be other issues in their marriage that you don’t know anything about. Problems don’t usually occur in a vacuum.”

  Yes, that was true. Problems didn’t usually occur in a vacuum. Although the reasoning may seem obvious on the surface, so much more lay beneath. Rosalie was an excellent example of this. A woman utterly reviled by the islanders as a heartless home breaker and yet adored by both Jason and Scott as well as her many devoted fans around the world.

  How could she be such a contradiction?

  It was like a tapestry. From the underside, it was nothing but a mass of jumbled, colored yarn. But once you flipped it over, the true picture was suddenly revealed. The underside was the path. The top was the final destination.

  What was your destination, Rosalie? And why did it bring you back to Wynter Island?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Phil’s cottage lay on a small lane in Harrow Village, just off the central green that ran down to the left-hand side of the ferry dock. The other houses surrounding it, neat and painted bright whites and pastels, looked picture-postcard perfect. Phil’s did not.

  Tumbledown. That was an excellent word to describe Phil’s home. I stopped the truck on the narrow tarmac and climbed out. It looked like a hoarder’s house. When you opened the door, if you could manage to open it, you would be greeted with tottering piles of paper and other detritus. Dead cats and such. Yuck. I tentatively knocked on the front door.

  “Brad, it’s open,” a shaky male voice called from the interior.

  I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a few inches. “Um, it’s not Brad, Phil. It’s Kate. Kate from CWYN.”

  “Kate?” His voice rasped with annoyance. “What do you want?”

  I pushed the door open a few more inches to see chipped stains on the original wood floors and a thick layer of dust on the elderly pieces of furniture. The cottage was small, a straight shot from the front door into the living room and right through to the kitchen at the back of the house. The bathroom and bedrooms, I guessed, were beside the kitchen. It didn’t appear like a fisherman’s cottage, more like the abandoned home of an elderly aunt.

  Duh! I mentally smacked myself in the head. Phil must have lived here with his parents until they passed away. That would explain the dirt-encrusted china figurines on the mantel and the embroidered samplers on the wall.

  “I’ve just come to check on you, Phil. That’s all.”

  I entered the room, spotting Phil in an old wicker rocking chair. An end table sat beside him. A bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum, along with a small glass, rested on top.

  “I don’t need no one checking up on me,” he muttered, still sober enough to be irritated by my presence. I took a quick glance at my watch: ten am.