The Maine Mutiny by Jessica Fletcher Read Free Book Online Page B

fact. But no one was talking. He told me to keep him informed if anything like it happened again, but those guys in there”—she cocked her head toward Nudd’s—“they’ll cover for each other, even if they don’t like what happened. Kind of a force unto themselves. Don’t let them push you around. They can be very demanding about what appears in print.”
    “I’m not a journalist,” I said, beginning to wonder what I’d gotten myself into. “I hope you don’t expect investigative reporting.”
    “It would be interesting to read your take on the lobstermen’s issues—which, by the way, they refuse to discuss with me.” The click of the knitting needles accompanied Evelyn’s voice. “But this is the festival edition, and Mrs. Watson wants to present a spit-shined Cabot Cove, all cozy and picturesque, the tourists’-eye view of a Maine village.”
    “It’s not as if we’re so far from that image,” I said, feeling the need to defend my hometown. “I was planning a nice colorful piece on the lobstermen and what they do for a living. People eat lobsters and never think of where they come from. Oh, they know they’re from Maine, but they have no idea what hard work goes into putting that elegant meal on their plate.”
    Evelyn paused in her knitting, tipped her chin down, and peered at me over her half-glasses. “That’s exactly what I had in mind,” she said.
    I smiled at her. “I knew you did,” I said. But what I didn’t know was that writing a story on the lobstermen would land me in the same place as their prized catch—in hot water.

Chapter Four
    The door to Nudd’s was flung open, and Levi stepped outside, shutting it firmly behind him. He started when he caught sight of Evelyn, and his face reddened. Quickly he schooled his features into a bland expression, but he had no control over the flush in his cheeks. “Didn’t know you were bringing the press,” he said to me.
    “Well, actually, Levi—” I began.
    “Invited myself,” Evelyn interrupted. She looked up at Levi, but her fingers continued to work on the stitches. “Mrs. Fletcher didn’t know I was coming. She’s as much a victim of my stealthy approach as you.”
    “I hardly consider myself a victim,” I said. “Besides”—I turned my gaze on Levi—“the reason I’m asking a favor of the lobstermen is so that I can write an article for Mrs. Phillips and the Gazette . I hope the association understands that.”
    He nodded. “For the festival,” he said. “We know.”
    “Well, then, why not invite me in, too?” Evelyn said.
    “This is not a public meeting,” he said stiffly.
    “I’m aware,” she replied. “But if a controversial decision the lobstermen make is going to affect the whole town, we have a right to know what it is, don’t we?”
    Levi cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “An article in the paper is not a controversial decision.” He turned to me. “Jessica, we’re ready for you now.”
    My eyes darted back and forth between Levi and Evelyn, neither of whom was looking at the other. There was an undercurrent here, another message they were exchanging that I didn’t understand. “It was nice to meet you,” I said as I stood. “I’ll be in touch.”
    “I’ll look forward to reading your piece,” she said, returning her focus to the knitting needles.
    Levi escorted me inside, indicated a seat in the front row, which I took, and positioned himself by the door, leaning back against the wall.
    Nudd’s Bait & Tackle was a barn of a building, although all the activity took place on one floor. Tim Nudd had used the extra airspace to hang mounted fish, huge ones, from the rafters. He even had a small whale arched over one door and a fierce-looking shark on the opposite wall. By far the oddest hanging on display was an ocean sunfish, a behemoth weighing over a ton, and perhaps eleven feet from fin to fin. It was more round than long; in fact, it looked as if it