There were police lines up in the inn, the ‘do not cross’ a solid reminder of what had just happened.
I slipped upstairs after Gamma had taken to comforting everyone in the study—where she had a coffee machine set up and was reassuring everyone that the produce in the kitchen would be replaced the minute evidence of foul play was found.
My room was quiet, and the wooden boards creaked underneath me as I moved to the window. I drew the thick white curtains open and looked down into the garden.
The Gossip Inn had a gorgeous view of the Texan countryside. The field adjacent was green, dotted with scrub and trees, and visible from the second story only because I was above the trees Gamma had planted in her garden.
A fountain burbled, the water glimmering in the stone basin. It was so peaceful here. So perfect. So not what I was used to.
I removed the burner phone from the bedside table drawer and shot off a text with an emoji in it to Smulder. He was the only number on the phone. And the emoji signified a request for a call. It had taken me two days to memorize every android emoji and what each meant for the purposes of my ‘disappearance.’
The phone buzzed in my hand, and I answered. “Hello.”
“Trouble in paradise, Smith?” I hated hearing him call me that. I’d always been proud of my last name. Mission was powerful. It was also iconic when used in a kick-butt punchline after arresting a bad guy.
The Mission’s over. Over and out.
Oof, that was a good one.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I replied, and told him what had happened in clipped off sentences. As much information possible, delivered quickly. “I’m definitely a person of interest.”
Smulder let out a weighty sigh. “Of course, something like this would happen to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve hardly had a great track record when it comes to keeping your nose clean,” he said.
“You’re still angry about that?” I asked. “I apologized and apologized.”
“You get shot in the butt and see how you feel about it,” he hissed then cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh, ahem. Anyway, Smith, your job out there is to keep your head down. This murder investigation doesn’t change that. Do what the officers want, cooperate, and for the sake of your own life and your grandmother’s keep well away from it.”
“Away from what?”
“The investigation.”
“What, you think I’m going to get involved?”
“I know you want to get involved,” Smulder said. “You’re used to taking action, Smith. You need to get used to sitting back and letting other people take control.”
The words didn’t quite compute. Letting someone else take control? It was a struggle to trust anyone. The only person I had complete faith in wasn’t Smulder, wasn’t the Special Agent in Charge, even, but was my grandmother.
“What if he finds me?” I asked. “If this starts getting out of hand, word will spread.” I wasn’t scared but cautious.
“Exactly. Keep your head down.”
“Do you have any news?” Kyle. Where he was. What he was doing. Who he was working with.
“As far as we can tell, he hasn’t left Prague. But that doesn’t mean you should get too confident. You’re still in danger,” he said. “I’ll update you once we’ve got the operation underway. Stay out of trouble. And take this seriously.”
He hung up, and I stowed the phone back in the drawer.
Smulder was right. Sitting back and letting this unfold would be very difficult. Already, my mind sifted through the morning, looking for answers. But the NSIB had this. They’d find Kyle and I’d be out of tiny Gossip before this murder was even solved.
I took a deep breath, forced myself not to focus on the mystery, and left my bedroom, locking it behind me.
5
The rest of the afternoon had passed quicker than expected. I’d spent it cleaning and dusting and learning the little nooks and crannies of the inn. I was focused on memorizing the potential exits in case there was an emergency.
Cocoa Puff the kitty cat had kept me company throughout the day, occasionally meowing, or coming into the rooms of guests and knocking items off tables. Not all of them were open—some had hung ‘do not disturb’ signs on their doors, and, according to Gamma, going into a room like that was punishable by death.
Not literally. Then again, I wouldn’t put anything past Gamma as a retired spy.
While I’d cleaned, thoughts of what had happened and what could be coursed through my mind. I finished the last room at about 5 pm and wandered down to the library to dust the books.
It was easy work. And it didn’t consume my mind—a big problem.
Who wanted to kill him? Why? Where’s Turner?
Questions about Pete Ball’s death mingled with wonderings and concerns about my ex.
“Knock, knock.” My grandmother entered the library. “What are you doing in here?”
I brandished the feather duster at her. “What I’ve been told to do.”
“Ooh, grumpy. Dear, are you worried?” She closed the library door, peering out into the hall before doing so. “Is it the murder?”
“I don’t like it,” I said, immediately. “And my friend, if you know who I mean, wants me to keep my nose clean.” I pressed my fists to my hips, despising my dress for the millionth time today. “He can’t expect me to sit back while all of this is going on. Enquiring minds need to know.”
“Hmm, I think you might be right,” Gamma said. “I have an enquiring mind too. But your friend clearly has your best interests at heart. Take it from a woman who had a friend and still has an enemy. Settling down and keeping one’s nose clean is often the best option.”
“You’re not seriously siding with him, Gamma,” I hissed.
“Best not to call me that here, dear,” she said. “The walls might have ears.” She cleared her throat. “Lauren can’t cook tonight, and her husband is out of town. I’ve reserved a table at the Hungry Steer.”
“I’m assuming that’s a restaurant.”
“The most popular restaurant in Gossip,” she said. “Great food and company. The only downside is the owner.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll meet him. He’s always hanging around in there, flaunting his wealth and flirting with any woman who dares to cross his path.”
It was a distraction from my questions and worries. “All right,” I said. “OK. That sounds like… fun.” A foreign word. I’d been so busy with work the past few years, I could barely remember the last time I’d sat down at a restaurant just to enjoy it.
There’d always been an agenda. Or I’d been pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
“Good. Lauren will be so pleased.” Gamma rewarded me with a sweet smile then exited the library.
Cocoa Puff meowed at me between licks of his chest.
“What is it?” I asked.
Meow. His yellow-eyed gaze darted to the feather dusted and he flicked his tail.
“What, this? It’s just a feather duster. It’s not a bird.” Great, now I’m talking to the cat. It’s been a single night and day and I’m already softening up.
I left Cocoa Puff to clean himself and meow away and proceeded upstairs to freshen up. I met Lauren and Gamma downstairs fifteen minutes later, and we headed out in Lauren’s pastel green VW Beetle.
The Hungry Steer sat in the center of town. It was shaped like an old-fashioned red and white barn and painted to match, with a fluorescent sign out front that flashed an image of a steer feeding on hay. The parking lot was already packed, but we circled once and found a spot.
Inside, the restaurant was decorated with checked tablecloths, swinging lamps from the ceiling, and wooden barrels. There were a couple hay bales in the center of the floor, with old-timey hand lanterns both there and on the tables.
A waiter seated us at the corner booth with cushy high-backed benches and took our drinks order. Three sodas on the rocks.
“This is nice,” Lauren said. “Thanks for suggesting it, Georgina.”
“Of course,” Gamma replied. “I love coming out for fun once in a while. And I expect everyone will be out tonight.”
I perused the menu, turning the plastic-covered pages. My mouth watered. When I was on the job, most of the time, my diet consisted of takeout. I very rarely got the chance to eat out, and everything here looked great. Especially the nachos starter.
“Why will everyone be out?” I asked, absently.
“The murder,” Lauren whispered, leaning in so that the seat squeaked beneath her. Her green eyes were bright and full of intrigue, a hint of fear too. “You know, Gossip is a small town, and it wasn’t named that way for nothing.”
“So news travels fast around here.”
“Oh yeah,” Lauren continued. “And you can bet what happened at the inn today will be the talk of the town.”
“That can’t be good for the inn,” I said.
“Oh, it’ll be fine.” Gamma shrugged. “As long as the kitchen is cleared, and everything is cleaned out afterward, we’ll be all right. Interestingly enough, most people are intrigued by things like this. I had a break-in a few years ago, and it brought in loads of customers. They all wanted to find out what had happened. I can only imagine it will be worse because of the gravity of this crime.”
“Right,” I said, “you get those folks who have a sort of morbid curiosity with this type of thing.”
Gamma’s eyes sparkled. “Is that what they’re calling it nowadays? Morbid?”
Lauren propped her chin in her palm. “Well, all I can say is that I hope it’s cleared up soon. I wanted to make more of those vanilla cupcakes. I haven’t quite perfected the batter, you know.”
“You’re worried about the cupcakes?” I asked. “What about the murder?”
“I mean, of course,” she said. “It’s terrible, but baking is… I can’t even explain it. It’s my life.”
Gamma nodded, enthusiastically. “Lauren truly loves it. It’s the reason I hired her. That and her stellar qualifications, of course. I never thought I would find such a talent here. You’re Texas’ best kept baking secret, dear.”
Lauren turned pleasantly pink.
I closed my menu and scanned the restaurant. Bella and Harley were seated in the corner opposite, chatting over quesadillas. Peggy wasn’t here. But then, she had just lost her husband. It stood to reason that she wouldn’t be out on the town. That or she was still at the police station.
What did they want with her? She had to be a suspect as the spouse.
Stop it. Smulder said to stay out of it.
“What do you think happened?” Lauren had planted her hands on the table and was peering around as well. “To Pete, I mean. Who would have wanted to do a thing like this?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know the guy. I couldn’t make a judgment like that.
“It’s puzzling,” Gamma said. “They’ve only been at the inn for a few days. But maybe it was a competitor? I heard that he was a big businessman. Something to do with the food industry.”
“That’s poetic justice. Killed by a cupcake.”
Lauren gasped.
“Sorry,” I said. “That didn’t come out right.”
The waiter saved me by delivering our drinks and then taking our orders. I went for the nachos starter and a seared chicken burger, my grandmother ordered enchiladas and jalapeno poppers—she’d always loved spice—and Lauren went for a beefy burrito and a side of fries.
The food order made my mouth water even harder. I was starved.
We sipped our sodas and chatted idly while we waited. Lauren was clearly a sweetheart who’d never seen the darker, meaner side of the world, and I liked that about her. She was innocent in many ways, and it made me feel like a liar.
She had no idea who I was and hopefully never would. One of these days, sooner rather than later, I’d get a call from Smulder telling me that they’d taken down Kyle. The necessity to live in Gossip would be gone, and I’d hug Gamma goodbye and be on my way.
“Good evening, lovely ladies.” The simper came from next to our table. A man with gray eyes and a shock of silver-gray hair stood next to it. He wore a suit and a bolo tie and completed the image with a bushy mustache.
“Hello, Grayson,” my grandmother said, stiffly.
“And hello to you, Georgina,” he replied, equally formal. His gaze traveled across the table to me, and his demeanor shifted back to simper and sleaze. “And who do we have here?” he asked. “A new friend? A new customer, certainly. How are you finding your time at the Hungry Steer, young lady? And who are you?”
“This is my new assistant, Charlotte,” Gamma said. “Charlotte, this is Grayson Tombs. He owns the restaurant.”
“And several others.” Grayson extended a hand. “Much obliged to be making your acquaintance, little lady.”
I gave his hand my best squeeze, catching him right next to the thumb, and he snatched it back. “Pleasure’s all mine, little man,” I replied.
Gamma kicked me under the table.
“Uh, I mean, yeah, great to meet you too, Mr. Tombs.” I was meant to be playing the sweet and invisible wallflower. Not the woman who gets offended by blatant sexism with a smile.
But Grayson had already moved on from me and locked eyes on Lauren. I pitied her.
“Hello there, Miss Harris. It’s so so so good to see you again.” Grayson practically laid himself across the table to get to her, stretching out his hand.
Lauren took the tips of his fingers and shook them. “It’s Mrs. Harris,” she said. “But you already know that Mr. Tombs.”
“Do I?” He held her hand for far longer than necessary. “How are you feeling today? I heard you’ve been alone for the past few days. That husband of yours ran off upstate?”
Lauren drew her hand away from his and glared, her face going as red as her hair. “Excuse me, but that’s none of your business, sir.”
Gamma thwacked her menu down on his hand, which he’d rested on the table, and he snatched it back to his side. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
Grayson’s lips thinned out. “Yeah, I hear there’s a lot you don’t see at that inn of yours too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gamma asked, going steely-eyed. If this Tombs guy knew what was good for him, he’d turn and walk away.
“Someone died there this morning,” he said. “That’s what it means. And I heard it was something in your kitchen that killed him. I wouldn’t stick my neck out too far if I were you.” Grayson walked off without a backward glance.
“Nice guy,” I said. “Is everyone in Gossip that, hmm, what’s the word?”
“Pigheaded,” Lauren suggested, mutinously.
“Annoying?”
“Both,” I said.
“No, not everyone’s like that,” Gamma said. “But my one piece of advice to everyone who comes to Gossip for the first time is to stay away from that man.”
“Yeah,” Lauren said. “You definitely don’t want to get on his bad side.”
6
The following morning at the inn was pretty empty when it came to activities or work to do. I’d cleaned up the day before, and the cops still hadn’t cleared us to use the kitchen for breakfast. I’d had the opportunity to sleep in, but Cocoa Puff had woken me with a few meows from behind the closed door to my room.
And when I’d opened up, he’d simply stared at me blankly for a few seconds before trotting off down the hall with his tail poker straight in the air.
Now, I sat in the library, a book open on my lap and wearing another of the ridiculous dresses that the agents at NSIB HQ had packed for me before the trip. I plucked at the fuchsia fabric, dotted with black roses, and growled under my breath.
“When I get back there, I’m going to find the guy who did this and punish him,” I muttered.
The best-case scenario here was that all of this would blow over, or that I’d be out of her
e before it became a real problem. It was the reason I was hesitant to go ahead and change my hair to match my new ‘identity.’ I was sure they’d track down Kyle sooner rather than later. My ex was smart, but he wasn’t smarter than the entirety of the NSIB.
“Talking to yourself?” Gamma’s head had popped around the door.
“Morning,” I said.
“Good morning, dear.” She came in, bearing a basket, and set it down on the coffee table in front of me. “Muffins,” she said. “I thought you might appreciate them. I’ve already sent smaller baskets up to all the rooms. Externally sourced, of course. I couldn’t let everyone go without breakfast.”
“Thanks, Gam—Georgina,” I said.
My Gamma sat down across from me and lifted the check blanket that covered the basket, revealing choc-chip muffins beneath it. I helped myself to one, took a bite, and moaned. Absolutely delicious. I hadn’t had a bite to eat this morning, and the muffins were still warm, perfectly moist and gooey with delicious bits of chocolate.
“These are amazing.”
“I got them from the second-best baker in town,” Gamma said. “Lauren’s sister, Josie. She’s hard as nails to talk to, but she bakes the sweetest cookies and treats. The Little Cake Shop is my favorite spot to stop when we have a day off.”
“And we have a day off today,” I said. “Any news about the murder?”
“Unfortunately not, dear. And I’ve got my ear to the ground. My network of bees hasn’t told me anything.”
For a crazy moment, I pictured my grandmother holding a beehive to her ear and listening intently. “Bees?”
“Oh, yes. My gossipers. They’re just people I talk to about the things going on in town. I like to keep a modicum of control in Gossip. For obvious reasons.”
Of course. The drug lord.
Gamma was still worried that this Pablo guy would eventually catch up with her. That was the life she’d lived. And it was the one I lived now. There would always be a level of danger, even when I was her age.
“But I do know that Peggy’s been locked up in her room for most of the night and day. She got back late after the cops questioned her down at the station. I heard the poor dear crying.”
Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta Page 3