Free Island Intrigue by Wendy Howell Mills

didn’t watch out, next she’d be thinking about his buns.
    â€œHave you heard about the ghost?” May asked matter-of-factly.
    Ah ha, Sabrina thought, this is what she wanted to talk about.
    â€œWalk-the-Plank Wrightly?” Sabrina asked. “Yes, Lima told me about him.”
    May’s eyebrows rose, and Sabrina saw that her stock with the woman had risen as well. Not only was she hobnobbing with Queen Elizabeth Tittletott, she was talking to Lima Lowry. How bad could the crazy blond tourist be?
    â€œI was just wondering.” May attempted nonchalance but failed. The tiny gray hairs on her hairline, which had fought their way free from the confines of her bun, almost quivered with eagerness, and she kneaded her hands in the dishcloth. “I was just wondering if maybe you had seen him? You are living on his land…”
    â€œNo,” Sabrina said regretfully. “I haven’t seen him, I’m afraid.”
    â€œâ€˜Cause I could have sworn I saw him when I was cleaning the upstairs bedroom and looking out over the marsh. Could have sworn I seen Walk-the-Plank Wrightly dressed all in black walking through the marsh right before it rained. And what’s more, I saw his wife, Sarah Wrightly, blond and golden, walking at his side! And then they disappeared right into the marsh. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” May was caught up in her story, her bland face twisted with excitement, her boggy eyes closed as she tried to memorize exactly what she had seen.
    â€œWell, goodness, it sounds to me like you may have seen a ghost then,” Sabrina said, wondering if it was the same man she had seen in the woods. Even so, you didn’t see her going around talking about seeing ghosts. In Cincinnati, that was recipe for a tiny, locked room and a nurse named Hilda who force-fed you applesauce.
    â€œI might have, at that. It’s the second time I’ve seen ‘em in that marsh. I’d look out if I were you. Who knows what a ghost might be up to?”
    â€œThank you, I will.” Sabrina looked around at her spotless house. “And thank you for going such a good job cleaning. Everything looks wonderful. Let me get you a check.”
    â€œI’m almost done,” May said. “I’ve got to get to my restaurant anyway, and get ready to open for dinner.”
    Sabrina followed as May headed back to the kitchen. “Your restaurant?”
    â€œI own Blue Cam over on the Towner side of the harbor. Used to be Nouveau Island Food With a Twist, but nobody could ever figure out the menu—like it was written in another language except you recognized some words, the small ones. If you wanted to eat there you just ordered by number and prayed whatever came wasn’t seaweed or raw fish. I changed the name when I took over from those slick New Jersey fellas. Been trying to make a go at it, but I don’t think I’m cut out for the restaurant business. I’m about ready to get rid of it and do something else. Maybe I’ll set up a booth and sell conch shells. Missy Garrison made a living at that one year, I hear.” May had turned back to washing dishes as she spoke.
    Goodness gracious, get the woman talking and she wouldn’t shut up! “The Blue Cam,” Sabrina said, searching her memory. “I don’t think I remember seeing it.”
    â€œYeah, well, that’s what everybody says. It’s right next to the Ride the Big One Pub, and no one has trouble remembering that place.” May’s face twisted. “Anyway, I’m just going to finish up here in the kitchen. What do you do to these pots, anyway? Looks like you’re burning glue in them.” She held up a pot to show the black crust on the bottom of the pot.
    â€œRisotto,” Sabrina said cheerfully. “It was great.”
    May stared at her, and then shook her head as she stacked washed dishes into the dish rack with unnecessary