Mint Murder (A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Rosie A. Point

  And down the stairs we went. At the base, we found the button along the back of the bookcase and hit it. It creaked open.

  Gamma and I brought out our phones and switched on the flashlights, half-covering them with our gloved thumbs.

  “Carefully,” I whispered, more to myself than to my grandmother.

  We walked through the library, scanning the floor. The curtains were drawn in the solitary window along the wall, so our flashlights would go unnoticed in here. Books sat along the shelves, judging our passage through the library.

  “See anything?” I whispered.

  “Not yet.”

  Gamma and I studied the area where Darling had died then checked underneath the bookcases and armchairs.

  “Here,” I called, softly.

  The edge of the coffee table bore a few droplets of blood—most having been cleaned by the forensics team that had come through. Evidence Darling had hit her head?

  A single gum wrapper lay under the coffee table nearest the murder scene. I aimed my phone at it and snapped pictures of the pink wrapper, bearing the word Gumaloooo!

  “What do you think?” Gamma asked, snapping pictures of it as well.

  “I think it’s the best evidence we have,” I said. “But it’s nothing. Nothing. Unless we can prove one of the suspects chews this brand of gum, and even then…”

  “A tenuous connection,” Gamma agreed, her lips drawing downward at the corners.

  We split up again, searching the floor for irregular fibers, hairs, or scuffle marks. Nothing. The only thing we had was the evidence Darling had hit her head when falling. That was the assumption anyway.

  We were up sleuth mountain without an icepick.

  14

  I hadn’t gotten much sleep after our late-night investigation in the library. The lack of evidence had given me a lot to think about, and I’d been repeating the same names and facts on a loop in my mind.

  Gerry. Husband. Doesn’t get the money but might’ve wanted wife out the way to be with younger woman.

  Brixton. Potential affair?

  Sherise. Business partner. Argued a lot. Inherited money.

  Callie. Tantrum over Brixton. Might’ve had an affair with Gerry. Might’ve hated Darling because of both men.

  And while those facts were hardly immutable, they were the only clues I had, apart from the gum wrapper, the love letter Gerry had left Callie, and the tantrum I’d witnessed Callie throw out in the inn’s back yard.

  I sat on the kitchen’s back step, shelling peas in a bowl, watching Brian mow the lawn, sweat beading on his brow. He stopped occasionally and smiled at me, winked, sometimes blew a kiss.

  Since when had I gone soft?

  Since I’d started caring about Gossip and all the people at the inn.

  Which reminded me… there was still a mushroom thief to deal with.

  Brian headed toward the shed, taking the mower with him, and a flutter of glinting gold caught my gaze at the far corner of the inn, near the front windows.

  Callie was out there, wandering around near one of the fountains, a parasol leaning against her shoulder, clasped in lacy gloved hands. She looked gorgeous as ever, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, but with modern clothing, and I checked the coast was clear.

  Brian was preoccupied, and Lauren wouldn’t need the peas for another half hour.

  I dried my hands on my apron, covered my bowl of peas with a plate, then hurried over to Callie.

  She stood next to the fountain, twirling the parasol and sighing.

  “Hello,” I said. “How are you? Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Callie replied, offering me a beauteous smile. “The winters here are so nice compared to the ones in Vermont. Cold, but there’s no snap to the air. I like it.”

  “Me too,” I replied. “Great place. Could I trouble you for a stick of gum?”

  “Oh.” Callie patted the coat that had settled over her dress. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any.”

  Shoot. It was a long shot, but still.

  “There you are.” The voice had come from Sherise, who strode down the front steps of the inn, her stride long and businesslike. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Who, me?” Callie asked, lace-covered fingers fluttering to her chest.

  “No, the maid. I wanted to ask her the price of mushrooms.”

  “I—what?”

  Sherise rolled her eyes. “Of course, you, stupid woman.” She snapped her fingers under Callie’s nose, ignoring me completely.

  That was good. If I was just the maid, I drew no notice. And the less notice, the less chance of compromising my cover, and the more chance I would solve the case without anyone realizing I was even investigating it.

  “There’s no need to be rude, Sherise,” Callie said, her bottom lip quivering. “I was just surprised. You don’t usually spend much time with me.”

  “Well, yes, that’s because I find flighty women abhorrent,” Sherise replied.

  “Sherise, I—”

  “Have you seen Gerry?” Sherise asked, bulldozing over whatever Callie might’ve wanted to say.

  The older woman wasn’t flighty at all, but she was a pain in the neck. Seriously rude. No wonder Gamma didn’t like her. But just because someone was mean, didn’t make them capable of murder.

  “Gerry?” Callie blinked, her bright blue eyes watery with tears from the earlier insult. “N-no, I haven’t.” She held back a sniffle.

  “Now, that I find difficult to believe.” Sherise snapped her fingers. “Come on, girl, you must have seen him.”

  “No, I haven’t, Sherise.” Callie straightened, trying to make herself taller or more confident. “Why do you think I would’ve seen him?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  I sensed a fight brewing, and the beauty of this moment was that it didn’t matter where I stood. I didn’t have to slink away and give them privacy or watch from afar because I was just the help to these women.

  “I’m not playing anything,” Callie said and stomped her foot.

  Uh-oh. Sherise is about to get a front-row seat to the crazy Callie show.

  “Then you must just have a natural talent for obtuse behavior,” Sherise snapped. “You know where he is because you spent all of yesterday with him, smooching him whenever you got the chance.”

  “W-what?” Callie colored red as a flag.

  “You heard me. I’m well aware you wander down the hall every night to go visit him. Our rooms are adjacent. I hear everything you do,” Sherise replied then waved a hand like Callie’s flustered response was nothing but an annoyance. “Now, tell me where he is.”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “The utter trash that escapes your mouth… no wonder you and Gerry get along like a house on fire. Sorry, I meant, dumpster fire. Now, hurry up, girl,” Sherise said, snapping her fingers again. “I have important matters to discuss with him.”

  But Callie didn’t reply this time. Her gloved hands had balled into fists, one of them still grasping the parasol. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling.

  Pupils constricted. Intense rage.

  I opened my mouth to give Sherise fair warning.

  Callie swung the parasol down and snapped it closed, then poked Sherise in the chest with the point end. “Witch!” she shouted. “You’re the one spreading rumors about me.”

  Sherise’s jaw dropped.

  She was as shocked as I’d been when I’d first witnessed Callie’s toddler tantrum the other day. The young woman had reached her terrible twenties, apparently.

  “Callie, pull yourself to—”

  The blonde woman brought the parasol down on Sherise’s head with a terrific whap. “Liar!” Callie shrieked, and hit her a second time. “Venomous. Evil.” Smack and smack followed each of those adjectives. “Witch.”

  Sherise caught the end of the parasol, her shock having disappeared. Perhaps Callie had smacked it out of her. “You touch me again, and you
’ll regret it, sorely,” Sherise hissed.

  “I’ll make you wish you never laid eyes on me.” Callie released the end of the parasol and launched at Sherise, fingers clawing, and lips pulled back over her teeth. She collided with the older woman, and they fell to the grass next to the trickling fountain.

  The juxtaposition of the peaceful water and the catfight would’ve been funny if I wasn’t seriously concerned one of these two ladies might be the murderer.

  “Stop,” I shouted.

  They ignored me. Sherise screeched foul language while Callie grunted and kicked, pulling at the older woman’s hair.

  Do I separate them? I was more than capable of incapacitating them, but it would surely blow my cover. What would mousy Charlotte Smith the maid have done in this instance?

  “Brian!” I yelled. “Help!”

  My boyfriend darted out of the shed, pulling off his grass-stained gloves. He streaked toward the fighting women and grabbed Callie by the waist—the younger woman had gained the upper hand.

  Brian lifted her off with ease and carried her away a few paces, all while she kicked and screeched, her cheeks red and her hair in disarray.

  I offered a hand to Sherise, but she smacked it away and got up by herself. “You,” she growled, jabbing a finger in Callie’s direction, “you’re going to get what’s coming to you, and I hope I’m there for it.” She marched for the front of the inn, tugging on her clothing.

  Callie yelled a few more times before going into a dead faint in Smulder’s arm.

  “What on earth is going on?” Brian asked.

  “I think she wore herself out,” I replied.

  “We’d better get her inside.” Brian dragged Callie a few paces before I grabbed her by the legs and lifted. “What’s going on in this place? Everyone’s lost their minds.”

  “It’s got to be something in the water,” I said, half-serious.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t clarify who had committed the murder. Both women were fully capable. And both had the motive for it.

  15

  That night, I perched upright in bed, my new laptop open in my lap and Cocoa Puff tucked against my side, curled into a purring ball of brown fur. I stroked him absently, trying not to frustrate myself with extraneous details of the case. Or thoughts about my ex-husband and the NSIB.

  We still hadn’t heard from Special Agent in Charge Grant, and my worry had blossomed from a bud to a full-blown Venus Fly Trap.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Stop it,” I muttered. “That’s not going to help.”

  No amount of worrying would change what had to come. Either I would meet my ex-husband face-to-face or the NSIB would take him down. Either way, it would end. And panicking about the future certainly wouldn’t change the outcome.

  My grandmother had instilled many life lessons over the course of my time on this Earth, and chief among them was never to worry about things I couldn’t control. And for the things I could control? Well, no point worrying when I could change them or the circumstances of them, right?

  But all the wisdom in the world didn’t stop my thoughts from straying toward the inevitabilities, the questions, the hidden truths in the Gossip Inn.

  I checked the time on my digital alarm clock.

  Just past 1:00 in the morning. Boy, I’d be tired tomorrow—nothing worse than dealing with people when I could barely think straight.

  I tapped on the browser icon on my laptop and it opened a new tab. I typed in “Darling Gould” and received a plethora of results. As a celebrity, there was so much information about her on the internet I’d have to sift through to find relevant pieces.

  I scanned headlines.

  Darling Gould To Star in Self-Written, Directed and Produced Film.

  Trouble in Paradise? Are Darling Gould and Long-term Husband Getting a Divorce?

  Just In: Darling Gould Set To Retire!

  Darling Gould, Star in Her Golden Years, Says She Will Never Retire.

  Can Darling Gould Beat the Odds and Win An Academy Award?

  I read the name “Darling Gould” so many times it’d started losing all meaning.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s see what we can see.”

  Cocoa gave a tiny meow, and I stroked his furry side then hit the first article.

  Darling Gould To Star in Self-Written, Directed and Produced Film.

  The self-proclaimed “best actress since Meryl Streep” is set to star in a movie she’s writing herself. Rumor has it Darling Gould, best known for her portrayal of the witch, Sweet Hex, in blockbuster film, Hex Me to the Limit, has already entered into an agreement with a high-profile studio—

  I scanned the rest of the information, searching for anything relevant. There were a few pictures, some of which showed Sherise and Darling together, arm-in-arm, on a red carpet. Both women were happy as could be, caught mid-laughter at some joke or the other.

  If a picture was worth a thousand words, this one said Darling and Sherise were excited about their project, happy to be working together, and good friends.

  Apparently, pictures could be worth a thousand lies too.

  I scrolled further down and found another image of Darling on the red carpet, this time accompanied by her husband. Gerry stood in the foreground, his chest puffed outward, while Darling bore a tight smile and had a hand raised to the cameras. Both were dressed impeccably.

  And it told me nothing except what I already knew. Gerry was full of himself, and Darling hadn’t exactly had the best relationship with her husband.

  A knock came at my door, and I tensed.

  Don’t be ridiculous. Kyle wouldn’t knock to enter. He’d come in through the window or one of the secret passages and try to kill you before you knew what was happening.

  “Who’s there?” I called out.

  “Brian.”

  “Oh, come on in.”

  The door opened, and my boyfriend entered. He shut the door behind him and locked it—most unlike us.

  He came over and kissed me on the forehead before heading to the dressing table and taking a seat at it.

  “What are you doing awake so late?” I asked, shutting my laptop and setting it on my bedside table.

  Brian was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy. Unlike me, he had no trouble getting up with the sparrows.

  “I still haven’t heard from Grandpa,” he said, using our codename for Special Agent in Charge Grant. “Or any of our relatives.” That meant he hadn’t been in contact with anyone at the NSIB, either.

  “Oh,” I replied. “That’s not good. I hope they’re all OK.”

  “It’s not them I’m worried about.”

  “Brian.” My pulse lifted, and I sat up straighter in bed. Cocoa meowed a complaint.

  “If we don’t hear from our family soon, we can assume something bad has happened. There’s a reason they can’t talk to us right now.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. There were contingencies in place for every eventuality. That included a loss of contact with the NSIB.

  “We might have to leave soon. It would be the only way to protect our family.”

  He meant going underground. The realization of the threat I dreaded more than anything else.

  “If we leave,” I said, “it might put our friends here in danger. They need our help too, Brian.”

  “You can’t help them if you’re…” Brian didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  I can’t help them if I’m dead. “That’s not going to happen,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll hear from Grandpa soon.”

  “Charlie, you need to face facts. This can’t go on forever. You’re going to have to leave Gossip sometime, whether it’s now or later. Wouldn’t you rather leave now and keep the others safe?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “I want them safe. I just feel like they’re safer when we’re around.” And I couldn’t envision leaving the inn, Cocoa, Sunlight the troublesome adolescent cat, Laur
en, and especially Gamma.

  I had loved my grandmother from afar for years. I had missed our time together, even if we were both emotionally detached at the best of times, but now… now that I’d lived here, that I’d experienced what I could only describe as a normal life, I couldn’t picture just abandoning them all.

  “Now isn’t the time to break the rules,” Brian said, stiffly.

  “I know,” I replied, but that was exactly how I operated. Break all the rules, make all the mistakes, and work it out in the end. If I had stuck to the rules in the first place, I wouldn’t have discovered Kyle’s dirty tactics—the fact that he was a rogue spy for an enemy agency.

  I wasn’t the best spy in the world, or even in the NSIB, but I had to go with what felt right in my gut, and running away wasn’t right. It would endanger the people here even more, especially if Kyle already knew where I was.

  But if he knows, wouldn’t he be here by now?

  “I’m sure everything will be fine, Brian.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “I just want you to be prepared, Charlie. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

  And it’s my job to keep everyone here safe. But that wasn’t true. I was supposed to be in hiding, not taking on missions that weren’t assigned to me.

  I brushed Cocoa’s fur and tried not to stress.

  16

  Brian left me to stew shortly after, and all that well-intentioned “don’t worry about what you can’t control” advice flew right out of the window. If I knew Smulder, and boy, did I know him after all this time spent working together, he would do the right thing. By the book.

  And that meant tearing me away from everyone here, even if he had to tie me up in a sack and cart me off like I was a bag of potatoes.

  I kissed Cocoa’s furry head then got out of bed.

  I couldn’t sit still right now, and the only thing that would cure me of these panicky thoughts was movement. Perhaps a visit to the kitten foster center downstairs was in order. I could go say hello to another favorite cat, Sunlight. The ginger always cheered me up, and he was playful no matter the time of day or night.