The Precipice (6 page)

Chapter 6

E
lizabeth re-emerged through the inn’s front door onto the porch to find Kurt leaning up against the railing, his right arm extended upward with a flip phone pressed to his ear, his left hand on his hip. He quickly ended the conversation and dismissed the unknown person at the other end. In one swift motion, he flipped the phone closed, slid it into the right pocket of his white Adidas warm up pants and crossed his arms as a warm smile spread across his face, a twinkle in his eye. She felt herself being drawn in and she was fighting hard to push away. There was something about him she wasn’t sure about. She wasn’t prepared to trust him just yet, if ever. “All set?” he finally spoke.

“Well, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She was sporting an outfit pulled together quickly with Rashelle’s help. When she had gathered her essentials for the weekend as she was leaving the city, she hadn’t planned on playing tennis while she was in Maine. Fortunately, she and Shelle were close enough in size to borrow clothes.

They headed down the path to the left of Amelia’s garden through the pines to the tennis courts, engaged in small talk as they walked. She was careful what she revealed to him, but also tried to learn a little something from him. He did tell her that he had gone to school at Colby, where he played varsity tennis.
Okay, so maybe he could play the sport and might be qualified to teach.

Arriving at the courts, Elizabeth noticed there was another couple on the far court of the two courts who were standing together at the baseline closest to the entrance gate. A chain-link fence wrapped completely around the two courts. The couple in tennis whites were sipping water and conversing softly. She couldn’t tell if they were finishing up or just taking a water break, but tried not to show her disappointment that she and Kurt were not alone. This encounter with Kurt might not turn out to be productive after all. She was beginning to wonder why she had let herself get talked into doing this.

Kurt stopped at the small tennis shop, located just in front of the courts, and was fondly referred to as “the shack.” “I’ll just grab a couple racquets for you to try.” Elizabeth nodded and waited outside the door. Kurt re-emerged holding out three racquets for her to choose from. She was starting to feel a little out of her league. She couldn’t tell one from the other. “Why don’t you hold each one so you can see which feels right.” She took the racquet closest to her.

“Kurt, look. I’m not really going to know which is right…maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Nonsense. Let me see what your grip looks like.” He placed the other two racquets on the ground so he could use both hands. “Here, place your hand on the grip like so.” He held the racquet head with one hand, placed his free hand on top of hers and rotated her hand slightly around the grip. One quick look at the distance between her thumb and index finger and he could tell that the grip was too large for her. He picked up the other two and read the side of each to see the size of the grips. One was the same size and the other was even larger so he gathered all three racquets and headed back into the shack for another lot.

“You know, Kurt, this is turning into a lot of trouble for you,” speaking into the doorway of the shack, but not setting foot onto its threshold. Kurt popped his head out with three more racquets in hand.

“Don’t be silly. It’s my pleasure. Besides it’s about time these demos got some use. They’re brand new racquets that are just sitting idle, gathering dust. Sorry it’s taking a couple go ‘rounds. I didn’t realize you had such feminine hands.”

Elizabeth took that as a compliment, but didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she busied herself with comparing the feel of the three new racquets. “This one feels okay.” She held out her right hand that was wrapped around a black and green Yonex. He examined the placement of her fingers and adjusted them slightly with his hand. It made her uncomfortable with his hand on hers, but she tried to ignore it.

“Looks perfect. Right grip size. Not too heavy, not too light for you. Good choice.” He turned and dropped the other two racquets just inside the door. “Okay, let’s go hit a few.” Elizabeth’s stomach was in knots at the prospect of setting foot onto a tennis court with a guy she had just met. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held a racquet in her hand. She really didn’t want to make a fool out of herself. To her relief, the other couple was heading off the court. They would at least have the courts to themselves.

After exchanging pleasantries with the departing twosome, they turned their focus to the tasks at hand, his to give a lesson to a reluctant student and hers, to find out more about him and what he knows about what was going on at the inn. After all, he had spent some time with the chief.
Was that because he knew something or because he was a suspect?

“Uh…it actually has been a while since I played tennis—quite a while. I probably could use a lesson,” she grudgingly admitted.

“No problem. Why don’t we warm up first at the net with some gentle volleys and then we can back up and work on your ground strokes.” He picked up a racquet leaning up against the ball basket that was parked next to the gate into the court. The basket looked a lot like a grocery cart and was full of bright yellow, fuzzy balls. He pulled the cart by the front of the basket as he walked to the other side of the net on court one. “Start out a couple of steps in front of the service line. Just take it slowly. Nice and easy. Just block the ball. Don’t swing.” He started by feeding her a slow ball that she managed to return, but was way out of his reach so he calmly took another and kept the warm-up drill going. “Just squeeze the racquet right before the ball makes contact. You don’t have to squeeze hard all the time. In fact, try to relax your hand in between.” She took his advice and the volley improved dramatically, at least it appeared to be.
Who knows what he’s thinking.
They plowed through two to three dozen balls.

“Okay, let’s back it up to the base line and try some ground strokes. Why don’t you show me what your forehand looks like without a ball coming at you?”

Oh, this ought to be good. I was nervous enough
with
a ball and you want me to do it without one? Great!
Elizabeth took a feeble attempt at a forehand.

“Pretty good, now try to step forward and then swing. And follow all the way through so your elbow points toward the net when you’re finished with your swing.” Considering his advice, she ventured two more swings. “Very good! Much better, Elizabeth! Now let’s try backhand. Show me your swing.”

Oh, the infernal backhand. Why did it have to be part of tennis?
Elizabeth felt so uncomfortable playing tennis and even more uncomfortable attempting any kind of backhand. She took the obligatory couple of backhand ground strokes so he could critique her again, feeling herself blushing with embarrassment. She hadn’t learned tennis as a child so this was rather awkward.
At least he’s trying to be gentle. And he’s not laughing. Maybe he
is
a pro.
“Not bad. Think about what I mentioned for the forehand. Step and then swing, following through so that you complete a half circle with your elbow pointing at me. The only difference is that you have both hands on the racquet for the backhand. Try a couple more.” Elizabeth obliged and he nodded in approval. “Good. Now let’s add balls.”

The groundstroke drill turned out to be less embarrassing than expected. He certainly knew what he was talking about. This was not enabling her to speak to him one on one, though. She was learning a lot about tennis, but not what she came for. After several minutes of forehands and backhands, she was relieved to see he had stopped feeding the balls to her. “Well, that wasn’t so bad. How about a little help with my serve?” She was feeling a bit braver—but it would also get him over onto the same side of the court as her.

“Sure thing.” He pulled the ball cart around to join her on the other side of the net. Elizabeth was surprised at how few balls were left in the basket. It was completely full when they started. No wonder she felt like she’d already had a work-out.

After showing him her version of a tennis serve, he gave her a few pointers to refine it. “Bend your knees. Toss the ball up over your head, but a little in front of you, because you want to be moving forward when you make contact with the ball.” At first she felt awkward trying to apply his suggestions to her technique, but slowly she felt more comfortable as she served her way through the rest of the balls in the basket. She needed to get him talking.

“Terrific. You certainly are a quick study. Alright, let’s get these balls picked up and we’ll play a bit so you can apply everything you just learned.” A sideways grin spread across his face as he walked toward the outer fence near the gate. He retrieved two ball tubes hanging from the chain-link fence surrounding the courts and handed one to her. They headed for the net to gather the balls that had collected there. Elizabeth was going to ignore the sheer number of them and the fact that they were clear evidence of her inconsistent effort to clear the net, whether volleying, ground stroking or serving.

“So, Kurt, what do you make of what’s been going on around here?” trying to leave the question as open as possible.

Kurt very calmly stopped trapping balls with his tube and shot her a sideways glance as if trying to determine her intentions. She hoped she didn’t sound as obvious as she felt. He resumed gathering balls. “Do you mean the situation with the lost girl?”

“Yes…and everything else that might be going on.”
Ugh! That sounded lame.
She was not very good at this game.

“Well, I’m not really privy to a lot of what goes on around here.”

Are you serious? Do you really expect me to believe that?

“Last time I spoke to Chief Austin, which was this morning when we saw you on the path to the lighthouse, he had few leads to go on. He did find a zippered sweatshirt down on the rocks that actually turned out to be the missing girl’s.

“Really?”

“Yes. Her family thinks she wandered off and fell prey to foul play. Chief is not so sure about that. He did share with me that the parents admitted their daughter had really fought with them about accompanying them on this trip. It was supposed to be one last weekend away before she started school. But she’s fourteen or fifteen and you remember how it can be at that age. The last place you want to be is with your parents, especially on a vacation.”

“But he
is
gathering evidence and seriously considering other, more serious possibilities, isn’t he?”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. He seems to have a handle on this.”

Elizabeth tended not to agree, but she kept her opinion to herself for the time being.

“So, is there anything else I should know about?” It was worth another shot at eliciting more information from him.

Kurt chuckled as he emptied his tube of yellow tennis balls into the basket. “What else could be going on? Isn’t that enough for this quiet little inn?”

She had to agree that it was. Unfortunately it wasn’t all. Was he really oblivious to everything else or did he know more than he was sharing?

“Of course,” she answered, at bit disappointed.

“Alright, let’s play a little.” He grabbed three balls from the cart, handed her two, jogged over to the other side of the net. “Okay, you serve first.” And so began a set that went on for twenty-five minutes and ended with a score of 6-1. Elizabeth was convinced the single game she won was a token of sportsmanship. He couldn’t beat a lady in a shut-out. At least it seemed like the guy was a gentleman.

She approached the net with her arm extended. They shook hands, but he looked surprised. “You don’t want to play another set?”

“No. I think I’ve had enough of a workout.” She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I need to save enough energy to be able to function during the rest of the day.” Kurt chuckled. “But thank you, though. That was a lot of fun. I learned a lot, too.” She handed her racquet back to him.

“Elizabeth, you were being too modest. You were great! We’ll have to play again before you leave.” He had that little twinkle in his eyes again. She turned away to break the connection between their eyes. She couldn’t think of a comeback that wouldn’t sound like she was getting sucked in. Suddenly, she felt his hand firmly grasping her upper right arm. Her left foot froze in mid-air and mid-step, a couple inches off the surface of the tennis court. Slowly she turned back toward him. He stepped closer and looked deeply into her eyes. “Be careful, Elizabeth. You don’t know what you will be sticking your nose into around here...just be careful.”

He slowly released his grip and she resisted the urged to rub her arm to restart the circulation. Taking one step backwards away from him, she didn’t take her eyes off of his, “I’ll see what I can do,” she said in an even, unemotional tone, that took everything she had to keep it under control. She turned away again and walked briskly toward the gate, this time unencumbered.

What was that supposed to mean? Was that a warning or a threat?
She really couldn’t tell, so she would consider it the latter until she could be sure. He made her feel so uncomfortable. A shiver ran down her spine.

As she headed back to the inn, hunger pangs gradually replaced the nerves affecting her stomach during tennis. After a quick shower, she would have to stop in the kitchen to see if Tony had anything for her to eat. It was already the middle of the afternoon, so he would be working on dinner, but she should be able to grab a quick bite.

Chapter 7

E
lizabeth emerged from the small bathroom, after a refreshing shower, with a fluffy white towel wrapped around her torso. Holding it all together with her left hand at the base of her neck, she reached with her other hand for the clothes she had selected to wear and tossed onto the bed. She froze. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone was standing by the door. Elizabeth gasped and retreated back toward the bathroom. She looked at the woman and thought she was the elderly lady she had observed in the lobby when she first arrived. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Suddenly, it dawned on her that it was her great aunt.
What is she doing here, in my room…in her room? I knew I shouldn’t stay in this room. What was Nana thinking?
Elizabeth opened her mouth again but before she could make a sound, Cecelia was already talking. “Elizabeth, you have to save the inn,” her voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll…I’ll do everything I can,” scarcely believing they were having a civil conversation. During Elizabeth’s formative years, Cecelia only yelled at her.

“You must. Amelia has all but given in and walked away. This place has been in the family for too long to let it go like this.” Her tone was one of desperation. She was imploring Elizabeth to do everything in her power to rescue the inn from the hands of…God only knew. The two women stood facing each other from across the room. No more words were spoken. They seemed to be reconnecting what time had pulled apart. The moment was shattered by the piercing ring of her cell phone. The sound brought Elizabeth’s thoughts back to the present. She could guess who was calling. She turned and took a step forward toward the bed, bending slightly to rummage through the clothes to find her phone buried beneath them. One glance at the caller ID on the cover confirmed her apprehension. She felt a sinking feeling creep into her stomach. Absentmindedly, she placed her hand on her abdomen. The number was none other than Vera’s. Leaving the phone on the bed where she had uncovered it, she didn’t bother to flip it open to answer the call. Better to let her leave a message and Elizabeth would call back later when she had something for her. After a heavy sigh, she turned her attention back to Cecelia, but she was gone. In all the anxiety over Vera’s call, she didn’t even notice her slip out.

Elizabeth quickly dressed in a pair of light khaki twill capris and a white polo with feminine capped sleeves. She put the sneakers she had used for tennis back on. They were not hers, but they were much more practical for…well, just more practical.

After tossing Rashelle’s tennis clothes into the bathroom sink to soak, Elizabeth headed out the door with drawing supplies in hand and a rumbling in her stomach. She was practically skipping down the carpeted hall. Had she looked back, she would have seen her great aunt at the other end of the hall, watching her scamper.

At the bottom of the stairs that led to the lobby, one of the regular guests of the inn spotted Elizabeth and made a point of connecting with her. Mrs. Leibowitz was a feisty little old lady who had been staying at the inn every summer for many years. What she lacked in stature, she more than made up in spunk. The frosty, white hair framing her face was soft and wavy on good days and puffed out and frizzy on bad days. Her nose was large for her face, rather angular—resembling a hawk’s beak. Her dark eyes penetrated through black, rectangular framed glasses that may have been in style twenty years earlier. She was known for enjoying her wine. She preferred a nice dry red, but would drink a glass of cognac if someone handed it to her. The funny thing was that the alcohol didn’t seem to take the edge off of her crass disposition. Being a long-standing, regular guest at the Pennington Point Inn, she tended to throw her weight around, making demands of Amelia and her staff. Elizabeth rued the day that Mrs. L figured out she was Amelia’s granddaughter. There was no slipping past her without getting an earful about something. To top it off, she had a grating voice to match her personality.

Mrs. Leibowitz’ lips were pursed and her arms were swinging alternately at her side, hands clenched into fists as she strode up to the first Pennington she could find. “ELIZABETH!” The sound of her name spoken by Mrs. L. was like fingernails on a chalkboard. It sent a chill down her spine. “Elizabeth! What the hell is going on around here?!” Elizabeth wondered if she kissed her grandchildren with that mouth.
Was she always this abrasive
? “There are cops everywhere! Crawling all over the place, sticking their noses into everybody’s business, asking a lot of questions.” She was indignant. “You know how many years I’ve been coming here?” Elizabeth didn’t know exactly and really didn’t care. She just wished she would stop talking and go away. “I didn’t come back again this summer to be interrogated like some common criminal. This is absolutely ridiculous! Why would I ever come back again?” Her voice was getting louder with each sentence. “What are you going to do about this?” She was wagging her crooked old index finger in Elizabeth’s face, a little too close for comfort.

Mrs. L. paused long enough for Elizabeth to jump in. She tried to make her voice sound compassionate. This was going to take some serious acting, but she had to be careful not to be patronizing. “Mrs. Leibowitz, I realize how much of an inconvenience this is for you, and everyone at the Pennington Point Inn empathizes with your situation. We really do. And we are confident that if everyone cooperates with the officers conducting the investigation, they will be able to wrap up very quickly and we can all go back to what we would rather be doing. Please be patient. I’m sure this will all be over very soon. Thank you for being so understanding.” She was running out of breath, but she didn’t slow down until she started walking away from her. “Why don’t I have someone from our wait staff bring up a nice bottle of Chianti to ease your discomfort? Would that be alright?” Mrs. L. opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth beat her to it. “Let me go take care of that right now.” She turned and walked briskly, with a purpose, toward the kitchen, leaving Mrs. L. standing alone in the middle of the lobby with her mouth half open. She looked like she wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. A quiet “thank you” was all she could muster in Elizabeth’s direction. Elizabeth shivered ever so slightly, trying to shake off their encounter.