Honeymoon for Three

Falls. Apparently everybody in town was Saturday night cruising. Except that cruising didn’t describe the situation because traffic was practically at a standstill. Alfred lost sight of the VW. Completely. Irrevocably. There was nothing he could do, since it was taking him five minutes to go a single block.
    He mentally weighed his options. He could assume they were going to Crater Lake. He would show up late at night at the campground and probably freeze to death before morning. Or he could stay here in a comfortable motel. In the morning he would head back to L.A. He would return to his old job. He would work hard and get promoted. He would start a new life to go with his new look.
    There were other fish in the sea besides Penny. He would find a girl who appreciated him. Penny had shown herself unworthy of his love. He was through with her. As he was thinking these thoughts, he spotted a motel on the right, conveniently located. This was a sign. He pulled into the driveway and felt a surge of relief.

    CHAPTER 8
    The noise that woke Penny sounded like the percussion section of McNamara’s Band on a drunken spree. As she became more aware, she realized that she had heard the same noise several times during the night. She was going to ask Gary what it was, but he was still sleeping, warm and comfortable. She decided not to disturb him.
    She crawled out of the sleeping bag and at once felt the bite of the cold air. They weren’t in Southern California anymore. It was still dark, but with the aid of a flashlight she found her clothes piled in the corner of the small tent and pulled on as many as she could as fast as she could, shivering as she did.
    “What time is it?” Gary asked, his face still buried in the sleeping bag.
    “Time to rise and shine. The sun will be up soon.”
    Gary said something incomprehensible. Penny undid the tent flap and crawled out into the even colder morning air. Her peripheral vision registered a flash of movement nearby. She turned her head and watched a bear lumber off into the woods. He had been eating out of the garbage can beside their campsite.
    “Gary,” she said, yanking back the canvas panel and sticking her head into the tent, “I just saw a bear.”
    “Well, don’t let him eat our breakfast.” Gary was now fully awake. “Wow, it’s cold.” And then, as an afterthought, “We’ve been married a whole day now. Amazing.”
    “Put on your warmest clothes and let’s get the show on the road. We’ve got places to go and things to do.”
    ***
    Gary was awed by the beauty in front of him. Crater Lake had the bluest water he had ever seen, surrounded by two thousand foot cliffs that were also reflected in the water, giving it an appearance of great depth. Two small, sharply defined islands completed the picture. Penny had read from the guidebook that Crater Lake was created when the 12,000 foot Mount Mazama collapsed 7,700 years ago following a large volcanic eruption.
    They were driving around the crater on Rim Drive, stopping at viewpoints. The only problem was the cold. And the fact that he couldn’t get the events of yesterday out of his head. Penny commented on how somber he was.
    “I’m still thinking about what happened yesterday,” he admitted. “I can’t figure out who could have accused me of murder.”
    “Well, do you see him here?”
    There were only a handful of people at this viewpoint, and none of them remotely fit the description of Jack London, or whoever he was.
    “No, but I did come up with a remote possibility during the night.”
    “Tell me,” Penny said as they hustled back to the car to get warm.
    “I had a roommate before Steve. His name was Henry. He could have fit the description the woman at the chapel gave, at least in a dark room. He had a beard. He may still have one.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    “About a year ago. But he called me just before we left, and I told him something about what we were doing. I can’t remember exactly what, but he did imply that because I had been the best man at his wedding, he should be mine. I told him we were eloping, but I’m not sure he bought it.”
    “Why do you think he might be a suspect?”
    “He’s an odd duck. He loves to play practical jokes. But they go beyond joking and verge on cruelty. For example—”
    “Yes?”
    They got into the car. As Gary started the engine, he realized that he was going to have to be careful what he said.
    “I shouldn’t even be