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

by Rosie A. Point

  I made for the porch instead of the kitchen. Gamma would need my moral support if Jessie had come to cause trouble. And since she only ever came to the inn with that goal in mind, trouble was a given.

  Jessie stood on the top step, wearing a lime green pashmina, her colored brown hair cut into a sharp-edged bob. Glittery blue eyes glared at my grandmother.

  “I’m happily married,” Jessie said, raising her left hand and twiddling her ring finger at Gamma. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Why on earth would I want to do anything about it? I have no interest in your personal life,” Gamma replied.

  “I know you’re interested in my husband,” Jessie said. “I know you’ve been sending him text messages.”

  “I’ve done no such thing.” Gamma rolled her eyes at Jessie. “Delusional as per usual, Belle-Blue. If you’re not careful, you’ll drive that husband of yours away. If he’s sane, at least. Who knows? Crazy attracts crazy.”

  “Just stay away from my cattery! Stay away from my man.”

  “I wish I knew what you were talking about,” Gamma said.

  Jessie quivered with rage.

  “Has someone been snooping around your house, Jessie?” I asked.

  She withered me with her gaze. “As if I’ll tell you anything.” She flounced off, her pashmina whipping in the breeze.

  Gamma and I exchanged a glance. “That was weird,” I said. “Why come all the way out here to tell you that?”

  “Either she’s having marital issues or she just wanted to check in,” Gamma replied. “Jessie’s an idiot, but she’s a creature of habit. She needs our disagreements to keep functioning normally. One argument every other week sets her right. It’s like having her morning coffee.”

  “That’s…”

  “A good stress-reliever,” Gamma said, stretching. “I feel refreshed.”

  I shook my head.

  “Are you going to help Lauren with the brunch, Charlotte?”

  “I was on my way to the kitchen when the yowling out here started.”

  “I assume you’re insinuating we were fighting like cat and dog, and I want to take offense to that, but…”

  “I’m right.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at her then entered the inn with my grandmother following right behind. “Any thoughts on last night?” I threw that over my shoulder in a whisper.

  “None. Other than the fact that we’ve got another solid suspect to add to the list. I can’t think of a reason why Brixton would’ve run off with a basket into the woods. There had to be something relevant or important inside it,” Gamma breathed.

  The bottom floor of the inn was empty—as evidenced by a quick scouting of the dining area and library. We paused in the foyer.

  “Murder weapon?” I whispered.

  “Maybe.”

  “Mushrooms?”

  “Pardon me?” Gamma blinked. “Oh! Yes. The thief. Maybe.”

  “But would someone really run after a mushroom theft? I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, right?”

  “Actually, it’s a pretty big deal in Gossip. Mushroom theft is liable to land you in prison for two years and comes with a few hefty fines.”

  “I—what?”

  “Mushroom blight of 1932,” Gamma said, by way of explanation.

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It’s Gossip. Very little about this place makes sense,” Gamma replied.

  No arguing there.

  We entered the kitchen and found Lauren seated at the kitchen table, her face planted on her recipe book, eyes shut. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and she snorted in her sleep.

  “—baby, Jason,” she said.

  “Oh dear,” Gamma whispered. “Poor Lauren is utterly poopskied.”

  “Poopskied?”

  “Just go with it.”

  The kitchen was in disarray too, the steel counters bearing ingredients in varying states of preparation. The double-burner gas stove was off, thankfully, but Lauren had removed a few pots and pans and placed them out. Apparently, she’d dropped off halfway through her recipe.

  “Lauren,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Lauren.”

  She groaned, and her eyelashes fluttered. She opened her eyes and sat upright suddenly, tearing a page from her recipe book that’d been stuck to her cheek. “Wh-what?”

  “You’re exhausted,” Gamma said. “You need to go home and sleep.”

  “I can’t,” Lauren replied. “The baby is at daycare, and if I go home, I have to fetch him, and then we have to…”

  “All right.” Gamma raised a palm. “Then go upstairs to my bedroom and take a nap there.”

  “But—the brunch—the—”

  “I’m your employer, Lauren, and I’m giving you an instruction,” Gamma said, sternly. “You need rest.”

  “Thank you,” the chef practically wept. “Thank you, Georgina. I don’t know what I’d do with you. Things have been so tough lately. Jason’s away on another business trip, and I have little Tyke to myself all night. I love him so dearly, but I feel like I’m not doing a good job as a momma because I can’t get any sleep.”

  “You need rest,” I put in. “And not just a nap. How about I come over tonight and help you out?”

  “You would do that?” Lauren asked.

  “Sure.” It would give me a chance to think through everything we’d discovered. And Lauren was a friend in need. While I wasn’t great with kids, I’d learn fast. If I could learn to disassemble and reassemble a handgun in forty-five seconds, I could learn how to change a diaper.

  “That’s a great idea, Charlotte.” Gamma rewarded me with a pleased smile.

  “I’ll take care of brunch too,” I said, squeezing the chef’s shoulder. “Leave it to us.”

  “You two are angels.” Lauren yawned then got up and stumbled for the doorway. “Are you sure you can do it?”

  “We have everything under control,” Gamma replied.

  I couldn’t help but feel that was far from the truth at the moment.

  Not for long.

  20

  I’m sorry. I sent the text through to Brian. I should’ve told you I wouldn’t be at the inn this evening. I’m helping Lauren with the baby.

  I waited for the reply, my stomach bubbling. Brian was the only person who made me this nervous. A part of me hated that he might disapprove of my actions, but I was too darn stubborn to worry about it too much.

  Smulder wouldn’t disapprove of me helping a friend, but he would definitely frown upon Gamma and I investigating Darling’s murder. Oh, and the fact that I’d been avoiding him ever since he’d mentioned those special contingency plans he’d put into action if we didn’t hear from Special Agent in Charge Grant.

  I get it. Smulder’s reply came through. But we need to discuss things. Soon.

  I shoved my phone into my pocket without replying. As much as I adored him, and it took a lot for me to admit that after everything I’d been through with Kyle, I couldn’t agree with the idea I’d have to leave Gossip to keep my friends safe.

  “All right,” Lauren said, entering the living room with Tyke lying on her shoulder. She patted his back. “Breastfeeding done. I’m just burping him.”

  “Shouldn’t I do that?”

  “Well, unless you’ve had a baby and started lactating, Charlie…”

  “I meant the burping part.” I grimaced.

  Lauren giggled, her jolliness having returned after her refreshing nap earlier in the day. “I know. I was teasing. Hmm, yeah, OK, you can practice burping him. I should make us some dinner anyway. It’s getting late.”

  Since when was 8:00 pm late? Then again, if I’d had a baby, I might’ve thought the same thing.

  “All right, here,” Lauren said. “Take him just like that. That’s right, head over your shoulder. Oh, here’s the spit-up cloth.”

  “The what now?”

  “Well, when you burp a baby, sometimes they spit up a bit of milk. It’s just because they’ve got tra
pped wind and—”

  “Spare me the details,” I replied and held Tyke against my chest. He cooed, his warm heavy in my arms, his little head, covered in tufts of red hair, smelling of baby powder and new life.

  “Pat his back gently, like this.”

  I followed her instructions, and Tyke made a hiccupping noise.

  “You’re a natural, Charlie!” Lauren grinned, and used the spit-up cloth to wipe Tyke’s face. “All right, just walk him back and forth now. He’ll probably fall asleep while I’m making dinner.”

  “Are you sure you want to make dinner?” I asked. “We could just order in.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Lauren asked. “I haven’t enjoyed cooking in ages, and I have a special dish in mind.”

  Lauren lived in a little cottage on the far side of town. The living room led straight into the open-plan kitchen, so we could chat as I paced back and forth between her sofa and armchairs. The TV was on, playing soft music that apparently helped Tyke get to sleep, and if that didn’t work, I figured the cool, muted blue wallpaper would. The aesthetic in the house was soothing. Everything had its place.

  “What special dish?” I asked.

  “Well, you see, Jason hates this one meal in particular—mushroom ragout. It’s my favorite thing to eat, so I thought I’d make it tonight. I bought some mushrooms from the grocery store, since the inn is fresh out.” She pulled a face.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, softly, afraid I’d wake Tyke now that he’d dropped off. “We’ll find whoever did it.”

  “I believe you,” Lauren replied. “You and Georgina are very resourceful.”

  That wasn’t good. If she’d noticed that, I wasn’t doing my job right—Lauren was supposed to believe I was a hapless maid.

  “Tell me more about the mushroom ragout.”

  “Oh, it creamy and delicious,” Lauren said, successfully distracted. “Jason’s deathly allergic to mushrooms, so it’s a no-go in this house. But now that he’s out of town… well, you’ll see once you taste it. Utterly divine.”

  Mushrooms. What’s with all the mushrooms lately?

  “Can’t wait,” I said, stroking Tyke’s back.

  “You can put him down in the bassinet,” Lauren said. “Looks like he’s out.”

  “That simple?”

  “Not every night, unfortunately.” Lauren brought mushrooms out of her refrigerator. “When he goes through a growth spurt, he barely sleeps. Just wants to eat, eat, eat.”

  “I don’t blame him. Eating is my favorite pastime, lately.”

  Lauren grinned at me then reached into her pocket and brought out a stick of gum. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, balling up the wrapper.

  “Gum?”

  “Yeah. Oh, what’s wrong? You’ve gone pale, Charlie.”

  “Do you often chew gum?”

  “I never used to,” Lauren said. “But it helps keep me awake at the inn. Chewing. And it’s tasty too.”

  “Can I see that wrapper, please?” I lowered Tyke into his frilly blue bassinet, carefully, supporting his neck. He murmured and sucked on nothing, but didn’t wake, his pudgy fist thrown above his head.

  “Uh, OK?”

  I smiled at her and accepted the gum wrapper. I smoothed it out, and my heart sank at the sight of the label: Gumaloooo!

  Lauren’s gum wrapper had been in the library. That didn’t make her suspicious—she had an alibi for the night of the murder, and she often took her breaks in the library during the day. All it meant was that the gum wrapper Gamma and I had found at the crime scene had likely come from her.

  Which meant we had fresh nothing by way of evidence in Darling’s murder case.

  21

  The following morning…

  I caught a ride to the Gossip Inn with Lauren the next morning, bright and early. Her VW Beetle puttered up the driveway, and she parked in her usual spot out front, gracing me with a grateful smile.

  “I’ve never slept better, Charlie,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

  “It was fun,” I replied.

  And that was true. I was tired after having changed and fed Tyke a few times last night—Lauren had expressed milk for me to feed him—but overall, it had been great. The food, the company, and the peace and quiet of the little cottage.

  But Tyke’s nighttime feedings weren’t the only reason I’d missed out on sleep.

  We had no evidence, and I’d have to tell Gamma that this morning. She’d be disappointed but stoic as ever.

  What can we do? Who was it?

  Our time was fast running out. The guests would leave the inn soon—rumor had it, they’d stayed because a memorial service had been planned, and Gerry wanted the food we’d prepped for Darling’s birthday party to be used there instead. Gamma’s snooping had uncovered as much.

  But when that was over… they would leave, and, likely, the killer would go with them.

  Suspects. I needed to narrow down the suspects.

  Gerry.

  Brixton.

  Callie.

  Sherise.

  Those were the main suspects, but if I—

  “Charlie?” Lauren peered at me. “I think we should get out of the car now.”

  “Right, yeah, of course.” I slipped out into the early morning chill and headed up the front steps of the inn. Chatter from the dining area drew my focus—it was too early for most of the guests to be up and about.

  Lauren headed for the kitchen, whistling a pleasant melody, and I popped into the dining area, curiosity taking me as it often did.

  Gamma and Sherise sat at one of the cutesy tables, today bearing teal tablecloths, their heads bent together.

  It was such a stark change from the open hostility Sherise had shown my grandmother last time they’d spoken that I did a double-take.

  “Charlotte,” Gamma said, beckoning. “There you are. Bring us a refill, will you?”

  “Sure.” I fetched the coffee pot from the front of the dining room, right next to the swinging kitchen doors, and brought it to them.

  I filled their coffee cups.

  “—scandalous,” Sherise said. “Now, I know we don’t know each other that well, Georgina, but you must agree with me on this.”

  “I do. Darling deserves a proper send-off. We were under the impression that we’d be prepping more cupcakes for the memorial service. I don’t understand what went wrong.”

  Sherise nodded to me in thanks for the refill. I drifted off to put the pot down but stayed close, listening in.

  “Gerry is what went wrong. I’ve never liked him, you know,” Sherise said.

  “That makes two of us.”

  Sherise took a sip of her coffee, weighing Gamma with her gaze. “Perhaps I misjudged you, Georgina. I was so sure you were just another of Darling’s fans that you wouldn’t see the woods for the trees.”

  “I’ve seen the best and the worst of Darling,” Gamma replied, sagely. “And I maintained from the start that the worst thing she ever did was marrying that man.”

  “Agreed.” Sherise set down her cup. “Agreed. Well, if he’s not going to order the memorial service then I will.”

  “You have the power to do that?”

  “Of course,” Sherise replied, primly. “Darling left me in charge of her affairs. It wasn’t only the money she gave over to me. I have instructions as to what I should do with it, which I will stick to, of course. She placed provisions for her funeral, and I will carry out her wishes.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Gamma said. “I’m glad she trusted you.”

  “Darling, for all her flightiness and affairs, had a good head on her shoulders. For the most part.” Sherise rolled her eyes, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Can you believe Gerry’s been obsessing over ghosts since he arrived?”

  “I heard the rumors,” Gamma replied. “That he was afraid to come here.”

  “He’s always been a superstitious cretin, but this is different. He’s been jumpier tha
n usual. Checking around corners like he expects something to happen. He keeps murmuring under his breath about being chased by Darling’s ghost.”

  “Metaphorically, I hope.”

  “No,” Sherise replied. “He really believes she’s after him. Perhaps he feels guilty about how they left things. You know, they argued the night before they drove out here. Brixton.”

  “Darling wasn’t truly having an affair, was she?”

  “If she was, she didn’t tell me.” Sherise sighed.

  They fell silent, sipping their coffee idly and looking out of the front window. I moved out of the dining room and into the foyer, my mind turning over the facts.

  Gerry didn’t want to host a memorial and had an issue with binge-eating. Brixton was dealing… something in baskets. What was the meaning of it all?

  What if none of this was connected to the murder?

  A shuffling from the first-floor landing brought me back to the present.

  “—stay away from me,” a man whispered. “I know what you’re planning.”

  And then silence.

  “You can’t fool me,” he continued, and I recognized the voice. That was Gerry, wasn’t it?

  I crept forward, keeping a low profile, then moved onto the first steps and rose up onto my tiptoes.

  Gerry stood in the hallways above, glaring at the wall directly ahead of him. “I know you’re watching me, Darling. I know it. I’m not afraid, I tell you.” But he trembled all over, turning in a circle, looking this way and that.

  He really is terrified of ghosts.

  I walked up the stairs. “Mr. Gould?”

  Gerry jumped on the spot and spun toward me. “I—Are you trying to terrify me?” he growled. “I nearly had a heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Is everything all right?”

  Gerry licked his lips, eyes darting back and forth. “Everything’s fine.”

  “I heard you talking to someone.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “Mr. Gould, if there’s anything we can do to make your stay at the Gossip Inn more comfortable…”

  He hesitated, looked on the verge of saying something.