Ashes of Roses
The House of Bannerman, book 6
Melissa R. L. Simonin
© 2017
Ashes of Roses
The House of Bannerman, book 6
written by Melissa R. L. Simonin
Copyright 2017 by Melissa R. L. Simonin
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in whole or in part in any manner or in any form without the written permission of the author.
Dedicated to…
My Mom. As always, her listening ear, feedback, comments, and encouragement, made all the difference when it came to developing the story, and getting it written. Also to Becky Clements, and Paula Pavletich, who greatly assist in proofreading. And, to Brad, who is often better than the internet at answering specific forensic and law enforcement related questions, and offers valuable crime scene related feedback.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
Chapter 1
“What do you see?” Miles asked softly.
“I think you know what I see,” I replied quietly.
“Then let’s do this,” Miles said. He put his arm around me, I put my arm around him, and we took our first step toward our next case.
Here we go again.
I gripped the sides of Miles’ coat as we stepped out of the cold, snow-filled early evening air and into our Lodge, and faced what lay ahead.
The soft glow of the heavily engraved, antique-gold scrollwork and rosebud wall sconces infused the entryway with atmosphere. On the left, the pocket lights that shone down on the broad mahogany counter below, provided ample illumination in which to aid guests in checking-in, checking-out, or in checking out a list of all the Lodge had to offer, as a young family of four were doing with the assistance of John and Annette. Opposite the entrance, more light flowed from the hall leading to the elevator on the left, the arched doorway to the lobby on the right, and the glass front of the Lodge’s boutique and gift shop.
The many and varied light sources were well able to defend against the encroaching dark of night. They were, however, no match for the darkness that swirled and writhed around the well-dressed, dark-haired guy in his mid-twenties who stood across from us, casually leaning against the doorway of the boutique, watching the guests traveling on their way to and from their rooms, or an early dinner at Elizabeth’s.
Chip, Trixie, and Fidget stood beside us, probably wondering why we stopped just inside the doorway.
“Straight ahead?” Miles asked softly.
“How did you know?” I wondered.
“Aside from that one brief glance, you’ve looked everywhere else but there,” he replied, as he guided me to the check-in counter. If his grip on my shoulder wasn’t more snug than usual, I’d think he was completely relaxed. John looked up, and Miles smiled. “Hi John, how is everything?”
“Great,” John smiled back, as Troy, one of the Lodge’s bellhops, wheeled the cart bearing our cats and our luggage, through the door behind us.
I kept watch on the guy, and the darkness, out of the corner of my eye. It gripped him tightly. Because he already killed? Or it was determined he’d go through with whatever he, and it, had planned? Maybe both. I couldn’t tell, not by looking at him. Whatever he did, intended to do, or was thinking, it wasn’t reflected in his passive expression and relaxed posture. His eyes, though… maybe it was the grim look that flickered, or the way they swiftly darted to look at each guest that passed by. Whatever it was, my senses were screaming Red Alert.
“Did you get much snow on the way in?” John asked conversationally, as Troy and the baggage cart came to a stop beside us. “We heard Cedar Oaks is expecting several inches.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Miles answered, with a casual sideways glance at the guy still standing there, waiting, for what? Or who. Miles lowered his voice. “What can you tell us about…?”
John’s a sharp guy. He caught the glance, and understood enough. To his credit, he didn’t so much as flick his eyes in that direction, though he did study the entrance to the lobby as more guests passed by.
“He’s not a guest, or else he neglected to check in,” John replied quietly. “He may be here for—”
“Excuse me, are you the Bannermans?” the young wife and mother’s eyes were bright, as she turned to look at us curiously. Annette turned also, as did the young woman’s husband. The little boy whose hand he held looked up at us shyly. The baby in the carrier resting on the counter, was also resting, and entirely oblivious.
“Yes, we’re the Bannermans,” Miles answered the woman politely.
“I recognized you from your pictures on the news,” the woman gushed, as if we were a couple of celebrities. I had no idea what she saw or when, but apparently she was impressed.
“Well… that’s us,” I said. It was all I could come up with. I didn’t want to be rude, but there was darkness to combat, and my head was hardly in the game of making small talk.
Darkness-covered guy looked at his watch.
“We have been in the news more than our fair share,” Miles admitted with a rueful smile, and the young couple followed John and Annette’s lead, and chuckled sympathetically.
“It’s wonderful all the programs you have to help people,” the woman said admiringly, then her face clouded slightly. “With all the good you do, it makes no sense why anyone would—why they’d—why anyone would want to stop you.”
“Money, revenge, or emotional payoff are the general motivators for murder,” I rattled off. So which one was motivating this guy?
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said with a shiver.
“Thanks, so are we,” I said. There was someone who wouldn’t be, if darkness-covered guy had his way.
“Are you here from out of town?” Miles addressed the husband.
I hoped Miles had a plan, because I was fresh out. At any other time I’d be glad to chat, but now was the time to wrap this up! But graciously, and not at all as if we just didn’t have time for this. Even though we didn’t.
“We’re visiting,” the husband said. “We’re on our way to see family, and this is the halfway point.”
“We’re very glad to have you with us, whatever the occasion,” Miles said graciously. “Have you had dinner, yet?”
“Not yet,” the husband said.
“We can’t wait to visit Elizabeth’s,” the wife enthused.
“There’s no reason you should have to,” Miles promptly replied. He flagged down Stanley, another one of our bellboys, as he rounded the corner with his cart. “Escort our friends here, to Elizabeth’s. Let Malcolm know they’re our guests this evening.”
“Yes sir,” Stanley replied, and briskly parked his cart by the counter.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” the young wife said in surprise.
Maybe not, but it was a brilliant way to maintain goodwill, and end this conversation!
�
�We’re happy to do it,” Miles smiled. “Enjoy your stay.”
With another thank you, the young family followed Stanley through the arched doorway, and into the lobby.
“You were saying?” Miles turned back to John as more guests meandered through, on their way from one place to the next. That was good, it kept darkness-covered guy busy people watching, instead of watching us, watch him.
“He didn’t check in,” John repeated. Annette turned to the computer screen, and managed a casual glance.
“He’s in a suit,” she said speculatively. “Either he’s meeting someone for dinner, or…”
The rest of Annette’s sentence was lost in the chatter that filled the space around us, as a group of guests piled in through the entrance, and stopped. Didn’t they have somewhere else to be? Or maybe they were waiting to check in.
“Your dogs are beautiful,” one of the women commented.
“They are, they’re great,” I replied. I was beginning to feel desperate. Where was darkness-covered guy? There were too many people in the room, I couldn’t see over them!
“It’s good to have you back,” Annette warmly addressed Miles and me, then sympathy tinged her voice. “You must be tired after your trip.”
I cast her a grateful look.
“Kind of. We’re anxious to get these guys settled,” I said truthfully enough, with a glance at our dogs, and the two cats wailing irately in their carriers. Not that anyone could hear them.
“We should’ve brought Muffy,” the woman said to the man standing beside her. “I had no idea the Lodge allowed pets.”
“It doesn’t,” I clarified, and left it at that.
“Hey, guys!” Xander said over the noise, as he rounded the corner and saw us. Considering it was five forty-five on a Saturday, and his sandy blond hair was slightly damp as if he just showered, chances were good he recently finished up the last spin class of the day.
“Hi, Xander,” Miles replied, as Jenny entered from the lobby, along with another influx of guests who were headed to their rooms, the gift shop, an unguided tour, or any of a number of other places. More important than where they were on their way to, was that they were in the way, right now! The entry was growing decidedly crowded.
Jenny smiled when she saw us, but didn’t bother shouting out a greeting, which was the only way she’d be heard above the rush of people who continued to pour through the entrance behind us. They filled the entire room, creating a bottle-neck on their way to one of the ballrooms. As well-dressed as they all were, as chummy as they were with one another, and the direction they were aimed, it was safe to assume that’s where they were headed. But what about darkness-covered guy? Was he still standing there, waiting? Or did he take that opportunity to slip away, not that he knew he was under surveillance. He was under surveillance, as in past tense, because seeing past this crowd was impossible.
But—there, above the crowd, I caught a glimpse of darkness. I was relieved to know we wouldn’t have to track him down. Yet.
“Xander, we could use some help over here,” John called out, and the crowd parted to allow him through. It was less likely due to consideration on their part, and more likely that my superhero husband used his superpowers to part that particular sea.
“Something’s come up that Anika and I need to take care of,” Miles said, as he handed Xander our dogs’ leashes, and the keycard to our suite.
“No problem,” Xander replied, and glanced over his shoulder as Jenny managed to successfully swim against the tide of people, and joined us.
“Welcome back,” Jenny smiled, but judging by the sudden concern that faintly creased her forehead, she picked up on our tension.
“You’re obviously not afraid you’ll get caught,” the woman said a tad disapprovingly. Jenny gave her a funny look. She had no idea what the woman was talking about.
“An exception is sometimes made for those who live on the premises,” John informed her.
“Thanks, it’s good to be back,” I answered Jenny, and ignored the woman.
“There’s an idea,” joked the guy who was with her. “We’ll move in, and solve everything.”
“We have a shih tsu,” the woman said, although her tone was still somewhat resentful. “She’s wonderful. I don’t understand allowing some pets, and not others. I don’t know what the owners are thinking.”
Miles squeezed my shoulder once, and I almost laughed. He was right. She was telling the truth, she had no idea what we were thinking!
“They’re probably thinking it’s their Lodge, they can do what they want,” Troy said rather shortly.
“Well I think if we can’t all bring our pets, no one should be able to,” the woman said firmly.
She probably would prefer that, to living with the sounds now erupting from our cats’ carriers! I wasn’t the only one who cringed at the noise. The darkness weakened slightly, due to the distraction provided by Night and Pandora, but not enough to know whether or not he was guilty of murder in the past, as well as premeditating one in the immediate future.
A baby began to cry. Who wouldn’t, with all that racket! His or her wailing joined that of our cats, who apparently had an antipathy to being upstaged. Further attempts at communication were clearly futile. Without further adieu, the crowd surged forward, and rapidly dispersed.
The yowling stopped as abruptly as it began.
Those who still remained, cautiously uncovered their ears. The darkness swirled thickly once again. The guy was still there, though now he was facing the boutique.
“Thanks,” Miles said.
“No, thank you,” Xander declared, as he rubbed his ears. “What are the chances they’ll hold in further outbursts, until after we get them to your place?”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” Miles promised. Or warned.
“See ya,” Xander promptly replied. “Call us when you’re done, I don’t care how late it is.”
“Will do,” Miles said.
We handed our coats and my purse over to Jenny, then she and Xander swiftly led the way to the elevator, our dogs and Troy following along behind. Trixie gave Miles a look, but he shook his head slightly. I don’t understand her mode of communication like he does, but I know her well enough to be pretty sure he just turned down her offer of a short-cut. Because that, wouldn’t startle Troy at all. Or anyone else who saw her, Chip, and Fidget suddenly disappear!
“What’s on the calendar for tonight?” Miles asked John and Annette.
“The Barclay-Foster wedding reception,” John answered.
The darkness grew darker, a strong indicator the guy could hear us, and that someone connected, was his target.
“The wedding party is scheduled to arrive any minute,” Annette added, as a steady stream of heavily laden food carts, accompanied by the occasional rattle and clank, wheeled past.
“Ooh, did the boutique get in some new purses?” I knew the answer to that, but it wasn’t lying to ask.
Annette glanced in that direction.
“Yes! They’re amazing. You should check them out, before all the good ones are gone,” she urged.
“I think we have time to window shop,” Miles said indulgently. He sounded indulgent, anyway. He knew what I was really shopping for. “John, let me know what your research turns up. Be sure and touch base with Jackson, and get his input.”
“Yes! Absolutely,” John replied.
If there was drama on the Barclay or Foster side that might elicit murderous intent, they’d find it. Whether or not we’d have that info in time to guide us, remained to be seen. We didn’t have the luxury of waiting to find out.
John disappeared into the office behind the counter, and Miles and I crossed the mostly empty lobby. I took a deep breath, and we took our places in front of the window, close, but not too close, to the guy. He glanced at us, but not with any especial interest. The darkness remained the same.
“That one’s nice, but I like this one too,” I commented truthfully enough. “It wo
uld match my purple sweater.”
“We can pick it up in the morning if you like,” Miles said, with a glance at his watch. “We should have time then.”
The guy looked at his phone, then returned it to the pocket of his suit coat. It clinked against something metallic—a gun?—and he moved the phone to the other pocket.
“What would you prefer,” Miles asked me. “Room service, or Elizabeth’s?”
“Hm… Elizabeth’s is amazing. Have you been?” I asked the guy. We needed to get him talking.
The guy looked up. He seemed slightly surprised, then shrugged.
“No. I haven’t.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “Do you plan to?”
“No,” he replied.
I wracked my brain for a question that would require more than a yes or no answer.
“What does brings you to the Lodge, this evening?” Miles asked.
The guy was surprised again, probably annoyed. When planning a murder, I can imagine small talk with strangers would be aggravating, at best.
“At the moment, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied.
I squeezed Miles’ hand once, because the guy was telling the truth.
“Oh, really? Who?” I came right out and asked. He laughed slightly, but the sound held no mirth. There was no change in the darkness.
“A friend.”
True.
“What are you here for?” the guy asked, no doubt thinking we’d rather talk about ourselves, than listen to him.
“Currently, we live here. I’m Miles Bannerman, and this is my wife, Anika. We own the Lodge.”
The guy wasn’t expecting that. The darkness fluctuated slightly.
“Tony,” the guy said, as he and Miles shook hands.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tony,” I replied. A first name was better than no name. But, a last name would be even better. “You wouldn’t be Tony Parker, by any chance…?”
It would be a miracle if he was.
“No,” the guy hesitated. “It’s Ross. Tony Ross.”
His phone vibrated.
“Excuse me,” he said, and quickly stepped aside and snatched it out of his pocket. He spoke quietly, though he sounded somewhat stressed, and put out. “You’re cutting it close. Where are you?”
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