Gamma let out a sigh. “I’d take the head-scratcher over having to talk to Sherise Rogers.”
The battle-ax last seen with the murder victim. “Why are you talking to her?”
“I’ve been informed she’s the one taking over Darling’s accounts, and since Darling was paying for her own birthday celebration, food and accommodation for the guests, I have to settle with her. And Sherise, oh my. Sherise is a piece of work.”
“Why?”
“Now, I don’t want to speak ill of her,” Gamma said, focused on her page of numbers, “not behind her back. You know me, Charlotte. I’d much prefer to say my piece to someone’s face.”
“What has she done?”
“Annoyed me. Angered Darling. They haven’t known each other long, see, not nearly as long as I knew Darling, but they’re working closely together on a project. Or they were. Some movie script or the other. Darling didn’t give me many of the details, but she did phone me frequently to complain. And anyone who upset Darling upset me.” Gamma finished a calculation and drew up a total at the bottom of the page. “Now, I’m going to have to speak to this Sherise about the account without being harsh, as that would reflect poorly on the inn.”
“I told you about what I heard yesterday.” Gamma was my confidante, and she’d wanted to know what I’d found the minute it had happened.
“Suspicious,” my grandmother replied. “Very suspicious. It only compounds my dislike of the woman, but it doesn’t prove anything. Evidence before conviction. Innocent until proven guilty.” She clicked her tongue. “Doesn’t stop the woman from being insufferable, though.”
I grimaced.
Gamma got up and walked over to the kitchen doors. She peeked through one of the porthole windows. “I’d better get this over with.”
I followed my grandmother out into our cheerful dining area with its gleaming wooden tables, pale yellow walls, and creaking floors. There were a few diners still seated, finishing up some delicious mint-chocolate cupcakes.
Sherise had positioned herself at a table in front of the window. She sipped green tea from a steaming China cup, occasionally looking out at the grand lawn of the Gossip Inn.
I grabbed a pot of coffee and drifted through the dining room, offering refills to the guests.
Gamma stopped next to Sherise’s table. “Good afternoon, Miss Rogers,” she said, keeping her tone impassive.
Where I faltered, my grandmother prospered. She had never failed a mission in all her years at the NSIB, and she wasn’t about to drop her facade now.
“Ah, yeah, innkeeper.”
Now, that ought to get under Gamma’s skin. She wasn’t just the innkeeper. She’d been Darling’s best friend.
“I’ve come to discuss the account with you,” Gamma said, not bothering to take offense. “I believe you’re the one who’s going to take care of the payments? Darling left everything to you?”
“That’s correct,” Sherise said, slowly, eying my grandmother from head-to-toe, like a fly she wanted to squash.
I paused with the coffee pot nearby, feigning interest in a spot on the curtain.
Interesting that Sherise is the one who inherits everything. Shouldn’t it be Gerry?
“This is what’s owed,” Gamma said. “I assumed you would want to leave here relatively quickly after what happened.” She placed the notepad on the table in front of Sherise. “I can draw up a more formal bill after we’ve discussed. I’m happy to give a discount for Darling.”
Sherise didn’t so much as glance at the careful work my grandmother had done on the page. “You’re coming to me with this, now? Right after Darling was killed?” Her voice rose, and guests all over the dining area turned their heads.
Here we go.
“It’s best to get the unpleasantries out of the way, in my experience,” Gamma replied.
“Your experience is wrong, then. I’m not in the mood to think about numbers,” Sherise snapped. “And there’s no reason to, either. We’re not going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“That repulsive detective has told us none of the guests may leave until his investigation is over.” Sherise folded her arms, bumping them into the table and rattling the China cup in its saucer.
I didn’t bother hiding my interest in the conversation now—everyone else stared, and it would only look strange if I didn’t too.
“So, you see,” Sherise continued, “I won’t be paying anything until we leave, and I won’t be leaving until the case is solved. And heaven knows when that will happen in this backward town.”
I stiffened, involuntarily. Shoot, a few months ago, I might’ve agreed with her about Gossip being backward, but not anymore. This place and its people had grown on me.
“Very well,” Gamma said and picked up the notepad. “Enjoy your tea.” She headed for the kitchen and I tailed her, placing the coffee pot on the counter on my way in.
“They’re not leaving.”
“No,” Gamma replied. “Which means we’re stuck with that vile creature for another few weeks.” Gamma had that glint in her sharp blue eyes, one I recognized well.
“Meet me downstairs in twenty,” she whispered.
Things were about to get real interesting at the Gossip Inn.
9
As requested, I met my grandmother “downstairs” in exactly twenty minutes—we’d synchronized our watches in the kitchen.
Thankfully, Lauren wasn’t around the Shroom Shed, but she had gone home on her break to spend time with baby Tyson.
I navigated the obstacles we had placed in the basement to shield the secret door from view then stopped in front of it, waving once at the button camera I knew was on the wall above the door. It afforded my grandmother a view of anyone who got close to it. Extra precaution given the strange activity that’d taken place over the last year.
And in case my ex-husband showed up and made good on his threats on my life.
The door clicked open, and I entered, hurriedly, then shut it behind me.
Gamma sat at her desk at the front of the long room that never failed to impress me.
Long shelves lined the massive space under the inn, the roof, walls, and floor made of concrete. The bunker-style room had been designed by one of Gamma’s trusted contacts, and the contents supplied by others who had no qualms peddling illegal goods.
My grandmother had everything from full-body armor suits that fit snug under one's clothes to camo-wear to black outfits. She had throwing stars, a katana, an RPG-7 grenade launcher, a stock of C-4, and every grenade imaginable—flashbang and incendiary. Not to mention the collections of guns and ammunition.
“Must you stare every time you enter, Charlotte?”
“Snappy,” I replied. “Very snappy.”
“I have my reasons,” Gamma replied. “Come and look at this.”
I strolled over and took my position next to her.
She tapped on the desk and the screen inlaid within it lit up. “This,” Gamma said, “is the security footage from in front of the door. See there?”
A darkened figure moved across the screen. It was a split second of capture—the mushroom thief moving from the bottom of the basement stairs toward the Shroom Shed. No distinct features, no clues who it might be.
“Shoot,” I muttered. “That doesn’t help.”
“No, it does not.” Gamma tapped the screen to dismiss the footage. “But we have bigger fish to fry.”
“Sherise?” I grabbed one of Gamma’s fancy leather stools and dropped onto it.
“What brought you to that conclusion?”
“Sherise was set to inherit everything from Darling,” I said. “And the last one seen with her.”
“But you heard noises after the fact,” Gamma replied.
“True. But we don’t know what the murder weapon was. If it was poison…”
Gamma wriggled her nose from side-to-side. “What I’d like to know is why Darling changed her will. Why not leave everything to
Gerry? Did she not trust him?”
“And did he know about the will change before her death?”
“Exactly.” My grandmother folded her arms. “Gerry was also incredibly jealous of Brixton and Darling’s friendship.”
I raised an eyebrow at Gamma. “Are we sure it was a friendship?”
She made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” Gamma got up and walked toward her suits of armor, tucking her hands behind her back. “Gerry first,” she said. “Then Sherise and anyone else who interests us.”
I didn’t say anything. Gamma was focused on investigating the case now. There wasn’t much I could say to convince her not to.
“Are you in, Charlotte?”
“Of course,” I replied.
10
Sleuthing at the Gossip Inn took place at a slow pace. Then again, everything went slower in this town, and that suited its inhabitants just fine. There was no suiting up in sleek black armor or outfits, no holstering weapons—apart from the usual gun I strapped to my thigh under my knit dress.
In the Gossip Inn, my weapon of choice was a feather duster, and I used it liberally outside Gerry and Darling’s separate rooms. The excuse had been that Gerry snored terribly and Darling couldn’t stand the noise, but I had my suspicions there was more to that than met the eye.
“What do you think, Cocoa?” I whispered, while dusting trinkets on tables down the hall. “You think it’s suspicious too, don’t you?”
Cocoa sat under the rickety table I was cleaning, licking the front bit of his chest. He gave a short prrt-meow in response.
“I agree,” I said. “Absolutely.” At one point, talking to cats had bothered me. Now, it was the norm.
I kept as far back from Gerry’s room as I could without losing sight of it. I wanted to catch him exiting so I could participate in my part of the plan.
Gamma and I had constructed it this afternoon and agreed to implement it immediately. As a tailing mission, it paled in compared to the others I’d been on, but given my track record, I was set on not messing it up.
Smulder was right.
I was too over-eager. Too ready to go in guns blazing. If I’d been better at my job, I wouldn’t have been in this position. But I was darn good at dusting and sticking up for my grandmother. That had to count for something, right?
The door to Gerry’s bedroom opened, and I busied myself with the duster, lifting my eyes occasionally.
The older gentleman didn’t even notice me. He passed a folded note from one gloved palm to the other then stole down the hall toward the staircase. Gerry descended, and I pressed a finger to my ear.
“Target is moving down the stairs,” I murmured.
“Confirmed.” Gamma’s reply came, crystal clear, almost as if she was at my side. “No visual yet.”
I waited, clasping the feather duster in both hands.
“Target on the ground floor of the inn, heading toward exit.”
I paused, frowning. “What does he have on him?”
“Nothing.”
“He was holding a letter upstairs,” I whispered. “Did he bring it down with him?”
“Negative. Target is out of the inn, now.”
I tucked my feather duster under my arm. So, somewhere between the first and third floor, Gerry had lost the slip of paper he’d been babying in his leather-gloved hands. “Rendezvous on the second floor in two.”
“Confirmed.”
I released my ear then bent and scratched the underside of Cocoa Puff’s chin. “Be right back,” I said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. That includes indecent cleaning in front of the guests, Cocoa.”
Two minutes later, I met my grandmother on the second-floor landing. “What are your thoughts?” she asked, right away.
All the doors leading off the corridor were shut tight. I explained, briefly, what I’d seen when Gerry had emerged from his bedroom.
“And you don’t think he might simply have tucked the note into his pocket?” Gamma asked.
“He could have, but the way he was handling it, I—wait a second, look over there,” I said.
My deduction had been correct. Score one for Team Charlotte. A slip of paper peeked out from underneath a door nearby.
“Looks like your gut instinct was right,” Gamma said.
I wriggled my eyebrows at her. “Shall we?”
My grandmother walked to the balustrade and checked the foyer below. “Yes,” she said, “I believe we shall.” She removed a set of keys from her pocket and hurried to the room. We let ourselves in.
“It’s Callie’s room,” I whispered. “Callie Gordon.”
“Ah, the wilting flower of the group.”
“Not as wilting as you might think after what I saw yesterday afternoon.” I had already filled her in on the juicy details: Callie arguing with Brixton, and Gerry waiting nearby, clearly invested in their private conversation.
And now Gerry had left a note for the younger woman.
“So,” I said, keeping my voice low, as I glanced around Callie’s pink-and-cream themed bedroom. “Callie’s been hovering around Brixton like a fly around honey.”
“Flies are attracted to rotting corpses too, Charlotte.”
“Gross image, Georgina, but very true,” I replied, bending to lift the secret note from the floorboards. “And Gerry’s been leaving Callie notes and tailing her. Either there’s something romantic going on or something sinister.”
“Let’s find out.” Gamma nodded to the note.
I opened it.
Gorgeous Callie, flower of my heart.
I’ve been watching you for some time, and though I haven’t yet had the courage to approach you directly, I wanted to leave you another note. I wanted you to know I find you fascinating, that every movement you make is like the tiptoe of precious feet in the fields of my heart.
“That’s just terrible,” Gamma said, pulling a face.
“So, writing might not be Gerry’s strong suit.”
“But being creepy is. You know, I never liked the man. I warned Darling about him before they got married, but Darling always knew better.”
Until she hadn’t anymore.
We turned back to the love letter.
As much as I would love to take you into my arms and hold you close, I know it would not be the right time. I will wait until we can be together.
Yours,
Secret Admirer
“I wonder if Callie knows who’s sending her notes,” I said. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. This reeks of Gerry’s cologne.”
Gamma sniffed. “Foul, isn’t it? Overbearing.”
I put the note back where we found it then glanced around the room. “So, Gerry wanted to have an affair with Callie and had clearly fallen out of love with Darling.”
“Assuming he cared for her in the first place,” Gamma grumbled.
“But Callie wasn’t involved with him and was paying a lot of attention to Brixton. She has a crush on him for sure. She asked me which room he was staying in. Did Darling ever mention anything about Brixton to you? They seemed pretty cozy on the day they arrived at the inn.”
“Nothing affair-related. Darling’s an intensely loyal person,” Gamma said. “I think she was just friends with Brixton.”
I didn’t want to burst my grandmother’s bubble regarding her recently departed friend, but I didn’t buy that. Not for a second.
I needed to work this out.
So far, we didn’t have much except that the husband had been interested in Callie, who had been invested in Brixton, who had spent an awful lot of time hanging around with the victim.
And then there was Sherise, the friend. The one who’d been working on a script with Darling and who had inherited all of Darling’s money. Why was that the case?
“We’d better leave, Charlotte,” Gamma said.
I trailed my grandmother out of Callie’s room, mulling over the facts as I went. But there was n
othing in that letter that proved Gerry had done it.
It was a suspicion. The merest hint of a suspicion that everything wasn’t all right in Darling and Gerry’s marriage.
But was it wrong enough for him to have murdered her?
11
That afternoon…
The morning mission to tail Gerry had been successful—technically—but we didn’t have the evidence we needed that he might’ve murdered his wife. If my suspicions were correct about Darling, she had been having an extramarital affair of her own.
And if Darling was preoccupied with the handsome British guy, Brixton, and Gerry was obsessed with Callie, I didn’t see this being a crime of passion. There would be no reason for Gerry to fly off the handle in a jealous rage over Brixton’s relationship with Darling if he was into Callie.
A banging of pots and pans and the mutterings of Lauren in the kitchen traveled down the hall. The lunch service had been eventful.
Basically, Lauren was utterly exhausted after being up all night with the baby. Little Tyson was struggling to get into a good sleep schedule, and Lauren’s husband was away on business again. Couple that with the fact that the mushroom thief still hadn’t been caught, and… well, it was a recipe for disaster.
Lauren, usually so bubbly, was in a foul mood, and no amount of sumptuous mint-chocolate cupcakes could rid her of it.
I worked my way down the hallway dusting the artifacts in their positions on the tables in the foyer. The front doors of the inn were open, a chilly wind drifting through to greet me. My grandmother liked the flow of fresh air and reasoned that winters in Gossip weren’t that severe, anyway.
I paused my dusting, gazing out over the pathway, the gardens, and the trees. A solitary figure sat on a bench under an old oak.
Is that Sherise?
The battle-ax wore a black turtleneck and had a sheaf of paper in her lap. She turned pages, tapping a pen against the papers.
What was she up to?
Another bang from the kitchen followed by a growl from Lauren drove me out of the foyer and onto the porch.
Mint Murder (A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 5) Page 4