Freddy was heading for the lake, she saw. He raced to the water’s edge, where he speedily untied a small rowboat.

  With a powerful and practiced technique, the blond man began rowing away from the shore.

  Drawing the oars back, he took long and powerful strokes. The boat was quickly slipping away.

  Why was he running away? Where was he going?

  “We need to swim after him!” Owen said, breathing hard as he gazed at the departing rowboat.

  “Wait! Let’s think this through,” May gasped. “If we think intelligently, we can outmaneuver him.”

  She looked around.

  Fifty yards away, by the pier, a small speedboat had just arrived back from a sail. The owner was climbing out and preparing to moor it.

  “Let’s borrow that!” May decided. “It’s our only chance to catch up. Swimming isn’t going to cut it.”

  They raced for the speedboat. May felt a sense of urgency as they pounded up to it. Freddy was rowing hard, and had a big head start. There were several treed islands in this area of the lake that would provide cover if he could get past them. They had only a minute or two before he rowed out of sight and vanished into the vastness of the lake.

  “Do you mind if we use your boat for a minute?” she asked, breathlessly.

  He stared at her in surprise. “Why don’t you go and rent your own?” he asked.

  “I’m the police,” she added, showing him her badge. “We need to catch up with a suspect.”

  “The police?” He looked astonished and apologetic. “Er—sure. Sure.”

  Quickly, he climbed out of the boat, and May and Owen jumped in.

  The figure in the rowboat was rowing faster than before, desperate to get away.

  Owen grabbed the tiller. “Let’s go catch him,” he said.

  The motor roared as Owen turned the throttle. The boat sped away, bouncing over the waves. The rowboat was growing ever smaller in the distance. But now the speedboat was gaining. May stared at it, willing the speedboat to go faster.

  Freddy knew how to row, May realized. And he was rowing for his life.

  As they neared him, the rowboat veered off to the left.

  “Where’s he going?” May asked. “Is he trying to lose us?”

  “No,” Owen said. “He’s trying to reach land. That’s what he’s doing, and it’s not going to be good for us.”

  The rowboat was heading for a strip of beach. Freddy Featherstone was going to try and escape into the woods. If he got to shore, she feared they would lose him.

  “Go, Owen! Faster!” May implored. This was going to be touch and go.

  They caught up just before the shore. Owen steered the speedboat expertly up next to the rowboat.

  “Go away!” Freddy yelled at them. He was still rowing frantically, but as May leaned over she managed to grab one of the flying oars. It almost slipped out of her hand, and then she nearly fell out of the motorboat. Owen grasped her other arm just in time.

  Leaning further forward, May managed to grasp the mooring rope. Breathing hard, she scrambled back into her boat, holding it firmly.

  They had him tethered to their own boat, and now he couldn’t get away.

  Freddy looked up at Owen, his eyes wide and frightened. His face was covered in sweat, and he was breathing hard.

  “I am not the guilty party here, Deputy Lovell!” he gasped. “You’ve got to let me go!”

  Before May could stop him, Freddy jerked the oars, trying to free himself.

  The speedboat rocked wildly, almost tipping over.

  “Don’t,” May warned. “Or the boat might capsize.”

  Freddy abandoned his struggles with an angry sigh.

  “Are you also from the police?” he asked May. “What did I do?”

  “I’m Deputy May Moore,” she said. “You need to come with us, because we have to question you regarding a serious crime.”

  Freddy shook his head. His eyes were fearful.

  “No. You can’t do this to me! You can’t!” He looked around wildly. “Please, I didn’t do anything! You can’t take me in! I’m innocent! I never meant to cause any trouble.”

  From the way he’d reacted, May was far from convinced of that.

  “We’ll decide that when we have had the chance to question you properly,” May told him sternly. “For now, you don’t have a choice. You attempted to flee the police, and if you don’t want to face criminal charges, then come with us quietly. No more trying to run!”

  *

  Thirty minutes later, Freddy was perched uneasily on a chair in the interrogation room of the Fairshore police precinct.

  It was a small room, more of a spare office than an official interrogation room, but it had been fitted out with an observation window, and there was a tape recorder on the desk.

  May walked in and stared hard at Freddy.

  “Mr. Featherstone, you committed an act of arson in the campground. And then you fled from police,” she said. “I’m in possession of numerous complaints you have made, and which have been made against you, regarding the hotel. You have been calling, emailing, threatening. You named the architect in your threats.”

  Freddy stared at her nervously.

  “Did the hotel send you to me? I know they sent you! They want to arrest me.”

  “This isn’t just about the hotel,” May said. “We are investigating a murder, and you are a potential suspect. If you are innocent, then there is nothing to worry about. But if you are guilty, then we need to know that as quickly as possible.”

  “A murder? No way! What murder?” Freddy now sounded appalled.

  “The murder of Danny Charter, the hotel’s architect,” May said firmly.

  Danny’s mouth dropped open.

  “Serious?” he said incredulously. “That man’s dead?”

  “Yes. And from the messages you sent, you have a strong motive,” May said sternly. “Why did you run when we arrived at the campsite?”

  “I—I thought the hotel was sending you to cause trouble! I don’t trust them. They want to destroy me because I’m standing up for the community.”

  “You knew about the murder?”

  “I had no idea! If I had known, I wouldn’t have run, because I would have known it would make me look guilty! I know there were issues between us. I could see that architect was breaking all the rules. I know he was cutting corners. I read up on the local by-laws when I was building our campsite amenities. So I had a personal problem with him, I admit. I felt like I was speaking out for everyone. But to do something like that? I wouldn’t!”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I wasn’t even in town last night. I was at a fishing competition in Maine. I flew there yesterday morning, stayed overnight, and got back early this morning.”

  May glanced at Owen.

  “Do you have proof of that?” Owen asked.

  “Sure, of course I do!”

  “Can you show us?”

  He lifted a finger. “Before I go any further, I want my lawyer. I still don’t trust this hotel. So I’ll show you the proof of flights, but if you have any other questions, I’d like my lawyer to be present.”

  “Show me,” May said.

  The man opened his phone. A moment later, May was looking at the confirmation of the competition entry, the flight booking, and even the online boarding pass.

  Sure enough, he had definitely, and legitimately, been out of town yesterday.

  “For now, that’s all we need from you. And you are free to go,” she said reluctantly.

  He got up looking self-satisfied.

  May felt deeply frustrated. This had been a waste of time. This man had by far the strongest motive. He’d made the most serious threats, had named the architect, and had harassed the hotel. There was clearly bad blood between them.

  But he hadn’t been in town at the time of the murder.

  However, as Freddy stalked out, he turned and said something else. Something that May hadn’t expected at all.

  “If you look at my emails to that hotel, you’ll see that I stopped bothering them two or three weeks ago now. That’s when I read the article online saying that they will never be financially viable, and that they’re doomed to failure. That’s when I realized all I have to do is sit tight and wait for them to go under, and then my little campsite will be stronger than ever. I believe in karma. The big wheel turns,” he concluded dramatically.

  He brushed past her and headed out the door.

  May exchanged a curious glance with Owen.

  Doomed to failure?

  “Let’s find that article now and see what it says,” she decided.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As soon as Featherstone had left, May got online and went hunting.

  “Remember, I mentioned the complaints tailed off in the past couple of weeks,” Owen said, paging through the folder as she searched. “I wonder if this is the reason why. It seems like a lot of people must have read that article.”

  “Here it is,” May said. “This is the one. Look, it’s in the financial section of the Tamarack News.”

  Unfortunately, she seldom read that section. Usually, the community news was more relevant to her job.

  She was astonished to see the headline.

  “The Lakeside Heights: A Doomed Project.”

  “What does it say?” Owen asked.

  “Here’s the introduction,” May read out. “The big, beautiful new hotel… and the total financial failure it represents. The story behind the property that is doomed to failure. Read on to find out why.”

  “Wow. That’s very hard hitting,” Owen agreed. “Go on. What else does it say?”

  “The problem with the Lakeside Heights project is that it’s not viable,” May continued. “They’ve bought up a load of land in a remote location, and they are building a huge and spectacular hotel there. Everyone who has been to the site so far has been impressed with the hotel—but what the company hasn’t told investors is that the hotel, when it opens, will only make a profit if the entire resort is crowded with guests 24/7. And in this sparsely populated part of the world, that’s not possible. The hotel miscalculated badly. With plans afoot to build a second wing, they need to go back to the drawing board and be aware of who their customers are.”

  She glanced at Owen, knowing that his background was in accounting.

  “That sounds like a knowledgeable piece,” he said. “If they’ve overcapitalized, that’s a very serious error and they are going to suffer for it down the line.”

  “The hotel has potential in terms of the site, but it is being developed too fast and too broadly for the local market to be capable of carrying it,” May read. “A second wing will only compound the disaster.”

  Owen raised his eyebrows.

  “But the company doesn’t seem to be aware of this fact,” May said. “From what I’ve seen, they’re still planning to go ahead.”

  “Until they discover that they can’t turn a profit,” Owen said. “If they are still in denial, they are going to be in trouble. Many businesses have hit the rocks as a result of not understanding their market.”

  “There’s more here,” May said. “In this remote area, it’s essential to know who your market is, and also to cooperate with the locals,” May read. “It’s not just about business. The company has not cooperated with locals. Financially, in their quest for domination of the market, they have bought up a lot of the surrounding land, and this in turn has driven up the price of land in the area, and that has made it more expensive for everyone else. In fact, the tax base is going to be damaged by this project.”

  “That’s true,” Owen said. “That’s not how business should be done.”

  “Can you hunt for anything more specific about their financial dealings?”

  “I can try,” Owen said. “But if they are still working on the hotel, they must be confident of finding the money to finish it.”

  Perhaps we should speak to the journalist?” May asked.

  Owen nodded. “I see here it’s written by the financial expert Emily Oxman. Let’s have a word with Emily. There might also be information she didn’t, or couldn’t, write.”

  May dialed the number of the Tamarack News.

  “Hi, I’m from Fairshore police, and I need to speak with Emily Oxman. It’s urgent,” she said as soon as she got through.

  She waited while they put her through. A moment later, someone picked up.

  “This is Adele Wong, the financial editor,” a woman said.

  “Ms. Wong, we’re looking to speak to the journalist who wrote the article about the Lakeside Heights,” May said.

  “She’s not in. She’s out researching a story. But I managed and edited the article, so maybe I can help,” Adele said.

  “This is about a murder investigation,” May said. “We’re investigating the death of Danny Charter. He was the architect in charge of the hotel project, and he was murdered last night.”

  “Good heavens! Murdered?” Adele sounded shocked.

  “I’m hoping that we can get some background information on the project. We’re wondering if this bleak financial outlook might somehow be related to what has happened. Is there any more information you could give us? Did you get any more information from the company? Or from other sources?”

  “I was the one who first researched the hotel, and then handed the article to the journalist to write. So I can definitely help,” Adele said.

  “Please explain,” May said.

  “I started out looking into the land purchase, but as I looked into it, I got more and more concerned about the finances. I realized that this company had taken on a huge amount of debt to build the hotel and start the development. And that they were planning to take on some more. What that means is that this is a highly speculative investment. It’s a huge gamble. Every hotel comes with huge costs. Mostly in terms of staffing, especially for a high-end establishment. You have cleaning, housekeeping, maintenance, porterage, reception, waitressing. Never mind the initial build, I just don’t understand how they will cover those. Labor costs are the biggest expense to any hotel, and I think at the moment, those represent more than forty percent of the total costs.”

  “That’s significant,” May agreed.

  “So, therefore, I concluded that unless the hotel is completely full all the time, it won’t make a profit. And that is unlikely to happen.”

  May thought for a moment. “What else did you find out?”

  “There is usually a risk assessment report done before a project like this is approved. I was able to get hold of a copy of that report. As far as they can tell, they can’t foresee any risk large enough to prevent them making a profit. But, as far as I’m concerned, that’s just wishful thinking. The fact is, they have not done their homework. They have not done enough market research, and they have no idea how many guests they can expect to have or what revenue they can expect.”

  “Did you speak to the hotel at all?”

  “The CEO was not available when I called and did not get back to me by deadline, or present his side. So their comment was simply ‘no comment.’ Of course, he called me angrily as soon as he read the article,” Adele said.

  “And what did he say then?”

  “Apart from threatening to sue the Tamarack News as well as Emily in her capacity as journalist, he said that there is no way the hotel will fail and that we had our facts completely wrong. He said that the community was sabotaging the hotel but that once they realized its success, they would have to stop and he’d demand an apology. He also said they had insurance in place for the second wing, so that no matter what happened, they would be covered. The insurance kicks in if the build is delayed or sabotaged or put on hold due to unforeseen events.”

  “Is that so?” May asked, her ears pricking up at this.

  “Yes. I found him very arrogant. I told him insurance can’t pay for the ongoing operational costs and he then told me to go to hell. He wanted me to print an apology but I refused, as he hadn’t complied with the request for information in the first place, and we stood by our research.”

  “Thank you so much for this information,” May said.

  She ended the call, feeling excited.

  Owen had clearly also picked up on the most important piece of information, and the one that would get them on the next step.

  “We need to find out the details of this insurance policy,” Owen said.

  May nodded. “It sounds like that could be a game changer in terms of who might have committed the murder. After all, having an architect tragically dead on site would certainly be an unforeseen delay. And it might allow the CEO of a failing hotel to cash in on something he’d realized might not be as lucrative as he’d hoped.”

  “I’ll contact the hotel and ask how I can get hold of him,” Owen said. “I remember his name. Bert Reed. And they said he was in Minnesota. We need to speak to Mr. Reed and find out exactly how he stood to benefit.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  May was hoping that they could head straight out and confront Bert Reed. But as Owen made call after call, she realized it wasn’t going to be so easy.

  “Nobody seems to know where he is,” Owen said, putting down the phone after the third call. “I literally don’t believe this. Not even the hotel manager knows. Or at any rate, she says she doesn’t know.”

  “How can they not know where the owner is?” May asked, incredulous. Surely he had to be available and in the area, given that his architect had just been murdered? Why wasn’t he at the Lakeside Heights sorting things out?

  “He’s definitely in the state. Everyone agrees on that. But he seems to own a massive amount of property. He owns several other hotels and he often stays in hotels he’s thinking of buying, also, Jolene said.”

  “He definitely does seem to be very wealthy,” May said. “Can’t they give you his phone number?”

  Owen sighed. “I got a number. I have no idea if it’s his number. But it’s turned off.”

 

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