Amanda Doucette Mystery 3-Book Bundle. Barbara Fradkin

flushed. “Not a holiday, sir. We’re looking for our missing friend.”

      The investigator tipped his head in a small acknowledgement that revealed not the slightest interest or concern. “Then carry on, Corporal. We’ll take it from here.”

      Only once Chris was outside the door and safely out of earshot did he call the man a poker-assed idiot.

      Amanda laughed. “So why all the secrecy? Or is that just the way you guys operate.”

      “Yeah, we can all be poker-assed idiots when we have to be. But in this case I told them I thought the guy might be from the Middle East, so now the whole national security paranoia has kicked in. A few days ago, a boatload of unknown occupants was spotted off the coast not far south of here —”

      Kaylee gave an outraged bark from the prison of her trailer, breaking Chris’s mood. He headed over to say hello. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s spring this young lady from her prison and find a nice seaside patio.”

      The sun was shining but a chilly wind raced down the harbour, slicing through her jacket and whipping red into her cheeks. When she cast him an incredulous look, she saw the twinkle in his eye. Within fifteen minutes, after giving Kaylee a quick walk, they had settled into the Lightkeeper’s Restaurant at the tip of Fishing Point. They took a table by the window overlooking the ocean cliffs that formed the mouth of the harbour. Not quite a seaside patio, but spectacular nonetheless.

      After they’d both ordered a large bowl of seafood chowder, Chris spread a map out on the table. In the soft afternoon light, he traced a finger over the coast and tapped a little village farther down the eastern shore of the peninsula. “Four or five men were spotted in a lifeboat by a local man here. They looked to be in distress, but when he went out to help, they sped away. The locals didn’t recognize the boat or the men, and thought they might have been fugitives. Possibly foreign. Now we have a deceased individual picked up approximately here …” He moved his finger way out into the open sea northeast of the peninsula tip. “Prime fishing grounds, inside Canadian waters. But the dead man wasn’t dressed like a fisherman, and odds are he’s foreign.”

      “So you’re thinking there may be a connection. He fell out of the lifeboat or something?”

      Chris hesitated. He studied her soberly. “The man had an anchor tied around his waist.”

      Amanda’s eyes widened. “They threw him overboard?”

      “Possibly after he was already dead. We might know more after the autopsy. That is, Sergeant Poker-Ass might. I won’t learn a thing. But they’re thinking foreign national, possibly illegal, possibly murdered, so they’re dragging in all the big guns — Coast Guard, Border Services, Fisheries and Oceans Canada. When you arrived, they were looking at all the foreign vessels passing through that section of ocean, and looking at wind and ocean currents too, to see in what direction the body and the lifeboat would have drifted.”

      “And? Did they have any theories?”

      “There are several foreign trawlers — Korean, American, and Russian — all supposedly fishing outside the two-hundred-mile limit, but that’s a hell of a big area to patrol with a few overworked DFO and Coast Guard vessels. If you knew their patrol schedule, you could sneak in. Sometimes it comes down to our fishermen sounding the alert.”

      “And have they?”

      “We hadn’t got to that report yet.”

      “I’m sorry I interrupted. You might have learned more.”

      He shrugged. “Poker-Ass would have kicked me out as soon as he remembered I was there.”

      The waitress brought their chowder, thick and garnished with shrimp. Chris paused to take a spoonful, closing his eyes to savour the moment. Exclaiming in ecstasy, he downed three more mouthfuls before returning to the task at hand. “It’s an interesting mystery, but it’s going to bog down in forensic and procedural minutiae. And we have our own case to pursue.”

      “Which has its own foreign connection!” she interjected, filling him in on the man Phil had met in the pub. “It may mean nothing — Phil’s always talking to complete strangers about their lives — but it sure ruined his mood.”

      Pausing to sip her chowder, she let her gaze drift out the window. Houses and businesses were scattered in the hills as far as she could see. Far too settled for Phil’s current state.

      “There’s more.” She told Chris about the letter Phil had sent to Sheri. “I don’t know exactly when he sent it, but at least a couple of days ago, so maybe after his argument with the foreign man in the café. I was hoping this trip with his son would gradually comfort him, but he seems more bitter than ever. Since Africa, his faith in humanity has taken quite a beating. That night might have been a tipping point. I don’t know …” A vice closed on her chest. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. I can’t believe he’d endanger his son …”

      “Then let’s not assume the worse.” Chris leaned in, his fingers almost touching hers as he pointed to the map. “One of the locals told me there’s a beautiful private campground down here that juts right into the ocean.”

      She followed his finger. “It’s still pretty close to St. Anthony.”

      “Look at it,” he said. “There’s nothing around but wide-open spaces and ocean. It’s a perfect retreat. And the nights are so cold right now only fools and hermits would stay there. I bet you a gourmet campfire dinner Phil the hermit is there.”

      Seeing the mischief in his eyes, she felt the vice ease. “You cooking?”

      “Foil-roasted potatoes, salad, and barbequed steaks with a Prairie boy’s killer homemade BBQ sauce.”

      She sat back, savouring the thought. “You’re on. I might even throw in a bottle of wine.”

      The camp proprietor swung around in surprise when Amanda and Chris pulled into the empty parking lot. He was a massive bear of a man with a thick red beard and arms the size of tree trunks. He was tossing fire logs onto a pile as if they were matchsticks, but he dropped the task to hurry toward them as if he hadn’t had human contact in a week. He was red-faced and sweating in a toque, wool jacket, and thick gloves.

      “You’re a brave pair! Welcome to the Arctic Circle. We had a polar bear come by for a visit almost right where you’re standing.”

      Amanda blinked. Black bears were scary enough, but polar bears had a reputation for being the most aggressive of all bears. The man laughed. “Don’t worry. That was in the spring, and they’re only after fish and seals, not us. Although that —” He pointed to Kaylee, who was shoving her nose out the truck window eagerly “— might be a tasty treat. Sam Pilgrim’s the name. What can I do for you?”

      “We’re looking for a nice campsite near the ocean but out of the wind, and with room for two tents,” Chris said.

      “Two tents? Oh, one for the dog, you mean.” Sam laughed at his own joke. “We’ve got all kinds of sites. Drive around and take your pick.”

      “Not too many campers?”

      “We had some on the weekend and a few coming next weekend, but right now you’ve got the place to yourselves.”

      Amanda’s heart sank. “A father and son aren’t here?”

      The man’s florid face lit up. “Yeah! Phil and his boy. Yeah, they were here, going to stay a week, but I guess the wind scared them off. We had some blow that day.”

      “When was this?” Chris asked.

      “Day before yesterday.”

      Amanda groaned. She and Chris were still two days behind! “Did they say where they were going?”

      “Didn’t see them go. They left in the morning to explore St. Anthony and never came back. Well, they came back, because their gear was packed up and gone, but I was out at one