The Malt in Our Stars

by Sarah Fox

  “I’m sure it’s not easy.” I stood back a few feet, not wanting to breathe in her secondhand smoke. “Any word on what’s happening with the murder investigation?”

  “Not that I’ve heard.” Connie took a drag on her cigarette and let out a stream of smoke. “I sure hope the cops catch the killer soon. It’s creepy working here knowing there could be a murderer among us. I keep looking over my shoulder, especially when I’m on my own cleaning the rooms. To be honest, the whole third floor gives me the heebie-jeebies now.”

  “I bet.” I was glad I didn’t have her job. I’d be expecting a killer to jump out from behind every piece of furniture. Of course, her job probably had some advantages, from a snooping perspective. “You must see and hear things while you’re working. Any idea who the killer might be?”

  “No, that’s the problem. I find myself suspecting everyone. I consider some of the other staff my friends, but how well do I really know them? I’ve only been here a few weeks. The whole thing freaks me out.” She shivered before taking another puff of her cigarette. “I’d quit but I need the money. My husband doesn’t have a job at the moment.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

  She dropped her cigarette to the pavement and ground it under the toe of her shoe. “Thanks. We’ll be all right.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual on the day of the murder?” I asked before she could tell me her break was over.

  “Do you moonlight as a detective?” she asked with a touch of humor.

  “I’m just curious,” I said. “I’m really hoping the case will get solved soon.”

  “You and me both. But, no, I didn’t notice anything strange. I didn’t have much of a chance to. I was working with Mrs. Honeywell, sorting through all the linens.”

  “Was she there with you the whole time?”

  “Hold on,” Connie said with surprise. “You think Mrs. Honeywell might be the killer?”

  “I think it could be almost anyone,” I answered.

  “Not her. She left me to do most of the work with the linens, but she was right outside the door the whole time, pacing up and down the hall, yapping away on her cell phone. Besides, I’m guessing the killer was a man.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  Connie shrugged. “Marcie’s room was on the second floor and the room she was pushed from was vacant, so what was she doing up there in the first place?”

  “You think she was there to meet a man,” I surmised. “But which man?”

  “That’s the million dollar question.” Connie unwrapped a piece of gum and slipped it into her mouth. “Time to get back to work. See you around.”

  I barely had a chance to say goodbye before she disappeared into the manor.

  Alone now, I stayed put, thinking over what Connie had said. Her theory made sense. It would explain why Marcie was in the room on the third floor when she’d told Linnea she was going to her room to rest. That could have been an excuse to cover up the fact that she was going to meet a man, one who didn’t want to be seen entering or leaving Marcie’s room. And if that man was Brad Honeywell, he would have had easy access to the vacant room. Marcie had been upset with Brad and had told him to stay away from her, but maybe she’d changed her tune later. If the two of them had a romantic history, it was possible.

  It wouldn’t be good to let that theory blind me, though. I had a hard time picturing Marcie agreeing to meet Brad alone after what I’d witnessed between them, and Tamara’s impression was that they didn’t have a romantic history. I couldn’t discount the idea completely, but I also needed to consider other possibilities. Maybe she’d arranged to meet another man. Again, I was left with the question of whom. Someone who worked at the manor? Another guest?

  I wasn’t sure how to find the answer.

  My stomach gave a rumble of hunger, distracting me. I checked my phone and decided I had time to squeeze in a quick trip to the dining room for a slice of Gina’s heavenly chocolate mousse cake before heading home to open the pub. Some people might have considered it too early in the day to eat chocolate cake, but I didn’t let that bother me. It was, as the saying went, five o’clock somewhere.

  I decided to use the door Connie had disappeared through, hoping I’d be able to find my way to the dining room without getting lost in the back corridors. When I stepped inside, I found myself in a narrow hallway with closed doors on both sides. I hurried along, hoping not to get caught sneaking around, even if I wasn’t snooping right at the moment.

  The coast seemed clear until I rounded a corner and walked into view of someone coming down a stairway to my left. My heart skipped a beat, but it settled back into its normal rhythm when I realized it was Jan Finch, the plumber, not one of the Honeywells. She wore her typical outfit of jeans and a flannel shirt, but her usually tidy, cropped brown hair stood up in places, as if she’d run her hands through it a few times.

  She seemed as startled by my presence as I’d been by hers, and she nearly lost her footing, grabbing the railing just in time.

  “Hi,” I said, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “It’s Jan, right? I’m Sadie Coleman. I’ve seen you at my pub a few times.”

  Jan averted her eyes from mine and mumbled something I didn’t catch before darting past me and hurrying toward the back door.

  I watched her go, finding her behavior odd. It was as if I’d caught her when she didn’t want to be seen. She was gone now, so I continued on my way to the dining room, but I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d acted so shifty.

  * * *

  Shontelle and I had much better luck shopping for dresses in Manchester than we did in Shady Creek. There was no Vera to dampen my spirits, and we had far more dresses to choose from. Shontelle bought a gorgeous full-length dress in dark red, while I fell in love with a deep purple gown.

  I tried on several dresses in green, black, and silver, but none of them felt or looked as right on me as the purple one. The pleated, A-line satin skirt reached down to the floor, and the shoulder straps and waistline were encrusted with sparkly faux diamonds. The same stones embellished the neckline and dipped down in a V to meet the gems at the waist.

  As soon as I tried it on, I felt like a princess and knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the store without buying it. It wasn’t cheap, but fortunately it wasn’t way out of my budget either.

  At another store, we’d found masks to go with our dresses. Shontelle’s was mostly black, with dark red accents and some sequins for sparkle. Mine was black and purple with a few feathers of the same colors. Shontelle bought a new pair of shoes to wear to the masquerade, but I managed to resist that temptation since I had a pair of heels at home that would go well with my gown.

  “Just wait until Grayson sees you in that dress,” Shontelle said as she drove us back toward Shady Creek after we’d eaten lunch at a Manchester restaurant.

  “He won’t be at the masquerade, remember?” I said. “He’ll be out of town.”

  “He’ll wish he’d been there, once he sees a picture of you.”

  “How would he see a picture of me?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. “I’m not going to show him one.”

  Shontelle smiled, her eyes on the road ahead of us. “There are always photos from the masquerade in the Tribune and on the newspaper’s website. I’m sure Joey won’t mind featuring you.”

  “I might mind,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted my picture in the paper. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the only woman Joey will want to feature in his photographs is Sofie Talbot.”

  “I’ve heard he’s been spending a lot of time at the bakery.”

  “You heard right.”

  “Well, picture or no picture,” Shontelle said, “at least you’ve got your dinner date with Grayson tomorrow. I’ll need all the details, by the way.”

  “I’ll fill you in,” I promised.

  “Maybe you should have bought another dress for your date. Do you have something to wear?”

  “I ha
ve plenty of things to wear, but I’m not sure what to choose.” This was something I’d thought about repeatedly, in between musings about Marcie’s murder. “I don’t know where we’re going for dinner. Maybe I should ask. I don’t want to be overdressed, but I also don’t want to be underdressed.”

  Shontelle sent me a cheeky smile before returning her eyes to the road. “I don’t think Grayson will mind if you’re underdressed.”

  “Shontelle! You know what I meant.”

  She laughed. “I do. Go with something that will work for Lumière, the manor, and the Harvest Grill. I doubt Grayson’s going to take you to the pizza joint for your first date.”

  “You never know, but I think you’re right. I’ve got that blue wrap dress.”

  “Perfect. It looks great on you. He’ll love it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Shontelle glanced my way as we reached the outskirts of Shady Creek. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “Maybe just a little,” I confessed. “I haven’t been on a date in a while, and we both know how things turned out with my last relationship.”

  “Grayson isn’t Eric.”

  “He isn’t,” I agreed. “And I’d like to think I’m a little wiser now.”

  “You are.” Shontelle pulled up to the curb in front of the Inkwell. “And you can relax. Grayson’s really into you already.”

  “You think so?” I asked, hoping she was right.

  Shontelle rolled her eyes. “Of course! Those sparks between you have been flying both ways for months. I’m pretty sure he would have asked you out weeks ago if he didn’t know what you’d been through in the past year.”

  Maybe that was true. After all, he did know that my ex had been murdered in October. We’d found Eric’s body together, with the help of Grayson’s dog, Bowie.

  “But he also knows that I broke up with Eric long before the murder,” I reminded her.

  “Sure, and he knows Eric lied to you repeatedly, stole from you, and made you afraid to trust a man again,” she added.

  I thought she was getting carried away. “I’m not sure he knows all those details.”

  “Honey, we live in Shady Creek. The whole town knows.”

  I rested my head against the back of the seat. “Oh, great.”

  “Welcome to small town living.”

  “I might not even have to fill you in on the details,” I grumbled. “You’ll probably know everything before I do.”

  Shontelle laughed. “I still want to hear it all from you.”

  With another promise that she would, I gathered up my purchases and crossed the footbridge toward home, already wondering if I should change my mind about wearing the blue wrap dress.

  * * *

  After eating out several times in the past week—and indulging in two generous slices of chocolate mousse cake at the manor—I decided a late afternoon bike ride was in order. I retrieved my new bicycle from my equally new shed and strapped on my helmet. The shed, along with my old bike, had been destroyed by a fire back in the fall. Fortunately, my insurance had helped to cover the cost of rebuilding the small stone structure that matched the gristmill.

  As soon as the snow had disappeared and spring had shown the first signs of arrival, I’d gone out and bought myself a new bicycle. I enjoyed taking peaceful bike rides around Shady Creek and I liked to make sure that I got some exercise on a somewhat regular basis. I’d managed to improve my strength and stamina over the winter, thanks to regular snowshoeing and the occasional trip to the town’s outdoor ice rink, and I was hoping to continue that trend.

  Shontelle and I hadn’t arrived home until the middle of the afternoon, but I still had plenty of daylight left to get out and enjoy the spring weather. With any luck, the exercise would help to rid me of my pre-date nerves while also clearing my mind. My thoughts on Marcie’s murder were so jumbled and muddled lately. Maybe getting some fresh air would untangle them. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

  I decided to head south, so I hopped on my bike and set off around the village green. When I turned the corner onto Sycamore Street, I spotted Karidee sitting in the window of the coffee shop. I slowed down and waved. She had a laptop in front of her and was typing away furiously, so she didn’t notice me. Giving up, I resumed pedaling, but slowed down again mere seconds later.

  Grayson had just emerged from Aunt Gilda’s salon, his hair freshly trimmed and stylishly tousled. Unlike Karidee, he noticed me right away and lifted a hand in greeting. I checked for traffic and waited for a car to pass by before hopping off my bike and walking it across the street to the sidewalk, where Grayson waited for me.

  “Your hair looks great,” I said when I reached him.

  He ran a hand over it, tousling it even more. “Thanks to your aunt.”

  “She can work magic with hair,” I acknowledged, “but yours always looks good.”

  Grayson reached out and touched the end of my braid where it rested over my shoulder. “So does yours.”

  My cheeks heated up a touch, not so much from the compliment but from the fact that I knew I looked far from my best with my bicycle helmet squashing my hair. Taking the helmet off would have been worse, though. That would have subjected him to the sight of a major case of helmet-hair.

  “It was interesting,” Grayson said, distracting me from my embarrassment.

  “What was?” I asked, wondering if I’d missed something.

  “Talking with your aunt.”

  The amusement in his eyes made me immediately suspicious.

  “Why? What did you talk about?” I feared I already knew.

  “The brewery,” he said. I relaxed until he added, “And you.”

  My apprehension returned in a flash. “Why were you talking about me?”

  Grayson grinned. “Gilda was telling me some stories about you.”

  My eyes widened with alarm. “Which stories?”

  “A few different ones.”

  He was being intentionally vague. The laughter in his blue eyes gave that away and alarmed me further.

  “Which ones?” I demanded.

  He took a step back, getting ready to leave. “About you when you were younger.”

  Oh, sweet Sherlock. That couldn’t be good.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six,” he said. “Does that work?”

  The change of topic caught me off guard. “That works,” I managed to say after struggling with my tongue for a moment.

  “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  He treated me to a grin that stirred up butterflies in my stomach, and then he set off along the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the brewery.

  “Which stories?” I called after him, realizing he’d successfully distracted me.

  He didn’t turn back to respond, but I heard his laughter as he walked away.

  I tried not to worry too much about what Aunt Gilda had told him, but it wasn’t easy. There were far too many embarrassing stories she could have shared with him. There was that time I’d fallen into the river at Volunteer Landing, for starters. That was something my brothers had never let me live down. There was also that incident when I was eight and got my tongue stuck to the freezer when I licked at a frozen dribble of ice cream. Aunt Gilda had been the one to save me by pouring warm water over my tongue until it was free.

  I cringed as more embarrassing events from my past replayed in my head while I cycled along a quiet country road. I was thinking of canceling my date with Grayson and moving to Antarctica when I noticed a sign by the entrance to a driveway up ahead.

  HAPPY PAWS CAT SHELTER, the sign read.

  I slowed to a stop and read the smaller print beneath the shelter’s name. Sure enough, the sign confirmed that the property was home to the cat shelter run by Jan Finch.

  I continued on my way a moment later, but the tone of my thoughts had changed. Now, instead of worrying about what Aunt Gilda had told Grayson, I was back to wondering why Jan had acted so s
hifty when I’d last seen her at the manor, and whether she had something to hide.

  Chapter 17

  I woke up the next morning with Aunt Gilda on my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t squelch the unsettled feeling that arose in my stomach every time I thought of her moving away. I worried that she might be feeling even more unsettled than I was, considering that the decision wasn’t an easy one for her.

  Maybe she’d made up her mind since I’d last spoken with her. I considered texting her to ask, but decided it was a question I’d rather put to her in person. I read a couple of chapters of Midnight’s Shadow while I ate a bowl of oatmeal, so absorbed in the story that I was surprised when I tried to spoon up more oatmeal and realized my bowl was empty. After I tore myself away from the book, I brushed my teeth and decided to swing by the salon to see if Aunt Gilda had a few minutes to chat.

  Wimsey followed me downstairs, streaking past me when I opened the back door. He slowed his pace once he was out on the grass, and sat down to gaze out over his kingdom, listening to the birds in the nearby trees. I left him to his feline pursuits and strolled across the footbridge, not in any hurry, enjoying the beautiful spring morning.

  After crossing Creekside Road, I paused at the edge of the village green. A maypole had been set up and a group of schoolkids was practicing a dance with the ribbons, under the watchful eye of their teacher. I recognized Shontelle’s daughter, Kiandra, among the children. She was too intent on her dancing to notice me, and a moment later I moved on. I planned to watch the full performance on May Day.

  When I arrived at the salon, I didn’t end up going inside. I could see through the window that both Betty and Gilda were busy with clients, and two other women sat in the waiting area. Aunt Gilda was clearly too occupied for a private chat, so I decided to try again another time. As I was about to leave, Aunt Gilda caught sight of me through the window and waved. I smiled and returned the wave, but set off for home when she refocused on the woman in her chair.

  Back at the Inkwell, I perched on a stool at the bar with a notebook and pen in front of me. I was hoping to add a new cocktail or two to the pub’s menu in the upcoming weeks, and that meant I needed to do some brainstorming. I wanted to make a red and white layered cocktail that I could name The Cat in the Hat, but I wasn’t sure yet which flavors to go with. The layers made it all the trickier, as I had to come up with ingredients with different specific gravities so they would sit one on top of the other, and yet they still had to taste good together.