Body Double

TEN

BY NOON MAURA WAS ON THE ROAD, yet one more weekender caught in traffic as it streamed north like migratory salmon out of a city where the streets were already shimmering with heat. Trapped in their cars, their children whining in backseats, vacationers could only inch grimly northward toward the promise of cool beaches and salt air. That was the vision Maura held on to as she sat in traffic, gazing at a line of cars that stretched all the way to the horizon. She had never been to Maine. She knew it only as a backdrop in the L.L. Bean catalogue, where ta

Months ago, A

I am following in your footsteps. I need to know who you were. It’s the only way I’ll learn who I am.

At two, she crossed from New Hampshire into Maine, where the traffic magically dissolved, as though the ordeal up till then had been merely a test, and now the gates were opening to admit the worthy. She stopped only long enough to pick up a sandwich at a rest stop. By three, she had left the interstate and was traveling on Maine ’s Route 1, hugging the coast as she continued north.

You came this way, too.

The views A

Maura climbed back into her car and continued north.

By the time she passed the coastal town of Bucksport and turned south, down the peninsula, sunlight was already slanting lower over the trees. She could see fog rolling in over the sea, a gray bank of it, advancing toward shore like a hungry beast swallowing up the horizon. By sunset, she thought, my car will be enveloped in it. She had made no hotel arrangements in Fox Harbor, had left Boston with the quaint idea that she could simply pull into a seaside motel somewhere and find a bed for the night. But she saw few motels along this rugged stretch of coast, and those she did pass all displayed NO VACANCY signs.

The sun dipped even lower.

The road made an abrupt curve, and she gripped the wheel, barely managing to stay in her lane as she rounded a rocky point, past scraggly trees on one side, the sea on the other.

Suddenly there it was- Fox Harbor, nestled in the shelter of a shallow inlet. She had not expected it to be such a small town, little more than a dock, a steepled church, and a string of white buildings facing the bay. In the harbor, lobster boats bobbed at their moorings like staked prey, waiting to be swallowed up by the incoming fog bank.

Driving slowly down Main Street, she saw tired front porches in need of paint, windows where faded curtains hung. Clearly this was not a wealthy town, judging by the rusting trucks in the driveways. The only late-model vehicles she saw were in the parking lot of the Bayview Motel, cars with license plates from New York and Massachusetts and Co

She pulled up in front of the motel registration office. First things first, she thought; I need a bed for the night, and this looked like the only place in town. She got out of her car and stretched stiff muscles, inhaled damp and briny air. Though Boston was a harbor town, she seldom smelled the sea at home; the urban smells of diesel and car exhaust and hot pavement contaminated every breeze that blew in from the harbor. Here, though, she could actually taste the salt, could feel it cling like a fine mist to her skin. Standing in that motel parking lot, the wind in her face, she felt as if she’d suddenly emerged from a deep sleep, and was awake again. Alive again.

The motel’s decor was exactly as she’d expected it would be: sixties wood paneling, tired green carpet, a wall clock mounted in a ship’s wheel. No one was ma

She leaned forward. “Hello?”

A door creaked open and a man appeared, fat and balding, delicate spectacles perched like a dragonfly on his nose.

“Do you have any rooms for the night?” Maura asked.

Her question was met with dead silence. The man stared at her, jaw sagging open, his gaze riveted on her face.

“Excuse me,” she said, thinking that he had not heard her. “Do you have any vacancies?”

“You… want a room?”

Didn’t I just say that?

He looked down at his registration book, then back at her. “I’m, uh, sorry. We’re full up for the night.”

“I’ve just driven all the way up from Boston. Is there some place in town I might find a room?”

He swallowed. “It’s a busy weekend. There was a couple came in just an hour ago, asking for a room. I called around, had to send them all the way up to Ellsworth.”

“Where’s that?”

“About thirty miles.”

Maura looked up at the clock mounted in the ship’s wheel. It was already four forty-five; the search for a motel room would have to wait.

She said, “I need to find the office for Land and Sea Realty.”

“ Main Street. It’s two blocks down, on the left.”

Stepping through the door into Land and Sea Realty, Maura found yet another deserted reception room. Was no one in this town ma

She heard a back door open and turned to see a man emerge, carrying a dripping coffee carafe, which he set on the desk. He was shorter than Maura, with a square head and close-cropped gray hair. His clothes were far too large for him, the shirtsleeves and trouser cuffs rolled up as though he was wearing a giant’s hand-me-downs. Keys rattling on his belt, he swaggered over to greet Maura.

“Sorry, I was out back washing the coffee pot. You must be Dr. Isles.”

The voice took Maura aback. Though it was husky, no doubt from all those cigarettes in the ashtray, it was clearly a woman’s. Only then did Maura notice the swell of breasts under that baggy shirt.

“You’re… the person I spoke to this morning?” Maura asked.

“Britta Clausen.” She gave Maura a brisk, no-nonsense handshake. “ Harvey told me you’d gotten into town.”

“ Harvey?”

“Down the road, Bayview Motel. He called to let me know you were on the way.” The woman paused, giving Maura the once-over. “Well, I guess you don’t need to show me any ID. No doubt, looking at you, whose sister you are. You wa

“I’ll follow you in my car.”