Free Murder Most Maine by Karen MacInerney

was blue, with a flash of white.
    “I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s something the workers left behind.”
    We had only taken a few more steps when Vanessa screamed.

“Oh my God,” Charlene breathed beside me as Vanessa stumbled up the path and dropped to her knees beside an inert form.
    “What is it?” asked Boots from behind us.
    I stared at the still form Vanessa was bending over. I recognized the thatch of blond hair.
    “I think it’s Dirk,” I said, feeling sick.
    “Vanessa,” John called, following her up the path. He pressed two fingers to Dirk’s neck, checking for a pulse. Then he turned to Vanessa, pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. He’s gone; there’s nothing else you can do for him.”
    “No,” she wailed. “No, no, no.” Her voice was hollow with despair. “Dirk! Answer me!”
    “Vanessa, please move away from him,” John said quietly, in his deputy voice. “We have to call the detectives so they can find out what happened here.”
    “But he can’t be dead!” she sobbed. “He was alive just last night!”
    “I know,” John said, and pulled her in to his chest. One hand cradled her dark head and the other stroked her slim back. Charlene shot me a glance.
    As Vanessa wept in John’s arms, I glanced at the inert form on the path. Dirk’s sightless blue eyes stared at the matching sky. After a moment, my own eyes flicked to the lighthouse behind him. Had last night’s light been an omen after all?
    “Natalie.” John’s voice was calm. “Please go to the nearest house and call the police. Then take everyone back to the inn.”
    “Sure,” I said, glancing back at the group. Bethany looked stricken; tears coursed down her pale cheeks. A stray thought flitted through my mind. What was she going to do now that the center of her universe was gone?
    Boots, Sarah, and Cat were murmuring among themselves, shaking their heads at the tragedy, but watching with the avid interest of rubberneckers passing an accident. Megan had taken the opportunity to grip Greg’s arm, and he was patting her hand absently while Megan’s daughter, Carissa, stared slack-jawed at the dead trainer, a trace of something that looked like chocolate visible on her pale lower lip. Elizabeth quietly snapped shots of the body with her digital camera, then tucked the camera away and pulled out her notebook. To her, I realized, this was a benefit. A murder made for a much better story than a bunch of people trying to lose weight.
    I turned back to where Vanessa was still clutching John and weeping.
    “I’ll take the group back to the inn,” I said. “But what about Vanessa?”
    He touched her chin gently and tilted up her tear-stained face. “Vanessa,” he said. “I think you should go back with Natalie. She’s going to call the police.”
    “But … I can’t leave him!” she wailed.
    “Sweetheart, you need to. Think of the retreat. You’ve got to keep it together.”
    Sweetheart ? I could feel my jaw tighten.
    “You’re right,” she said, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath. A moment later she wiped the tears from her face and faced the group. “Okay, everyone. We should probably head back to the inn so we can …” Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears again.
    “Come with me,” I said, more shortly than I meant to. As I held my hand out, John helped her stumble across the trail toward me. I looked at him. “I’ll send Charlene to the store to call the police while I take your sweetheart back to the inn,” I said.
    His green eyes flickered briefly. Then he said, “Fine. I’ll stay here with the body until the police arrive.”
    “Right.” I took Vanessa’s skinny arm. “Charlene, will you head down to the store and call the police?”
    “Sure,” she said, her blue eyes glued to the trainer’s body. As were everyone else’s. After the initial gasp of shock, it had been eerily silent, except for the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, and