Traveling Trouble
Traveling Trouble
A Bridgett Conroy Mystery
Ray Wenck
Glory Days Press
Columbus, Ohio
Copyright © 2021 by Ray Wenck
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Glory Days Press
Columbus, Ohio
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2016 BookDesignTemplates.com
Traveling Trouble/ Ray Wenck.—1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-7360350-6-1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Traveling Trouble (Bridgett Conroy Mystery Series, #2)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
Identity of Murdered Woman Found
Second Murder at the Norseman Inn
Body Discovered at the Norseman Inn
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Other Titles | Random Survival Series Danny Roth Series
The Dead Series Pick-A-Path Series
Stand Alone Titles
Short Stories
Co-authored with Jason J. Nugent
The Historian Series
Jeremy Kline
Dedication
This story is dedicated to all those victims of human trafficking and those strong women and men who have survived that ordeal.
Author’s Notes
I VISITED THE VILLAGE of Bethel, Maine on my way back from my trip to Lubec. Even at that point in the development of my new story, which was recently released as A Second Chance at Death, I knew it was going to be a series. So here I was, in a new location and a chance to gather information on the local scene and events. Thus, the location for book two was discovered long before book one was beyond the first few chapters of a rough draft.
I stayed at the Norseman Inn and talked in length with the owners. Hough intrigued by my idea of using their inn as the setting for book two they seemed more interested in selling me the place. So when I got to the point of writing the story I did some background into the area and the inn. That couple had sold the inn and it is now in operation under a new name. Still, the story was in the formation stage and ready to pop from my head so I used the old name.
Bethel is indeed a beautiful place to visit. At that time the fall colors were on full display. It is on my list of places to revisit once the current pandemic has been conquered, which I hope is soon because I’m in need of a new location for book three.
I would like to once again thank Jodi McDermitt for her editing efforts in making this story so much better. I also wish to acknowledge MiblArt for their cover design.
The Bridgett stories have been fun to write and judging from the reviews and comments they are being well received. I look forward to doing more and seeing how Jett develops through her next situation.
Thank you for your continued support. It certainly would not be as fun without you.
As always, read all you want—I’ll write more.
CHAPTER ONE
The tear that fell both surprised Bridgett and caused more to fall. The expected four month stay at the Water Street Tavern had stretched into six and a half. The connections she’d made with the staff and the customers were the final pieces needed to recover her old self, to make her feel normal, healed. Whole. To think she had wanted to leave as soon as she arrived in the small coastal fishing town of Lubec, Maine. Now she hated to go.
The close friendships she had made during their six-month stay would last a lifetime. However, the sad truth was that she probably would never see any of them again. That thought brought a new wave of tears. She turned her face to the side window so Drew wouldn’t see. She should have known better. Seconds later, his big hand was caressing her shoulder to offer comfort. She was glad he didn’t speak. The touch was enough.
They were on their way to the small town of Bethel near the border of Maine and New Hampshire. Drew had accepted a job from a couple who owned a hotel with a small restaurant. Bridgett called up the inn on her phone to become familiar with it. The quaint inn was two hundred years old. The hundred-year-old barn on the grounds had also been renovated as additional rooms. To Bridgett, quaint meant old and she wondered if the inn’s main building had been renovated as well.
The town was founded in 1796, and as of the 2010 census had a population of 2607. No telling what it was now, eleven years later, but it was larger than Lubec and had a lot more things to do in the surrounding area. Where Lubec was bordered by the ocean on the eastern side and had a feeling of closeness, Bethel was spread out and featured hiking trails, skiing, and other winter sports. Drew had posted on some restaurant site that he was seeking work as a chef down the eastern coast. There were few options available. He had almost settled on one near Cape Cod until he received a desperate plea from the owner of the Norseman Inn. Unlike last time, Drew made sure she was involved in this final decision.
The offer and the story intrigued them both, though for different reasons. There had been a series of murders in the town and two of the victims were discovered at the inn.
“Have you seen the kitchen?” she asked.
“No. Don described it as small but efficient.”
Bridgett wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t that worry you?”
He laughed. “Yeah, a little.”
She flicked the phone to bring up the next image on the inn’s website. “The dining room looks small too. Oh, but there is a nice stone fireplace.”
“What do you think?”
“I think there’ll be more to do there.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it will need a lot of reorganizing if it’s to meet my version of efficient.”
“No,” Bridgett said rolling her eyes, “not the restaurant. The area. There’s a lot more to do in the area.”
“Oh. I hadn’t noticed.”
“You wouldn’t. Some of us like to get out of the kitchen now and then.”
He sighed. “Sorry. I get carried away. I promise to make time for you while we’re here.”
“You mean us,” she corrected. “We’ll see.”
He went quiet and Bridgett was afraid she’d upset him. She changed tack. “If we’re here for the snow, I wouldn’t mind trying to ski.”
He accepted the course change. “Really? Huh. That might be fun.”
“They also have snowmobiling and cross-country skiing.” She looked up from her phone. “I bet it gets real cold here.”
Drew laughed. “So much for winter sports.”
“Hey, I can handle it. Cleveland and around Lake Erie gets cold too.”
“Yeah, but something tells me it will be a lot colder here, and probably sooner.”
“I bet not as cold as in Lubec.”
“We’re not that far from there. The only difference is the ocean.”
“That’s a big difference. I’m going to miss Lubec,” she said in a soft voice. But not the danger, she thought.
“Yeah.”
Their stay had been interesting, to say the least. The trip had begun as an escape. A second chance; a restart to their failing relationship. But from the beginning, it had become a series of assaults and dangerous situations and culminated with the killing of an international assassin. Although the serial killer she’d been tasked with hun
ting down had managed to escape in the confusion, she had prevented the governor from being assassinated.
Their plan initially had been to travel down the eastern coast of the states and take a job in a restaurant at each stop and stay four months. Plans often go astray; that, she knew. She wondered what would go wrong this time.
THE OCTOBER DAY WAS clear and brisk. Drew kept to Route One along the coast to enjoy the scenery—a final memory of the Maine Atlantic coast. The trip to their next destination was less than a five hour drive, so the more leisurely scenic route, though longer, was their choice. By noon, Bridgett was hungry.
“You ready to eat yet?” she asked.
Drew thinned his lips as he always did when he was thinking. “I could eat.”
“Well, pick out a place and let’s do this.”
“I think eating brings you more enjoyment than anything else.”
“Not everything.” She lifted her eyebrows a few times, then dragged her hand up his crotch. He jumped in his seat and braked on reflex. The driver of the car behind him hit his brakes hard and laid on the horn.
Drew righted the SUV and sped up as the angry driver passed and gave them a furious look.
Bridgett had the window down in a flash. She leaned out the window. “Kiss my ass! You’re just jealous cause no one’s playing with your dick!”
The driver sped away. Bridgett flopped back in the seat, laughing. She turned to a red-faced Drew. “Oh, come on now, big boy. I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then she licked and nibbled down to his neck. He cringed, lowered his head to the side to block her, and pulled away. “Stop. You’re going to get us in an accident.”
“Bah! You’re no fun.”
“I am too. I’m just not ready to die for sex.”
“Oh? What if I were to take that thing out right here and do something special?”
“Go ahead. Then we won’t have to stop for lunch.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
Drew laughed. “Proved my point. You love food better than anything.”
“Have you seen me eat?” She licked her lips and resumed. Drew caused several other drivers to honk.
Twenty minutes later, Drew pulled into the town of Milbridge and stopped at the Milbridge House Restaurant. He was breathless, yet exhilarated. “What’s the matter, big boy? Driving making you tired?”
“My God!”
“I know. Great, wasn’t it?”
“No. You almost got us killed.”
She glared until he broke into a huge smile. “Yeah, you’d better be happy,” she warned.
“I can’t remember the last time we did that.”
“Enjoy the memory while you can. I’m driving after lunch and it’s my turn.” She opened the door, got out, and leaned back in. “Don’t worry. I’m a much better driver than you are during sex. Oh, and you might want to zip up.”
THEY WERE LED TO A table and handed menus. Drew glanced at the menu. “Order an unsweetened iced tea and the haddock, broiled. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
She barked at laugh. “I’ll bet you do.”
The waitress came to take the order. She gave Drew’s order and ordered the Captain’s Plate for herself with large portions of fried shrimp, scallops, and haddock, and a Brownie CM Stout from Penobscot Bay Brewery.
Alone at the table, Bridgett reflected on the first stop in their journey. The Water Street Tavern had been great for a lot of reasons. It brought her and Drew back together perhaps stronger than they had ever been. She’d made a lot of great friends. Jim and Judy had been great. She had found her confidence again, as well as her smile. Yes, it had been a great experience and she was grateful for the opportunity.
But there were some bad times as well. A lot of death and violence, but that had also been the catalyst for rediscovering her confidence and her love for Drew.
Her eyes roamed the room, taking in the décor and the people. She caught the flash of a head through the window into the kitchen and the brief glimpse sparked a distant memory. Drew came back and she forgot about the flash.
“Get everything back in its proper place?”
“You’re trouble.”
She snorted. “Like you haven’t known that since we met.”
He smiled. It reached his eyes and she knew he was in lovey mode. He reached across the table and took her hands. “I love you.”
She snorted again. “I bet you do after that BJ.”
A frown crossed his face and she knew she had gone too far. You didn’t mess with Drew’s lovey mode. He tried to pull away, but she clasped tight. “I’m sorry. You know how I get when I’m feeling silly.” She took a breath and tried not to laugh. “I lo—”
She glanced away and spotted the head in the window again. Though the man’s head was down, he was familiar. She searched her memory. It was recent, she was sure, but when? Who? Then he raised his head and instant recognition came to her. “Hey. Isn’t that the kid who worked for you in Lubec?”
“Huh?”
“Over there. In the window thingy.”
“The pass?” He turned his large frame in his chair. “Oh, yeah. It’s Aaron.”
Just then, Aaron looked up. He looked back down, then his head whipped up. His eyes found Drew and scanned to Bridgett. They went wide with surprise. Was it surprise or shock, Bridgett wondered? Then his eyes narrowed into a hard glare. Wait! She knew that look. Another memory; this one not good.
Those eyes. Synapses fired. Connections were made. She was falling. Pain. The memory brought pain, no, had caused pain. Subconsciously, her hand rose to the back of her head, then trailed down to her ribs. In a flash of light as bright as the one she saw when she hit her head on the rock buried deep in the mudflats in Lubec, Bridgett knew where she had seen those evil, hateful eyes. They were the eyes of a killer.
Bridgett burst from her chair, knocking it over. “It’s him. The killer. It’s Aaron.” She started to move.
“What?” Drew said.
Bridgett slid him her phone. “Find Ogrodnick in my call log.” She was running before he could reply.
She tore through the swinging doors into the kitchen and collided with a busboy, knocking a stack of plastic cups from his grip. They fell and bounced with a clatter. Bridgett swept the space. Aaron was not there.
The rear door slapped shut. In an instant, she was moving again amidst the angry cooks and waitstaff. Without acknowledging any of them, she pushed her way through and out the door. She was forced to stop and search for Aaron. He was not there. He couldn’t be that far ahead.
A thought hit her. He’d make for his car. She sprinted toward the end of the building.
As she rounded the corner, her mind ran through scenarios. What if he had a weapon? She was unarmed. It didn’t matter. She was not letting him get away—not this time.
Aaron couldn’t believe it. The woman he hated the most out of all the women he hated was here. He had vowed to kill her. She had damaged him. Pain ignited in his nose and eye, a reminder of the damage she’d inflicted on him more than five months before.
He had tried to continue his mission of loving as many women to death as he could, but his failure at her hands had ruined him. He had tried to take another lover days after their fight on the mudflats in Lubec, but his body did not respond. He had to let his prey go unloved. He’d been building up and recuperating ever since.
Now his nemesis was here. Chasing him. The bitch was chasing him. That wasn’t supposed to be. He was the chaser. The killer. She was ruining him again.
Panicked, he sought out his car. The staff parking area was close, yet despite having parked in the same place for several months, his mind was too shocked and his thoughts too jumbled to locate it. He slowed, then spotted the car and ran again. He patted his pockets for the key only to discover he had a knife in his hand. He had been chopping onions when he’d spotted her.
An idea formed as he reached the car. He pulled out the key and glanced over his shoulder. She had just come from around the corner. She’d see him and come running. That would play perfectly into his plan. He might never be able to love her as he should, but in the end, she’d be just as dead and he’d be free.
Bridgett spotted him. He was stopped at an old Chevy Malibu that had seen better days. She stopped herself from calling out to him. That was just stupid. Instead, she kicked up her speed. She needed to get to him before he got into the car. She could not fail. The lives of those he had taken depended on her for justice.