Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta

by Rosie A. Point

  I scanned the paper and picked out a line.

  —on suspicion that Mr. Tombs might know something of value. Here at the Rag, we don’t like to assume the facts. We like to uncover them. Our research has shown that this might have something to do with Mr. Tombs’ relationship with the victim, Pete Ball.

  It’s been revealed to us here at the Rag that he had been in close contact with Pete Ball over the purchase of a stretch of land next to the swimming hole. And to make matters even more interesting, Mr. Tombs has been holding clandestine conversation with Ball’s window over the past few days. What could that be about?

  Keep your eyes peeled. We’ll give you an update on this story as soon as we have it.

  “Wow,” I murmured.

  “Here.” Lauren handed me a cloth to clean up the paper and the frosting smear. I did so, blinking as I soaked up the new information.

  Grayson Tombs. Shoot, I’d known that he had something to do with this. Or that there was a connection. If it was him that had committed the evil deed, then he had to have been here to do it. Unless… could he have hired someone?

  I needed to figure out how he had gotten in, that was the point, but I could hardly go snooping around the inn searching for clues with everyone watching. It would be too obvious.

  I’d have to bide my time until tonight.

  “Charlie?”

  “Huh?” I looked up.

  Lauren stood a step away, her hand out. “The cloth.”

  “Oh right.” I handed it back to her. “Thanks. I mean, sorry.”

  “Are you worried about it?” Lauren asked.

  “About what?”

  “Oh, you know, the sale down at the Cake Warehouse. We can get there early, you know? Beat all of the competition out. Josie will probably be there too and…”

  I let Lauren’s voice fade into background noise. I had no interest in the Cake Warehouse sale, but I nodded along anyway, just in case.

  Finally, I had another lead. My time was almost up, and Grayson Tombs might just be the easiest collar I’d ever made.

  24

  The inn lay blanketed in darkness and silence. It was past 10 pm and most of the guests had retired to their bedrooms.

  Gamma had come back before dinner and had been in a rage over Jessie, who had lied about hiring the contractors out from underneath her. She was in bed early, a cold cloth pressed to her forehead with a cup of hot chocolate.

  The privacy was perfect. Exactly what I needed for my ‘mission’ tonight. I slipped out of the kitchen door and paced away from it, walking backward, studying the building and garden and the windows on either side of the door.

  I brought my phone out and switched on the flashlight app then trailed it over the back steps and the path that led from it and wound around the side of the inn and toward the basement entrance at the back.

  “Here we go,” I murmured.

  I picked over the area, checking the bushes, the windows for smudges or cracks or any sign of interference, and the pathway for anything that didn’t fit.

  Of course, I wouldn’t find a clue here. We’d used the door several times over the last week or so, and the police had already been in and taken their evidence. And there wasn’t a chance I could get any of that information—Smulder would have an aneurysm if I so much as asked for help.

  He wanted me safe and to resolve this, but that was a step too far. It would expose my cover to the police.

  All right. If I can’t find anything here, what about the Shroom Shed?

  Gamma had denied that she’d been growing poisonous mushrooms, and I believed that, but I still had to check the entrance to the museum again. All I had was a link to Jessie Belle-Blue in the form of the cigarette butt.

  If I could figure out how the killer had entered the kitchen…

  I studied the pathway that meandered past the Shroom Shed and the surrounding bushes too. Nothing. No strange footprints or cigarette butts or incriminating empty poison vials. If only there was something around that was that obvious.

  I checked the lock to the Shroom Shed, tugging on it once. It was sound.

  Finally, I rounded to the museum section. Gamma had unlocked it for us the other day, and the worn wooden doors were firmly shut now, but the windows were broken. I looked down at my dress, frowning.

  It was hardly the perfect outfit for breaking and entering.

  “Let’s see how easy this is,” I whispered.

  I tucked my cellphone into the cutesy front pouch on the breast of my striped dress and aimed the flashlight at the window. The jagged edges of the glass were my main problems—a few of them poked upward dangerously—and broken shards were scattered inside the inn itself.

  It was the same as the last time I’d been here.

  But no change didn’t mean the murderer hadn’t returned to the scene of the crime.

  “Nothing else to do but…” I removed the ridiculous sash around my waist—striped silk of all things—wrapped it around my fist and punched out the last bits of glass. After, I climbed through the window and dropped into the museum.

  I hadn’t wandered far from the entrance the last time we’d been in here, but I did now, rubbing my nose at the dust.

  This section of the inn wasn’t flawed in its integrity. The floors were solid and didn’t creak underfoot—a good note since the murderer might have come this way. I paused in an archway to a larger room, directing my flashlight inside.

  Covered shapes populated it—sheets draped over boxes and statues and whatever else Gamma had inherited when she’d bought the museum years ago. Everything would have to be removed and placed into storage when they started turning this place around.

  I scanned the room, but nothing stuck out to me, so I continued down the long hall toward the door that supposedly let into the other side of the inn.

  Surely, it would be locked. Only Gamma had a key for it.

  The door was made of thick, dark wood, and had a heavy gilded lock and handle. I stopped in front of it, searching for clues at its base, around its jamb, and on the wood itself, but there was nothing. No muddy trail of footprints leading to or from it. Shoot, guess all the mystery books I’d read had lied to me.

  I tried the door handle.

  The latch clicked and the door swung open.

  Now, that’s interesting.

  As far as Gamma knew, this was meant to be locked. She couldn’t afford an innocent guest wandering into the museum section. They might get lost or hurt or fall through a time portal to the past, if that creepy mirror I’d seen in the hall had anything to do with it.

  I stepped into the Gossip Inn proper.

  I’d entered into the small side hallway that ran alongside the kitchen and let out into the entry-hall area. And the archway that led into the kitchen itself.

  I think I just found how the murderer gained access to the—

  “No! Leave me alone.” The cry had come from the front of the inn.

  I tensed, listening.

  “Get away from me. Get away!” Peggy’s voice was muffled.

  I stalked forward, my mind on high alert. The front doors were slightly ajar, and I squeezed between them without a sound.

  The inn’s front lights were off, but moonlight illuminated the scene.

  Peggy was on the front path, her held out toward an approaching figure. A person wearing a balaclava, in all black and wielding a knife. I noted what details I could: short, armed, dangerous, then sprang into action.

  Peggy screamed. The attacker took a staggering step backward, clearly shocked by my sudden appearance.

  I ran at them, kicked up and struck their wrist. The knife fell from their hand, and the interloper stumbled a second time. I readied myself for a counterstrike, bringing my arms up to block, but the attacker didn’t launch into a flurry of karate kicks and jujitsu moves.

  They let out a stifled noise—halfway between a gasp and a high-pitched grunt—then turned on their heel and ran.

  What on earth?
<
br />   “Stay here,” I said to Peggy, then sprinted after them.

  I ran as quietly as I could, not calling for extra help.

  Drawing attention to the situation would only bring more people, and I didn’t want them to see this. If they realized how equipped I was, it would be a dead giveaway. Thankfully, I hadn’t had to show off much in front of Peggy.

  The attacker sprinted into the bushes, and I went after them, but they knew the path out of the inn’s grounds better than I did. They disappeared between tree branches and bushes.

  I came to a halt, lifted my hands and tucked them behind my head to rid myself of the ache in my side. Yeah, those cupcakes had been a bad idea. And I hadn’t been sticking to my exercise regime either.

  “Shoot.” I gritted my teeth. I’d lost them.

  This wasn’t like me. I should’ve been prepared for them to run off, but I was so used to tackling foes who were more than willing to fight that I’d completely discounted the fact that this was a small town attacker. Perhaps even, the small town murderer.

  First thing tomorrow, I’m getting back into my training.

  I stretched my arms and legs then walked back to the inn, defeated.

  25

  “She was amazing.” Peggy Ball trembled on the sofa, her grey-blue eyes wide, and her mousy brown hair in disarray. “Just came out of nowhere and shouted at the guy and then… wow.”

  “I did what anyone else would’ve done, Peggy,” I said, quickly.

  Mrs. Ball had done nothing but chatter about my heroics for the five minutes since she’d entered the inn. Gamma had come down the stairs, dressed in her PJs, at the sound of the commotion, as had a few of the other guests. Everyone was equipped with mugs of hot chocolate or green tea while we waited for the cops to show up.

  “Still. You were my heroine,” Peggy said.

  A few of the other guests nodded and smiled. I searched for those noticeably absent—Bella, of course, since she was in jail and Harley, who had gone to bed early and might have been asleep by now.

  “Yes, well, Charlotte is such a brave girl, I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” Gamma patted me on the shoulder. There was a hint of warning to her tone, but what had she expected me to do? Hang back and let poor Peggy get knifed? That wasn’t happening.

  I needed Peggy alive so I could question her about what had happened to Pete. It was too much of a coincidence now. Peggy’s room had been broken into and now she’d been attacked. Could it be Frederickson? But why?

  He’d struck me as more of a middle man. I doubted he’d come to the inn for Peggy. Unless he had something to do with Pete’s demise.

  The talk continued, and I lowered myself onto the comfy floral-patterned sofa next to Peggy, our backs to the window that looked out on the yard. The curtains were drawn, but we’d hear the police cars’ tires crunching on the gravel when they did arrive.

  Now was my chance.

  I arched an eyebrow at Gamma and gave a tiny jerk of my head to the chair next to the sofa.

  She nodded once and drew it closer, placing her teacup on the coffee table.

  Peggy didn’t seem to notice us ‘homing’ in on her. She held her hot chocolate in both hands and sipped on it occasionally, closing her eyes and humming.

  “Peggy,” I said, “how are you feeling?”

  Her eyes opened. “I’m OK,” she said, “but I’ll be better when the police are here. Thank you so much.”

  “You don’t need to thank me,” I replied, as quietly as I could without appearing to whisper. “Once again, anyone would have done the same in my position.”

  “It was just so scary. I just… I was just coming home from the Hungry Steer. I didn’t expect anything like that to happen. And I didn’t understand why the inn’s porch lights were off, either. Before I knew it, this person jumped out of nowhere.”

  “Did they say anything to you?” Gamma asked.

  “Yes. They wanted… they wanted my jewelry box,” Peggy said.

  I didn’t let my surprise and, indeed, excitement, show. “Your jewelry box.”

  “Yes.” Peggy held her mug in front of her face. “Yes. Remember how I told you that there was something important in it?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, it was… it was a thumb drive. Pete gave it to me before he died. He told me that if anything happened to him, I was to give the drive to the police. And I told that to the detective on the case, but I don’t know if he believes me. The jewelry box is gone,” Peggy continued, “and that means I have no proof that there was anything important in it.”

  The knowledge was exactly the type of lead I’d needed. If we found the thumb drive, we’d have proof. Or at least, more information about who might have been involved in the crime.

  “Do you have any idea where it might be?” I asked.

  “No,” Peggy shook her head. “I asked the detective to speak to Bella about it since she was the thief. But she had no information about it. That’s what he said, anyway. I’m going to see if I can visit her and find out where it is. If they’ll let me.”

  “But if she didn’t take it, then who might have?” I asked. “Do you know anyone who was Pete’s enemy? Who might have—?”

  “Pete had plenty of competitors and enemies, but I didn’t know who they were. We didn’t talk much about his business. He didn’t like to share things with me.”

  That was a sad thing to hear, but I could relate. I’d thought Kyle and I had been sharing during our marriage, but as it happened, he’d hidden everything from me. Including the fact that he was a double agent.

  “I’m sorry, Peggy,” I said. “I wish we could help.”

  “You’ve done enough. I just wish I could leave,” Peggy sighed. “I can’t go until the police have finished investigating. Pete’s going to be buried in New York, in his family plot, and staying here any longer just seems ridiculous.”

  “I’m sorry about that, dear.” Gamma reached over and gave Peggy’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure things will clear up soon.”

  And so was I. They would clear up very soon. The minute we found that jewelry box. I opened my mouth to press Peggy for extra information, but the crunch of tires on gravel and the flash of blue and red lights forestalled me.

  Detective Crowley had arrived. It was time for me to make myself scarce. Likely, he’d hunt me down in my bedroom upstairs and insist on taking a statement.

  “Peggy,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” she said. “You saved my life.”

  “Please, don’t tell Crowley that I was the one who helped you. Or if you do, don’t make a big deal out of it.” The Gossip Rag would publish a hero story as easily as they would one about a killer. And if my face was plastered all over the pages, it would surely be uploaded to the internet as well. Smulder already had his hands full bringing down sites that mentioned me or showed my photo.

  “I can’t lie to the police,” Peggy said.

  “I know. I’d just prefer it if it wasn’t made into a big deal.”

  Peggy chewed on her bottom lip then finally agreed.

  “I’ll handle this, dear,” Gamma said, winking at me. “You go upstairs and get some rest. You’ve had quite the eventful night.”

  I got the feeling that the excitement had only just started.

  26

  Crowley had found me in my room upstairs, as predicted, and questioned me at length. I’d downplayed my involvement, but given him accurate information about the attacker. Now, he was gone, and Cocoa Puff sat on the end of my bed, watching as I paced back and forth in front of the window.

  I stared at the greenhouse, the moonlight glancing off its glass roof, questions skating through the empty ice rink that was my mind. I had to be cold and calm to figure this out. And patient as I waited for the guests to go back to their bedrooms in the inn.

  “It’s got to be the answer, Cocoa. It’s most definitely the answer.”

  Coco
a Puff meowed.

  “If we can find it, we’ll have a real solid lead.”

  Another meow.

  “If only I knew what poison had been used. If I could work that out, I could find where it was sourced. Maybe get Smully on the case.”

  No meow this time, but Cocoa returned a questioning stare.

  “I call him Smully all the time. OK, hardly ever. He’s just a friend. A good friend, that’s all. Why does that even matter, Cocoa? I’ve just come out of a divorce, you know.”

  Another quiet kitty contemplation.

  “I don’t know why you even brought him up. He hasn’t called me for our check-up, this week. That’s all. That’s why I’m jumpy.” A part of me was sure that Smulder would phone and tell me the jig was well and truly up, and that it was time to disappear into the shroud of NSIB darkness that had been created for me.

  I turned from my pacing in front of the window and walked to my dressing table. I sat down on the chair in front of my mirror and glared at my full head of chocolate-brown hair. It was unwieldy. I’d only ever used that term during my training with a pair of throwing stars, but the hair deserved it.

  It was too long, it made my neck hot, and it was heavy. I lifted it and tied it into a weighty ponytail then got up again and resumed pacing.

  “It can’t be much longer.” I checked the pearlescent face of the watch that had been packed for me. “It’s already past midnight, Cocoa. I mean—”

  A quiet knock tapped at my door.

  I practically ran to it to answer.

  Gamma stepped into my room, her PJ robes cinched tight at the waist. “Who on earth were you talking to?” she asked, looking around as if she expected a guest to materialize out of the walls.

  “No one. Well, Cocoa, actually.”

  “Wonderful company, isn’t he?” Gamma asked, and gave the cat a stroke. “He’s been with me for years, now. He’s incredibly intelligent, you know. He understands what you’re saying.”

  A week ago, I would’ve called her crazy. Now, I was the crazy one having full-blown conversations with a cat.

  “Are we going?” I asked.